Chapter Sixteen
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A fterward, I dress in one of Shang’s buttoned shirts and sit at the kitchen counter, watching as he cooks. I know I’m gazing at him with open adoration, but I don’t care, because as he moves around the kitchen, Shang throws glance after glance at me, as though he can’t bear to take his eyes off me, even for a minute. The two of us have spent so much energy trying to ignore or push aside our attraction toward each other that it’s a relief to not have to pretend anymore.
“You’re gonna burn my chow mein if you keep looking over at me,” I tease.
Shang snorts, shaking his head. He sneaks a quick look at me before wrenching his gaze back to the wok. “It’s just—you look so cute in my shirt.”
“I know,” I say with all the confidence in the world.
“You know, huh?”
“Yeah. Listen, I know I’ve got shortcomings, but not looking cute in a man’s shirt is not one of them.” My god. Who is this witty, confident person who’s comfortable in her own skin and can make jokes without second-guessing herself all the time?
Shang does that laugh of his again, the one that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle, and I can’t help but bite my lip as I smile stupidly wide. “Okay, well, you’re right about this one,” he says finally. He finishes frying the chow mein and serves it up into bowls.
“It smells amazing.” I stab my chopsticks into the bowl and pick up a huge tangle of saucy, greasy noodles. I take a big mouthful and then have to put my hand over my mouth as I breathe in and out to try and cool the noodles down. I’ve burned my tongue for sure, but oh my god, it was worth it. The chow mein is savory, with a nice charred flavor from the wok, the noodles are still chewy, and the sauce Shang has cooked it in hits all the right spots. “Best chow mein I’ve ever had.”
“Wow, high praise.” Shang does the same as I did, picking up an extra-huge serving of noodles before shoving them in his mouth. This time, he hiccups after swallowing and has to gulp some water to help the food down.
I laugh. “Noob.”
“You know what, though? You’re right. It does taste better when you take a huge bite like that. Whoa. Who would’ve thought?”
“Me. I would’ve thought.”
Shang’s gaze turns tender. “You’re amazing, Zhou. There’s something about you that just—” He shakes his head. “I can be fully myself around you. Only with you.”
It feels as though my heart is both bursting with joy and shriveling up with guilt, all at once. “I agree,” I say quietly. God, I want so badly to tell him the truth. All of it. Or at the very least the most important part, that my name isn’t even Zhou. But he’s also right in that, ironically, despite my deceit, I feel like I can be fully myself around him, and only him.
Shang leans against the counter, looking down at me, then he bends over and kisses me. I set my bowl down and kiss him back. He cups my face with one hand and I love it, I love him touching my face, I love wrapping my arms around his neck, I love kissing him even though our mouths smell of chow mein. Shang’s hand trails down my neck, fingering the collar of the button-down shirt, making my skin tingle. With some effort, I push him away gently and say, “Do not get between me and my carbs.”
Shang groans. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” I pick up my bowl once more. “But I do eat quickly.”
“Yes,” Shang whispers, pumping his fist.
“See? Now you’re glad I take huge bites of my food.”
Shang’s laughter fills the kitchen. “Yes,” he says, dipping his head and capturing my mouth with his once more. “You’re right. I am glad about that.”
I can’t quite remember the last time I was this happy. Maybe when I was away at college and I found myself surrounded by people who were as passionate about numbers as I was? Or maybe the first time my parents took me to Disneyland? I had been very happy then for sure, bursting with excitement. But I can’t remember the last time I felt this prolonged, sustained happiness. And more than just happiness, but contentment.
It’s been over a week since we came back from the ranch: blissful, whirlwind days in which Shang and I have been practically inseparable. Each morning, I go to work with a huge, dopey smile on my face and a tumblerful of latte that Shang has made on his espresso machine. At lunch, we meet up at a nearby restaurant and hold hands under the table like teenagers. After work, I bounce out of the office and meet up with Shang for dinner. He’s cooked for me twice more, and taken me out to a beautiful French restaurant on a different evening.
Then we go home, to his place, and spend the rest of the night in each other’s arms. We talk endlessly in bed. Once, we chatted so long that the sky melted from black to light purple before we finally dozed off, minutes before the alarm went off. I had to have three coffees that day, but it was worth it.
