Chapter Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I barely remember getting back to the ranch. I am only vaguely conscious of Shang giving me a gentle shake and me snorting awake to find a dried trail of drool down my chin. I am then aware of bits and pieces of the rest of the night: me and Mushu staggering into the house and crawling—literally crawling—up the stairs before collapsing into our beds.
Morning comes all too quickly. We forgot to close the curtains the night before, so sunlight blares through the windows without mercy, piercing through my eyelids like a golden knife.
I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, but I become more and more aware each second of a flurry of movement in the rest of the house. Footsteps stomping up and down the stairs, people chattering, calling out for this and that, more footsteps, and argh , why is this household so alive when it’s barely even dawn yet?
A groan from the next bed tells me that Mushu is rousing. I push myself up into a sitting position, wincing at the way my skull feels like it’s two sizes too small. My mouth is so dry that my lips are stuck to my teeth. The last thing I want to do is get out of bed, but at the sight of the tall glasses of water on the makeup table, I crawl out of bed and make my way over, where I chug the entire glass. Then I take the other glass to Mushu.
“Drink,” I tell her.
Mushu groans and says something that sounds like “Fugoff.”
“Come on.” I help her up and push the glass in front of her face.
She drinks obediently before flopping back onto the bed. The water has revived me a little and I go to the en suite and splash some cold water onto my face before brushing my teeth. There’s a knock at the bedroom door. When I open it, Shang is standing there, looking as fresh as ever and carrying a tray of food and drinks.
“Eggs, toast, coffee, and a Virgin Mary,” he says.
“Virgin Mary?” I say, my nose wrinkling.
“Trust me, it’s the best thing for a hangover. All that vitamin C and salts are just what your body needs after a night out.”
I step aside and watch as he comes in and sets the tray down on the makeup table.
At the sound of clinking cutlery, Mushu leaps out of the bed. Her hair is all mussed up and pointing to the left, and she blinks blearily at us. “Food?” she says.
“Yep,” Shang says.
“Gimme.” Mushu makes grabby hands and Shang hands her a plate of sunny-side-up eggs.
I accept the glass of Virgin Mary and sip it slowly. Shang was right; it really is good. The salty, tangy, and slightly spicy mix is exactly what my body needs. I take a long gulp and feel my senses coming back to life. “Did you put glasses of water on the makeup table last night?”
“Yeah, I thought you guys might need it.” Shang glances at the empty glasses.
“Thank you,” I say, suddenly feeling awkward. Bits and pieces of last night are only now whizzing into my mind, and I want to curl up into a tiny ball and hide from the world. Am I imagining it or did Shang and I almost kiss last night? “Um, about last night—”
One corner of Shang’s mouth quivers up. “You kicked ass. Literally.”
“Oh god. Please try to forget everything that happened—”
“Sorry, but James has been telling everyone this morning about how you got us into a brawl.”
“No!” I gasp, horrified. “Oh my god, all your uncles and aunties are going to think the worst of me.”
“Actually, they’re really impressed so far. They didn’t think you had it in you to start a bar fight.”
“Not to interrupt,” Mushu interrupts, “but technically I think I started the fight?”
“Yeah!” I say.
Shang cocks his head to one side. “That’s not how I remember it. But regardless of who started it, I’d say you guys did well. I’ll see you downstairs in a bit. We’re going to head off soon.”
As soon as Shang leaves, I sag against the wall. “I can’t believe we got into a literal fight last night.”
“Yeah, it was awesome. We can all learn a thing or two from Fake Zhou,” Mushu says.
I stare in stupefied terror at the beast that the stable hands are leading to me. It’s a huge black horse who looks really bad-tempered. I wasn’t even aware that horses could have resting bitch face, but this one definitely does. Or maybe I’m just really freaking nervous about riding a horse, and this one seems more gigantic than the usual horse.
“Only the best mare for Zhou the horse-riding champion,” Uncle Hong announces with pride.
