saw him ask for help, never saw him need anyone. I wanted to be like him: the great leader of China’s finest troops. I didn’t know he had a friend with him all along, helping him.”
Mulan nodded, touched by the earnestness in his voice.
“Do you have a guardian?”
“My ancestors sent me someone.” Mulan stepped up with one foot, heaved the rest of her body to lift the other leg. Even if her ankle hadn’t been swelling, she’d have to climb slowly. At least the pain was subsiding. “When we get out of here, I’ll introduce you.”
“I’d like that.”
Mulan allowed herself a small smile. Good. He’s talking like we’re going to get out of here.
Shang motioned for her to resume hiking up the mountain. The slope was less steep than it’d been earlier, and in some places, the path was nearly flat.
“Come on,” he said. “If we can’t make it up to the top of this tiny hill, all my hours spent training you will have been for nothing.”
“Tiny hill?” Mulan said. “I’d hardly call this a hill.”
But his words worked. Her determination renewed, she returned to trudging up this horrific Mountain of Knives. Her toes curled against the ski blades as they clanged against the pointed knives. The armor under her hands and feet grew heavy. Sweat dribbled down the back of her neck. But Mulan didn’t stop. Up, up, up.
She couldn’t stop thinking about what Shang had confided earlier, and what a comfort the words had been to her. She’d always admired him as a leader and soldier—someone who always knew what to do in battle. But she was beginning to admire him even more as a person. She doubted he could tell a lie to save his life. The few times she’d caught him not knowing what to say, he had stammered or averted his gaze. He never resorted to bending the truth…unlike her.
Was it wrong of her to deceive him, especially when he trusted her so much? If he ever found out the truth about her…
Stop it. Mulan sighed. Friend or not, he can’t find out the truth.
Strange; it was easier to forget here than up in the real world that she was pretending to be a man. In Diyu, a realm of ghosts and demons and monsters, keeping her guise as Ping was the last of Mulan’s worries.
You can’t forget, she reminded herself. No matter how much you might want to.
“Ping?” Shang said, glancing back and seeing that she still lagged far behind. “Is your ankle bothering you?”
“No.” She forced a throaty laugh, the one she’d perfected to be “manly” enough to pass as Ping. “Stop worrying about me and don’t wait up. I’ve got this.”
Shang didn’t move. Mulan ignored him and kept climbing. Finally, when she caught up with him, he followed.
The higher they climbed, the quieter it became. Maybe ShiShi had exaggerated about the ghosts. They were nearly at the top, and she hadn’t encountered a single one.
She inhaled. That was a good thing. Best to savor one’s luck, not question it, especially when in the Underworld.
Every few steps, Shang waited for her. It was hard not to see the concern creased on his brow. The climb up was far more difficult for her than for him. For her, each step was a highly calculated risk. If she put too much weight on one foot, or leaned backward or forward too much, she could be impaled.
Meanwhile, Shang easily leapt from knife to knife. It almost looked fun, if not for the fact that he was a spirit hovering close to death. Mulan didn’t dare pick up her pace.
They still had a ways to go before reaching the top, but luckily, the path was not too steep. Mulan tried to focus on her footing and not on looking up or down.
Both directions made her nervous. If she looked up, she could see the impossible landscape of cliffs hanging in midair, supported by little else other than the clouds. If she looked down, she saw the thousands of knives staked into the mountain. Every now and then, as they climbed higher, she spotted bloodstains on the blades. She tried not to wonder if it was human blood…or demon blood. It wasn’t clear which would better.
Neither spoke for a long time. The knives on her hands and feet were getting heavy, and Mulan estimated they were almost up the mountain.
She wiped her forehead. “I’m grateful you never made this a training drill. The pole with those medallions