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Mulan feels her feet in soft grass, her body wrapped in clothes that are lighter than the armor she had almost become accustomed to. There is an evening glow beginning to blanket the sky, and Grandma had shooed Shang and Mulan out the door as soon as dinner had been finished and her families curiosities had, for the moment, dried up.
It was no wonder, really. Mulan knows that she must have exhausted them. Now that she is back home, she can feel fatigue beginning to catch up with her. Still, walking with Shang alongside flowing water carries her along. She does not know what will happen if they stop. She reaches up to touch her hair, finding that she reaches for the wrong length here and now. She has to reach a little higher.
“You came,” she remarks after a while. She knows she has said something like this before, but she had not had the chance to privately express any surprise.
“Yes, well, I...” Shang says. Every word he speaks sounds like he is fighting a private battle with himself. She wonders if it had always been quite that difficult for him, if she had been too frightened of him to notice. She glances up at him, smirking in spite of herself. She notices the narrowing of his eyes in response and presses her lips together – trying to be polite.
“I'm just surprised. I thought...” Mulan says. Then she stops by the water, searching for her reflection briefly. Fortunately, or unfortunately, all she can see is the blazing orange and yellow of the sun from this angle, rippling along. She wonders what she is about to say, about to express – if she should.
She notices Shang's presence settle beside her. He is not quite touching her arm when he stands by her, but she is aware of his breathing, of his being in rank beside her.
“You can say anything, Mulan,” he tells her. She cannot help the widening of her eyes as she searches his face for what might have prompted him to say this. It surprises her – and pleases her with a little bit of relief that she isn't sure she can trust. “You've certainly... earned it,” he says, when she looks at him. He glances down at the water, too. He scuffs his foot against the ground. It reminds her of Khan, in an endearing way.
Endearing.
“Oh,” Mulan says to herself – out loud, accidentally.
“Sorry?” Shang asks, clearly believing the fact that he had not understood is his fault.
“Oh, it's...” Mulan tries to correct herself – for his sake? For hers? “It's just that I didn't think you'd come to see us at our homes. Going to take you a while, to get around to everyone. What villages are they from? Yao, Ling, Chien-Po – they all made it home alright?”
“They're... near enough if I—” Shang says, but then he trails off, clearing his throat. “Mulan, I came to see you. Not—”
“Not Yao, Ling, or Chien-Po?” Mulan provides lightly.
Shang finally laughs softly, showing her that he still remembers how.
“I'm sure I'll see them again soon enough,” Shang allows. “... In a time of crisis,” he adds, wearily.
“I was glad they were there,” Mulan volunteers, toeing closer to the edge of the water. Her hands come down, anxiously twisting into each other just behind her back.
“Me too,” Shang admits, this time less begrudgingly. “But, Mulan, you were...”
Mulan is almost afraid to answer. Afraid, not for herself, but to break Shang's will. She wants to hear it, in spite of anything else, and almost holds her breath.
“I'd be dead if it weren't for you,” Shang admits.
Mulan's hands release and she exhales. She smiles, a little sorrowfully. She needs to remember that he must not have seen her the way she had been able to see him.
“I'm here on imperial business,” Shang announces suddenly.
Mulan smiles ruefully rather than letting herself close her eyes in a soft wince. Of course he is.
“Oh?” she prompts, to let him continue.
“Yeah, the Emperor... he said...” Shang says. “He said I shouldn't let you go,” he adds, a little too quickly.
Mulan feels a tight knot drop down into her stomach. She glances back up toward the shrine, toward Mushu, wondering if she's going to need his help again for an instant.
“What?” she asks, cautiously, wondering if she should go quietly. She must go pale, because Shang looks at her and holds up his hands in surrender but seems to be tempted to take her by the shoulders.
“Not like that,” he assures her. “... They'll need to rebuild the palace,” he explains, exhaling with relief when Mulan clears her expression and looks a little less afraid. He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck. “I know you want to be with your family, for now, but... you should see it.”
“Shang?” Mulan asks, because she feels that she is being asked something a little more complicated than simply to return to the imperial city.
“It will be a while before to palace is secure again,” Shang explains, “but the city is still grateful, still safe, because of you. I would... like it if, when I return, you might come with me?”
One thought bleeds into the next, and Mulan notices that his eyes are catching the glint back from the water.
“Oh,” she says again. He glances at her, worriedly. She really must find another way to respond that doesn't startle him so much. “... I—” Mulan looks back toward the house. She looks where a statue of a dragon... used to be. She looks at the tired cherry tree.
“It doesn't have to be... forever,” Shang offers, right when she is nearly ready to politely decline once more. She cannot abandon her family, even if it means never seeing him again. Then, all at once, she believes she might not have to.
Shang stays with her family. Shang stays in her home. Grandma makes several attempts to arrange alternate accommodations for him, closer to where Mulan sleeps, but every time Mama catches her in the act and goes pale enough to stop her. Mulan's father seems blissfully ignorant of this small power struggle, instead choosing to spend his time with Shang out beneath the cherry tree – his favorite spot for most of the year – reminiscing of the days when he had been able-bodied and ready to serve the Emperor in the army.
From a distance, Mulan sometimes sees Shang – Shang Li, the son of his father, rather than the captain following after a general – hang his head. Once, she finally sees her father's hand rest reassuringly against the back of his shoulder. Something in her chest lightens, and something in her heart breaks.