The rest of the Li family nods with approval, smiling at the sight of the snorting horse.
“Uh…” I begin to say, then falter when Mushu pulls my arm.
“Can I talk to you real quick?” Mushu says.
I let myself be pulled some distance away before rounding on Mushu. “I can’t ride that thing. It’s going to kill me. I’m going to get thrown off, and I’ll either break every bone in my body or it’ll—oh, I know what it’ll do—it’ll trample my skull into pieces.”
Mushu stares at me. “Okay, first of all, that is really grim. Your mind goes to some pretty dark places, cuz. Second of all, you have to ride it. Because, uh, I don’t know if you remember, but I mentioned to them that you’re a champion horse rider? I kind of, maybe, uh, sort of really drilled down on that fact.”
“What fact?” I hiss, trying hard not to explode at her. “The fact that I have never ridden a horse before in my life?”
“Not true. You said it yourself, pony rides at Disneyland,” Mushu says. “It’s the same thing,” she continues, though when she glances back at the beast, she looks somewhat hesitant herself. “Come on, Mulan, you rode the mechanical bull last night and you were amazing at it. Same concept, right?”
I don’t even deign to give this one a reply. I merely glare at Mushu until she looks down guiltily. Then she looks up again. “And you’re the badass who started a bar fight, remember?”
“I thought you started it.”
“Come on, let’s go, people!” James calls out.
I take a deep breath. “Damn it.” I narrow my eyes at Mushu. “You need to stop talking me up.”
“Copy that.”
With that, the two of us rejoin the group. From what little I know about horses, most of which I’ve learned from TikTok, I’ve gathered they’re sensitive, highly intelligent creatures and that I would do well to treat them with the utmost respect. So when I get to within touching distance of the mare, I stop and say in a gentle tone, “Hello, beautiful. What’s your name?”
“This is Slugger,” Uncle Hong says. He’s holding on to the reins of his own horse, a docile-looking one the color of sand.
“Slugger?” I say incredulously. I catch myself. God, what with my hangover and the anxiety crashing into me in waves, it’s next to impossible to keep the Zhou/Ranch Mulan persona up. “Okay, cool. Hi, Slugger.”
Slugger snorts, and I have to stop myself from stepping back. Swallowing, I raise my hand slowly, making sure that Slugger can see it. “Can I touch you, Slugger?” Of course, Slugger doesn’t answer, but she tips her head toward my hand, which I take as an invitation to pet her. The moment my palm meets Slugger’s neck, the knots in my shoulders release. Slugger is warm, her hide smooth, but underneath that she is pure muscle. Touching her is a privilege, and I stroke her gently. I can’t quite describe it, but I trust this creature. And the way that Slugger leans into me makes it clear that she trusts me as well.
Could it be this easy? That Slugger and I just so happen to have that one-in-a-million connection that you only ever read about in stories?
The answer is, of course: Nope.
Slugger hasn’t decided to murder me right then and there, which is a relief, but she also hasn’t decided to let me ride her. As soon as I climb up—or rather, try to climb up—Slugger turns so that her butt is in my face.
“Come on, Slugger,” I mutter, walking around to Slugger’s side. “Work with me here.”
Around me, everyone else has climbed up onto their horses. Even Mushu is happily sitting on top of a dark brown horse and asking the stable hand if her horse responds to “Giddyap.”
I give a soft tug on Slugger’s reins, not enough to actually turn her head or anything, just enough to get her attention. “Listen here, Slugger, I’m not in a good place right now. I’m kind of struggling, and I really need everything to just work out, you know? Especially in front of him.” I nod toward Shang, who’s climbed onto his horse with fluid grace and is looking as regal as a prince. Slugger exhales, and I swear the horse understood me and is going: Girl, fine.
