22
The Imperial Palace was aglow. Hundreds of colorful lanterns floated in the sky above as people filled the streets, their voices ringing with laughter and celebration. A parade, led by a large red dragon, made its way along the main street while music and the scent of food filled the air.
Mulan stood inside the throne room, her mind a blur.
The past few hours had been surreal. Immediately after telling the Emperor her name, fear had filled Mulan. While she had saved the Emperor, she had done so as a woman. And it was still illegal for her to fight as one. She had followed him from the New Palace to the Imperial Palace with a lump in her throat, convinced he was going to punish her. But to her surprise, he had brought her to the palace to honor her.
Now she stood in front of the throne, a tiny figure surrounded by dozens of candles that lit up the room, making it warm and bright. Behind her, the most important people of the city stood watching her intently. Among them were Commander Tung, Honghui, and the rest of her battalion. Even Ramtish and Skatch were there, both no worse for wear despite being forced into battle. In fact, they looked almost handsome, freshly washed and standing with pride.
Rising from his throne, the Emperor approached Mulan. She bowed and smiled when he encouraged her to stand once more.
“Hua Mulan,” the Emperor began, his voice carrying over the crowd. “The people owe you a debt of thanks. I owe you my life. In gratitude for your service and dedication, I invite you to take your place among our greatest decorated warriors—as an officer in my Imperial Guard.”
Behind her, she heard the surprised murmurs from the onlookers. What the Emperor offered was an incredible honor. In fact, it was the greatest honor any soldier could wish for. It took Mulan’s breath away, and she had to move her gaze from the Emperor so he wouldn’t see the emotion running over her face. Unfortunately, when she turned, she found herself looking right at Yao, who had tears of his own running down his cheeks as he watched Mulan with pride. Seeing the large soldier weeping made Mulan smile, and she turned back to the Emperor. She knew what she had to say.
“Your Majesty,” she began, “I am deeply honored by this immeasurable invitation. But with humble apologies, I cannot accept it.” Once more, the room filled with surprised mumbles as those gathered tried to make sense of her answer. Only Commander Tung seemed to understand, and he gave her a reassuring smile as she went on. “I left home under cover of darkness and betrayed my family’s trust. I made choices I knew would risk their dishonor. Since then, I have pledged an oath to be loyal, brave, and true. In order to fulfill this oath, I must return home and make amends to my family.”
There was a pause as the Emperor considered Mulan’s words. Then he nodded. Raising his voice, he formally addressed the court. “Devotion to family is an essential virtue!” As his scribes took note of this new official declaration, the Emperor looked once more at Mulan. He did not say anything for a moment, his warm eyes seeming to peer into her soul. Then, as though satisfied with what he had seen there, the Emperor nodded again. This time, in a voice only she could hear, he said. “Very well, Hua Mulan.”
Turning, he moved back to the throne. Dismissed, Mulan made her way toward the soldiers—her friends. The night was young, and the celebration was just beginning. For the next few hours, Mulan reasoned, she would forget her journey home and just enjoy life. She would have time to think about what to say when she saw her family—and her father—later.
Dawn was beginning to brighten the edge of the Imperial City as Mulan led Black Wind across a bridge toward the main gates. In the sky above a few lanterns drifted aimlessly, while a boat floated empty in the water below. The city was quiet in the post-celebration hour, as was Mulan.
“You can’t leave.”
Hearing Honghui’s voice, Mulan turned, surprised by the emotion she felt as she looked over at the handsome young man. Throughout the night she had tried to find him, but to no avail. There was so much she wanted to say. She wanted to say how sorry she was and how she had wanted to tell him the truth all along. She wanted to say hello—and goodbye. But now that he was there, in front of her, she was at a loss for words.
Honghui walked closer, the rising sun making his hair light up and his eyes twinkle. He smiled as he approached, and Mulan couldn’t help smiling back. “The Emperor gives his permission for me to leave,” she said. “But you do not?”
“We’ve not said goodbye,” Honghui answered.
“Goodbye, Honghui,” she replied.
“Goodbye, Mulan.”
There was an awkward beat as they stared into each other’s eyes, both clearly wanting—needing—to say more, and yet neither wishing to be the first to do so. Mulan shifted on her feet. Across from her, Honghui ran a hand through his hair. Mulan wondered what it would be like to take that hand and hold it in her own.
As if reading her thoughts, Honghui did just that. Reaching over, he tried to pull her hand free from Black Wind’s reins. Nervously, Mulan clung tighter to the leather. Honghui shook his head.
“You still won’t take my hand?” he asked. His voice was soft, deep with emotion.
