two worlds; one family

soulmate timers au || jane & shang

00:20:30

Say what you will about Naveen, thought Jane fondly—she who had perhaps the least to say about their resident royal, as unkind words went—he knows how to throw a party. In fact it was, perhaps, one of the things Naveen was best at. It was how they’d met, talked, flirted…and somehow completely sidestepped the bit where their relationship took a sudden turn downwards after they’d hooked up. They hadn’t. Hooked up, that is. Instead they were, inexplicably, very good friends.

Not that the two facts were mutually exclusive (in general, Jane hoped, for Naveen’s sake). It was difficult not to be attracted to the Maldonian prince, with his engaging conversation and charming smile and floppy curls…but maybe that was exactly why she hadn’t done much about it in the end. There was something distinctly unflattering about knowing that he would have been just as charming towards any other girl who’d caught his eye that night. Not—Jane hastened to rationalize to herself—that she thought any less of the women she knew had slept with him…oh, but for Jane herself, it would have been so much more romantic to think that he’d made a special effort for her sake.

Romance, of course, was Jane’s problem: romance, and the bit where she hadn’t been born an American citizen, hadn’t given one thought to a timer of her own until the move. That she was dating a guy who’d grown up in East Africa had begun, admittedly, as an act of defiance. In a country shaped by its reliance on the timers (Jane told herself, in the unctuous tones of a narrator on the nature channel), there were two sorts of men, at least that she’d encountered: those who had determined to make the most of the years before they’d found their soulmates…such as Naveen…and those who, fatalistically, rebuffed Jane’s attempts to have a remotely NORMAL love life. Whereas Tarzan—

00:11:59

"Jaaaaaaaaaane," caroled Hazel, tripping precariously back towards her friend—and Jane wasn’t sure whether she should feel guilty about it all or not. On the one hand, she’d been an awful friend—so lost in her own thoughts that she scarcely paid attention to the numbers on her wrist, let alone introducing Hazel around. On the other hand…Jane was not entirely certain that Hazel had had difficulty enjoying herself anyway. She had a red cup in one hand (clearly not her first) and her jacket in the other; belatedly playing hostess, Jane took it from her, winding her way through the packed townhouse until she found the coat closet.

”You’re missing out,” Hazel continued, in the same singsong voice, as if uninterrupted by the trivial matter of her jacket. “This is—‘s fucking brilliant. You’ve gotta give my regards to the che…” she paused, clearly confused, but Jane had too much experience of Hazel’s unique way with words to be worried, yet. “Not the chef. The…”

”Naveen,” said Jane, equably.

”Yeah.”

That one new song, thought Jane as it began in the other room, the one that’s been a hit since last summer. It was greeted by cheers from the crowd; Hazel grinned and began to sway, mouthing along to the words.

Jane had never felt more miserable, but she forced an answering smile at the sight. “Right,” she added bracingly, taking Hazel by the elbow. “Let’s go and find Naveen.”

If…whoever-it-is…doesn’t find me first. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know whether it would happen here or not—optimistically, Jane decided she was in the wrong sort of place. Good luck finding me, you wanker.

00:13:23

If Mulan could see him, alone by the Doritos and cheap beer, she would have laughed. Would have asked him if he was lost and if his mother had left him there, like a little boy in a grocery store. And he would have rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, because he liked hearing her laughter and because she always had a way of showing up when he needed her.

She wouldn't show up tonight. Or ever again, for that matter. Not after what he'd said to her; not after he drove her away.

He pursed his lips, sipped his water, popped another mint into his mouth. Shang wouldn't let the past haunt him tonight. He'd worked so hard to serve his country, to do this timer thing right. Books and magazines crowded his shelves, their insides gutted and highlighted. He'd read his meticulous notes over and over again in preparation for tonight. The advice columns guided him, pressed him to spend money on the perfect First Sight outfit, to make reservations at a nice restaurant, to buy them a small gift, to present himself eloquently.