This time, Slugger allows me to climb up. There is half a second of relief—I’m up!—before I look down at the ground and panic claws at my throat. I’m up! I am very, very much up. This is really high up: Is this a normal height to be at when horseback riding? The ground looks like it’s twenty feet away. Slugger clops forward and my torso sways backward with the momentum. I haven’t even started into a trot or—god forbid—a gallop.
“Do not go fast, do not go fast,” I whisper. I’m gripping the reins so tight that my knuckles have turned white.
“Everybody ready?” Uncle Hong calls out.
No , my mind squeaks. Everyone else hoots and cheers. Shang looks over at me, his eyebrows raised. I manage a weak smile. Uncle Hong lifts his reins enthusiastically and his horse starts trotting down the pathway. Everyone else follows suit. Everyone, that is, except for Slugger. Because of course.
“Come on, baby,” I coax. I try to remember the advice I’ve read online on how to make the horse go forward. I tighten my thighs around Slugger and feel the animal shudder to life. Then, as though by magic, Slugger starts walking forward. Jogging. Trotting? “Too fast, too fast,” I squawk, pulling back the reins, and Slugger slows down her pace. “Okay. This is okay. It’s fine.” My mouth is a desert, and though I’ve only ridden for about twenty seconds, my backside is tired and my hands are cramped.
Much, much later, I wish my bum were tired instead of whatever it is now—swinging back and forth between numb and painful. My feet aren’t just killing me, they are slaughtering me. And my hands are definitely not okay. I stretch them open, but the reins jerk in my hands and instinctively my fingers claw back around them again. The others are some distance ahead of me. Several times, Slugger started increasing her pace, and my heart just about jumped out of my mouth as I quickly pulled back on the reins to slow her down. As a result, I’ve fallen way behind and, in fact, I’ve sort of lost sight of the group altogether. But as long as I follow the trail, I’ll get to the campsite. Right?
“Right,” I say out loud.
“What’s right?” someone calls out, and I look up to see Shang riding toward me.
I swear inwardly, but then, against all odds, I’m also kind of really glad to see him here. “Hi,” I say when he stops next to me. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Shang smiles, and it strikes me how easily his smiles are coming now even compared to just a couple of days ago. And I have to admit that I don’t hate it. “How’re you coming along?”
“Oh, you know, taking it easy, just kind of bonding with my girl Slugger over here.”
“Cool. You mind if I ride with you?”
“You don’t want to gallop ahead with the wind?”
Shang laughs. “I swear you think I’m actually the guy from our ads. It’s the long hair, isn’t it?”
“That sounds about right.” I can’t quite understand the change that’s happened to reveal this Shang—silly and relaxed and teasing. It’s such a marked change from the Shang I first came across, all buttoned-up and stiff. “But really, though, wouldn’t it be boring riding at my pace?”
Shang shrugs, pursing his lips. “Cloud here got a stone in his shoe and it took me a while to remove it. The rest rode on ahead, so I was getting kind of lonely.”
“Oh. Then sure, I would be glad to have your company,” I say. As soon as I say it, I half wonder if that was too eager. But then I realize I don’t really care; somehow, over the past couple of days, Shang and I have gotten to a sort of easy camaraderie, almost as though we are friends instead of this weird business relationship that we started off with. I feel my own mask slipping, and for the first time, I don’t care enough to put it back on. And anyway, it doesn’t hurt to ride with Shang, especially given how gorgeous he looks atop his horse. He may kid about looking like the guy from the Wutai Gold ads, but he really isn’t that far off, all muscled chest and shapely arms and those thighs that have obviously never missed a leg day. And the way he directs his horse so easily, moving his arms with casual grace…I can’t remember the last time I was this attracted to someone.
“So, uh, this whole horseback riding champion thing…” Shang says. His voice trails away and he gives a meaningful sideways glance at me.
A million excuses crowd my head, and I’m about to make up some story about some traumatic experience during some riding competition, but when I open my mouth, what comes out is: “Yeah, that might’ve been a slight exaggeration.”
