Chapter Ten
CHAPTER TEN
T he garden hose has washed away most of the mess, but I take an extra-long, particularly hot shower because, well, no amount of water can wash away the memory of that squelch as I landed in the pile of dung, not to mention the stench and feel of it. I’m in the middle of toweling dry my hair when the bedroom door opens and Mushu calls out, “Zhou? You in there?”
Thick, fluffy, white terry-cloth robes have been prepared for every room, and I gratefully wrap myself in one before stepping out of the bathroom.
“How we doing?” Mushu says.
“Well, considering I was covered in cowpats less than an hour ago, I think we’re recovering just fine.”
“Good, because we really need to step it up, and by we , I mean you.”
I glance at Mushu’s reflection in the mirror as I continue drying my hair. “What do you mean?”
Mushu steps closer and lowers her voice. “I overheard some pretty disturbing things.”
“Oh? Like what?”
“Well, for one thing, Shang said it’s really weird that you didn’t know how to herd cattle when your emails said you grew up with cows on a farm. Apparently you told him over email that the cows were practically your brothers and sisters growing up?”
I suck in a breath through my teeth, thinking of my father telling Shang that. I can just imagine it, my dad’s happiness at having cows; in China, most farmers would rear only pigs since they were lower maintenance, so having cattle would’ve been a point of pride for Baba. The thought of him makes my heart ache. “There’s more than a ten-year gap between my dad and his older sibling, so he was alone for most of his childhood.”
“Aww, poor Uncle Zhou,” Mushu says. “Well, anyway, so you can see why Shang would find your incompetence when it comes to herding cattle somewhat sus.”
Is it possible for an entire human body to cringe? Because that’s certainly what this feels like. But even as I shrivel up with embarrassment, part of me rears up in anger, because screw Shang and his flawless outfits and neat haircut and his stupid utter perfection. I’d like to push him into a pile of cow dung and see how unruffled he manages to remain. “James did something to the cow. I saw him move behind her and I think he shocked her or something.”
“Maybe he did, but no point dwelling on it. Even if we did manage to prove it, it’ll just make you look petty.”
I groan. I’m so ashamed of myself. I thought I was prepared for this just because I studied for it? And now I’m realizing that unlike school, this isn’t something I can prepare for just by studying. Intellectual understanding does nothing when I find myself in the middle of the real, actual thing itself. I do need to step it up. “You’re right.”
“As always. Anyway, then Shang said something like ‘I don’t know about selling anymore. It does seem…’”
I continue staring at Mushu as her voice trails off. After a beat, I realize she isn’t going to finish the sentence. “Does seem what?”
“I don’t know, they walked out of earshot.”
I groan.
“Hey, I tried my best. Channeled my inner auntie and eavesdropped to the best of my ability. Our ancestors would be proud.”
I gaze forlornly at my reflection. “Our ancestors would definitely not be proud of me right now.”
“Well, yeah, you’re a different story.” Mushu pats my shoulder.
“So what does this mean? They don’t want to sell anymore because I didn’t manage to herd their friggin’ cow?”
Mushu places both hands on my shoulders and turns me so we’re facing each other. “I know you think you’re great at studying. Me, on the other hand? Not so great at tests or studying, but it’s okay because I’ve got my incredible looks and personality to rely on. You can’t study in the traditional sense to prepare yourself for ranch life, Mulan. You need to embrace social media.”
“I’m not sure I follow what you’re trying to say,” I respond.
In answer, Mushu whips out her phone and taps the screen before brandishing it at me.
I squint at the screen. “How to hog-tie a man—”
“Whoops, wrong app,” Mushu says, snatching the phone away. She swipes at it. “Okay, here we go.”
When she brandishes the screen this time, it’s showing a TikTok instead. Sure enough, it’s a video of a short-haired woman shearing sheep, and the sheep is sitting on its rump, its belly exposed and its legs sticking up in the air.
I watch with wide eyes as the woman makes short work of the shearing, working the electric shears down in long, confident strokes. “This is kind of therapeutic to watch.”
“Heck yeah!” she says. “I’m only on TikTok to watch her and that hot lady woodchopper.”
“I’m not even going to ask.” I study the video intently. At the end of it, the sheep shearer holds up a thick wool blanket, which she rolls up, and the sheep is looking happy after its haircut. “I can do that.”
“Heck yeah!” she says again. “That’s the right attitude. Now come on, get dressed and we’re going to shear the hell out of some sheep.”
“Thanks, Mushu. You’re saving my ass here.”
