Mulan’s fear became curiosity. “Is that a real lion?” she called out, pointing at the beast. “I’ve never seen one in the village before.”
“Mulan!” Fa Li whispered harshly. “What are you doing, shouting out to intruders?”
“It’s just a soldier. And his pet…lion.”
“They’re trespassing on our property.” Fa Li nodded to Fa Zhou. “You ought to get your sword.”
“There’s no need,” said Mulan quickly. “I’ll just tell him to go away.”
“Close the window and return to dinner. Right now, Mulan.”
With reluctance, Mulan started to reach for the curtains hanging above the window, but the intruder’s handsome face twisted with shock when he saw her.
Mulan tilted her head. She couldn’t make out his face; shadows cloaked it, even when he stepped closer to the lanterns hanging from their roof. Yet something about him looked familiar. But why?
“Pi—Mulan,” he cried. “You’re—”
Grandmother Fa sidled up next to Mulan by the window. Her smile slid into a frown. “What are you doing here, soldier? Go away before I shoo you out.”
The soldier ignored Mulan’s grandmother. “It’s Shang,” he said, trying again. “Don’t you remember me?”
“Ignore the man and come back to dinner,” Grandmother Fa said. “That steamed bun smells delicious.”
“It’s Shang,” the soldier said again, running closer to the house. He tapped on the window. “Please, listen to me.”
Mulan parted the window’s wooden shutters just a little.
“She’s in one of Meng Po’s illusions,” said a new voice. It was deeper, and it seemed to be coming from the stone lion behind the soldier. “She probably can’t see you.”
“I know.” Shang’s voice sounded tense. “Come back with us. You’re in danger here.”
“Danger?” Grandmother Fa snorted. “This is her home. Go away before we call for the guards.” She reached over Mulan and slammed the window shut. The curtains folded over the paper screens. “We should send the intruder away, don’t you think?”
Fa Zhou nodded. His face had become blank as a stone. He got up obediently to follow the order, while Grandmother Fa grabbed Mulan’s wrist, dragging her back to the table.
“Wait.” Mulan twisted away and ran for the window again. Lightning pricked the sky, and it began to rain. Yet the soldier shielded his eyes as if the rain were coming from the ground, not from the sky. As if the rain were sand, not water.
“Shang,” she said. Something about the name brought a flutter to her stomach. “Why am I in danger?”
“Because of her.” Shang pointed at Grandmother Fa. “She’s the Lady of Forgetfulness.” He gritted his teeth, white against the dark shadows of his face. “Did you drink her tea? Is that why you don’t remember me?”
Mulan stared at the cups of tea back on the dining table. “Why should I remember you?”
“We went to battle together—against the Huns,” Shang said urgently. “I trained you.”
“Impossible!” Grandmother Fa tsked. “Stop listening to this idiot, Mulan. Come back to dinner. Your father will take care of him.”
“No!” Thunder rumbled, drowning Shang’s words, so he had to shout, “You called yourself Ping, remember?”
Mulan touched her temples. A little. She remembered being afraid, and hiding among dozens of soldiers. She remembered not wanting to fail.
“We fought together,” Shang continued. “We fought against Shan-Yu, and I was wounded. You came here—you came to Diyu to find me.”
Mulan parted her lips. “I’m sorry. I don’t…”
“You were my friend,” Shang said. He took a step forward, crossing through the window and wall until he was in the house. His shadowy hand reached out to touch Mulan’s arm.
The memories came back in waves. The snow. Mushu. Shoving Yao aside and taking the cannon. Firing it into the mountain. Fighting the Huns. Captain Li Shang, and ShiShi…falling down and down into Diyu.
“Captain?” Mulan whispered. “What are you doing here? You came back for me.”
“I’m not leaving you behind. If you stay, I stay, too.”
“But I thought…”
Shang looked at her bashfully. “I was wrong. Man or woman, you’re still my friend.”
