the cushion under her legs. “I’m not sure. I feel a little dizzy.”
“That’s because you should eat something.” Her mother gestured at the food with her chopsticks. “All this running around—at least there’s no hay in your hair this evening, Mulan. But you’re so thin. Eat something to replenish your energy. And drink your tea. Baba’s already on his second cup.”
The smell of Fa Zhou’s medicinal tea reminded Mulan of his poor health. Six cups a day, the doctor had told him—three in the morning, and three in the evening.
Mulan sobered. There was nothing she wanted more than to make Baba happy. She warmed her hands over the cup. She was thirsty—and hungry, yet something held her back from joining her parents as they ate and drank.
This isn’t real, a voice nagged at Mulan. The reminder shot a pang of loneliness through her. I should leave.
She started to get up, but Grandmother Fa appeared, carrying a plate of orange slices and steamed pork buns. She set them in the center of the table, then plopped onto the cushion opposite Mulan’s father. Her eyes were different, Mulan noticed. Darker, more hooded.
That’s just because she’s sitting in the shadows.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” said her grandmother cheerfully. “To make us proud? You’ve done it.”
Forgetting her plan to leave, Mulan relaxed and nodded.
Her family looked so happy. She’d never seen them so proud of her before. This was what she’d always wanted. To uphold the family honor, to do her duty as a daughter.
This moment was perfect. It was everything she could have asked for.
So why did she feel so hollow inside?
She turned to her father. The glow on Fa Zhou’s face and the tenderness in his eyes melted her. That emptiness in her stomach twisted. This is what you wanted. Embrace it.
“Eat something, Mulan. You’re making me nervous just sitting there.”
Little Brother barked in agreement.
Mulan reached for one of the steamed buns in the center of the table and pulled apart its soft white dough. She laid it on her plate, then reached for her tea again and inhaled its hot steam. The hollowness inside her faded, and that nagging voice reminding her things weren’t real—blurred into the distance.
“So,” she said, “tell me what the Matchmaker said.”
“She was very impressed with you. It took her a while to find a suitable match, but there’s a young man from the capital who she believes would be perfect. He comes from a good family, your stars align harmoniously, and he has a bright future ahead of him.”
That told Mulan absolutely nothing. Suddenly she wondered why she’d wanted this so much—to be given away to a stranger to marry. Couldn’t a woman be worth something without having to be a bride?
She bit back her comments. I can’t change the law. I can’t own land or even speak my mind. Mama and Baba only want what’s best for me.
“What’s his name?” Mulan asked, trying her hardest to sound interested.
The gate outside shuddered, and two sets of footsteps echoed across the courtyard, growing haltingly closer.
Fa Li froze. “Who could that be? We’re not expecting anyone.”
Mulan tumbled off her cushion. She was already up. “Bandits?”
“Sit down, Mulan,” said Fa Zhou. “I’ll deal with it.”
Mulan pretended not to hear. Gripping her chopsticks in her fist, she crouched beside the window behind the dining table and peered outside.
No, not bandits.
A soldier. He was surprisingly light-footed for being so tall and strapping, and stranger still, he’d arrived with an enormous lion with a disheveled mane. At first she thought he was stealing one of the stone statues from their ancestral temple, but then the lion moved, his tail curving behind him like a cat’s.
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