Mushu pauses, seemingly caught off guard by the sincerity in my voice. She clears her throat. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” I insist. “I was so wrapped up in studying about ranches and distilleries in the traditional sense. I didn’t know there are TikToks about shearing sheep. You don’t give yourself enough credit for all of your creativity and entrepreneurial spirit, so I am telling you now, you are a talent, Mushu.”
Mushu grunts, her face red. “If only I can get a job using my talent.”
“You’ll find your calling.” I reach out and give Mushu’s hand a squeeze. Then, sensing her discomfort at the sudden earnest conversation, I turn away to give her a moment to herself. I focus on finding a tank top to layer underneath my checkered shirt.
As I brush my hair, I level a stern gaze at myself in the mirror. Ranch mask is coming back on. I point at the mirror and snarl, “You need to do this. Get it done.” No sheep is going to get in the way of this deal.
I stride out of the bedroom with newfound purpose and almost walk right into Shang, who’s standing in front of the door with his hand raised.
“Oh,” he says. “Hey. How’s it going?”
No losing focus now, no matter how hot he is. You are Ranch Mulan. You are a different person. You’ve watched a TikTok. I raise my chin and look him squarely in the eye. “Hey, buddy!” Buddy? Oh god. This is not going well. “It’s going really well, actually. How are you? Good? Good. I’m glad.”
“Uh. Great. So, um, we were thinking of—”
“Shearing sheep, right?” I’m vaguely aware that my voice is coming out louder than necessary, but there’s no stopping me now.
“Oh,” Shang says, visibly taken aback. “I didn’t think—”
“That I’d be up for that?” I say. “I am very much down for sheepshearing.”
“Yeah,” Mushu says, her head popping up from behind my shoulder. “Back home in Yunnan, she was champion sheepshearer in the county.”
I try to elbow Mushu while still keeping my eyes on Shang, but my elbow hits nothing but air.
“Wow,” Shang says.
“Yes, and back home in Yunnan, she was also the village’s best horse rider. Any horses that the neighbors got that needed breaking in, they’d take it to Zhou here. Isn’t that right, Zhou?” Mushu says.
It is now a huge challenge to keep the confident smile on my face. In fact, it feels more like a grimace than anything. Through gritted teeth, I manage to say, “Sure, Mushu. Anyway, shall we?” Without waiting for a reply, I walk past Shang and stride out of the house, where I find James standing on the porch, talking to someone on the phone.
“—thing will come of it,” he says.
My ears prick up because James isn’t using his usual patronizing tone, but a deferential one. Too late, though, as James notices my arrival and quickly says, “I have to go. I will update you later.”
Hmm. I don’t think it was a significant other he was talking to, because saying update you later sounds too sterile. Maybe some business deal?
“Washed all the cow dung off you?” James says by way of greeting.
“Well, I tried to, anyway.”
Shang and Mushu come out of the front door, and James’s face lights up. “Ah, we’re all here. Shall we?” he says.
Shang’s eyes are on me. “Why don’t we just have a nice, easy tour of the place—”
“What?” James says. “ Borrrring . Nobody wants that.”
I shrug. “I hear there might be some sheep that need shearing?”
“Yes!” James says.
“All right, let’s not waste any time,” I say, steadfastly ignoring Shang’s concerned look.
When we finally reach the barn and I see the sheep, my confidence wilts. My god, these are sheep? They’re massive! Are they secretly dwarf cows? Are they genetically modified sheep who have been injected with steroids every morning? I give myself a mental shake. Stop it. You’ve watched a whole video on how to shear sheep. You’ll be fine. Yeah, an online tutorial is totally sufficient to prepare you for the actual thing.
Confidence , I remind myself. Animals can sense fear. Though how they can sense fear is up for debate. Dogs can smell it, but what about sheep? Is their sense of smell as keen as a dog’s? Are my pores even now opening up and releasing the funky odor of fear? I try to will my pores to close as I approach. I take a deep breath the way that snipers do before squeezing the trigger, but quickly realize taking deep breaths isn’t the best thing to do inside a barn full of animals. It’s fine. This is totally par for the course. I’m just going to relax and—and introduce myself. Yes.
Because that went so well last time.
Maybe I shouldn’t bother introducing myself this time. Maybe I should just get in there and take the sheep by the horn…the fur…the wool , and show it who’s boss, the way that I often have to with the finance bros of the world.
But it feels wrong to do that, and so I decide that regardless of my bad experience with the cow, I’m not about to forget my manners.