On our fifth day together, Shang came to my apartment. I had done my best to tidy up beforehand. As an additional precaution, I gathered everything I could find that said MULAN and drove the box of incriminating items to store in my parents’ garage. Of course, my apartment was nowhere near the level of pristine his was, but at least it didn’t look like the train wreck it usually does. But when Shang opened the closet door to put away his clothes, he was attacked by my pile of junk tumbling down on him. I just about died of shame, but Shang laughed for a full minute before grabbing me and squishing me, and then, while kissing the top of my head, he said, “Let’s go to the Container Store.”
The Container Store. A store that I had only heard of but never set foot in. I was so intimidated by all the different-size containers, ranging from ones big enough to store an entire human body in to ones that are so teeny I have no idea what they’re meant for. Maybe paper clips? Shang took my hand and led me around the store, picking out several containers, and within half an hour, we were on our way back to my place. If it had just been me in there all by myself, I would’ve wandered up and down the aisles, getting increasingly intimidated and frustrated, and two hours later I would’ve gone home empty-handed.
Somehow, Shang made even tidying up fun. And that is not even an exaggeration. I laughed a million times with him as we went through my stuff and he held up questionable things, like the whisk attachment for an electric mixer (except I’d long lost the mixer) and tiny thongs I’d gotten as a gag gift for my twenty-first birthday.
“Actually, maybe we shouldn’t throw these away,” Shang said, clearing his throat and putting aside the thongs.
“Stop!” I laughed, snatching them and stuffing them into a trash bag. Or tried to. Shang tackled me and we ended up rolling on the floor, laughing, before it inevitably turned into kissing and more.
The next day was a Saturday, so we worked on my place some more. Several times Shang would ask me, “What do you think, would you like this? Or maybe something like that?” And each time, I had to pause and really ask myself: What do I like? What does the real me want for this space?
By the time the sun set, with Shang’s coaxing, I had managed to let go of that part of me that’s constantly asking: But what would Baba think? What would my colleagues think? And we made my place into a space I know I’m going to look forward to coming home to, which is a huge step for me. I’ve never given a second thought about my apartment. It has always been just a place for me to crash after endless meetings at work, and in the mornings I barely even look at my surroundings before rushing out the door. But now I find myself pausing at random moments—when I’m getting a glass of water, for example, or when I’m shrugging off my jacket—and looking around me with a sense of comfort and pride. This is my apartment, and it’s not big or flashy, but it’s…pretty. My couch, now that it isn’t covered with jackets and random articles of clothing, is actually cozy. My kitchen is tiny but functional, and with Shang’s help, I’ve added floating shelves and placed potted herbs in it, sprucing the space up. My bedroom is a place in which I now want to do more than just sleep: That Saturday night Shang stayed over, and in the morning we lounged for a long while in bed, reading, talking, sipping coffee.
I’m so happy that if I were someone else, I would absolutely hate me. But the happiness isn’t perfect. For one thing, my dad is still ill, still in a hospital bed. His recovery is going slow, and I make sure to visit him as much as I can while juggling work and my newfound relationship with Shang. Not to mention the fact that I’m still lying to Shang about who I am. Each day, I promise myself that I will tell him the truth, and each morning, he wakes me up with a soft kiss and I feel my determination falter. Just one more day , I tell myself. Give me just one more day of this bliss. What we have is so precious, so priceless, that I can’t bear to break it, because maybe that would break me.
What a thing to think of, when we’ve only been together for a few days, but already I can’t envision going back to a life without Shang. And I know he feels the same way, because already he’s given me a key to his place, already he’s cleared out an entire chest of drawers for me, already he’s speaking in future terms. “For Thanksgiving, do you want to…” “For Easter, shall we…” “For Christmas, do you think…”
And I don’t want to stop this ride. I want to think of spending Christmas with him, wearing matching ugly sweaters and sipping eggnog. I want to do weekend getaways and plan for longer trips and I want so badly to introduce him to my parents. I want it all, everything, every moment of it, and the knowledge that all of it might disappear because of this stupid, horrible lie I’ve told is excruciating.
On Tuesday, Mushu says, “I haven’t seen you in three days, and that’s three days too many. Shall we have dinner tonight and catch up?”
I feel a twinge of guilt. I’ve turned into one of those people who disappear into a black hole just because they’re in a relationship. “Sure,” I tell Mushu. I send Shang a text telling him I won’t make it back for dinner and he replies with:
Ok. Are you still coming over? X
I smile and text him:
Yes x
Dinner with Mushu is exactly what I need to clear my head. Mushu is the only one who knows the whole truth, so I can be honest and get her advice. As we settle into our seats at the restaurant, a sense of comfortable joy washes over me. I’ve missed quality time with my cousin.