The weather turns cold before she notices a messenger come to meet Shang at the gate of her family's home. It occurs to her that someone must have known he was here, all this time. It occurs to her that she does not know where, exactly, he would be, if not with her. His father – his family – seems to be gone.
A little later in the day, she sees him poring over the message that had been delivered to him. He is frowning at it, but he is reasonably relaxed – leaned against a different tree, elsewhere and beyond their usual cherry. He nearly jumps to attention when he realizes she has approached.
“Mulan!” he greets, guiltily.
“Is something wrong?” she asks him.
“No—No, nothing!” he insists.
Her brow furrows as she suddenly is more afraid that she shouldn't believe him.
She sees his outstretched palm and realizes that this is just another one of those times when he seems to have made a catastrophe out of not knowing what to say.
“It is... a message from the Emperor,” he explains.
“The Emperor... knew you came for—came to me. To the Fa family,” Mulan says, reaching up and scrubbing a hand a little against one of her cheeks.
“He told me to,” Shang says, looking up and meeting her eyes – steadily, as he does on rare occasion. Before he lets them go, he asks the question she had all but known was coming: “Mulan, will you come with me?”
The City is less crowded than Mulan remembers. It is less choked with people, sweet-smelling smoke, sweat, and fear. Some of the people look tired, more weary than the night she had seen a nation bow to her. It heats her skin still when they see her and recognize who she is. Sometimes they bow over again. Sometimes they rush up to her side and ask her questions – especially little girls, and she finds that she has less embarrassment and more patience to spare for them.
The busiest places are markets and the area immediately around the palace. When she is led – when she walks alongside Shang, rarely missing a step in spite of the difference in their natural gaits – up the great stairs, she finds herself in the palace once again. She looks left and right, the sense that there might be danger lurking around any of the corners, vast and open as they are, returning fast. Then, she feels Shang's hand reach the back of her shoulder.
He rarely touches her, but it catches her attention.
“This way,” he coaxes her. Then she remembers there is no invading enemy here.
In the presence of the Emperor, Mulan bows. He quickly ushers her back up with a gentle insistence that reminds her of her father but softer, somehow. She wonders about her grandfather – if he might have been like that, had she ever really known him.
“Fa Mulan,” he addresses her with a slight inclination of his head. It is not quite the bow he had given her the night she had – in his own words – saved them all. Still, it is enough to make everyone else in the room feel that they must bow to her at once. She quickly tries to gesture that they shouldn't, that it's unnecessary. Luckily, the Emperor's continued speaking disrupts the wave of unnecessary reverence. “Welcome back to my home. As you can see, some of the damage is undone from last time.”
“Sorry,” she mumbles, glancing sidelong at Shang who is a few steps just behind her, standing at attention.
The Emperor chuckles.
“There is no need for apology. Palaces can be mended or abandoned. I believe one of these might be better than the other,” he says, and she realizes that there must have been some humor imparted in his tone before. “I would like to invite you – and Captain Li – to remain until there is a celebration of the recovery of this city, of my palace,” he explains. “I know you had said you would like to return home, but during your stay,” he continues, and Mulan knows that there is no question as to whether or not she will be staying in the imperial city for that long, “I would like you to consider whether you might consider consulting with my counsel. You are... a great breath of fresh air here. You might stay for the winter, if you like. You are... like a breath of spring,” he says. Then, he absents himself.
Mulan is pretty sure she sees him nudge Shang in the shoulder as he passes with his golden-clad, sharp elbow.
“It is beautiful,” Mulan says when she and Shang have found themselves seated inside the palace where a wall still has a barely-guarded hole in it. From here, they can see the city. From here, the air is cool but bearable. If she is sitting close enough to feel Shang breathe, to feel his body heat, she thinks that it is more than practical. Even he can't manage to be embarrassed.
“What is?” Shang asks, uneasy. Perhaps she stands corrected. He does not pull away from her, though.
“This place,” she says. “Maybe I could like it...”
“He isn't holding you prisoner, Mulan,” Shang says, and it widens Mulan's gaze and draws it to him. For Shang, even the whispered thought aloud seems quite brazen. He is, after all, a son of someone who'd served this place for many years.
She blinks a few times, considering the bravery of his words in her answer.
“... I know he does not mean to,” she agrees, breathing out.
“Mean to?” Shang asks, ready to argue, but she speaks before it can get too out of her hand.
“My father is old. Grandma is older,” Mulan says – stating the obvious, but making a point.
“... I will make sure that he does not keep you away from home for too long... at a time,” Shang bargains with her, sounding as confident as he can possibly hope to be in such a promise. She holds on something in his tone, though, that makes her frown. He sounds a little apologetic, almost complicit.
“You knew,” she accuses softly.
“I knew what?” he asks, trying to maintain his innocence – perhaps in his own mind and heart more than in her eyes.
“That he'd want me to stay,” Mulan supplies.
“I think... we all do,” Shang says. Mulan lifts her knees toward her chest, hugging them a little. She feels homesick already. She feels that Mushu will be indignant already. She is afraid that her father or grandmother have gone frail and sickly without her already with the coming winter. If she can bring herself to trust Shang, though... she can almost believe that this might be a real chance to do something worthwhile. If she can trust him, this might not be the worst thing she has ever done.
In response, Mulan looks at him. He looks a little alarmed. She ignores him. She turns her gaze back toward the swath of the imperial city they can see from here. She leans her head to the right, letting it rest against Li Shang's shoulder.