Shang chuckles. “Okay. Still, I was impressed that Slugger even let you on. James has been trying to ride her for months now, and she still keeps giving him her hind legs.”
I break into a huge grin. “Really? I would’ve loved to see that.”
“Yeah, he keeps threatening to sell her to a glue factory.”
I roll my eyes. “Sounds like James.” I pat Slugger. “Don’t worry, Slugger. James is all talk and no action. Slugger’s a really good judge of character.”
“Yeah, most horses are. But why did you lie about being a horseback riding champion?”
“Oh.” I bite my lower lip, wondering how honest I should be with him. I’m so tired of pretending, and Shang feels like the one person I can be honest with, which is ironic since he’s the one person I shouldn’t be honest with. But somehow, I sense that he would be okay with the truth, and after days of playing a role, all I want to do is pry my mask open, just a crack, and let a tiny sliver of truth out, and so I say, “It seemed like the sort of thing your family would appreciate in a business partner.”
“Ah.” Shang frowns and doesn’t speak for a while. My mind chases its own tail in circles, wondering if I’ve said the wrong thing.
“I didn’t mean—” I begin.
“You’re right,” Shang says. “It is the kind of thing they like. My uncles and aunties, they’ve got this whole image of the American man that’s basically the Marlboro Man. You know, the stoic cowboy who is strong and does things like ride into the sunset and hunt for his food and loves whiskey and guns.”
I nod slowly.
“When they first moved here from China, they were seen as outsiders and outcasts, and at the time, there were all these Marlboro ads everywhere. And I think they felt like in order to fit in, they had to become the Marlboro Man.”
“Is that why they’ve got this chip on their shoulder about being hypermasculine?” I say.
“Yeah. Especially with the media doing everything it could to emasculate Asian men, I think my uncles felt like they had to go to the extreme, be the most toxic alpha males they could be. I mean, I’m not telling you all this to excuse their behavior, I just…”
“I get it.” And I do. Even though the portrayal of Asian people in the media has improved over the years, I’m not so young that I don’t remember the stereotypical characters that Asian actors were often forced to play. The way the male actors would be stuck with the harmful “Chinaman” role with high-pitched voices and silly antics, and meanwhile, Asian actresses would be given hypersexualized roles with awful, dehumanizing lines that made them sound more like sex bots than anything human.
“How did your parents deal with it when they moved here?” Shang asks.
I take some time to ponder this. “Their whole philosophy in life is Keep your head down and don’t make a fuss . So I think whatever abuse came their way, they just kept their heads down and chugged along.” My words weigh heavily on my chest as I say them. I think of Baba and Mama when they were my age, young and full of vibrancy, living in a new place where they weren’t necessarily welcome and telling themselves that they needed to make themselves smaller, to take up less space so nobody made a fuss about their presence.
“Yeah, I’m familiar with that mindset. A lot of my friends’ parents were that way, too. I guess our families kind of went to different extremes, huh?”
I nod.
“Um, to tell you the truth, I had an ulterior motive coming back here to talk to you,” Shang says.
“Oh?”
“I wanted to apologize.”
“Oh?” I say again. What could he possibly have to apologize for? This entire time, it’s been me making all the mistakes.
“That day at Little Chang’s,” Shang says, “I hated how my uncle said it’s the woman’s job to serve the food. When it comes to my family, I’ve gotten used to biting my tongue and keeping my head down, but I should’ve spoken up that day. I’m sorry.”
Flames lick up the sides of my face. “It’s okay, it’s not your…” As soon as I say it, of course, I realize that actually I appreciate the apology and that the only reason I’m waving it off is because I’ve gotten used to thinking that I don’t deserve apologies. But I do. And so I take a breath and say, simply, “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
“I’ll do better next time,” Shang promises.
