01 第1章 木兰赶鸡（1）

01 第1章 木兰赶鸡（1）

The morning sun had long since risen over the Chinese tulou that Mulan called home. As she stood in the middle of the circular compound of connected buildings that was made up of her home and those of her neighbors, she was surrounded by the muff led sounds of the nearby villagers. From a second-floor balcony a mother called to her daughter to bring the laundry. In a kitchen on the ground floor, a spoon banged against the sides of a pot as another mother prepared the evening meal. From the opening between the buildings that led to the street, Mulan could make out the low moos of several large cows being herded to a new feeding ground and the occasional squawk as their heavy feet plodded precariously close to a stray chicken. Coming from her own home, nestled in the middle of all the others, Mulan heard the steady click, click, clack, clack of the shuttle as her mother and younger sister wove fabric. 
But the sounds did nothing to distract Mulan. She had grown up with them. She had spent every day of her seven years next to the same handful of villagers. At present, the clangs and bangs were merely background noise to her current mission: herding the chickens to their coop. 

Unfortunately, the chickens were not in the mood to be herded. For the past hour, Mulan and her father, Hua Zhou, had been trying to move the small group of feathered animals from one side of the courtyard to the other. Yet each time they got most of the birds going in the same direction, one would break off and make a run for it. 

“Steady, Mulan ...” Her father’s voice was stern, but kind.

Looking up, she saw Zhou’s warm brown eyes looking down at her. She met his smile. She knew that many people in her village were intimidated by her father. He always walked with his head high, his chest out. Once a fierce warrior, his body had grown more fragile with age. His shoulders stooped ever so slightly and his hair was no longer thick. Yet he still had an air of confidence despite the limp that forced him to walk with a cane. But to Mulan, he was not fierce or scary. He was her father. And she adored him. 

At seven years old, Mulan knew she was supposed to spend her time helping her mother take care of their home, but she had no interest in weaving or cooking or cleaning. Her little sister, Xiu, loved to do—and excelled at—those tasks.