They couldn’t be more than an hour from the bottom of the hill. She tugged on Khan’s reins with her free hand, but the horse wouldn’t budge. Khan whinnied.
Then—
Shang’s hand grew warmer, and his breath steadier.
Mulan jolted, relief swelling in her heart. “Shang?”
“Is it morning already?” he rasped, coughing.
“You’re awake.” Mulan instantly dropped his hand, remembering that he was her commanding officer. She fumbled for her canteen. “Here, have some water.”
Shang tried to sit up.
“Easy,” she said. “You’re on my horse.”
Shang winced, then laid his head back down on Khan’s neck and let out a groan. “Where are we?”
“Half a day from the Tung-Shao Pass. Maybe less.”
“Where are the others?”
Trust Shang to get straight to business, even when he was critically wounded. “Up ahead. Not far.”
She paused, already dreading the answer before she asked, “Is the pain better?”
A shadow passed over Shang’s face. Suddenly, he looked vacant and lost. “Is my father here? I heard him speaking earlier to Chi Fu. Tell him I’m almost finished with my training.”
“Your father? But Shang, your father is—” Mulan stopped. Shang knew his father was dead. Chien-Po had found the general’s helmet on a battlefield, strewn with the slaughtered soldiers of General Li’s army. Shang had taken his father’s helmet and hung it on his sword among the fallen in the snow. They’d all respectfully watched him do it. “Shang?”
Mulan put her palm against the captain’s cheek. His skin burned with fever, much hotter than before. “Shang, wake up.”
Mushu crept to Shang’s side and waved a claw in front of the captain’s face.
“I don’t want my father to see me like this,” Shang mumbled. He blinked drowsily. “Is that a snake on my stomach?”
“Who are you calling a snake?” Mushu said, offended.
Mulan snatched Mushu away. “Leave him alone,” she whispered through gritted teeth.
“You might want to take a look at him,” said Mushu. “Um, his eyes are looking glassy, and his skin’s red. He’s not looking too hot. Well, if you want to be totally accurate, he is looking hot—”
“Yes, I know,” Mulan interrupted, a note of panic in her voice. She slipped off her horse and dragged Shang off Khan’s back, lowering him onto the snow with a grunt. She peeled off the blankets Chien-Po had wrapped over his body, then gently lifted his head and carefully dribbled the water from her canteen through his parted lips.
“Shang,” she said, tapping his cheek with her fingers. “Shang, it’s Ping. I’m here. Wake up. Talk to me.”
Shang’s head bobbed to the side. “Ping?”
“Yes,” Mulan said. “I’m here.”
“You know,” he murmured, “I was so frustrated with you at first.”
Mulan tilted her head.
“You were the worst soldier I had ever seen, Ping. Do you remember? Always last in every exercise. You couldn’t run, you couldn’t shoot, you couldn’t fight. I was so certain that you were completely unsuitable for war—I sent you home.” Shang let out a dry chuckle, and for a moment, his eyes opened. “And yet, you surprised me.”
Mulan inhaled. Good, good. Keep him talking. “Surprised you how?”
“You worked hard,” Shang continued. He sounded far away, almost delirious. “You got better, and you got smart.” He closed his eyes. “No, you were always smart. I didn’t see that at first. But I did see that when you got better, everyone else wanted to improve, too. You inspired them to work hard, Ping.” His voice drifted. “You had faith in them. But I…I didn’t have faith in you.”
His eyes opened again, surprisingly clear this time. Mulan could see her face reflected in his pupils, framed by pools of deep, deep brown. “I’m sorry.”
“Shang, there’s nothing to be sorry about.”
Shang reached for the canteen. He held it himself, hands shaky, and took a long sip. Then he exhaled. “Ping, I know I’m dying.”
“You’re not.”
“I can feel it.” Shang set down the canteen, and his hand fell to his side on the snow. “You should leave me here.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Mulan said firmly. “You’re coming with me.”
Shang coughed, and the corners of his lips lifted into a wry but tired smile. “Still can’t follow orders, can you, soldier?”
Shang coughed again, and Mulan reached for the stack of blankets Yao and Ling had made as a pillow for him. She carefully arranged it under his head. Sweat beaded his temples, and she patted his skin dry before it froze. When he blinked again, this time his eyes were bloodshot.
“Shang, are you all right?”
He let his head sink into the makeshift pillow. “I thought I saw my father earlier.”
“I know,” Mulan replied quietly. “You called out for him. You must have been dreaming.”
Shang turned his head, his gaze meeting hers. “In my dream, he was still alive.” His voice was tight, and Mulan could tell that he hadn’t yet had the chance to grieve for his father. The news of General Li’s death had come too suddenly. “My father was a general for twenty years. He died protecting China. Ever since I was young, I wanted to follow in his footsteps.” He managed a weak laugh. “But here I am, about to die after my first battle in command.”
“You aren’t going to d—”
“I wanted to become a general like my father,” Shang interrupted. “I wanted to win battles and bring honor to my family name. Is it selfish—to wish I could keep living? Is it dishonorable of me, Ping? I want to continue protecting our country, our Emperor.”
“No,” said Mulan. “It isn’t selfish or dishonorable at all.”
Shang lay back, letting his head settle into the blankets. “The Huns won’t be the last of China’s problems. The Emperor will always face new threats, new invaders. He needs to have strong, brave men at his side. Men like you, Ping.”
“Shang,” Mulan said, trying again, “stop talking like this.”
“Now that it’s all over, now that my time on this earth is done, do you know what comforts me the most?”
He waited, so Mulan gave in. “What?” she asked quietly.
Shang lowered his voice. “That I’ve made a friend like you, Ping. Someone I can trust completely.”
Tears pricked the edges of Mulan’s eyes. This time, she didn’t try to hold them back. She knew she couldn’t. She swallowed, choking on her words. “Stop talking like this. It’s my fault you’re wounded.”
“I would never have thought of firing that last cannon at the mountain,” Shang confessed. “I went after you to get the cannon back, but you—you saved us. It was an honor to protect you.”
How strange, then, that Mulan’s tongue grew heavy. There was so much she wanted to tell him. That it was her fault he was hurt; that if only she’d been more alert, she would have anticipated Shan-Yu’s attack. She wanted to tell him he was the best leader their troops could have hoped for; a lesser man would have left her to die at Shan-Yu’s hands, but Shang was not only courageous—he believed in his soldiers, and treated them as part of his team. She remembered how proud he’d been during their training when she’d defeated him in one-on-one combat. The satisfied smile that’d lit up his face as he wiped his jaw after her kick—she would never forget it. She wanted to tell him that she admired him and had always wanted his friendship.