I bite my lip, unsure what to say, but there is a warmth spreading out from my belly down my arms and I feel so incredibly safe right now, as though I can let down my guard. When was the last time I felt this way? Even with Mushu, I’ve always felt a slight distance, a divide because we are such different people with such different values in life. God, what am I thinking? Shang is part of the Wutai Gold clan, a company I’m actively trying to acquire, so I most definitely cannot let my guard down around him. Not to mention I have no idea what will happen if we do acquire Wutai Gold. Why have I so foolishly thought that this charade was a good idea? Oh, right, I assumed that once I took care of the acquisitions, I could hand the account back to my dad and wash my hands of it. But now the thought of that seems laughable, especially given how much time I’m spending with the Lis. Not just the Lis , my mind whispers, but a very specific Li . A horrible realization begins to dawn on me. I might have to tell Shang the truth eventually. The thought is so dreadful that I shove it deep, deep down as soon as it arises. I give myself a little shake and force a polite smile at Shang but don’t say anything else.
With Shang riding next to me, it seems as though he and his horse have set a steady pace and Slugger is no longer trying to go too fast or too slow. I loosen my stranglehold on the reins, wincing as I stretch my fingers.
For the next hour or so, we spend the ride chatting easily about everything from our families to our hobbies (mine: SoulCycle and painting; his: anything that has to do with cooking). Once in a while, we lapse into a comfortable silence, and it feels as though we’ve known each other for years instead of mere days. Again, I’m not thinking: What would Baba say? or What should I say in this situation? My mouth is forming words without checking in with my brain, and the feeling is so joyous, like fireworks going off inside me.
We’re riding through what feels like a whole enchanted forest, complete with winding trails and tall, majestic redwoods, with sunlight streaming through the leaves in dappled golden spots. The air is sparkling cold and refreshing and above us are various birdsongs and insect chirps. It’s the most beautiful place I can remember seeing, and I can’t get enough of it. For the first time in years, I feel like I can really put everything, all of the petty worries and the bullshit of the finance world, behind me. Because I have to focus so fully on not falling off Slugger, it’s almost a meditative state where my mind is forced to not wander back to the everyday concerns of the real world.
I’m feeling extra optimistic and happy when Shang reins his horse to a stop. I do the same, pulling Slugger’s reins back. “What’s up?” I say.
Shang nods to the distance, where a river has come into view. Light reflects off its surface like a million diamonds, and the sight is so beautiful that I sigh appreciatively.
“So gorgeous. Is this where we camp? Next to the river?” I say.
“Um, sort of. Campsite’s on the other side of the river.”
“Oh, okay.” I’m not sure why he looks so worried. “Is the bridge not entirely sound or something? You look kind of concerned.”
“Um, more like there isn’t a bridge,” Shang says.
I blink. “No bridge.” I narrow my eyes. “I don’t—So how do we get across?”
“We gotta go in the water and ride to the other side.”
I laugh. “Very funny.”
Shang’s expression doesn’t change.
All the easy, pleasant feelings I’ve been experiencing evaporate. “Shit, you’re not kidding.”
“Nope.”
I look at Shang, then at the river, then back at Shang. “People literally drown in kiddie pools.”
“Can you swim?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’ll likely be okay.”
I’ll likely be okay? But then I think better of saying it. After all, I am here to make a good impression on him and his family, and just because we’ve bonded for a bit doesn’t mean that Shang isn’t going to be unimpressed if I fail to do this one thing. As much as I hate this, it’s time for me to start asking What would Baba do? again. Fighting every survival instinct inside me that’s going Noooo , I summon up a confident smile and say, “Okay, great.”
We ride up to the riverbank. Up close, the water looks a lot faster and deeper than it did from a distance. I can’t believe that just moments ago, I was admiring how beautiful the river looks. Right about now, it looks anything but beautiful. A better adjective would be fierce, or more likely deadly .
Shang gets off his horse and comes round to mine. For a second, I wonder if he’s about to tell me it was a joke after all and that of course there is a bridge, but instead, he takes his horse’s reins and ties them to Slugger’s. “There you go, all you have to do is follow me.”
