“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Lu Ting-Pin said. He held his gourd out to her. “Have a drink?”
“Now you offer her wine?” the Rabbit objected. “Are you purposely trying to ruin her?”
Lu Ting-Pin threw his head back and laughed. “It’s just tea,” he said, chuckling. “My gourds aren’t allowed to make wine yet, you know.”
He handed the gourd to Mulan. She brought it to her mouth, the delicate aroma of tea wafting into her nose. She sipped the warm liquid, enjoying its fragrant flavor, before asking, “Why aren’t you allowed to make wine?”
He took the gourd from her and passed it to the Rabbit, who with a bit of difficulty angled it to drink as well. “Oh, it’s part of my punishment,” Lu Ting-Pin said, watching the Rabbit with amusement.
“Your punishment?” Mulan said. “What are you being punished for?”
The Rabbit put the gourd down and looked at Lu Ting-Pin, whose face suddenly became somber.
“You didn’t tell her?” Lu Ting-Pin said to the Rabbit.
“It is not my story to tell,” he replied.
A gentle breeze blew over the boat, and as it traveled through the ship’s hold, they could hear the Odd-Shaped Rock make a faint whistling noise.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Mulan said, feeling awkward. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not a secret,” Lu Ting-Pin said. He took his gourd from the Rabbit and drank again. He grimaced, shook his head at the bottle, and looked out over the water. “And we have time.”
I once fell in love with a mortal woman. Her name was Yellow Peony, and even though she was as beautiful as the flower, it was the light in her eyes that transfixed me. When she smiled at me, her eyes seemed to hold all the innocence and hope of the world, and I could not look away.
While we both knew it was wrong, only I knew it was forbidden. Yet that did not stop me. With a single glance, I had already helplessly fallen, and broke the strict moral code of the Mighty Eight Immortals by doing so.
We married in secret and I used my powers to conceal our relationship, deceiving all that came upon us. But we could not hide forever. My seven fellow Mighty Immortals had already become suspicious of me, as my many lies claiming I was with someone else or in other places had become unbelievable. But it was the lake I had conjured that was my true downfall.
For around the home I had made with Yellow Peony, I placed a lake. It was a lovely lake with jade-green water and orange fish flickering through the gentle waves. But I had not placed it there for beauty. I had placed it there so that none could pass our home. I had thought, naively as well as wrongly, to keep Yellow Peony like a treasure from the world—hidden in a house in the middle of a lake, where only I could fly to her.
But a new and unusual body of water is not something the Immortals would miss. Finally, during one of my questionable disappearances, my seven associates decided to search for me. As they flew in the air, they noticed the lake—the lake they had never seen before and that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Immediately, they went to investigate, and promptly, my deceptions were revealed.
My seven fellow Mighty Immortals were outraged, but it was their disappointment that truly vanquished me. Their judgment upon me was swift and painful. They circled around me, all with their powerful talismans flashing a lightning that seized and held me helplessly into the air. Many of my powers were painfully extracted from me, my penance was named, and I was forbidden to see Yellow Peony or interfere with her life ever again.
This last requirement was agonizing, yet I was forced to obey. And it was for the best, too. I had no right to interfere in her mortal life, I who had removed her from the world and treated her as if she were a flower or a pet. Yellow Peony was a woman with thoughts and a destiny of her own—a destiny I had injured with my selfishness.
Because over time, I slowly heard bits and pieces of what happened to her. She had our child, a girl, in disgrace, as all were aghast by our marriage. But soon after, the Immortals arranged for Yellow Peony to go to another town and create a different identity for herself. She was able to remarry (the Immortals quickly dissolved our marriage after the baby was born) and start a new family and life. However, Yellow Peony could not bear the sight of her eldest daughter, our child. The child she had with me was a constant reminder of my betrayal, our shameful relationship, and the dishonor it had brought her. The daughter bore the brunt of Yellow Peony’s anger and resentment, an acrimony which should have been placed upon me.
And that is the most terrible of all my transgressions. My actions caused a mother to despise her own innocent child, and I shall always be ashamed. Because, even when I have completed my penance, it will never make up for the pain I have caused my poor daughter, who was so rejected that she became known as the Unwanted Girl.
“THE UNWANTED Girl?” Mulan gasped. “Is she…is she the same…” Mulan stole a quick glance at the Rabbit and whispered, “Is she the same girl that became the Red Fox?”
“Ah.” Lu Ting-Pin also looked at the Rabbit. “You told her that story?”
The Rabbit nodded, and a look of sadness passed between the two.
“I should not have interfered,” the Rabbit said.
“You were only trying to help,” Lu Ting-Pin said. “You wanted to give her a chance to find her way.”
“And I led her to the wrong one,” the Rabbit said, gloomily.
“Tuzi,” Lu Ting-Pin said, “the blame is far from yours. Truly, the fault lies between me and the White Fox.”
And at the mention of the White Fox, a strong wind blew, causing the sail to whip against the sky. An ominous darkness descended, and they stood, a sudden dread creeping upon all of them as the boat stopped moving. Mulan peered over the edge and saw that the water was still and smooth, as if the boat were sitting upon black lacquered wood. And when she looked up, she saw that a thick dark cloud enveloped them. A strange feeling of emptiness overwhelmed her: time, sound, and color had been sucked away. Everything—the sky, the sun, the earth—had disappeared into a haze of grey, swallowed by a demon of mist.
“Fog!” Mulan whispered with awe. Her neck ached of stiffness and Mulan realized that she did not know how long she had been staring. The blanket of sky covering them seemed to have held them still in both place and time. She placed her hand on her neck to rub away the stiffness and then grimaced. It was a vast understatement to call this merely fog, but she had no other word for it.
“The White Fox, again,” the Rabbit said, with disgust. “Anything to try to slow us down.”
Lu Ting-Pin whooped with laughter, his bellows even louder in that muffling cloak of mist. “Really?” he boomed, his voice breaking the heavy hush. “This old trick? Is this really the best she can do?”
“She’s already made a storm,” the Rabbit said. “And a swarm of bees and a canyon. She must be just about out, by now.”
Lu Ting-Pin laughed again. “Even with all her centuries, she’s still so uninspired! Spitting rain and blowing smoke!” he snorted. “Well, I can blow, too.”
And with that, Lu Ting-Pin hopped onto the hull of the boat. He grabbed the mast with one hand and threw his other arm out into the fog. The sail remained still, but his sleeve billowed, flapping from the force of his energy. He opened his mouth and took a loud gulp of air. As he closed his mouth to hold in the sucked air, he looked down at Mulan and gave her a wink. Then, making a circle with his mouth, he blew.