“So,” Mushu says, “Shang is really that amazing in bed, huh?”
I cough. “Mushu! Oh my god.”
“What?”
“We haven’t even ordered our drinks yet.”
Mushu catches a waiter’s eye, and when he comes over, she says, “Can we have a bottle of chardonnay, please? Thank you.” The waiter nods and leaves, and she turns back to me. “Right. Now can you tell me everything? Spare no details.”
I sigh. “Oh, Mushu. I needed this.”
“Yeah, me too. You’ve been shacked up in coupledom and forgotten me.” Mushu pouts.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I kind of got swept up in Shang. He’s so…” I sigh.
The waiter comes back with our wine, and after it’s poured out, we raise our glasses.
“To love,” Mushu says.
“I don’t know if it’s love,” I say.
Mushu rolls her eyes. “I’ve known you all my life and I have never seen you like this, ever. Not even with Nick, and you were with him for two years. Thing is, cuz, I just—I know we joke around a lot and it’s hard for anyone to take me seriously—”
“I take you seriously,” I say.
“It’s not your fault,” she says. “I don’t take myself seriously. I guess I never felt like I deserved to be taken seriously. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, I am being completely sincere when I say I think this is the first time that I’m getting a glimpse of the real Mulan, and I like her.”
A knot forms in my throat. Mushu and I have always been close, but I never expected Mushu to read me this well.
“I give you a hard time for being the perfect kid and all that, and it’s because I feel like you’re always playing a role. But now, this thing with Shang, I know that it’s not a role. It’s just…you. And I love that for you. So don’t get all stupid and mess it up because you think it’s something you’re not supposed to do or whatever, okay?”
I nod hurriedly, hiding how emotional Mushu’s words have made me. “To love,” I say, clinking my glass to Mushu’s. Warmth rises from my neck to my face. Is Mushu right? Is this love? Of course, as soon as I ask myself that, it becomes painfully, startlingly obvious. I recognize this feeling at last, like finding a long-lost friend, and the realization makes me choke up a little.
“Wow,” Mushu says. “Am I jealous? Yes, yes I am. Am I also happy for you? Yes!” She gets up from her chair and gives me a hug. “My cousin in love.”
I laugh and wipe at my eyes as Mushu settles back in her seat. “I’m so scared, though. What’s he going to do when he finds out I’m not actually Zhou?”
“Oh yeah, ooh. I forgot about that,” Mushu says.
“How in the world did you manage to forget about that?”
“I don’t know, I’ve got lots of things going on. I have a roaring social life, as you know—”
“Of course,” I say with a smile.
“So I can’t keep track of all the details. Anyway, right. The Zhou thing. Oof.” Mushu takes a sip of wine and stares off into the distance for a while, deep in thought. Then she snaps her fingers. “I’ve got it. The perfect solution.”
I lean forward eagerly. “Yes?”
“You should legally change your name to Zhou.”
I deflate. For a moment there, I really thought that Mushu had found an actual solution.
“Why not?” she says. “I mean, he’s your dad, so it’s not inconceivable that you might want to be named after him.”
“So I’d be Zhou Junior?” I say dryly.
“Exactly.”
“Okay, aside from all the legal ramifications, I don’t know, I don’t like the idea of continuing the lie. I want to be honest with Shang. I don’t want a relationship based on a lie.”
Mushu’s expression turns sad. “Yeah, I know. So why don’t you tell him?”
“Two reasons: I don’t want to mess everything up with the acquisitions, and I don’t want to lose him.” Even just saying the words lose him makes my throat dry.
“Oh, cuz. That’s tough.”
“And this whole thing with the acquisition, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner—the fact that we’d be working closely with his family once we buy their company. I guess I thought maybe that my dad would’ve gotten better by now and I could hand over the account to him, as planned, and I wouldn’t have that much interaction with them and none of this would matter in the long run. I didn’t foresee any of this happening.” I take a deep breath. “I didn’t foresee falling in love with Shang and my dad still being in the hospital.”
Mushu reaches across the table and takes my hand. “I know. But soon this will all be over. You’ll come to the end of the negotiations process and seal the deal and your dad will get better and things will be less up in the air so you’ll be able to tell Shang everything then.”
I give Mushu a weak smile and squeeze her hand. “God, I hope you’re right.”