Why was she hesitating? Honghui was standing there in front of her, asking for her hand, and yet in that moment she was more frightened than she had ever been—even more than when she had faced down Böri Khan. This felt more real, more dangerous, more important. The air was charged with an electricity she could not yet define. Holding in a breath, Mulan let her fingers curl around his. As she did so, emotion flooded through her. She gazed down at their fingers, now twined together, and she saw a future. Lifting her eyes, she met Honghui’s gaze. For the first time she truly looked at him and let him look at her . . . as Mulan. Her head moved closer to his. Closer, and closer, until she paused, her lips inches from Honghui’s.
“I’ve never kissed a man before,” she said.
Honghui smiled. “Neither have I.”
And then, Honghui brought his lips to hers. As they kissed, their fingers stayed locked and Mulan sank into Honghui. It was, she thought as a morning dove cooed somewhere nearby, everything she had hoped for and nothing she could have dared dream for. It was perfect.
Mulan reluctantly pulled back, breaking the kiss. Her cheeks flushed, she brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and smiled nervously at Honghui. If she could have, she would have stayed there, on that bridge, kissing Honghui for the rest of her life. But she had told the Emperor she had amends to make, and she couldn’t afford the distraction, no matter how pleasant it was.
Picking up the reins from where they had dropped, Mulan threw them over Black Wind’s head. Then she jumped on the horse’s back. With one last look, too afraid that if she spoke, her voice would break with emotion, Mulan turned and rode away. But before she had even reached the gate, she heard Honghui shout, “I will see you again, Hua Mulan!”
Turning, she saw him standing where she had left him, his hand in the air, waving goodbye. She smiled back at him.
Yes,
she thought,
I hope.
Then she urged Black Wind forward, disappearing through the gate and leaving the palace, and Honghui, behind.
After much traveling, Mulan finally rode into her village, her heart pounding. She had spent the entire ride from the palace thinking of what she would say when she was reunited with her family, but now that the moment was almost upon her, fear filled her. What if they didn’t want her back? What if they were already disgraced? What if they told her to leave and never return?
As Black Wind’s pace slowed, Mulan saw villagers begin to enter the courtyard, curious to see who had arrived. Spotting Mulan, their faces filled with interest. The Matchmaker stepped out onto her front steps, her angry face growing still angrier when she saw Mulan.
Stopping in the courtyard, Mulan saw the door to her home open. A moment later, her sister rushed out. Upon seeing Xiu, all her fear vanished. Jumping down, Mulan ran over to her sister and threw her arms around her. She was home.
Mulan pulled back. Looking at Xiu, she smiled warmly. The younger girl looked . . . different. But then her sister spoke, and her warm, happy voice was the same. “There is so much I have to ask you!” she said, grabbing Mulan’s hand and squeezing it tightly.
Mulan laughed. “Tell me about you first,” she said.
“I am matched,” Xiu said, letting out her own laugh when she saw Mulan’s surprised expression. “You will like him.”
“I am happy for—” Mulan didn’t get a chance to finish as her mother plowed between the daughters, throwing her arms around Mulan and embracing her. The older woman’s arms shook, and Mulan let her mother cling to her. No words needed to be spoken. Mulan knew she had been forgiven.
But then, over her mother’s shoulder, she saw her father. Zhou stood silently, leaning upon his cane. His expression was blank, his eyes impossible to read. Pulling free from her mother, she approached him. Once again, her heart began to pound nervously. She had practiced her speech to him a hundred times, yet still she struggled to find the words.
“Forgive me, Father. I stole your horse, I stole your armor . . . I stole your sword.” She choked on the word. Stopping, she gathered the courage she had found on the battlefield and went on. “And I lost it—the sword is gone. I understand now how much that sword means to you.”
Silence fell upon them as Mulan stared up at her father, desperate to hear his answer. And when he spoke, his voice shook with emotion. “It is my daughter that means everything to me.” As tears dropped down Zhou’s cheeks, he went on. “And it is I who owe you an apology. It was my foolish pride that drove you away.”
Mulan began to shake her head but stopped as Zhou held up his hand. He looked at her, taking in the warrior clothing she wore and the way she carried herself, even when filled with emotion. He nodded slowly, as realization of who she was, who she had become, dawned. “One warrior knows another,” he said, his voice now filled with pride. “You were always there, yet I see you for the first time.” Reaching out, he pulled her into a hug. Mulan sank into it, feeling finally at peace.
As they stood there, Mulan’s mother let out a happy cry and ran to thank the ancestors. Looking toward the shrine, Mulan smiled as she saw the phoenix statue, its head leaning, the wing crooked. The moment was broken by a loud, nasally, and altogether unpleasant voice. Turning, Mulan saw the Matchmaker making her way over. “There is not a man in the entire kingdom who will marry Mulan now,” she sneered.
