investigate you and deter you. I must apologize for my methods, but we cannot have just anyone coming in and out of Diyu to rescue the dead. That would disrupt the very balance of Heaven, Earth, and Diyu.”
Mulan felt a rush of understanding. “You must have been angry with me.”
“You challenged me,” Meng Po allowed. “Which happens very…very rarely. I was angrier with King Yama for allowing a mortal into the Underworld.” Her mischievous eyes sparkled. “But I agree that the captain still has much to do on Earth in this life, so a part of me is relieved that you have succeeded.”
“Where is he?”
Meng Po stepped aside, revealing a path behind her. Mulan was sure it hadn’t been there moments ago, but now, nestled among the bamboo was a thin bridge overlooking a clear, tinkling stream. Two phoenixes guarded the left and right side of the bridge’s entrance, their fiery wings magnificent against the sunlight.
“Is that the Bridge of Helplessness?” Mulan asked.
Meng Po chuckled. “No. You’ll not see the Bridge of Helplessness on your journey out of Diyu. This is a different bridge, the Bridge of Serenity. Your friends are waiting on the other side.”
Mulan nodded and turned for the bridge.
“A word before you go,” Meng Po requested. “I may not have a chance to speak with you again, not for many years.”
Mulan paused. “Yes?”
“You made a worthy opponent, Fa Mulan. I have worn a thousand faces, but even I did not see through your disguise right away.” Meng Po folded her arms, her long sleeves drifting in the wind. “You surprised me, and given I’ve made my home among the ghosts and creatures of the Underworld, that is a difficult achievement indeed.”
Mulan’s lips parted, but she didn’t know what to say.
Meng Po raised her arms.
At once, the gashes on Mulan’s skin healed. Her wounds closed, and the dull pain in her ankle vanished. The rips and tears on her sleeves mended themselves, and her soldier’s uniform, which had seen battle on Earth as well as in the Underworld, began to shimmer—until the simple muslin and linen cloth became a rich, forest-green silk. Her tunic lengthened, stretching until it flared behind her calves. Fitted over her chest was the finest armor, emblazoned with pink lotus blossoms and a red dragon.
“There,” said Meng Po, rubbing her hands together. “That’s a more appropriate uniform for such a warrior such as yourself.”
Mulan stared at herself in awe. “Thank you, Meng Po, but I can’t wear this. I’m returning to the army. And…” She stopped. “And…they don’t know I’m a woman.”
“I know, I know.” Meng Po chuckled. “I was about to tell you not to grow too attached. My magic is based in illusion, after all…but you shouldn’t reunite with your friends and see King Yama in those rags. Now—” Meng Po gestured at Mulan’s sword, which had reappeared at her hip in an exquisitely carved wooden scabbard. “Tell me where you found this sword.”
Mulan passed it to her. “On the Mountain of Knives.”
“I have not seen it in many years.” Meng Po marveled at the blade, running her fingers across the words emblazoned on the steel.
“It doesn’t seem like something that belongs in Diyu. ShiShi said it had magic.”
“Indeed it does,” Meng Po said slyly. “Is that all you know about it?”
Mulan touched her chin, remembering. “My father once told me about demigod who lived long, long ago. He was a hero who wielded a magical sword. One like this.”
“Your father was right,” Meng Po agreed. “Except that hero was not a man, but a woman. Me.”
Mulan inhaled. “So the sword is yours.”
“Indeed.” Meng Po smiled. “My father was a god, and my mother was human. If I had been a boy, I would have been invited to live in Heaven. But the gods saw no use for another half-breed girl. So I sought to prove myself to my father, and I did so by serving in the Emperor’s army. I was a woman, but I was also half-immortal. The Emperor could not refuse my service, but that did not mean the men respected me. Not at first, anyway. I earned it over many trials and many years.”
“‘The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all,’” Mulan murmured.
Meng Po nodded. “My days as a warrior are long past. Eventually, my father did invite me to join him in Heaven. But there are plenty of immortals in Heaven, so many that they are often forgotten on Earth. I