The victory drums thundered through the mountain camp like war itself had returned. Torches flickered wildly, casting long shadows over the rows of tents and the exhausted but triumphant faces of the Imperial Army. Mulan—Ping, as they had known her—stood at the center of it all, her armor still streaked with enemy blood, her chest heaving from the final charge that had broken the Huns' line. She had fought like a demon, saving Li Shang's life twice in the chaos. The soldiers roared her name, clapping her on the back, pouring rice wine down her throat.

But the celebration turned when a drunken soldier, laughing too hard as he wrestled her in mock triumph, grabbed her chest. His hand froze. The binding beneath her tunic had slipped in the frenzy of battle and drink. Eyes widened. Silence rippled outward.