“Good afternoon,” I say to the sheep. “I am Zhou, and I am here to shear you.”
The sheep does nothing to indicate it heard me. I reach out to pat it. Like the cow, the sheep feels far sturdier than I am prepared for, but this time I’m not as shocked as before. I turn around to see Shang standing there looking concerned, flanked by James and Mushu. Behind them is a gaggle of aunties and uncles. Auntie Jiayi has her hands clasped under her chin, looking worried. Auntie Lulu is shamelessly holding up her phone, recording me.
“Shears, please.” I hold my hand out to Shang.
He hesitates. “If you don’t do this right, you could nick Geraldine.”
It takes me a second to realize that Geraldine is the large black sheep I’m supposed to shear. “Geraldine is in fine hands,” I say with a lot more confidence than I feel. I’ve shaved my legs plenty of times, probably thousands of times by now, and I’ve only nicked myself a handful of times. I can totally do this. I reach out and pluck the electric shears smartly from Shang’s hands. “Thank you.”
Then, before I can chicken out of this, I put my hands on Geraldine’s shoulders and lift. To my surprise, Geraldine doesn’t fight it, instead letting herself be lifted up, so she’s standing on her hind legs, and then held against my legs. Geraldine’s unexpectedly heavy, but I’ve braced for it, planting my feet firmly on the ground to support the sheep’s weight. For a moment, I blink in surprise. I’ve somehow maneuvered Geraldine into the correct position.
“Very good, Zhou!” Auntie Jiayi calls out. There are murmurs of agreement from the others.
There is a half breath where I swear I lock eyes with Geraldine and a look of understanding passes from the sheep. It’s a look that says: You got this, girl. Or maybe I’m losing my marbles.
I grip the electric shears tight and turn them on. Steadfastly ignoring the stares on me, I bend over and begin, starting from Geraldine’s chest and moving the shears down toward the lower belly region. To my complete and utter surprise, the shears move easily, slicing through the soft fleece. It leaves behind a path of smooth, short wool. A shot of pure endorphins floods my senses and I very nearly jump up and whoop. Fortunately, I stop myself in time and keep going, doing another neat path down to the belly. Recalling the TikTok, I make sure to cover Geraldine’s teats with my free hand to avoid nicking them.
It doesn’t take too long before Geraldine’s entire belly is shaven. I stare in wonderment at my handiwork.
“Very smoothly done,” one of the uncles murmurs.
The others nod at me with expressions of approval. I catch Shang’s eye and let a smirk take over my mouth. In response, he tries—and fails—to fight back a smile. Don’t lose focus now. I force myself to turn back to Geraldine.
Now comes the tricky part. I have to shift Geraldine to her side so that I can begin shearing her sides. Moving my right foot a step back, I maneuver Geraldine, who acquiesces quite happily, flopping to her side and staying there. My breath comes out in a wobbly laugh. Channeling the TikTok video, I begin to run the shears up Geraldine’s hind leg, from the hoof up to the butt. The wool is far thicker on this side than on the belly, and I can feel more resistance. I push harder on the shears to keep them going, and before long, the effort begins to cramp my hand.
James crouches next to me. “You okay?” he says.
I don’t spare him a glance. “Yep.” I keep my focus on Geraldine.
“Only it looks like you’re struggling a little.”
“Nope” is all I manage to huff out. Geraldine’s weight plus the friction of the thick wool are adding up.
“James,” Shang says in a warning tone.
“I just don’t want her to nick the sheep is all. It’ll get skittish if she does.”
Do not lose focus , I tell myself again. I keep going, watching in satisfaction as Geraldine’s hind leg comes free from its thick, matted wool.
“You need help,” James says, and without warning, he reaches out and grabs Geraldine’s hoof.
The movement knocks the shears askew, and I experience the next two seconds in horrified slow motion as my tired, stiff hand loses control of the shears. As the shears swerve, I see the whirring blades bite into Geraldine’s skin. Geraldine jerks, her entire body bucking up, and knocks into my legs. “Sh—” I cry out as I lose my balance and topple over backward, straight into a bucket of dirty water. Freezing water sloshes over my neck, shoulders, and back. “Not again!”
Laughter. They’re laughing. Anger shoots through me, hot and fast. I cough out spatters of dirty water and when I open my eyes, Shang is leaning over me, his arm outstretched toward me. My pulse is thrumming so furiously it’s more like a whir than any discernible rhythm. They’re laughing at me after making me hurt poor, sweet Geraldine. I don’t think twice before reaching up and accepting Shang’s hand. Then, before he can pull me up, I yank, hard.