Naveen laughed at him, but it was easy to ignore when he looked down at the timer strapped to his wrist and the numbers fell steadily toward his - what did the books call it? - destiny. Government-approved.

00:05:00

The aforementioned party host sidled up to Shang, his eyes on the time. Naveen held a Corona toward his stiff roommate, waving it in his face, but instead of the gratitude he expected he received a sharp glare. Naveen shrugged, used to it.

"I wonder who she will be," he commented thoughtfully. He nudged Shang with his elbow, an easy smile on his lips. "What do you think?"

"They say it's not good to speculate." Shang wouldn't set himself up for disappointment.

Naveen huffed. "They. What do they know about women? I want one with a nice body, but when I call to make a request they say, Your timer is set. You cannot choose. Good impression, yes?"

"You called the Federal Bureau of Predetermined Matrimony?"

"In my country, we marry for love. There is none of this --"

00:01:12

"Naveen. I have one minute. Shut up." His voice was uncharacteristically soft. Naveen shouted, but the rest was drowned out by his own thoughts, rushing at him like a suffocating wave. He heard Naveen as if he was underwater: faint, but unclear.

Would they be similar to Mulan? Would they be fierce and bold, punch him in the shoulder sometimes, go on morning runs with him? The most compatible person for him... why wasn't it her?

Shang retreated quickly, maneuvering away from the snacks and drinks table and ignoring Naveen's protests. His steps were heavy and his breathing was shallow. His body knew it was wrong to withdraw, to flee from duty and country, but... but ...

00:00:00

His timer screamed, a violent end to the countdown that could not be ignored. He froze. Squeezed his eyes shut.

At the same time, another timer's countdown ended.

followinglanterns-deactivated20

ooc; OH SHIT THERE TWO EGGS IN HERE OKAY

you mean like a real egg?

what is the problem i’d be looking for the chicken tbh

LIKE REAL EGG

EGG YOLKS

ooc; OH SHIT THERE TWO EGGS IN HERE OKAY

ooc; oh shit there's an egg in here

ooc; i am eating a mooncake for the first time tonight

soulmate timers au || jane & shang

00:31:26

"I’m not even dressed," mumbled Jane, her voice muffled. The sweater she was pulling over her head wasn’t strictly necessary—she could feel the sun-baked pavement through the soles of her worn Toms—except that Jane felt she ought to disguise having no bra on.

Between the fabric over her face and the fact it was past eleven o’clock, it was rather difficult to see; still, Jane was far from grateful for the guiding hand at her elbow, inexorable as a force of nature. (She couldn’t help but wonder briefly if there was a natural disaster named after her best mate. “Hurricane Hazel” had such a nice ring to it.)

”Who cares?” Hazel waved a dismissive hand through the air just as Jane’s head emerged from the sweater; she had a very sparkly cocktail ring on. It caught the light from the streetlamps. “’He’ won’t. In fact, the less you’re wearing—”

”You know who might mind,” Jane gritted out. “Me. Not to mention, Tarzan. Besides, we’re heading in the wrong direction.” She pulled away to get her bearings, eyes scanning the busy street. It was all right for Hazel: like everyone else out tonight, Jane’s friend had dressed to go partying and, on occasion, so did Jane.

But generally it helped if she’d had a bit of advance warning—that is, more than Hazel is flying out to visit, and once she finds out it’s tonight, she won’t care I’ve got a test on Monday to cram for. She frowned, pushing mussed hair out of her eyes and shifting from one foot to the other.

”Your friends.” Hazel said it the way people say Your funeral. She shrugged out of her jacket; she’d assured Jane it was fake leather, but Jane had caught the guilty gleam in her eye. “Your campus. Your soulmate.” Jane could hear her sigh. “You’re not going to meet ‘him’ sitting in your flat. I’m sorry, Jane, but…”

Jane’s face crumpled, because Tarzan was sitting in the flat they’d rented together, and his timer had weeks to go, and she hadn’t told him it was tonight, for her, but it didn’t really matter, did it? On a certain level he already knew. They might have moved in together, and he might have gotten her a very nice birthday present, and she might have longed—more than anything—to return to Gombe with him when his exchange year was up. But if it was meant to be—well, neither of them would still be counting.

