In the high street of the town of Chuanyan, on the outskirts of the Imperial City, squeezed between a tea house and a tailor's, stood the tiny shop of Hsa Kuan.  Outside, it was unassuming, but inside, it was a jewel box, lined with silk ribbons and embroidered sashes, jade pendants and tortoise-shell combs, all manner of ornaments designed to transform an ordinary woman into a shimmering vision of loveliness.  There were many women in the town, with many daughters, and Hsa Kuan had prospered in his trade.  He was a portly gentleman, with a fine, long mustache, and he dressed and carried himself handsomely.  His dear wife, a paragon of taste and dignity, had been dead these thirteen years, and every respectable widow in town had her eye on him.  Thanks to his line of work, however, Hsa Kuan knew them all far too well to want to marry any of them.

The string of bells over the door jingled to announce a customer.  The shopkeeper cringed when he saw who it was.

"Pang Suiyan," he forced a gracious smile.  "How may I be of service?"

Pang Suiyan was not one of the predatory widows; she was, in fact, the wife of one of Chuanyan's wealthiest and most influential citizens, and had bestowed upon him the benefit of a son and the liability of a daughter.  To Hsa Kuan, however, she was a terror worse than all the lonely widows in China rolled together.  She came in, brandishing a green sash embroidered with blue and gold butterflies.  Behind her, as a child would drag a doll, she was dragging her daughter.  "This sash is too green!" she railed, shaking it at him.  "Look what it does to Bao's complexion!"

Bao's complexion was so coated with paint, powder and rouge, she might have been forty and no one would have been the wiser, but she was, in fact, only seventeen.  She gave the impression of an overripe peach still clinging to its branch, trying to work up the courage to fall.  Her wide eyes and small, soft hands, the childish pout of her lips, and the last remnants of baby fat that softened her figure, showed that she was hardly more than a girl, but every strand of her hair and every fold of her gown had been arranged for the express purpose of attracting as many male eyes as possible.  Hsa Kuan found the display tasteless, and slightly obscene, and suspected the girl felt the same.

"I am surprised," Pang Suiyan tossed the sash on the counter, "that you would sell such rubbish."

"Madam, it might interest you to know that the Emperor's own Counsel purchased a sash very much like that one from my shop not six months ago," Hsa Kuan informed her, biting his tongue to keep from adding, "And he had no taste, either."

"You need not speak to me of the Emperor's Counsel," she sniffed.  "His niece is a friend of my daughter, too.  What are you going to do about this?" she indicated the sash.

"Allow me to replace it with something more suitable," he offered, and clapped his hands together.  "Xi-Sing!"

A young lady emerged from the back of the shop in response to this summons.  She was a model of grace and decorum, tastefully dressed, with only the lightest dusting of powder to bring out the natural ivory tone of her skin.  Her figure was a pleasing arrangement of generous curves, and, despite being the shortest one in the room, she carried herself like a peacock.  With a reserved tilt of her head, she acknowledged the lady and her daughter.

"Pang Suiyan is displeased with her purchase," Hsa Kuan informed her.  Xi-Sing responded to this news with the delicate elevation of an eyebrow, a tactful gesture intended to convey surprise and dismay.  It fooled no one.  "Perhaps," Hsa Kuan was nearly forced to bite his mustache to keep from chuckling at her artfulness, "you could suggest something more suitable."

Tapping a finger thoughtfully against her rosy lips, Xi-Sing crossed the room, perused a rack of silks just long enough to convey the impression that she was actually debating a choice, then selected a coral pink one with a subtle floral pattern worked in a slightly paler shade of pink.  Behind Pang Suiyan's back, Hsa Kuan grinned broadly.  It was the same sash he had tried to sell her in the first place, before she had insisted on buying that gaudy, green one.

Pang Suiyan's look said she had forgotten this entirely, but her immediate reaction was the same as it had been the first time.  "Too plain."

