THE MORNING arrived slowly. Even with the luxury of a bath, clean clothes, and a bed in the baker’s prosperous home, Mulan found little comfort in the night. There were only two days left before the new moon. Xiu and the Rabbit were getting weaker and weaker. They needed both plants to cure them. What if the Queen Mother’s garden didn’t have the Dragon Beard Grass? But even as Mulan asked herself the question, she knew the answer. If there was no Dragon Beard Grass in the Queen Mother’s garden, nothing could be done. Xiu and the Rabbit would die.
We should go as soon as possible, Mulan thought. She pulled the curtains back from her stately carved canopy bed (which filled almost the whole room) to wait for the night to thin. Slowly, the elaborate lattice carvings in front of her were silhouetted by grey and then silver as dawn began to filter through the paper-lined doors. Then, as the faraway squawking chorus of seabirds sounded through the quiet of dawn, Mulan pushed herself out of bed.
The night before, Li Jing’s family had invited them to breakfast in their family quarters, but Lu Ting-Pin insisted that they meet in the bakery for their morning meal. “The shop is right next door,” he had said, in an offhand manner that did not fool Mulan. She knew it was his stomach that was dictating their location. He continued with authority. “We’ll meet there as soon as we get up.”
So it was to the bakery that Mulan hesitantly crept now. Was she the only one awake? The morning sun streamed through the sky well, a purple-tinted rectangular patch of the heavens framed by the slats of the tiled roof. Mulan tiptoed across the courtyard of the house, past a small magnolia tree reaching up into the light with its budding branches. Gently, she pushed open the modest wooden doors of the shop, expecting an empty room.
But instead the store was full of light and activity. Li Jing’s father, a round-faced man with a perpetual smile, nodded a greeting as he held up a large pan of steaming buns. An older woman, her slight figure belying her wide grin of welcome, was arranging cakes on a platter. Mulan guessed that this was Li Jing’s mother, because she immediately called out, “Daughter! Mulan is awake!”
Li Jing seemed to pop out of nowhere, carrying a teapot. “Good morning! Good morning!” Li Jing said, beaming. “Come! Your uncle has already eaten a whole tray of cakes.”
Li Jing led Mulan into the main room, to the table she had sat at the day before. Lu Ting-Pin and the Rabbit were already there, their mouths full as they gave her a morning greeting.
Mulan sat across from Lu Ting-Pin, and a plate of steamed buns and a cup of tea were promptly conjured up by Li Jing’s considerable serving skill.
“His pork buns have gotten very good,” Lu Ting-Pin said, breaking open a pastry and smelling it as if testing the scent. “His red bean cakes still need improvement, though.”
Mulan bit into one of the cakes on her plate, and again, her eyes instinctively closed as the rich, velvety filling of the sweet bean paste coated the inside of her mouth. She licked her lips. “They taste good to me,” she said.
There was a harrumphing noise from below the table. “If your character was as fastidious as your belly, you’d get in a lot less trouble,” the Rabbit mumbled.
Lu Ting-Pin pretended annoyance. “Hush,” he said, then added wickedly, “Pet rabbits shouldn’t talk.”
Mulan burst with a snort of laughter which grew into giggles as Lu Ting-Pin joined with his booming guffaws. Li Jing came in with another plate of cakes. “It’s nice to see you so happy,” she said, smiling. “Last night you all looked as if someone were dying.”
Mulan felt the laughter drain from her, and all the cheer disappeared from the air. Li Jing frowned. “Did I say something wrong?” she asked.
Lu Ting-Pin pasted on a smile. “Of course not!” he said, patting Li Jing on the arm. “You just reminded us that we have an important journey ahead of us. But your father’s cakes should give us the strength to get through. Do you think I could try some of those pineapple ones, too?”
Li Jing smiled proudly and trotted off. The new plate of cakes was as aromatic and as toothsome looking as the other, but Mulan had lost her appetite. She looked down at the Rabbit, who was delicately nibbling on the filling of a lotus seed bun. She stood up.
“I think I’m going to go out,” she said. “Maybe I’ll check up on the boat.”
Lu Ting-Pin nodded. “Good idea,” he said. “We’ll be off as soon as we’re done here.”
Mulan suspected that would not be soon, considering the number of cakes piled in front of him. She stepped out of the bakery and onto the street, the mist of morning still clinging to the grey-tiled roofs of the buildings lining it. She heard faint clatters and shouts from behind the closed wooden shutters of the shops and homes as the village slowly awakened. This is just like morning in the courtyard at home, Mulan thought, and she felt a sharp sting in her heart. She, too, should be behind wooden shutters with her family. She should be with Ma and Ba and Xiu cooking rice porridge and combing hair, yelling and laughing. But instead, she was walking alone, her footsteps making a hollow sound on the empty stone street. At the gate of the village, she looked out over the island—the silver haze of dawn softening the rocky, brown contours of the land—and started down toward the water.
However, it was not the boat that Mulan went to. As soon as it was in view, she turned and headed toward the far edge of the island. It was easier making her way now that there was light, and she soon saw what she had been looking for—the Stone Statue and the Odd-Shaped Rock.
But was it the Stone Statue and the Odd-Shaped Rock? As Mulan neared the two forms, she realized that they were not the same as when she had left them the night before. They were no longer stone—somehow they had both crumbled into piles of dust and dirt.
Mulan frowned in confusion. Slowly, she reached toward the large mounds. As soon as her fingers touched the tiny granules, the ocean roared out a wild gale of wind, blowing the dirt up and into Mulan’s face. She coughed and blinked, brushing away the flying dust. But her hand slowed its movements as she noticed the breathtaking spectacle around her. A shaft of light from the morning sun beamed down upon the dust floating around her, making it glitter and glow. The shining particles hovered around her, and Mulan felt as if she were surrounded by millions of infinitesimal stars, twinkling with unearthly magic.
“Wow,” Mulan breathed. But as she spoke, another blast of wind blew from the sea and the shimmering dust scattered. Mulan turned and watched as the glinting air gusted up behind her and over the cliffs. She looked back at where the Stone Statue and the Odd-Shaped Rock had stood. They were gone.
And yet—Mulan squinted. A thin layer of dust remained where the rocks had stood. Was there something green in there? She knelt and brushed the ground, the remaining dust whirling up into the air in sparkling puffs. Yes, there was something green! Fine green stalks as long as her fingers were sprouting from the ground. The stems were delicate and curved, waving with every rumble of the ocean.
Could it be? Mulan’s fingers trembled as she gently pulled out one of the sprouts, revealing crimson roots like unraveled red silk threads. She quickly grabbed a handful more, jumped up, and began to run. She raced up and over the hills, her feet flying—not noticing that they no longer stumbled on crumbling earth. She stopped only once when she saw a tall, distant figure carrying a rabbit walking toward the docks. She waved and hollered and leapt forward, completely overlooking the shimmering light spreading over the island as the dust scattered and sprinkled.