The peach would keep Xiu alive, the Rabbit had said. Now that they couldn’t find the flower, was this their only choice? When the Queen Mother had said Mulan could pick one thing, she had not forbidden the fruit as she had when the Rabbit had been with the Unwanted Girl. Mulan could pick the peach without punishment. Her arm rose and her hand reached for the fruit.
But at great cost, the Rabbit had also said. Mulan’s hand stopped in midair, the tender flesh of the peach only a fingertip away. What cost? The Unwanted Girl had been thrown out of the garden, and the Rabbit had been unable to save her brother. But was the cost even higher? Maybe when the Unwanted Girl had eaten the Fruit of Longevity, she was saved from the poison of Daji’s honey; yet she was also doomed to serve the White Fox for all six thousand years of her prolonged life. Was that what the White Fox had planned for Xiu? And for herself? It’s the peach you want, Daji had said. But it wasn’t what Mulan wanted. It was what Daji wanted. Your job is to bring honor to your family, Ba had said. Doing what Daji wanted could never be honorable. Mulan’s arm dropped.
She turned away from the tree, trembling, not even noticing that she was going through the same flower gate opening that she had already entered. She could not pick the peach. Xiu would die. And—Mulan swallowed—so would the Rabbit.
Mulan peeked into the pouch and looked down at the frail creature. “Rabbit,” she whispered. “I can’t find the plant. Help me!”
The Rabbit remained silent and still.
Mulan straightened and saw the sun edging closer to the horizon, large and burning white, glaring with harsh brilliance. She closed her eyes to hide the view. A tear rolled down her cheek.
Suddenly, she felt the Rabbit stir. “Mulan,” he mumbled, as something dropped to the ground. “For you.” Mulan’s eyes flew open as she looked to see what had fallen.
It was Xiu’s stuffed toy.
“MULAN! MULAN!” Lu Ting-Pin’s voice echoed toward her.
“I’m here!” she yelled back. She looked at the Rabbit, who was again mute and motionless in the carrier. She bent down to pick up Xiu’s toy, which the Rabbit had pushed out. Why had he done that? Was it by accident? Or something more?
Lu Ting-Pin dropped down beside her, obviously having realized that flying over the winding garden paths was the faster choice. “I found two plants with purple flowers,” he said breathlessly. “One has nine pointed petals, and the other is shaped like a horn with a star spreading from its center. Which is the Essence of Heavenly Majesty?”
Mulan was scarcely paying attention. Instead, she was staring at Xiu’s cloth toy as if seeing it for the first time. She had clutched that worn silk hundreds of times, so many times that she had forgotten what it had once looked like. But years before, the toy rabbit had been reddish orange and neatly embroidered with the standard poison-fighting animals. Suddenly she remembered the Rabbit’s medicine bag from so long ago, the one she had smelled to clear her stuffed nose. It had felt familiar then, and now she knew why. It was just like Xiu’s toy. The same silk, the same design. The viper, spider, toad, centipede, and scorpion all embroidered around a floral design. Xiu’s now-shabby animal was a dark copper color and the silk threads of the embroidery had all but worn away, with only a flower and the spider remaining. A white spider.
The stories of the past and the future—they’re all inside the Rabbit. Even the ones he doesn’t know he has. Mulan closed her eyes, remembering herself as a young girl and the old peasant who had given her the toy rabbit. The woman had been wrinkled with sun-darkened, dappled skin and, Mulan suddenly recalled, light amber eyes. The Rabbit can change into any kind of being, from a noble healer to an old peasant woman. Had the Rabbit been the peasant woman? Had the Rabbit given her this toy, knowing she would need it someday?
Mulan opened her eyes, the cloth rabbit still in her hands. Her finger traced the embroidered flower, its fraying lavender threads getting caught in the roughened skin of her fingers. She lifted her head and looked at Lu Ting-Pin.
“You said there was one with nine petals?” Mulan asked quickly. He nodded.
Mulan began to count the embroidered petals on Xiu’s toy, her finger trembling. Seven, eight, nine. Nine tapered triangles.
“It’s that one!” Mulan said, almost shouting with relief and excitement. “That’s the Essence of Heavenly Majesty! That’s the one we want!”
Lu Ting-Pin grabbed her wrist. “Come on,” he said, “this way!”
They raced along the crooked walkways as the sun hovered above the line of the earth, the sky soaked in a ruby color as it tried to linger. We must have the Essence of Heavenly Majesty in our hands by the night of the new moon, the Rabbit had said. As they ran, Mulan gazed upward, where the sky was already tinged deep blue by night.
“IT’S OVER HERE,” Lu Ting-Pin called.
Mulan panted, tightening the pouch to steady the Rabbit, whom she had quickly shifted to her back. They had run over bridges, through courtyards, and past waterfalls. Mulan was slightly amazed at how much of the garden Lu Ting-Pin had been able to inspect. However, considering how quickly he was gliding through the garden as her feet pounded and she gasped for air, she realized that even if he was not quite an Immortal, he still had a distinct advantage.
Finally, Lu Ting-Pin led Mulan through a gourd-shaped doorway into an open courtyard that expanded to a rippling lake. A golden pavilion stood in front of them, gleaming in the falling light. But its beauty was unnoticed by both of them as they rushed toward the greenery beside it. There, under the protection of an elegant cypress tree and two flowering bushes, grew a small patch of flowers.
And just as they reached them, the garden illuminated. Round lanterns magically lit themselves and lines of bright silk moons suddenly hung in the air all around them. Mulan looked up and saw that the lower curve of the sun was now touching the horizon, fiery ribbons of orange and red streaking across the sky.
The setting sun cast a golden glow on the flowers, which stood proudly—their leaves sprouting from straight stems that led to their purple blooms. Those blooms were a pure, rich violet, and they opened to the heavens like stars, shining with the rosy light from the sun.
Mulan, wheezing, looked at the cloth toy and then back at the flowers. You may pick only one item, the Queen Mother had said. They couldn’t make a mistake. A bee buzzed around Mulan’s face and she frowned as she shooed it away. Yes, the embroidered flower on Xiu’s toy and these flowers matched. This had to be the Essence of Heavenly Majesty.
“These are the ones!” Mulan said, too relieved to even feel joy. “We did it!”
As she crouched down to pick a blossom, the bee burst from one of the flowers and flew at her. Mulan swatted at it, the cloth bandages around her hands unwinding. Then another bee darted at her. In surprise, Mulan flapped both her hands wildly. Her manic waving pushed her off balance and she fell to the ground in an awkward sitting position, her arms flailing as she tried to avoid crushing the Rabbit.
But even as she sat with her legs sprawled, the bees continued to buzz angrily around her. Mulan flinched from them in confusion, waving her hands again to bat them away. Lu Ting-Pin came to help her, and as he placed his hand on her arm, the bees landed on either side of them.