Mulan stared at the edge of the boat, now almost level with the water. She ran to the covered shelter, quickly put on the carrier, and gently eased the Rabbit into it. She touched the waterproof bag at her waist, checking its secure closing and attachments. Before running out, she saw Xiu’s cloth toy lying on the ground. Quickly, Mulan grabbed it and shoved it in with the Rabbit.
Mulan dashed out from the shelter and was dismayed to see water already splashing over and onto the deck. Lu Ting-Pin stood with panicked eyes, pulling his hair in agitation.
“What should I do? What should I do?” he was muttering. “Can’t swim…can’t fly…”
“Wait,” Mulan said. “What do you mean you can’t fly? I thought you could just carry us over from here!”
Lu Ting-Pin shook his head wildly. “I can’t fly carrying mortal weight!” he said helplessly. “When the Immortals took away my fly whisk…”
Mulan did not bother to listen to the rest of Lu Ting-Pin’s words. Obviously, these were the limitations the Rabbit had mentioned. The water was now up to her ankles and rising swiftly. She glanced around, hearing only her heartbeat and the sloshing of water. What should she do? You can never give up, can you? Ma had said. No, Mulan thought, she couldn’t. The red sail flapped at her, and instinctively, Mulan jumped to the mast.
Her blood pulsating as if it were boiling, she gave a forceful jerk to the ropes attaching the sail to the stern. The already weak ropes wrenched free and flew to her. She grabbed their ends, twisting and knotting, her hands taking orders from some unknown part of her. Then she turned to the sail and, with both hands, gripped the red silk and—RRRIIIIIPPP!!—tore it from the mast.
Quickly, she fished out the ends she had just knotted together, which already lay in a knee-high bath of water. Shifting the carrier so that the Rabbit avoided the cords, she brought the large knot to her chest and grabbed the upper lines. She looked behind her. The sail was falling, but the gentle breeze had kept it from collapse. It was still open to the wind.
The water rose up her legs and Lu Ting-Pin stood in front of her, still frowning in bewilderment.
“Master Lu!” Mulan hissed. “Blow!”
“What?” he said, surprised.
The water was at her waist now, and she looked desperately at the sail behind her. “Just blow!” Mulan ordered, her voice like a falling boulder.
Lu Ting-Pin did as he was told. Just as when he had blown away the fog before, he gulped the air, filling his cheeks. Then his mouth split open and a great gale blasted forth. The wind resounded across the sea, thundering in Mulan’s ears; her hair whipped back and she closed her eyes from the force of it.
And it filled the sail behind her. The red silk billowed out, and with a violent jerk, Mulan felt herself being thrown up into the air. Her breath was knocked from her, and only by luck was she able to grip the ropes in time before falling back. When she was finally able to open her eyes, she found herself gliding in the sky, her wet clothes flinging water droplets like flying rain. Down below, right over the top of the vast expanse of smooth green water, the small toy statue of Lu Ting-Pin stood looking up at her, his mouth still open and the back of his head touching the tip of the boat’s disappearing mast.
MULAN WATCHED as Lu Ting-Pin finally turned from watching her and bent down to seize something from the water. When he straightened, he was holding a sword, which he quickly slid onto his back. Then he raised his arm and leapt into the air.
He flew past her, shooting her a wink, while she grimaced. Rise up and continue, Ba had said. Well, she was rising, but Mulan’s hands were burning and she could already feel the bruises on her chest and shoulders from the ropes. These pains were not improved when she felt another rough jerk. She craned her neck and saw, from the corner of her eye, the figure of Lu Ting-Pin pulling the sail.
The water sparkled as she skimmed above, glittering azure silk rolling out below her. The sea lightened to pale green and then to celadon, and while Mulan could not see behind her, she suspected they were close to shore. This proved correct as she felt the sail being pulled downward and jade rocks the color of moss in snow began to jut from the water.
The rocks became more abundant, as did the green color, for soon the ground below her was the vibrant shade of a kingfisher’s wing. They were past the glittering sands, above the rocky cliffs. The land was coming closer to her now, and Mulan saw that the emerald iridescence was actually feathery grass that brushed against her feet as she descended. She dropped gently, the plumed grass softening her landing.
Mulan lay splayed in the grass, immobile with relief. The tufted grass turned from green to blue as it swayed beside her in the sun. She winced as she finally unclenched her fists, releasing the ropes—two raw, scarlet lines were etched painfully in her palms where the ropes had cut into her. Gingerly, she checked the Rabbit, carefully shifting him so that he lay on her heart and she could feel his faint breath. She touched the pouch at her waist and sighed with relief. That was safe, too.
The face of Lu Ting-Pin suddenly beamed down at her. Kneeling, he helped Mulan sit up and tilted his gourd to her mouth. There was water in the gourd now—cool, sweet water without even a hint of the briny sea. Mulan gulped it down.
Lu Ting-Pin made a tsking sound and, without a word, ripped a piece of fabric from the bottom of his robe. This he wrapped around Mulan’s hands, the deep trenches caused by the ropes raw and bleeding. He repeated this with her other hand, and Mulan felt the burning pain dissipate to a dull, faint ache.
“That was a feat worthy of an Immortal,” Lu Ting-Pin said to her, smiling. “I’m a bit jealous that I didn’t get to do it myself.”
Mulan shook her head, but her mouth curved. She took another sip of water as the immense expanse of sea glinted and the sand below her shimmered as if made from the dust of diamonds. She shook her head again. The water was calm and limpid and as lovely as a painting—yet it had almost just killed her.
But her curving mouth fell open when she turned around to see the place she had landed; she was not prepared for the beauty of the Isle of Kunlun Mountain.
Beyond the waving grasses were forests of curved and twisted trees. A pearl-white mist floated in and among the top branches, creating a sea of clouds. And rising from that, reaching into the sapphire sky, was a series of craggy, rounded peaks of jasper. More trees dotted these cliffs, their gold, green, and red leaves harmonizing with the speckled stone. It was a glorious, ancient fairy-tale painting come to life, and Mulan caught her breath in amazement and awe. Lu Ting-Pin sneezed.
“It’s the peacock grass,” he said apologetically, rubbing his nose. “Immortal paradises and all their perfect purity always make me feel a bit ill.”
Mulan could not help laughing. “Have you been here before?” she asked.
Lu Ting-Pin looked even more uncomfortable. “Once or twice,” he said, looking up at the sky guiltily.
Mulan decided it would be best not to ask about his previous visits. She looked up at the sky, where the afternoon sun was just starting to tire and begin its slow journey to night. They had made it to the Isle of Kunlun Mountain, but now they needed to get to the Queen Mother’s garden. Mulan looked at the Rabbit, curled up helplessly and mute in her pouch. He was not going to be able to offer any guidance. She sighed and gently pushed Xiu’s stuffed toy to his nose.