A flood of warmth rushed across Mulan. Then she started, realizing that her family—or rather, the illusions of them—still watched her. Unblinking and unmoving, Fa Zhou and Fa Li sat frozen in their places. Little Brother’s tongue hung out of his mouth, suspended as he tried to bite the bone she’d left for him under the table.
Only Grandmother Fa stood, tapping her foot impatiently.
“You’re not my family,” said Mulan, at last recognizing what had been different about her grandmother. “You’re Meng Po.”
Meng Po’s eyes darkened. Thunder rumbled, then the rain abruptly stopped. “What I said earlier was true, child,” she warned Mulan. “You will never reach the hundredth level. Drink, so you may escape King Yama’s punishment. Drink and stay here. I’ll give you the family you’ve always wanted. The one that loves you and is proud of you.”
“No,” said Mulan. “I won’t drink.” Drawing her sword, she swept it across the table, flinging the teacups and dishes off until they shattered against the wooden floor.
Mulan raised her sword to Meng Po’s throat. “Now let us out.”
The Lady of Forgetfulness touched the glowing blade. Her brows furrowed for an instant, and she looked up at Mulan, appearing more intrigued than angry. Then her expression washed away, becoming unreadable as before. “As you wish. But this was your last chance.”
The walls of her family home flickered and faded. In its place was a vast desert, so empty Mulan could see nothing but its unchanging landscape in every direction. A few crooked trees, faraway dunes that melded into the gray horizon, and blasts of wind and sand. She dropped her chopsticks—no more than two twigs.
Still wearing Grandmother Fa’s face, Meng Po laughed. Then, before Shang or ShiShi could seize her, she vanished into the sand.
Gone was her family’s garden, the cherry and plum trees, the pond with the pink water lilies, the marble bench and moon gate, and the house, along with her mother, father, and Little Brother. They’d all vanished. Not even the smell of incense remained.
Mulan’s knees weakened. She stared down at her boots, taking in the bandage around her ankle that was starting to peel off, the water stains on her armor, the gauntlets covering her knuckles. She touched her hair. It was short again, tied back into its knot on her head.
“Are you all right?” asked Shang.
Mulan nodded mutely, but inside, her heart thudded in her ears. Shang was back. But why?
He didn’t look angry at her anymore. If anything, he looked rather ill.
“Are you all right?”
“Am I—” Shang fumbled. “I should be asking if you’re all right.”
“You already did.”
“Oh. Yes.” He started toward her awkwardly, then stopped and twisted his hands behind himself, as if he were holding back.
ShiShi watched Mulan closely. “What did you see?”
“My home, my family,” said Mulan faintly. “Everything was so real. I could smell the pork in my grandmother’s steamed buns. I could even feel the fur on Little Brother’s back.”
“Meng Po’s enchantment is strong,” said ShiShi, trying to console her. “She used your memories against you.”
“She nearly succeeded. Seeing my family again…Everyone was there—my mother, my father, my grandmother. I left home without permission, so to see them happy to have me back—to see them proud of me…” Mulan shivered. “I wanted it to be real. I wanted it so much I almost started to believe it.”
“But you didn’t,” ShiShi said. “You freed yourself from her magic.”
“I might not have,” confessed Mulan. She dug her foot into the sand, watching it wrinkle under her weight. Only moments
ago, the ground had been wood. “If I’d stayed a little longer…”
“No,” Shang said. “You wouldn’t have.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I know,” he said firmly. “The only reason she found you in the first place is because of me. It’s my fault. We should have stayed together, yet I left you. I abandoned my friend, who would never have done the same to me.” He lingered on that note sadly. “I’d understand if you never forgave me, but…can you?”
Mulan crossed her arms and pretended to think about it. “For not trusting me, or for saying women can’t make as good soldiers as men?”
“Both.”
Mulan had never seen the captain look so vulnerable and ashamed. It touched her. “I might be persuaded.”
“Despite all his courage and brawn, he can be a daft one.” ShiShi sounded proud about Shang’s change of heart. “His father was similar at this age, but—Li Shang has a big heart.”