In the morning, I wake up in Shang’s arms. I stay there for a few moments, savoring his nearness, then reach over for my phone. I am mid-yawn when I unlock it and find seventeen missed calls from Mama. And Baba. My heart leaps and I sit up abruptly, opening the numerous texts from them. Next to me, Shang stirs and strokes my back, but my attention is fully on my phone.
Mulan, Baba got the green light to go home! Come to the hospital once you see this!
“Oh my god,” I say.
Shang sits up and kisses my cheek. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just—My dad’s going to be discharged.”
Over the past few days, I’ve told Shang vague details about Baba being in the hospital. Shang’s face breaks into a smile. “That’s great! Are you going to see him now?”
“Yeah, just as soon as I change.”
“Would you like me to come with you?” Shang says.
My stomach twists with guilt. More than anything, I want to take Shang to my parents. I want to bask in their joy at seeing him, because of course they would be delighted to know that I’ve found someone who loves me the way Shang does. But if I did that, my cover would be blown and everything would turn to ash. “Um, I would love to, but—”
Understanding dawns on Shang’s face, and he looks so sweet that I die a little inside. “You know what? It’s fine, you should see your dad on your own right now. I mean, he’s just getting out of the hospital and everything, he probably wouldn’t want some random dude rocking up.”
Knowing my dad, I am positive that he would love to meet Shang immediately, but I force myself to nod. “Yeah, I think I’d better see him on my own this time. But I would love for you to meet him and my mom at some point.”
“Yeah?” Shang says, smiling and looping his arms around my waist. “That would be nice. Because you’ve met all of my family, so it only seems fair for me to meet yours.”
“I know. I want that, too.” I reach over, kiss him, and try not to think of the way my lies have snowballed into this awful, tangled mess. Still, I tell myself, now that Baba is coming home, it’ll all be okay. It will be.
I feel like a little kid again when I lay eyes on Baba. He looks tired, but he’s standing up and out of his hospital clothes, and tears rush to my eyes as I hurry toward him and throw my arms around him. “Baba!”
“Mulan.”
I lean back to take him in. “Oh my gosh. How are you feeling, Baba?”
“Surprisingly good. If I’d known how refreshing a two-week rest would be, I would’ve done it a long time ago.”
“Oh, you,” snorts Mama. “Stop spouting rubbish.”
Baba laughs. “I really do feel good. A bit sore on my back, though.”
“Yeah? I mean, if all you feel is some stiffness, I’d say that’s pretty good,” I say, wiping my eyes.
Ma hands Baba a peeled tangerine. “Here, you should eat nutritious foods.”
“Thank you,” Ba says. He turns back to face me. “Tell me everything that’s happened at the office.”
“Not work already,” Ma snaps.
“Oh, you must let me have this one,” Baba says. “I’ve never been away from work this long before.”
“Well, don’t get too stressed out,” Ma warns.
Don’t stress him out , I think. Great. I scrap the possibility of telling him what I’ve done with Shang’s family. I focus on our other accounts, giving him a detailed summary of the important updates, and Baba listens for a while, but then he raises his hand. I stop talking.
“Sorry to interrupt, my dear, but I have a feeling we’ll be kicked out of here soon, so let’s get to the important stuff: Any updates with Wutai Gold?”
My jaw clenches tight as I mentally scramble to knit together a passable story. “Yes, things are progressing really well with them right now, actually. We’re through the negotiations process and tomorrow we’re going to sign the papers.”
“Ah!” Baba’s face brightens. “Wonderful. How did that happen? Did you spearhead the whole thing?”
“Yes.” I find it next to impossible to meet his eye.
“Oh, Mulan.” Baba reaches out and grasps my hand, and when I do look at him, I’m shocked to find him teary-eyed. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Ba, I didn’t know Wutai Gold meant so much to you.”
“It’s not that.” He squeezes my hand affectionately. “Yes, I thought they would be a good acquisition, but from my conversations with them, I didn’t think they’d want to have you as the point person running this deal. My plan had been to have you attend the meetings and have you win them over with me by your side. So the fact that you’ve managed to handle it and bring it home is…” His expression softens as he gazes at me with pride. “So impressive. You are the flower that blooms in adversity.”
“Oh, Ba…” My eyes fill up once more.
“And this tells me that you are ready to become a partner at the firm, and soon enough, you’ll take my place as managing partner.”