It had been Hazel’s idea, to go to Naveen’s party tonight and look for “him” (“or “her,” Jane had pointed out, feebly)—and it was a sight more likely she’d find “him” there than in her own flat, and it hurt.

And she was going to meet “him” in her pajamas and a sweater that had egg on it.

”Right,” said Jane in a brittle voice, and turned and marched towards Naveen’s house like a woman facing a firing squad. Hazel trailed after her.

00:31:26

The flatiron ran a smooth course over his new linen shirt, leaving the material unwrinkled. Shang lifted it and examined it critically, before lowering it and ironing the perfectly smooth cloth for a fifth time.

Nothing would go wrong today.

Last week, he'd spent a few hours at a department store -- the longest time he'd ever spent shopping -- browsing expensive outfits and polished shoes for this very day. The salesman had noticed the timer on Shang's wrist and grinned wolfishly; it was common for men to shell out money for a new suit right before meeting the One. Who didn't want to make a good first impression?

00:28:51

Shang, unsmiling, slipped the cotton Burberry shirt over his shoulders and buttoned it slowly. Naveen sat on his bed, a distraught spectator. As Shang's roommate, he'd been dismayed to learn that Shang was not interested in hooking up with as many girls as possible before his timer went off. As far as Naveen knew, there had been only one girl in his roommate's life, some small, tomboyish woman who was in the ROTC with Shang. She came around sometimes. He thought she smelled like a man.

Naveen begged him not to wear a suit, said, "My friend, do not wear a tie. The girly shoes, they are enough --"

"They're called Oxfords and they're Armani."

"They're ridiculous."

00:23:42

He swallowed. Glanced in the mirror. His appearance was presentable. He would take Naveen's advice and ditch the tie, but he would strangle the man if he looked underdressed next to the One.

huaping-blog

花瓶 huā · píng: ”flower vase,” fig. just a pretty face

huaping-blog

group-affiliated Disney RP blog

╣wu zhong╠ established March 28, 2013

10 years’ RP experience

╣message╠ multiformat & multiverse

defaults to midmovie Ping, but open to writing at any point in Mulan’s timeline. ╣regulations╠ strongly influenced by the original ballad & Mulan’s cultural and historical context.

mun and muse are both 18+.

Concept art by Hans Bacher.

the troublemakers || Jane and Shang

Jane might have said, Oh, ahaha, well. I dare say it would be too much to ask of any men to carry me over the Channel, across Europe and right into China in search of your home, wouldn’t it? Certainly that was a tradition they might have to dispense with…assuming they were married from London. Her lips pursed. It had been one thing, to agree they’d plan for their wedding straightaway; another thing entirely knowing what questions she ought to ask, what arrangements should be made. After all, it wasn’t exactly as if Jane had ever been married before, - but nobody need know that. And even if she had been, Jane still would have found herself unprepared: if the Porters were not very Church of England to begin with, Shang was even less. They would have to cobble together a marriage that suited them both.

She might have said Aha! because while there had been a certain finality to Shang’s tone, surely he wouldn’t mind being consulted about the flowers? The amateur botanist who spent much of her free time grubbing in the gardens at Ardenwood, the sentimental young woman about to be married, would choose her bridal flowers with care. Different flowers carried different meanings; everybody knew that, at least everybody in London society. Surely it was the same, in China? Just as Jane would have no funeral flowers at her wedding - white roses, lilies, tendrils of scented rosemary - she was loath to leave such questions unasked in case, obeying her own superstitions, she offended his. Jane looked thoughtful, because there was something about Chinese funerals that she was forgetting, but it also had to do with being married.