“Great,” I manage to say. I take in a breath. I can do this. I am not the kind of person to shy away from things like these. I’m here because I charged headfirst into this situation, assuming my father’s identity, and I need to see it through. You can’t be not brave if you’re not afraid.
“Ready?” Shang says, once he’s back on his horse.
“Yup.”
Shang signals to his horse to start going forward and they descend slowly into the water. I urge Slugger forward, but there’s no need as the reins between the two horses pull her, and we head for the river. Unlike me, Slugger seems to have no fear of the water, trotting in quite happily. Within moments, I find my legs submerged in freezing cold river water. It’s so piercingly cold that the breath is knocked out of me in a gasp.
“Refreshing, isn’t it?” Shang calls back behind his shoulder.
“Yep,” I manage to gasp out. I force myself to take a deep inhale and hold it for a few seconds before letting it out. At least this seems to be as deep as it goes—nope, as we near the middle of the river, the water rises until it laps over my thighs. Is this normal? What if it’s been an exceptionally wet year and the waterline is deeper than Shang expected and we get washed away and—
To my utter surprise, though, despite all the whirling, screaming thoughts going through my head, a part of me is having fun. I can’t remember the last time I felt so alive. Every part of me is present in this moment. In my day-to-day life, I spend so much of my time staring at my computer screen, and when I’m not doing that, I’m having to play a role, whether it be Finance Bro Mulan or Filial Daughter Mulan, in order to survive my days. But right now, no piece of me is distracted. All my senses are concentrated on this pinpoint in time, where I’m traversing across an actual river on horseback, with shockingly cold water swirling all around me. I look up at the endless blue sky and laugh.
Shang looks back at me and grins, as though he knows exactly what’s going through my mind. There’s so much understanding between us. Then his eyes widen and his mouth falls open. I’m about to ask him what’s wrong, when I feel it. Slugger’s legs giving way, getting caught in the drag. There is a momentary sensation of floating, terror flooding in from all sides. From the corner of my eye, I see something bright blue bobbing in the water, rushing away from us. My overnight bag, washed away just like that, without me even realizing it. The sight of it makes an ugly pit open in the base of my stomach. We’re going to get washed down the river. We’ll drown, and we’ll drag Shang and his horse along with us, so Shang and his horse will also drown. Four lives wiped out, just like that. The horror of it is overwhelming. Then my instincts kick in and I squeeze Slugger and cry, “Go! Hyah!”
Slugger kicks in the water, and her hooves hit river rocks beneath, pushing us up and forward. The water still pushes us down, but once again, I urge Slugger forward. “You can do it, baby, come on, go!” Ahead of me Shang is doing the same, leaning forward and getting his horse to go faster. And somehow, Slugger’s hooves find purchase and I feel gravity catching hold as we scramble up, over more and more rocks until we’re in shallow waters.
Only then does my breath release, and I sag in the saddle. “Good job, Slugger,” I say, and the last word comes out in a half sob. Slugger gives a little whicker, like she knows that I’m this close to bursting into tears. “You saved us,” I say, patting Slugger’s side. The horse is breathing hard, and I feel a stab of guilt. Shang rushes over as we climb out of the river and helps me down.
“You okay?” he says.
“Yeah.” Not. I can barely meet his eye, turning instead to give Slugger a hug. “You saved us, you amazing thing.”
Slugger turns her head and nibbles my ear, making me laugh. A tear slips down my cheek, followed by another, and I wipe them quickly away, not wanting Shang to see. I need to compose myself. I need to put my mask back on. But when I finally meet his eye, he’s looking as pale and shaky as I feel.
“I think I shit myself,” he says, and I can’t help it: I collapse to the ground and laugh and cry.
Shang sits down next to me. “Sorry, I should’ve—I don’t know, been more careful.”
“There’s been a lot of rainfall this year,” I say.