A trace of hopefulness lifted Shang’s expression. “I was wrong to judge you so quickly. I was ungrateful. You risked your life to come here and find me.” His eyes met hers. “I promised that I trusted you, and that should not change whether you’re a man or woman. You are my friend whether you are Ping or Mulan.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Shang. You’re my friend, too.”
The captain exhaled with relief. “I’m glad.”
ShiShi clambered over a rock, motioning for them to follow. As Mulan walked beside him, the lion shook his head at her. “In all my years serving the Li family, you certainly are a first, Mulan.”
“Why is that?”
“I’ve seen many men dress as girls to evade serving in the army, but never any women who dressed as boys so they could serve.” ShiShi chuckled. “What a story this will make for the other guardians. What about your guardian? Does he know you’re a woman?”
“Your guardian’s a man?” said Shang with a frown. His face twisted into a grimace as he considered this. “So he…he sleeps next to you at camp? In your tent?”
“He’s a dragon. And yes, he sleeps in my tent. But what else would you expect? Everyone else in the army is a man.” Mulan’s shoulders shook with laughter, seeing Shang’s frown turn into a beet-red revelation.
“I’m sorry I left you,” Shang said quietly. “I turned back to look for you—in the forest, but we couldn’t find you.” He inhaled. “I became worried.”
“But he was too stubborn to admit it,” ShiShi added. “Still, Li Shang would have come to his senses sooner or later, little soldier, but you can thank me for making it sooner. I reminded him how much you sacrificed to get here.”
Shang flinched at his guardian’s gentle reprimand, but his gaze didn’t leave Mulan. “I also remembered what you told me in the tower. How you were a disappointment to your parents, and you were unhappy with yourself. I didn’t completely understand what you’d meant then. But I understand a little better now. Everything I said earlier…I didn’t mean it, and I regret it.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Mulan replied. “I didn’t mean to lie to you.”
“I know,” said Shang. “But you did it to save your father. I would have done the same if I were in your position.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Well,” Shang fumbled, “I mean, if—if I were a g-girl, but it’s hard to imagine that. I mean, I’d like to think I would have.”
“It’s not as hard as you think. Getting the voice down is the toughest part of it.” Mulan chuckled and heaved herself up a craggy boulder fallen in their path.
“Tougher than my drills?” Shang joked.
She laughed. “Maybe not,” she allowed. “I was so afraid you’d see right through me and send me home.”
Shang laughed with her, but he sounded nervous. “I would never have guessed. You—” He clamped his lips tight. “Y-you’re strong,” he stammered, “and I’m not just saying that. I mean it. You…you fight good.”
ShiShi rolled his eyes. “Come, you two, move faster. There’ll be time enough for you to gape at one another after we leave Diyu.”
“I’m not—”
Mulan stifled another laugh, then sobered. “We must be far from the hundredth level. How deep into Diyu did Meng Po lead me?”
“Not too deep. ShiShi and I found a door in the desert while we were looking for you. It looks like a portal.”
“One that should take us back to the City of the Dead,” ShiShi said, nodding his head to quicken their pace. “From there, we’ll find the gates.”
Mulan’s heart lifted. “So we’re close.”
Shang started to walk next to Mulan, but ShiShi stepped between them. “Not close enough.”
Mulan was both relieved and disappointed ShiShi had inserted himself between them. She couldn’t explain it, but now that Shang knew she was a girl, she felt shy around him.
Stop that, she scolded herself. You’re a soldier!
Trying hard not to look at Shang, she listened to ShiShi tell the story of how he’d guided one of the Li ancestors to become a great hero who helped the Emperor unify China. He’d risen from being the son of a penniless rice farmer to become an admired warrior, respected for his keen battle strategy, surprise tactics, and mercy on his defeated opponents.
“He was a legend for hundreds of years,” finished ShiShi. “People even wrote songs about him, and sang them from village to village.” The lion puffed up his chest with pride. “The tune was quite catchy, I remember. Shall I sing it?”
“No!” Mulan and Shang said at the same time.
