Page 35 of Worth Fighting For

“You’ll find your calling.” I reach out and give Mushu’s hand a squeeze. Then, sensing her discomfort at the sudden earnest conversation, I turn away to give her a moment to herself. I focus on finding a tank top to layer underneath my checkered shirt.

As I brush my hair, I level a stern gaze at myself in the mirror. Ranch mask is coming back on. I point at the mirror and snarl, “You need to do this. Get it done.” No sheep is going to get in the way of this deal.

I stride out of the bedroom with newfound purpose and almost walk right into Shang, who’s standing in front of the door with his hand raised.

“Oh,” he says. “Hey. How’s it going?”

No losing focus now, no matter how hot he is.You are Ranch Mulan. You are a different person. You’ve watched a TikTok.I raise my chin and look him squarely in the eye. “Hey, buddy!”Buddy? Oh god. This is not going well.“It’s going really well, actually. How are you? Good? Good. I’m glad.”

“Uh. Great. So, um, we were thinking of—”

“Shearing sheep, right?” I’m vaguely aware that my voice is coming out louder than necessary, but there’s no stopping me now.

“Oh,” Shang says, visibly taken aback. “I didn’t think—”

“That I’d be up for that?” I say. “I am very much down for sheepshearing.”

“Yeah,” Mushu says, her head popping up from behind my shoulder. “Back home in Yunnan, she was champion sheepshearer in the county.”

I try to elbow Mushu while still keeping my eyes on Shang, but my elbow hits nothing but air.

“Wow,” Shang says.

“Yes, and back home in Yunnan, she was also the village’s best horse rider. Any horses that the neighbors got that needed breaking in, they’d take it to Zhou here. Isn’t that right, Zhou?” Mushu says.

It is now a huge challenge to keep the confident smile on my face. In fact, it feels more like a grimace than anything. Through gritted teeth, I manage to say, “Sure, Mushu. Anyway, shall we?” Without waiting for a reply, I walk past Shang and stride out of the house, where I find James standing on the porch, talking to someone on the phone.

“—thing will come of it,” he says.

My ears prick up because James isn’t using his usual patronizing tone, but a deferential one. Too late, though, as James notices my arrival and quickly says, “I have to go. I will update you later.”

Hmm. I don’t think it was a significant other he was talking to, because sayingupdate you latersounds too sterile. Maybe some business deal?

“Washed all the cow dung off you?” James says by way of greeting.

“Well, I tried to, anyway.”

Shang and Mushu come out of the front door, and James’s face lights up. “Ah, we’re all here. Shall we?” he says.

Shang’s eyes are on me. “Why don’t we just have a nice, easy tour of the place—”

“What?” James says. “Borrrring. Nobody wants that.”

I shrug. “I hear there might be some sheep that need shearing?”

“Yes!” James says.

“All right, let’s not waste any time,” I say, steadfastly ignoring Shang’s concerned look.

When we finally reach the barn and I see the sheep, my confidence wilts. My god, these are sheep? They’re massive! Are they secretly dwarf cows? Are they genetically modified sheep who have been injected with steroids every morning? I give myself a mental shake.Stop it. You’ve watched a whole video on how to shear sheep. You’ll be fine.Yeah, an online tutorial is totally sufficient to prepare you for the actual thing.

Confidence, I remind myself. Animals can sense fear. Though how they can sense fear is up for debate. Dogs can smell it, but what about sheep? Is their sense of smell as keen as a dog’s? Are my pores even now opening up and releasing the funky odor of fear? I try to will my pores to close as I approach. I take a deep breath the way that snipers do before squeezing the trigger, but quickly realize taking deep breaths isn’t the best thing to do inside a barn full of animals. It’s fine. This is totally par for the course. I’m just going to relax and—and introduce myself. Yes.

Because that went so well last time.

Maybe I shouldn’t bother introducing myself this time. Maybe I should just get in there and take the sheep by the horn…the fur…thewool, and show it who’s boss, the way that I often have to with the finance bros of the world.

But it feels wrong to do that, and so I decide that regardless of my bad experience with the cow, I’m not about to forget my manners.

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