“Yeah. I guess I underestimated how much rain there’d been.”
“Do you think the others made it okay?” I say. I don’t even want to consider the possibility that they might not have.
“Yeah,” Shang says without any hesitation. “Uncle Hong and Uncle Jing are used to camping. They know better than I do about safe water levels and they would’ve chosen to go a different route.”
I nod. Although the last thing I want to do is get up, I force myself back to my feet. I can’t wait to reach the campsite and change out of my wet clothes—though of course as soon as I think that, I recall with painful clarity my overnight bag getting washed away.
“My bag,” I moan.
“Yeah,” Shang says with a grimace. “That was a bad stroke of luck. But don’t worry, we’ll all share our supplies with you.”
I nod miserably, mentally going over everything I packed in there. Good thing they told me to leave my cell phone behind at the farmhouse since there would be no cell service here. Gotta be grateful for small favors. We climb back up onto our horses and this time, we ride in exhausted silence.
By the time we arrive at the campsite, the sun is just about to dip below the horizon and the air has gone from refreshingly cool to unpleasantly cold. Everyone cheers as we turn the corner.
“Where have you two been?” James calls out. “We’ve been here for, like, an hour.”
“Shang’s usually the fastest rider out of all of us,” Christopher says.
They all gather around, chatting and smiling. Mushu helps me off my horse and Uncle Jing leads Slugger to where the other horses are and gives her some feed.
“My horse got a stone in her shoe,” Shang mutters. “And I miscalculated the river. We nearly got carried away. Zhou lost her bag.”
Gasps all around. Auntie Jiayi rushes to me and says, “Zhou, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Your teeth are chattering!” Auntie Jiayi says. “Come on, you change into dry clothes now.”
“I’ll get my clothes,” Mushu says, hurrying away to her tent.
I’m surrounded by aunties clucking away worriedly at me and I don’t resist as they lead me to one of the bigger tents. In fact, I find their overbearing concern reassuring. For the first time today, I feel like I don’t have to put up a brave front with them. I’ve done my part, I’ve braved the river, and now I’m ready to be fussed over. Mushu comes back with clean, dry clothes, and the aunties hand me a towel and wait outside to give me some privacy. I pull off my soaking wet, hateful boots with relief, wrinkling my nose at the smell of my dripping socks. I peel off my freezing jeans and wrap myself in the towel. With the horribly wet clothes off me, I immediately feel in a better mood, and shrugging on Mushu’s warm clothes feels like heaven.
“Zhou, you need help in there?” Auntie Lulu’s voice calls from outside.
“No, I’m fine,” I say, quickly buttoning up my shirt.
I come out carrying my wet clothes and Auntie Lulu grabs them out of my hands. “I will dry these for you,” she says.
“Oh, um, thank you.”
“Come,” Auntie Jiayi says, putting her arm around my shoulders. “You sit by the fire. Oh, poor girl, you are so cold you’re shaking.”
Shang is outside setting up his tent next to the others. As we walk past, Auntie Jiayi reaches out to Shang and yanks his ear.
“Ow! Ma, what?”
“You let this poor girl freeze!” Auntie Jiayi snaps. “What kind of gentleman are you? Very bad, I am very disappointed.”
Shang’s mouth opens, but no words come out. I bite down on my lip to keep from laughing at his half-lost, half-affronted expression. I settle down in front of the fire with a long sigh of relief. It’s so warm and cozy here, to be right in front of a crackling fire. I hold out my hands and revel in the heat coursing through my freezing palms.
Shaking his head, Shang goes back to setting up his tent.
“Shang, because you lost Zhou’s tent, she will use yours tonight,” Auntie Jiayi says.
Shang pauses, looking like he’s about to protest, then shrugs. “Okay. I guess I’ll share yours, James.”
“Nope. Thomas and I are sharing.”
“Okay.” Shang turns to Christopher. “Can I share yours?”
