![]() ![]() ![]() Mulan's gaze lingered on the comb, on its green teeth and the pearl-colored flower nestled on its shoulder. The jade comb Mulan had left in exchange for the conscription notice caught her eye it now rested in front of her mirror. It was the same as she'd left it: a pile of cushions by her bed for Little Brother to sleep on, a stack of poetry and famous literature on her desk that she was supposed to study to become a "model bride," and the lavender shawl and silk robes she'd worn the day before she left home. “She started to head out, but she passed her room. That smell of home- of Baba's incense from the family temple, sharp with amber and cedar of noodles in Grandmother Fa's special pork broth of jasmine flowers that Mama used to scent her skin.” She used to play by the pond when she was a little girl, catching frogs and fireflies in wine jugs and feeding the fish leftover rice husks and sesame seeds until her mother scolded her. At the bottom of the stone-cobbled path was a pond with rose-flushed lilies, and a marble bench under the cherry tree. Yet no painter could have re-created what she saw more convincingly. There weren't any, of course, but her mother had helped her find some dragonflies by the pond instead, and they'd spent an afternoon counting them in the garden. She'd hammered the stone in half, eager to catch a few worms to play with. The third one from the bottom had a crack in the middle- from when she was five and the neighbor's boy convinced her there were worms on the other side of the stones. Her eyes traveled down the flat stone steps. There was something familiar about this place. The petals fell like snowflakes, dancing and swirling until they touched the soft, verdant grass. Pink cherry blossoms and violet plum blossoms graced the sweeping trees. ![]()
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