ShiShi harrumphed. “Well, I—”
“I want to know your story, Mulan,” Shang interrupted. “Tell me about your family. Your father—Fa Zhou—he was in the army with my father. And he is married to—”
“My mother is Fa Li,” Mulan supplied. “She was the daughter of a civil servant in the Imperial City. She greatly honors the classics, so it always upset her that I could never memorize them.”
Shang smiled. “I can understand that.” He straightened again. “So you have no brother?”
“No, my ancestors were right. It’s just me. My parents tried to have a boy, but they couldn’t have any other children.” She’d never talked about this with anyone before, not even Mushu. “I don’t think my father minded much, but it was hard on my mother.”
Shang was quiet. He was listening.
“I wasn’t the ideal daughter. I was too clumsy to be of use around the house, and too independent to stay at home weaving and playing the zither all day. The only way I could uphold the family honor was to marry well. But on the day I met the Matchmaker, I accidentally set her on fire.”
“Really?” A laugh escaped Shang, then he quickly cleared his throat. “I mean, that’s terrible.”
Mulan grinned at him. “I would have laughed, too, if I hadn’t been so terrified. I know I disappointed my family. I’m an embarrassment to them. I guess I didn’t want to be trapped in a marriage.” She sighed. “At the same time, I wanted to be a good daughter.
“When Chi Fu came to my village and called my father back to the army, I saw it as my chance. I decided to go to save my father, but at the same time…a small part of me wanted to escape.” She had never admitted that out loud before. “I wanted to prove that I could be more.”
“You are more,” Shang said, slowing down to speak with her. “I meant what I said earlier about you being a hero.” He faltered. “I learned something today. No matter whether you’re a girl or a demon or a ghost, you are my friend…Mulan.”
Mulan held her breath. Hearing him say her name—her real name—was strange, yet nice. Her heart lifted, and she warmed. “So you’re not going to discharge me?”
“No,” Shang said firmly. “A good soldier is hard to find. China needs you.”
“China needs both of us,” said Mulan. “Together.”
They stopped, suddenly approaching the break in the desert’s arid landscape. Just as Shang and ShiShi had promised, there
was a wooden door planted at the middle of the desert.
Just a door. No walls, no tunnels, no path leading up to it. Mulan stepped around the door, but there was nothing behind it. The only promising sign was the bronze medallion of King Yama’s face nailed into the center of the door.
“There was a placard earlier,” Shang said. “Something about Youdu. We didn’t have time to dust it off and read it.”
Mulan swept the sand off Yama’s nose and teeth, revealing a small metal placard beneath the bronze cast. Etched onto the placard was the number ninety-seven.
“We’re back at the ninety-seventh level,” Mulan said, growing excited. “We are close.”
“Does it say anything else?”
Mulan rubbed the placard with her sleeve. “Nothing here. Wait.” She squinted, using the light emanating from Shang’s body to illuminate whatever had been carved on the door.
“Let me try,” said the captain, kneeling beside Mulan. His light glimmered against the placard. “It looks like a warning here. Do not enter.…”
“I can’t make out the rest. Something about pillar…fire, and Youdu.”
“Enough of this,” ShiShi said. “Youdu is this way. I’m certain of it. Open the door, Li Shang.”
Grabbing the latch hanging from King Yama’s bronze head, Shang pulled the door open. It swung to the side with a creak.
Steam hissed on the other side of the door. Mulan took a careful step into the new chamber, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth as she adjusted to the sweltering temperature.
Smoke thickened the air, and the heat prickled her skin. A draft of hot air skimmed the pebbles on the ground, sifting away the pale yellow sand on Mulan’s boots. Thick black dust quickly coated her clothes and shoes.
“This doesn’t look like the City of the Dead,” she said. The ground was black as coal, and when she kicked the dirt, it spilled off the sides of a steep slope. In every direction, clusters of tall, thin tube vents sprang from the ground, steam hissing from their chimneys.
They were on a mountain, she realized. No, a volcano, given the glassy streams of lava running down its sides. Smoke obscured the horizon, but Mulan could make out the flat peak not too far up.
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