The barracks were, for once, quiet. Mulan sat on the edge of her sleeping platform, pulling on her boots. The smallest of efforts made her muscles scream in agony and she longed to go let the hot water of the showers wash over her body. But she had volunteered for night duty again. She had no choice.
She was lacing up her boot when she heard the front flap of the barracks swish open. Looking up, she saw Honghui enter. Spotting her, he smiled broadly. Mulan forgot her sore muscles as her heart began to beat a little faster. There was something decidedly charming about Honghui, which made her uncomfortable. She was unsure why he was here now. Was she supposed to thank him for earlier? When he had come to her aid? She wasn’t sure what a “man” would do in such a situation.
Luckily, she was saved from making that decision as Honghui walked over and threw himself down on the sleeping platform beside her. “Don’t let them bother you,” he said, putting his arms behind his head. “Especially that donkey Yao.”
Mulan allowed herself a small smile. Somehow, and she wasn’t quite sure how, she and Honghui had gone from being enemies to being . . . allies. Well, almost. Her thoughts drifted back to Yao’s ridiculous comments in the dining hall. She still couldn’t believe that he could view women as such objects, to be valued only for their physical appearance and not for their strength of character. A thought occurred to her. Honghui had never given his idea of what a “perfect” woman was. She wondered why he had been so quiet.
“Are you matched?” Honghui asked, breaking into her thoughts. “Can I ask?”
The question startled Mulan. “No,” she said reflexively. But then she realized that being matched in Honghui’s mind would make her seem more “manly.” So she corrected herself. “I mean, yes. I was. Almost. It didn’t work out.”
“Lucky you,” Honghui said, his voice quiet.
They sat there for a moment, his answer hanging in the air. Mulan wasn’t sure what to say. Did Honghui mean she was lucky for having been matched, or for getting out of the match?
“I’m matched,” Honghui said, answering her unasked question. “And I’m hoping she’s courageous. And funny, and smart.” He paused and his eyes grew distant. Mulan wondered, as she looked at him, what he was picturing. Then he added, “Because she looks like a man.”
Honghui’s admission surprised Mulan. Why would he admit this to her? What did he expect her to say? And she couldn’t help wondering what he would think of her—if he could truly see her. Luckily, Honghui was too caught up in his own thoughts to notice her expression.
“I mean,” he went on, “how do you even begin to know how to talk to a woman, let alone be married to one?” For the first time since they had met, Honghui seemed unsure of himself. Mulan’s heart, which had already begun to thaw toward the handsome conscript, grew warmer still.
Taking a chance, Mulan answered, “Just talk to her like you’re talking to me now.”
“I wish it was that easy,” Honghui said. He paused, and his expression grew more uncertain. “What . . . what if she doesn’t like me?”
Once again, his response surprised Mulan. She turned and, for the first time, really took the time to look at him. His eyes were focused on the barrack ceiling, his chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths. But Mulan could see that he was genuinely worried. In being honest, he was allowing himself to be vulnerable.
“She will,” Mulan said, the words softer than she had intended.
Slowly, Honghui looked over. Their eyes met and for a hushed moment, neither said anything, the air growing heavy with unspoken emotion.
Shaking it off, Mulan cleared her throat. She had no idea what had just happened, but she knew she needed to lighten things up. “I mean, I think she will,” she said, this time making sure to keep any emotion out of her voice. “You never know with women . . .” she added with a shrug and a conspiratorial look.
Honghui didn’t say anything, though he did sit up. Swinging his legs over the side of the sleeping platform, he inched closer. Mulan instinctively backed up. What was he doing? Why was he getting closer? Was he . . . could he be? He came closer still. He breathed in, and for a moment, Mulan was convinced he was going to kiss her.
And then he recoiled. “You should really consider skipping guard duty and take a shower,” he said. “You stink, man.” Then, standing up, he slapped her on the shoulder and left.
