Magnolia Blossom, Chapter 2: First Meeting (Mulan, Shang/Mulan, #29)
Summary: Alternate storyline based in part on the Disney movie; each chapter will center around one of the themes.
Title: First Meeting
Author: lightbird
Fandom: Mulan
Pairing: Shang/Mulan (“Ping”)
Theme: #29, Breathe
Warnings: Slight implied shounen-ai since Shang doesn’t know that Ping is Mulan yet
Disclaimer: Disney’s, not mine
(Link here for Chapter 1)
He was sitting on the stone bench again, under the same magnolia tree by the pond. The sights and smells were exactly as before and he gazed at the surface of the water, knowing that the pretty face of the young girl would appear again. His heart quickened as the image came into view and this time the girl smiled at him. He left the bench and moved over to kneel at the edge of the pond, leaning over to look more closely at her. The image disappeared again.
A sigh escaped him as he leaned back, resting on his haunches, disappointed that she’d gone again so quickly.
“Shang.”
Her voice was light and soft as she uttered his name. He turned his head this way and that to find her, but no one was in sight and he appeared to be there alone.
Warm, soft lips brushed his unexpectedly. He opened his eyes and blinked in disbelief. It was a trick or a hallucination. Though he’d clearly felt the kiss no one was there; he brought his fingers up to touch his lips wonderingly. Was it a fairy that had kissed him? He heard a giggle and whirled around to gaze up into the branches of the magnolia tree, where the sound had come from. Dark, laughing eyes peered at him through a tangle of branches bedecked with magnolia blossoms. She gently pushed away a branch, revealing the fresh, pretty young face that he’d seen in the pond before. He took a step toward her. Smiling coquettishly, she slowly and coyly allowed the branch to slide back, obscuring most of her visage once again except for her bedroom eyes.
“Who are you?” he asked. “How do you know my name?”
He might have found out the answer if he hadn’t been rudely awakened by Chi Fu’s whiny voice and the rough laughter and teasing of his men. They were already taunting the councilman outside and he realized, with a start, that he’d overslept. Usually he awoke at dawn.
Shang sat up with a sigh and swung his legs over the edge of his pallet. For a brief moment he closed his eyes, conjuring up images of the dream again. The banter of his men grew louder and he debated whether he ought to intervene. Things weren’t out of hand yet and it would do the sniveling bureaucrat some good to get a little ribbing.
He’d requested breakfast in his tent and at that moment the cook showed up with it. Shang found it difficult to muster his appetite, apprehensive about how the first day of training would go; but he forced himself to eat, knowing that he would need his strength. After clearing his bowl he set it aside and remained sitting on the edge of his pallet for a few moments, listening to the chatter of the new troops.
Dropping his head into his hands, he reflected on his first day as captain and the dubious first meeting with his subordinates, one in particular, something he’d avoided dwelling on. No wonder he’d slept late.
Fa Ping. Flower vase. It was the silliest name he’d ever heard. And strangely fitting of the small, peculiar soldier that bore it.
Ignoring Chi Fu’s snide remark the day before as his father’s regiment left the camp, he had set his jaw and determinedly stepped forward, sweeping his bright red cape back behind him and calling out to the tangle of brawling soldiers that were now his subordinates. They’d ceased their punching and kicking immediately, scrambling to attention at the sound of his voice, filling him with a sense of confidence; and power. Maybe this would be easier than he’d originally thought; after all, he was able to call this mob to order with just one word.
“He started it.”
A unison accusation as they all stepped back to reveal the culprit, and every man pointed to the small armored figure that lay on the ground, curled up in a fetal position, arms covering his face. The unfit teen boy that he’d seen when he had first entered camp.
He strode forward, staring down at the prostrate figure that he now hovered over. Large dark eyes peeked up at him through the opening between his arms. As the boy moved his arms away, Shang was taken aback for a moment as he got a clear look at his eyes. All he could think was that they were soft and soulful; beautiful. He blinked at his own mind and pushed the thought aside as the boy scrambled to his feet, absently dusting himself off. Shang stood at least a foot taller than him and the boy timidly raised wide, stunned-looking eyes to look at him. A scared child. He would be easy to discipline.
“I don’t need anyone causing trouble in my camp,” the young captain spoke sternly, leaning in to get into the boy’s face.
The next words that tumbled out of the kid’s mouth were cryptic and incoherent as he muttered something about manly urges. Shang folded his arms and leaned his weight back on one foot, eyeing the boy quizzically, convinced already that he was a lunatic.
“What’s your name?” he finally demanded of the boy, wanting to cut off his inane rambling.
It was a simple question that should have drawn a simple answer; but in this case he was dealing with a goofball who continued to fumble, apparently unable to remember his own name. After an endless amount of hemming and hawing, during which time the new young captain had to remind himself to breathe and refrain from strangling him, the boy finally came up with the name Ping. After all of that Shang didn’t believe him. Holding a hand out, he demanded to see the boy’s conscription notice. Nothing could have surprised him more than when he unfurled the document that was handed to him and read ‘Fa Zhou’ on the paper.
“Fa Zhou? The Fa Zhou?”
Even as he read the notice and asked the question, Shang couldn’t believe it. Fa Zhou was famous, one of the greatest generals to ever serve in the Emperor’s army. He couldn’t for a moment swallow that this boy could possibly be that honored warrior’s son. Ping was half the size of the smallest man there, a boy in a man’s armor that he didn’t quite fit into yet. And he was twice as green; he’d seen rabbits that looked less frightened than Ping did.
“I didn’t know Fa Zhou had a son,” Chi Fu was saying.
“Uh, he doesn’t talk about me much,” Ping stammered.
Handing over the notice to Chi Fu with a sigh, Shang moved around him to firmly address the rest of the troops. The best way to discipline a troublemaker like Ping was to make him answerable to his peers. To do that, his peers had to share in his punishment. And so, as his first order of the day, Shang had ordered all of them to pick up every single grain of rice, pointedly advising them that it was thanks to their new friend Ping. From the mutters and grumblings that followed, there was no doubt that the boy was in for it.
If he wasn’t so annoyed and worried about what was in store, he might have found the whole situation funny. When he dreamed of having a first command, this was not what he imagined.
“Well, look who slept in this morning. Hello, Ping,” a voice sing-songed somewhere outside the tent. “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah. ‘Cause I owe you a knuckle sandwich.”
It was time to intervene. Standing up and pulling on a robe, Shang strode out of the tent, letting the tunic hang open casually. He would be removing it anyway, as he always trained bare-backed.
He called the men to order and began the first day of training.
(Link to Chapter 3)