Mulan sighed. She wanted desperately, in that moment, to be back in her family’s house, sitting with her sister. She wouldn’t even have protested if her mother tried to play with her unruly hair, twisting it and looping it as she mumbled to herself. Your hair is like you, Mulan, impossible to control, she would say. But her voice would be soft, and Mulan would feel her mother’s gentle fingers brush over her shoulders, silently adding,

I love you.

Shaking her head, Mulan pushed away the thoughts of home. They would do her no good. The monks had told her she had to act like a man. And men didn’t get weepy and sentimental. Spotting her assigned tent, Mulan slipped inside.

Immediately, she wished she hadn’t.

In front of her, men in various stages of undress joked and laughed with one another. Mulan’s face flushed and she felt her throat become dry. Two of the conscripts were trading playful punches while they argued over who should get the better sleeping platform. Another conscript was searching through his clothing, tossing things over his shoulder without care. There was a conscript sharpening his sword and another picking his teeth with the tip of a dagger. 本章未完，请点击下一页继续阅读！ 第2页/共10页