“We’re sharing,” Ryan says, pointing to Christopher with his thumb.
Shang looks around, obviously making a calculation in his head. The rest of the group are already paired up—the uncles and the aunties—leaving Mushu and Auntie Jiayi.
“Sorry, my tent is too small,” Auntie Jiayi says. “And I am disappointed in you, Shang. I think you should sleep outside.”
“Yeah,” Mushu says, “my tent’s a one-woman tent, sorry.”
Shang sighs and says, “Okay.” He turns back to finish setting up the tent for me, and I feel a twinge of guilt. Even though Shang blames himself for what happened at the river, I can’t bring myself to completely place the blame on him. I get up and walk over to him.
“Need any help?” I say.
Shang glances at me. “Sure. You can get the thingy.”
“The thingy,” I say flatly.
“You know, the thing that goes inside this thing.”
“Haven’t you done this a million times before?”
Shang pauses and looks up from screwing in one of the tent poles. “Yes? What’s your point?”
“Well, I would’ve thought that by now you’d have learned the proper names of all these parts.”
“Or I would’ve learned that there’s no need to learn the proper names of the parts as long as you can put them together.” He smirks at me and gets back to work.
“Okay, well, I will get your thingy.” I reach over, grab a random pole, and hand it to him. “Here’s your thingy.”
“That just doesn’t sound right,” Shang says. His eyes light up. “Hey, you actually grabbed the right thing!”
“Really?”
“No.”
I can’t help laughing at this. Oh no. All this time I’ve thought serious Work Shang was handsome. But this Shang, jokey and openhearted and armor-less, is gosh-darned irresistible. He grins, rolling his eyes. “How about this? You hold this pole, yep, and I’ll grab the stuff.”
I grab hold of the pole and continue screwing it in like Shang was doing, and in a short while, the tent is up. I look at it in wonderment. “I helped build this.”
“Yep.”
I unzip the front and duck my head to go inside. It’s a spacious tent, with enough room for two people. Shang pops his head in. “You like it?”
I hesitate only a second; after all, Shang was forced to give this tent up because of me, and I’m pretty sure that sleeping outside would be massively unpleasant for him. “Um, you know, this could fit the both of us.”
Shang frowns, bending over and walking inside. He looks around at the space. “I don’t know.…”
“I don’t snore, and I feel bad about you sleeping outside because my pack got washed away.”
“If you’re sure? But don’t feel like you have to.” Shang’s eyes burn into mine and I feel a tingle going down my spine.
What was I thinking? I’ve been so overwhelmed by the events of the day that, honestly, I wasn’t really thinking anything when I offered space in the tent, but of course, now it hits me that it means we’d be sleeping together, side by side. My insides turn molten and I swallow, the sound loud and clear in the enclosed space. Which version of me thought to offer to share the tent? Ranch Mulan? Work Mulan? Would my dad have said that? A small voice inside me whispers: I think that might’ve just been Horny Mulan . I smack the voice down viciously.
“Yeah,” I manage to say after an eternity. “As long as you keep to your side of the tent.”
“I don’t think this space is big enough to have ‘sides,’” Shang says dryly. “But yeah, thank you, I’ll take you up on your offer because it’ll be freezing cold outside. Uh, and another thing—”
“Yeah?” I say, my voice tight.
“I don’t imagine you have an extra sleeping bag somewhere on you?”
My mouth falls open. Damn it! I didn’t even think of sleeping bags. Argh.
Shang reads the expression of dismay on my face and sighs. “I thought so. It’s fine, mine’s pretty large and we can unzip it to use it as a blanket and maybe borrow some towels to use as a sleeping pad.” He gets out of the tent, leaving me to sink to my knees, pinching the bridge of my nose.
What is happening to me out here? This morning, I would’ve said the wildest thing I’ve ever done was to get into a bar fight. But now the day isn’t even over and I’ve just invited Shang into my bed. I shudder to think what else might happen before night’s end.