As it was, when Shang spoke again Jane forgot the flowers, let alone the rest of their plans. For the ceremony, that is. Once, before she’d realized Shang cared for her, Jane had occasionally permitted herself to daydream about what it would be like - to be his wife - but since her engagement it was as if Jane’s imagination carried her to the church and no further. With Shang constantly at her side, with the immediate concerns of their marriage before her, she hadn’t given much thought to what came after. Any of it. Now, however -

"Oh," said Jane softly. A minute ago she had been perfectly cozy, arms curled around Shang’s neck as she pondered his advice. Her perch in his lap was the attitude of any courting couple in England, as chastely affectionate as when Jane held Hermia. Now she was suddenly very aware of Shang’s hand at her waist, the engaging twist of his mouth when he smiled at her. He was so close, she could feel it when he exhaled.

About children:

Her own breath came shallowly, through lips still parted with surprise. Wide, blue eyes traveled upward only to meet his and falter. Jane turned her head away quickly, as if to hide the shy smile spreading across her flushed face, but there was no way Shang might miss it. And if Jane was being quite honest with herself, she didn’t want him to. “They are a natural consequence of marriage,” she agreed gravely, although the twinkle in her eye as she glanced back at him said a great deal more.

Jane felt she had recovered herself somewhat, but she still couldn’t quite look steadily back at him. Instead she directed her attention to the way his jacket creased at the shoulder, running her fingers along the folds as if they were the most interesting thing she’d seen. “Do you - ” Jane swallowed, her voice huskier than usual. “Were you going to ask me something about them, though?”

General Li Shang, skilled commander of armies and stringent trainer of recruits, looked into his fiancee's big blue eyes and felt cold to the bone. She was small and light in his lap -- his lap, of all places -- but it was the way she looked at him and considered him that scared him, rather than her size and physical prowess. He pursed his lips and straightened his shoulders. He had hunched them to be close to her.

Cleared his throat.

About children. Well said, Li Shang.

"Hm," he grunted softly, and moved underneath her. Paused in his movement. "I mean... ah. Were we - was that something you wanted? I'd like children, but it's ... it's a team effort." If his hand weren't on her waist, he would have been tempted to smack himself in the face. He'll do that later, when he'll be alone.

He'd thought about her, of having children together and even what came beforehand, but to say it out loud seemed sacrilegious. It was reminiscent of his education, years ago when he was a little boy, as speaking Chinese when the school's English language teacher was lingering in the hallway felt somehow wrong. It was not expressly forbidden, but he was ashamed to have done it.

His mouth opened, but he did not know what to say to fix what had already been said. He closed it.

"It's important." Short and simple.

Watch out for flying glass: a World War Two AU || Jane and Shang

If she was being honest, Jane was immeasurably relieved to find the maze of corridors that extended from the main hall empty. She’d never done anything like this before, and so Jane was acutely aware of how it must look - a girl leading a soldier away from the crowds, on a search for a more secluded room - which meant it was a very good thing there was nobody to look! Self-consciously, she cast a glance over her shoulder at her companion, but Corporal Li didn’t seem overly irritated about being towed along by a woman half his size.

Even better (Jane’s eyes went over his face, as if she could find the answers written as neatly as across a page), if his thoughts had followed similar lines, it didn’t show in his face. And it was probably foolish of her to feel better about that, but Jane did. Why, he wasn’t even very good at talking to women - surely, he wasn’t going to get the wrong idea about wandering off! She did mean to teach him to dance, not…Jane’s eyes strayed to his lips and she flushed, her train of thought veering clear off the tracks and promptly bursting into flames. Focus, Jane Porter, she commanded herself, and when she did, she caught his eye! Oh, no! Panicking, Jane managed only a small smile (it felt rather more like a grimace) before tearing her gaze away and attending to the rather more pressing worry of how to teach what she knew.