I’m rewarded by a glimpse of pure shock taking over Shang’s features as he loses his balance, then he lands on top of me. He manages to break his fall with his arms, but enough of his weight lands on me to make me feel winded. His body is solid, rock-hard, and incredibly warm. For a moment, we both forget to breathe as our eyes meet, mere inches apart, and it’s only then that I question the wisdom of yanking this ridiculously hot guy down on top of me. Close up, he should look less attractive. He should. His pores should be grossly visible, perhaps I’ll find blackheads on his nose, or an errant nose hair or two. But no, defying all laws of nature, Shang is even more captivating up close. His scent envelops me, a mix of something leafy, like rosemary, and a subtle hint of cologne. I could lose myself in that smell forever.
Or not.
Because the next second, it hits me that Shang is braced on his forearms on top of me and his family is all around us, some of them squawking “Are you okay?” and the rest of them guffawing and slapping their legs.
I place a hand on Shang’s chest to push him off (my traitorous mind goes: Pecs! Pecs! ) and he springs away like he’s just been burned. Oh well, I can hardly blame him for that reaction, given I’m the one who pulled him down. With fluid grace, Shang hops back up to his feet. I clamber up as well, immediately scanning the barn for poor Geraldine. She’s a few paces away, huddling close to Auntie Jiayi, who is murmuring softly in her ear. Guilt pierces my chest. I’ve hurt that lovely animal.
“James, what the hell?” Shang says in a low voice.
“I was just trying to help, man,” James says. “Not my fault that Zhou here freaked out and nicked the sheep.”
“I had it under control,” I say, fighting to keep my voice even. Damn it, what am I doing, arguing with our potential partners? Baba would most definitely never do anything like that. I rein my temper in and add, “But I appreciate you trying to help.”
James looks smug. Shang narrows his eyes, probably wondering what I’m up to.
“I think I would like to take a second shower now,” I say. “Excuse me, gentlemen.”
I march off toward the farmhouse once more, holding my head high, but once I’m out of sight, I veer away before going inside to give myself time apart from everyone else. It’s not just the fact that James sabotaged the whole thing that infuriates me, but also the fact that before he interfered, I had been doing fine. Great, even, especially given that it was my first time shearing sheep. Not to mention poor Geraldine. I cringe as I recall how Geraldine jerked in my arms. At the end of the day, it was my fault. I hurt Geraldine through my inexperience. I take a few deep breaths, fortifying myself mentally, and head toward the house.
When I get inside, I find the bathroom locked. “I’m going to be quite a while,” Mushu says from behind the door.
“Oh! Sorry, yeah, okay!” I hurry away, hugging a set of clean clothes to my chest.
Should I look for another bathroom? The farmhouse is massive; surely there will be a different bathroom I can use. I wander down the hallways until I locate a different bathroom, but find this one occupied by Uncle Jing.
I am about to give up and just change into dry clothes without showering when Auntie Jiayi spots me.
“Ah, Zhou,” Auntie Jiayi says, eyeing my disheveled state and the change of clothes in my arms. “Are the bathrooms all taken up?”
I nod.
Auntie Jiayi shakes her head. “At our age, everything takes an extra-long time to process, including digestion.”
“Uh…okay. That makes sense.” I have no idea what else to say to that, and begin inching away, desperate to get out of my wet clothes.
“Ah, why don’t you use the outdoors shower? It’s very pleasant. We keep it clean.”
“Oh?” The thought of an outdoor shower doesn’t particularly appeal to me, but then again, I don’t have much of a choice.
“It’s nicer than you think,” Auntie Jiayi says, reading my mind. “I would have suggested it after you got covered in cow dung, but I didn’t want cow poop all over the shower floor. Out the back door and to the right.” She smiles and ushers me away. Is it my imagination or does Auntie Jiayi’s smile look more cunning than usual?
I trudge out through the back door, as suggested. Outside, I let out a long, heavy sigh before making my way along the path. I’m exhausted. It isn’t so much the disastrous activities of the day, though they certainly didn’t help, but mostly the way that I have had to play a role. Even though I’ve been doing it for as long as I can remember, having Shang’s mother call me Zhou still feels really bad, a reminder of my deceit.