Mulan was about to protest when her father stepped forward. He shook his head. “There is not a man in the entire kingdom who is good enough for Mulan,” he said. Then he turned his back on the Matchmaker, and he and Mulan went and joined the rest of their family at the shrine. Reaching over, Mulan straightened the Phoenix’s crooked head. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for watching over me. Thank you for everything.”
Suddenly, the sound of hoofbeats filled the air. A moment later, the Emperor’s banner came into view, whipping in the wind as the Imperial Guard cantered into the courtyard. The villagers gasped as they realized who the men were. Their village had never been honored by the presence of the Imperial Guard—until now.
Mistaking their appearance for danger, Zhou turned frantically to his daughter. “Soldiers have come to punish you,” he said. “You must hide!”
Mulan shook her head. “No more hiding,” she said, walking over and waiting as the soldiers came to a stop. The leader removed his helmet. A smile broke over her face as she saw who it was. Commander Tung looked down at her and nodded. Then he turned to Mulan’s father. “Hello, old friend,” he said.
Still not sure what was going on, Zhou stepped in front of Mulan. “Tung Yong,” he said, greeting the commander. “I am honored to receive you and the Emperor’s Guard. But if you are here to discipline Mulan, you will have to get past me.” His hand tightened around his cane and he stood up straighter. Only Mulan could see that his bad leg was shaking.
Commander Tung shook his head. “I do not believe that will be necessary.” Looking over his shoulder, he signaled to one of the guards.
Dismounting, the guard took a long, ornate box from the back of his saddle and brought it over. Commander Tung raised his voice so that the entire village could hear. “Under order of His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor, I present this gift to Hua Mulan. She has brought honor to her ancestors, to her family, to her village, and to her country.”
As the commander spoke, Zhou looked back and forth between his daughter and his old friend, struggling to process what was happening. All around them, the villagers watched with wide eyes, and the Matchmaker, who had been listening most intently of all, fainted dead away. Ignoring the sound of the woman falling to the ground, the soldier presented the box to Mulan.
Mulan looked down at the gift and then up at Commander Tung. She wasn’t sure what to do. But at her commander’s nod, she slowly opened the lid. She gasped. Inside was a sword. Mesmerized, Mulan lifted it from the box and pulled it free from its sheath. Holding it up, she twisted and turned it in the air, the edges catching the sun and making it shine. It was magnificent, and in her hand, it was graceful, too.
“As befits a great warrior,” Commander Tung went on, “the sword is marked with the Pillars of Virtue.”
Zhou’s eyes didn’t leave his daughter’s sword as he whispered the words he knew she would find there. “Loyal. Brave. True . . .” But as the sword moved, Zhou’s voice trailed off. There was another character etched on the back of the shaft. “What is the fourth virtue I see?” he asked, confused.
Commander Tung smiled. “Read it aloud, Mulan,” he said.
Slowly, Mulan ran a finger over the inscription. She read the word silently at first, and then aloud. “ ‘Devotion to family,’ ” she said, the Emperor’s decree now there as a permanent reminder of all that she had given in honor of her family.
Dragging her eyes from the sword, Mulan met her father’s gaze. He looked back at her, overwhelmed with pride. As she watched, he straightened up, standing taller than he had even when he was in the army. Beside him, her mother and sister stood with pride in their eyes as well. “You have brought honor to us all,” he said.
Mulan’s breath hitched in her chest. It was all she had ever wanted to hear. It was the reason, she knew now, that she had fought so hard, and it had been what had made her find her chi and had driven her forward when she should have turned back.
Commander Tung’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and she turned to look once more at the man who had helped her become a warrior. He looked back at her with pride. “The Emperor urges you to reconsider his invitation to join our greatest decorated warriors as an officer in the Imperial Guard.” Once more, the villagers began to mutter, shocked to hear that their own Mulan had been offered such a glorious position. “He eagerly awaits your decision.”
All eyes turned to Mulan, everyone curious to hear what she would say. From above came the sound of a powerful birdcall. It echoed over the tulou, causing everyone to crane their necks to see what could have made such a magnificent noise. Mulan smiled. She didn’t need to look up to know what she would find there. But still, she lifted her head. There, in the sky above, was the Phoenix. Her outstretched wings flashed in a rainbow of colors as she dipped and dove on the wind. When Mulan saw the Phoenix, her smile grew broader. Her friend, her guardian, had come to check on her one last time. Satisfied with what she saw, the Phoenix let out another cry, and with a flap of her powerful wings, she soared away.
Watching the Phoenix go, Mulan whispered goodbye. She wasn’t sure where her journey would take her. But she knew now that she had the strength to do anything. She was Hua Mulan, and she was a warrior.
(THE END)
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