All things considered, Jane’s relief when the first classroom door opened (after all, what if they’d been locked? It would probably serve her right for thinking she might even once get away with flirting and fun) quickly turned to mortification as her eyes adjusted to the dim room and assessed that it was not, after all, empty. Another couple - that is, another soldier and a woman, because who was to say they were attached any more than Jane and the corporal were? At least, emotionally. Physically it was a bit difficult to tell whose hands were where - had already appropriated the room. Before Jane could back out on clicking heels and shut the door, they’d looked up at the interruption. Jane was half-certain she recognized the other girl, but what did linger in her mind was the way she looked at Jane and Shang’s hands and smirked smugly. ”Oops,” said Jane feebly, nearly backing up into her sort-of date before turning to him to gesture they’d better keep looking.

When had she dropped his hand? Jane wondered, this time knocking softly on a classroom door before jiggling the handle and swinging it inward. Had it been out of embarrassment? To reach for the door? The pressure of his fingers had been there but not there, warm and comforting even as it made her pulse quicken…She’d liked holding his hand. Mortified as Jane was that anybody might mistake them for a couple looking for a snog, she’d enjoyed the companionship of his hand. Hah! She wasn’t repellent to everyman she came across.

Thankfully, this room was empty. Jane hesitated, didn’t glance back this time, flicked on the lights to illuminate a pale wide space cluttered with desks. They’d need to push some out of the way, of course, but she was unsure how to begin. ”About dancing,” said Jane loudly, and turned to him, trying to look as if nothing awkward had just transpired. ”We might start with the Lindy? It’s not as fast or complicated as jitterbugging, although one can get awfully creative after a bit but - er - the step’s very simple and I, well, I’ve never done this before but it’d be very difficult to muck up. For me, I mean. I’m sure you’ll pick it up quickly…?” And she was babbling, so he didn’t think she’d brought him in here under false pretenses. Hang it all, this probably wasn’t how ordinary dates went, but Jane was going to teach him to dance or perish in the attempt. Especially after what’d just happened.

Corporal Li had attempted to look everywhere except directly at the woman in front of him; it was more polite to stare at the flyers pasted on the bulletin boards lining the walls than it was to watch the way her yellow skirt swished back and forth across her hips, all light fabric and bright color and ahem. He snapped his eyes back to her face when he realized where he was looking, mortified to find her glancing at him too. Had she seen?

Shang swallowed, glued his gaze swiftly to the wall again.

What would the boys think if they knew he was here, looking for an empty room to share with a girl he'd just met at a dance? the thought lifted itself to the forefront of his mind, before he realized he did not care what they thought of him and his private business. It did bother him, however, that they might figure Jane to be a call girl and press him for details later. She was a respectable college woman (although one who thought she could teach him how to dance) and if they ever met her, he'd make sure they knew how to treat a girl like that --

He shoved that idea back down carelessly, a frown etched onto his face. She wouldn't meet the guys. Shang wouldn't push her to spend more time with him.

Only when they stopped before a door did he dare to look at the back of her head. He leaned forward when she did, heard the telltale click of an unlocked door. The dimmed room had walls that muffled the music even further than the hallway, and all that could be heard was the stifled breath of two people ... He blinked. Snatched his hand violently from Jane's.

He was out the door before Jane could react. Shang had not had time to get a good look at the boy's face, but he hoped fiercely it wasn't anyone he knew. That's just what he needed. As uncomfortable as he was, he whipped his gaze around the second classroom's interior, searching for another pair fastened at the mouth. Finding none, he relaxed slightly.

"Lindy? Jitterbugging?" The words tasted like a foreign language, like when he had to speak Chinese at family parties and stumbled over the phrases because he was born and raised in America. He furrowed his brow and stared at her with uncertainty. His voice was low now, dragging out the syllables slowly to emphasize the blunt truth. "I've never done this before. That's not an excuse, but I hope you don't expect much out of me."

