Page 34 of Worth Fighting For

Mushu steps closer and lowers her voice. “I overheard some pretty disturbing things.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Well, for one thing, Shang said it’s really weird that you didn’t know how to herd cattle when your emails said you grew up with cows on a farm. Apparently you told him over email that the cows were practically your brothers and sisters growing up?”

I suck in a breath through my teeth, thinking of my father telling Shang that. I can just imagine it, my dad’s happiness at having cows; in China, most farmers would rear only pigs since they were lower maintenance, so having cattle would’ve been a point of pride for Baba. The thought of him makes my heart ache. “There’s more than a ten-year gap between my dad and his older sibling, so he was alone for most of his childhood.”

“Aww, poor Uncle Zhou,” Mushu says. “Well, anyway, so you can see why Shang would find your incompetence when it comes to herding cattle somewhat sus.”

Is it possible for an entire human body to cringe? Because that’s certainly what this feels like. But even as I shrivel up with embarrassment, part of me rears up in anger, because screw Shang and his flawless outfits and neat haircut and his stupid utter perfection. I’d like to push him into a pile of cow dung and see how unruffled he manages to remain. “James did something to the cow. I saw him move behind her and I think he shocked her or something.”

“Maybe he did, but no point dwelling on it. Even if we did manage to prove it, it’ll just make you look petty.”

I groan. I’m so ashamed of myself. I thought I was prepared for this just because I studied for it? And now I’m realizing that unlike school, this isn’t something I can prepare for just by studying. Intellectual understanding does nothing when I find myself in the middle of the real, actual thing itself. I do need to step it up. “You’re right.”

“As always. Anyway, then Shang said something like ‘I don’t know about selling anymore. It does seem…’”

I continue staring at Mushu as her voice trails off. After a beat, I realize she isn’t going to finish the sentence. “Does seem what?”

“I don’t know, they walked out of earshot.”

I groan.

“Hey, I tried my best. Channeled my inner auntie and eavesdropped to the best of my ability. Our ancestors would be proud.”

I gaze forlornly at my reflection. “Our ancestors would definitely not be proud of me right now.”

“Well, yeah, you’re a different story.” Mushu pats my shoulder.

“So what does this mean? They don’t want to sell anymore because I didn’t manage to herd their friggin’ cow?”

Mushu places both hands on my shoulders and turns me so we’re facing each other. “I know you think you’re great at studying. Me, on the other hand? Not so great at tests or studying, but it’s okay because I’ve got my incredible looks and personality to rely on. You can’t study in the traditional sense to prepare yourself for ranch life, Mulan. You need to embrace social media.”

“I’m not sure I follow what you’re trying to say,” I respond.

In answer, Mushu whips out her phone and taps the screen before brandishing it at me.

I squint at the screen. “How to hog-tie a man—”

“Whoops, wrong app,” Mushu says, snatching the phone away. She swipes at it. “Okay, here we go.”

When she brandishes the screen this time, it’s showing a TikTok instead. Sure enough, it’s a video of a short-haired woman shearing sheep, and the sheep is sitting on its rump, its belly exposed and its legs sticking up in the air.

I watch with wide eyes as the woman makes short work of the shearing, working the electric shears down in long, confident strokes. “This is kind of therapeutic to watch.”

“Heck yeah!” she says. “I’m only on TikTok to watch her and that hot lady woodchopper.”

“I’m not even going to ask.” I study the video intently. At the end of it, the sheep shearer holds up a thick wool blanket, which she rolls up, and the sheep is looking happy after its haircut. “I can do that.”

“Heck yeah!” she says again. “That’s the right attitude. Now come on, get dressed and we’re going to shear the hell out of some sheep.”

“Thanks, Mushu. You’re saving my ass here.”

Mushu pauses, seemingly caught off guard by the sincerity in my voice. She clears her throat. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” I insist. “I was so wrapped up in studying about ranches and distilleries in the traditional sense. I didn’t know there are TikToks about shearing sheep. You don’t give yourself enough credit for all of your creativity and entrepreneurial spirit, so I am telling you now, you are a talent, Mushu.”

Mushu grunts, her face red. “If only I can get a job using my talent.”

---