I’ve wanted to make partner for so long that for a second, the magnitude of his words doesn’t sink in. And when it does, I want to scream with both joy and frustration, because this is not how I wanted to make partner. For years I’ve thrown everything I have into the job, first one in and last one out of the office, coming in on weekends when needed, only going home when the rest of the world seems to already be asleep, and I was happy doing it because I was doing a damn good job. And now that I’m finally getting what I wanted, it doesn’t feel at all good. It feels terrible, it feels like a curse. It’s tainted, and it’s all my own fault.
But Baba is gazing at me with a familiar expression, the same one he’s worn whenever I do something right—when I fell off the beam in gymnastics but then climbed on again and finished my routine, when I graduated from Princeton, when I closed my first deal at the firm. It’s a look I treasure, and I don’t have it in me to ruin it, not just this moment. And definitely not when my father is still recovering.
So I hug him and say, “Thank you, Ba. I’m honored.”
“I’m so proud of you,” he says again, patting my cheek. “You’re the best kid a father could hope for.”
“Only because I got the best dad.” I pat his arm and straighten up. “I have to run now, but I’ll drop by the house later this evening, after the office.”
Baba smiles. “See you later.”
I keep my head down all the way to the parking lot, my face burning with shame and anger at my brashness, my foolishness. Once I reach the privacy of my car, I grip the steering wheel tightly and wail. Looking up, I see that I’ve shocked a passerby. I grimace and mouth Sorry , but they hurry away.
I utter a heavy sigh and let my head drop onto the steering wheel. There’s a sharp rap on the car window. Startled, I jerk back up. It’s Ma. I roll down the window, my heart thudding so hard I feel it in my throat. “Hi, Ma. What are you doing down here?”
“You left your phone,” Mama says, holding it out to me.
“Oh, thanks. I would’ve been in trouble without it.” I take the phone, keeping my eyes on it instead of Mama.
“What’s going on, Mulan?” Ma says.
“Nothing,” I say quickly. Too quickly.
Ma merely looks at me without saying anything, until I crack. “It’s just—Everything’s a mess, okay, Ma?”
“Oh, Mulan. What is it? Tell me.”
“No, I can’t—Oh.” I watch helplessly as Ma marches around the front of the car and slides into the passenger seat.
She closes the door and folds her hands on her lap. “Okay. Now tell me.”
I squeeze the phone to keep my hands from shaking. “I don’t even know where to begin,” I whisper. Though Ma knew of the lie that I had cooked up to save the acquisition, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t realize the extent of the whole charade and how out of hand it’s gotten by now.
“How about you start by telling me about this nice boy you’ve been seeing?”
I jump, my head swiveling to face my mother. “You knew?”
“How can I not know when my own daughter is in love?” Ma gently tucks my hair behind my ear.
“Ma,” I sob, feeling like I’m all of five years old. “I think I’m going to screw it up.”
“Start from the beginning.”
And so I do. I tell her everything. Ma listens with rapt attention, uttering a small gasp here and there, making a sad mm noise when appropriate, but whatever she does, she keeps her hand on my arm, and the love on her face never fades, not even a little, not even when I tell her about how Shang is falling for me as “Zhou.”
When I’m finally done, I still feel terrible, but I feel a little lighter, like the weight crushing my chest has lifted a tiny bit, just enough to allow me some breathing room. I let out a long, defeated breath. “So there you have it. And now I just don’t know what to do.”
“Oh, Mulan,” Ma says again. She places a hand on my cheek. “You do know what to do. You’ve known all along.”
I lift my gaze to meet hers, and I know that Ma is right. I do know what to do. “I need to come clean to him. To his family.”
“Yes,” Ma says. “And you need to do it before you finalize this deal. A business partnership cannot happen based on a lie. As for the boy…” She looks out of the windshield with a little smile. “I think if he loves you, he’ll get over it.”
“It’s a pretty major lie to get over. Technically, he doesn’t even know my name.”
Ma laughs.
“Ma!”
“I’m sorry, it is a little bit funny.”
“You can’t say that,” I cry. “You wouldn’t like it if someone did that to me.”
“Oh, I would take a cleaver to their house.”
I groan. “See? It is bad!”
“I’m just joking. Or am I? But honestly? Yes, it’s bad. But from what you’ve told me, it seems that it led to true love. Who knows, if you hadn’t pretended to be Zhou and done all these ridiculous things, you and Shang might not have found each other. And you are treating each other well, with love and respect, so I think you’ll overcome this. He’ll see that you were foolish, yes, but beneath the foolishness, he should know that your heart is good.”
I nod, feeling tears slip down my cheeks. “I hope so.”
“Now off you go and do the right thing.”