#this ping is one of the best writers i know and you should follow her c:

denrockbell

never jokingly suggest a pairing because before you know it you’ll be shipping it for real

#stares at camille

forgettingmyglove said: [[chews on ur nose

#ooc;

huaping-blog

You guys…I don’t even know where to start. It’s been a WHILE since I’ve reached any sort of RP milestone, so I’m way more excited than I should be over getting so many followers! I made this blog much in the way Mulan “made” herself into Ping…late at night and planning to keep my head down…because I could never have imagined that I’d gain much of a following, let alone that I could do Hua Mulan - through the lens of a Disney film - justice.

So thank you, every single one of you, for proving me wrong on both counts. As you may have noticed, Mulan is assisted by both likely and unlikely allies as she kicks enemy butt in the banner. That’s me, reaching this milestone. I quite literally couldn’t have gotten to where I am, at 200 followers and counting, without all of you being here. Especial thanks go out to:

╣spellbound* disney rp╠

admiralamelia || amanintime || apeculiarbelle || bornofthelandandsea || clandunbrochprincess || coronasflower || elsa-de-arendelle || fakereputation || forgettingmyglove || futurekingsimba || happyunbirthday-tome || hisimperialgrace || itsoundsmetallicx || kristoffbj0rgman || lipsthatshame || manavbaccemowgli || morphingthroughspace || mxrypoppins || neverxbelle || rattlerofthestars || stayyourcourse || steadyasthewind || strongwillweakankles || tofindmyownplace || weariedmother || xwanderingfree || youfightgood || zoneofelatedorgassy

╣the mulan crew╠

adore-my-battle-scars || chienxpo || iknowwheremydutylies || retrievethearrow || some-kingoftherock

And a few more people without whose support on this blog I wouldn’t ever have reached the top of the proverbial pole:

asailorking || neworleansprincess || southernsideburns

If you’re not on here, don’t be discouraged! The next time I make a post like this I expect my recognition list to be longer: the friendships I make and the plots I write here can only increase.

Now for the part I’m sure you skipped the Great Wall of Text to read:

╣the giveaway╠

Each reblog is an entry. You’re allowed only 2 entries per blog. I don’t want to spam my group. (Likes will not be counted.)

You must be following me, since this is meant to reward my followers.

The entry period will end May 18, when I’ll use a random generator to choose three winners. You can probably tell from the banner that I’m not remarkably artistic, but I can write:

First-prize winner will receive a para starter (4+ paragraphs), two drabbles on any character/ship/etc. of their choice within reason, and a promo in my updates tab for a month;

Second-prize winner will receive a para starter (3+ paragraphs), a drabble on any character/ship/etc. of their choice within reason, and a promo post on the dash;

Third-prize winner will receive a drabble and two chat starters on a topic of their choice within reason.

Again, thank you all so much - and good luck!

Concept art by Ken Boyer.

ooc; will be here and here, trying to get some drafts done c:

#ooc;

RETRIEVETHEBITCH IS RIGHT

RETRIEVETHEBRIDGET

#ooc #ask #sireninthefire

the-devils-keeper-deactivated20

replace one word of your url with bitch

#RETRIEVETHEBITCH #BITCHTHEARROW #RETRIEVEBITCHARROW

Raindrops on roses: a "Sound of Music" AU || Jane and Shang

"It’s very kind of you to - no, really, I can - “

Holding her hat to her head with one hand, portfolio and carpetbag tucked into the other, Jane flapped after the gatekeeper with a strained social smile on her face. She was certainly going to have to get used to being waited on by servants, but Jane couldn’t possibly allow anybody to do things for her when she could so easily do them on her own! Such as toting her things round. Several experimental lifts had convinced Jane that, if need be, she could carry her own luggage from one end of China to the other. So, certainly, she oughtn’t to be taxing the poor man further! He ought to heed her advice and return to the gates, to do whatever one did all day when one was a gatekeeper.