Mulan groaned. That had taken a turn toward the mortifying. Lifting her arm, she took a quick whiff. Then she let out a louder groan. Honghui was right. She did smell. She smelled exactly like a man.
Something had shifted. It had started in the dining area and had continued to grow as they spoke in the sleeping tent. A friendship had begun to form between Mulan and Honghui. A friendship laced with something else Mulan wasn’t sure she could name, but it was undeniable. She no longer feared Honghui, and time spent in the dining area and the sleeping barracks was easier knowing she had an ally.
On the training ground, the relationship took a different shape. It was becoming clear, to the sergeants and the soldiers, that of all the conscripts, Honghui and Mulan showed the most potential. No one was surprised by Honghui. He was built to be a warrior. Strong, intense, and with brains to match. But Mulan was a surprise. She was never the first or the fastest, but she always accomplished her tasks, and she did so with a quiet dignity that made others stop and take notice. As the days passed, she grew stronger, too.
Standing in the middle of the parade grounds one morning, Mulan held a spear out in front of her. The conscripts had graduated from their earlier training, when their weapons had been sticks, and were now being paired up to practice one-on-one combat with the real thing. Instinctively, Mulan and Honghui gravitated toward each other. When Sergeant Qiang gave the nod, they lifted their spears.
And then they began to fight.
Attack. Block. Attack. Block. Each move Honghui made, Mulan anticipated, lifting her own spear in a steady, smooth rhythm that Honghui met. The tempo built as they moved faster and faster. Mulan spun out of reach as Honghui kicked. Honghui blocked as Mulan came at him with her own attack. Back and forth it went, their movements oddly beautiful. They met each other with equal intensity, their eyes locked.
Unaware that others had stopped their own fights to watch, Mulan and Honghui continued to go at each other. Harder, faster, fiercer they fought, each determined to make the other one falter. Soldiers cheered on the pair. Hearing the commotion, Commander Tung emerged from his tent and came to stand beside Sergeant Qiang. They exchanged looks before the commander focused on Mulan. Sweat dripped down Mulan’s brow, and he could see her shoulders shaking, but the concentration on her face didn’t falter.
Mulan swung, catching Honghui off guard. He stumbled back and for a moment, it seemed Mulan had the advantage. But in one smooth move, he swung back around and knocked her spear to the ground.
Throwing his hands in the air and letting out a shout of victory, Honghui didn’t see Mulan reach down and grab the spear again. Nor did he see the determination on her face and the renewed focus. But Commander Tung did. He saw the look and quietly cheered her on.
With a shout, Mulan went after Honghui. Her ferocity was unparalleled, and Honghui had no choice but to go on the defensive, lifting his weapon to block as Mulan spun her spear through the air. Letting out a shout, she ran at him and jumped . . .
For a moment, she appeared to hang in the air, as if held aloft by wings. And then, in a move so fast it was nothing but a blur, she brought her spear whipping down. There was a loud crack as spear met spear, and then a gasp as Honghui’s weapon was sent flying from his hand. It twirled across the parade ground, end over end. As the men cheered, Mulan leapt again, only this time she, too, spun in the air, her foot coming out and meeting the still flying spear. Whipping her foot fast and furiously, she kicked the blunt end of the spear, sending it hurtling through the air with speed and power. It slammed into the side of a pole with a ping and stayed there, embedded deep in the wood.
Mulan landed on the ground. As she did so, she slammed her spear into the earth. The men’s cheers stopped. They stood open-mouthed as they looked from Mulan to Honghui and back again.
Catching her breath, Mulan felt the adrenaline leave her body. Slowly, she became aware of the soldiers’ eyes on her. She cringed. She had let her need to win and her confusing feelings for Honghui overpower her. She had gotten carried away and brought unwanted attention to herself. That was the last thing she needed—especially now, when she was just beginning to feel like she could fit in.
Mumbling an apology in Honghui’s general direction, Mulan ducked her head and hurried away. Behind her, the rest of the men watched, shocked into silence. What, they all wondered, had they just witnessed?
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