Lost in my gloomy thoughts, I fail to notice the outdoor shower until I am standing right in front of it. I also fail to notice that the shower is turned on, and that there is someone standing underneath it. What I do manage to notice, finally, is the fact that the outdoor shower is basically a large cubicle with a very small door. A door that barely covers the upper half of anyone inside and leaves very little to the imagination. A door that is doing the bare minimum to cover Shang as he stands under the showerhead with his head tilted back and his eyes closed.
For a second, I freeze. Is it possible to do anything but freeze in this situation? After all, my mind has been torn apart, with one side shrieking: Oh my god , naked man, get out of here! And the other side shouting: Oh my god, gorgeous naked man, stay here! And he truly is gorgeous. Clearly, he is one of God’s favorites. That face of his, those eyebrows and those cheeks and that straight nose. And his hair! This is the first time I’m seeing his hair down. It’s long enough to graze his shoulders, and draws the eye to his ripped shoulders and huge pecs. His body looks like it’s been sculpted lovingly out of marble, and the sight of the water sluicing down his dark hair, dripping down those high cheekbones and that strong jaw before sliding down his muscular chest—
Then my senses slam back into place and I duck out of sight, practically leaping away before Shang can see me. I move with the kind of speed I never knew I had, landing on hands and knees before going into a roll. Fortunately, the soft grass stops me from hurting myself. I’m clambering up to my feet to sprint off when Shang’s voice slices through the air.
“You dropped this.”
Oh god. A pit has opened in my stomach and all my insides are falling through it. Slowly, painfully so, I turn around, my eyes shut so I won’t see anything I’m not supposed to see.
“You can open your eyes, I’m decent.” There is no denying the hint of amusement in Shang’s voice.
I do so. Decent is clearly up for debate. Shang has a towel wrapped around his waist, which means his abs and pecs and shoulders and arms are very, very bare. And very, very wet. And very, very—
Damn it, focus! Focus on the thing he’s holding out to you. Which is…
My bra. Because of course it would be my bra. And of course it would be the most unflattering bra I own, because the universe is clearly punishing me for deceiving his family. My toxic trait is keeping comfortable underwear for years beyond their lifespan, and this bra is one of my ancient treasures, a cotton bra I bought my sophomore year at Princeton. It had fit me so well and been so comfy that wearing it felt like I wasn’t wearing a bra at all. And now, years later, this same bra, graying and tattered at the edges, a sad piece of underwear clearly past its prime and begging to be retired, is in Shang’s outstretched hand.
I get it, universe. You are giving me a sign. Start refreshing my wardrobe. Okay. Message received, loud and clear.
I reach out and snatch the bra from him. My scalp feels like it’s grown way too tight for the rest of my head. Somehow, I manage to bite out a terse “Thank you.”
“Shower’s all yours,” Shang says, stepping out and standing in front of me. He’s so close to me that I can see each individual water droplet on his tanned skin. Why is he standing right in front of me, just staring down into my eyes?
I swallow, and the sound is painfully loud between us. “Um—”
“Do you mind?” Shang says.
“Oh!” With a start, I realize that the reason Shang’s been standing inches away from me for the past two seconds is because I’m blocking the pathway. My god, just when I thought I couldn’t possibly be more mortified. I hop to one side quickly and open my mouth to apologize, then close it again. Do not apologize. He is a potential business partner and he needs to see you as his equal. Argh. Honestly, there should be a law of nature that prevents business partners from being so hot.
“Thank you,” Shang says, walking past me. He pauses, then turns around. “You did well with the sheepshearing.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that. “I wouldn’t call what happened doing well—”
“That was James’s fault. You were doing well up until then.” There’s a new expression I haven’t noticed on Shang’s face before. It almost looks like…respect?
I’ve learned enough in school to know when to accept a compliment. Even though every part of me wants to bat away his kind words and diminish myself, I make myself nod and say, “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
Shang nods. “Want me to stand guard so no one walks in on you showering?”
“No!” I yelp.
To my surprise, color blooms in Shang’s cheeks. “I didn’t mean—Uh, I’d obviously wait on the other side of the wall. I wouldn’t, like, look or anything.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean you’d look, I just—”
Welp. Now we’re both flustered. At least it’s no longer just me. “Anyway. See you around.” With that, I step into the shower and quickly shut the door.
Shang gets the hint and walks off. After making sure no one else is in the vicinity, I whip off my clothes and take the quickest shower, slapping soap all over myself before washing it all off and toweling myself dry in record time. Now that I’m clean once again, I can’t wait to tackle whatever else the Li family has in store for me. No doubt that whatever it is, I’ll end up dirty and humiliated once again.