After an awkward pause she realized that he was ignoring her because she was speaking English. ”Oh, I say - Wǒ - “ Jane quickened her pace, renewing her protestations in Mandarin, and still the gatekeeper didn’t so much as turn to her. He did glance inquiringly at his employer, but by then Jane had turned herself half-way round and didn’t see.

Her hand slipped from the brim of her hat and Jane’s mouth fell open in a small o as she looked round at the courtyard through which they passed. A great pond sparkled like a jewel, despite the iron snow-flecked sky reflected in it; Jane would have to come back later to see if there were any fish, although given that it was the dead of winter she would be very surprised. Perhaps she might ask the children, for children - very much like Jane - tended to notice these things.

Indeed, though the new governess admired the colorful beauty of the courtyard so much it almost hurt (she was going to like it here, very much), the other thing that drew her attention, the thing Jane noticed most of all, was how very bare the flowerbeds were in comparison to the general splendor. It was a sign both of her own pursuits and of her sheltered upbringing that it never occurred to Jane, who was something of an amateur botanist, that the symmetrical oblong patches of dark soil could possibly be anything else. This time of year she would have expected to see, perhaps, plants carefully pruned and swaddled against the mountain chill. But there wasn’t so much as a twig or leaf in the dirt, nor was it all turned up nicely as fallow soil ought to be. If anything had ever been planted there before, it did not look as if it would soon be replaced.

The bright courtyard limned in snow, the shining pond and dull soil: Jane took these all in as she walked, if pivoting in a slow circle and inching backward could really be described as walking. At long last she recalled herself and, facing front again, realized the gatekeeper (and her trunk) were nowhere to be seen. Hard on the heels of this observation came another - that she wasn’t alone, after all. Jane started but, peering at the man in armor who stood on the veranda, her face blossomed suddenly into understanding and she grinned as if she’d just spotted an old friend. How good of him to come and greet her! How long had he been standing there?

"You must be General Li!" she called out breathlessly, quickening her pace. Jane adjusted her grip on portfolio and carpetbag alike, nearly dropped both, stopped walking, considered, readjusted, and was soon tripping lightly up the couple of stairs towards him. "Hullo! You have a very pretty space here, and to think it’s only my first impression of the house! Anyway, here I am! The new governess, that is. My name is Jane Porter."

She held out a mittened hand to shake.

To the best of his ability, the gatekeeper indicated she stay there, in the courtyard. When she greeted the general herself, and loudly without ceremony, he winced.

"Bǎ tā de dōngxi dào yīgè fángjiān," he barked orders to the manservant, gesturing toward the southern building where the new amah for the children would live for as long as she lasted. The man complied immediately, the trunk a hefted weight on his willowy shoulders. If Shang were younger and more inclined toward noble acts, he would have paused and taken the trunk himself, allowing the older gatekeeper a much-needed rest. But as it were, Shang was old himself and less compassionate. and he did not offer to carry the lady's things.

Standing taut as a ruan's stiff strings, he looked her over with a hard, critical gaze. So. This was what he bought. A little woman with thin limbs and an easy smile, so naive and so young and so far from the bundle of Western foreigner stereotypes he had thought up in his mind. She was not hairy and she did not have a big nose, he noted with a small tinge of relief, so his children would not be afraid of this strange-looking creature.

Still. The only intelligent feature on her was her bright, inquisitive eyes, he noted with some disdain. The girl looked almost too hopeful. She would not last long; he estimated a week, at most. More likely a couple of days.

"I am General Li," he said shortly, his English practiced and clipped. "In the future, you will kindly remember there are certain areas in this compound which are not to be disturbed." He stared at her solemnly, communicating in that one gaze that she had already proven her incompetence.

"I expect silence." He flicked a hand toward her, twirling it in a circle through the air. "Turn, please." His eyes were on her outfit.