"If you will look more closely," he suggested, as Xi-Sing brought the sash over, "I believe you will find the subtlety of the work quite pleasing."  When the woman turned up her nose at this, he pressed, "At least see if the color suits her."

Xi-Sing seized the chance to draw Bao off to the far corner of the shop, and began fiddling with the sash, while Hsa Kuan engaged the girl's mother in a bit of price haggling.  The fact was, the pink sash was more costly than the green one, but he knew he would have a hard time convincing her of that.

In the corner, Xi-Sing spoke to Bao in a low, hushed voice.  "We're all set.  I saw Lien-Liu this morning..."

"I don't think I can go," Bao interrupted her.

Xi-Sing pretended not to hear.  "We're leaving at sunrise.  Her father's hired a pony cart, and a driver..."

"Xi-Sing, I mean it!" Bao whimpered.

"Shh!  Turn around," she faced the girl into the corner and tied the sash behind her.  "Lien-Liu says her grandmother is thrilled that we're coming.  I only hope we don't have to see that horrid uncle of hers.  There!" she turned the girl around again.  "You're beautiful."

"Xi-Sing, I can't!" Bao bleated.

Xi-Sing glanced quickly over her shoulder, but Bao's mother was still absorbed in her own argument.  Looking up into the girl's pitiful face, Xi-Sing sighed with displeasure and said, with a dismissive wave of her hand, "Oh, well.  If you can't, you can't."  And, turning away, she went to summon Bao's mother to look at the sash.

Pang Suiyan was persuaded to accept the pink sash as a fair exchange for the green one, and bought a few hair ornaments to compensate for its plainness.  Xi-Sing kept her eye on Bao, but the younger girl avoided her and said nothing more.

When they had left the shop, Xi-Sing shook her head and murmured, "Pathetic."

"Hmm?"  Hsa Kuan had his head in the cash box.

"Bao.  She says she can't come.  She's too afraid of her mother."

"Can you blame her?" he grimaced.  "Even I'm afraid of her mother."

"But, I'm doing this for her," Xi-Sing insisted.

"I know, daughter."  Hsa Kuan reached across the counter and patted her hand.  "And, if the matchmakers also happen to find a man for you in the process, well..." he winked.

"Don't expect too much from this," Xi-Sing warned.  "You know how well we've all fared with Madam Tso."

"Madam Tso," he snorted grandly, "is a meddling old fool who couldn't arrange a match between a rat and a piece of cheese.  Don't worry, the matchmakers in the City will have much better judgment.  Besides, if you want to catch a big fish, you have to go to the ocean."

"I only wish I knew what to fish for."  Xi-Sing compressed her lips into a wry smile.  "Perhaps I should marry someone very, very old, and let him make a wealthy widow of me."

"You don't mean that," her father shook his finger at her.

"Why not?  I'm twenty-one; at this point, that may be the best offer I get."

"Xi-Sing," he frowned, "that is foolishness, and you know it.  My daughter is a lovely, accomplished young woman, and I will not allow her to settle for any less than she is worth.  Is that clear?"

"Yes, ba-ba," she smiled, reaching across the counter to slip her hand into his.  "So, what sort of son-in-law would you like to have?  If I were to bring you one," she qualified the statement.

He folded her hand in both of his and thought.  "You can bring home anyone you want, as long as he loves you, and respects you, and makes you happy.  That's good enough for me."

In the morning, Hsa Kuan walked with his daughter to the home of the Din family.  Din Bai-Guong was an official of the town, a tall, thin, distinguished man with silver hair.  His wife was the sister of the Emperor's Counsel who had bought the green sash from Hsa Kuan's shop.  They had two sons, and two daughters, and Lien-Liu, at nineteen, was the oldest.  A pony cart was waiting in the courtyard, and Hsa Kuan loaded his daughter's travelling case into the back of it.

Xi-Sing said good morning to Din Lei-Lan, Lien-Liu's mother, who volunteered the information that her daughter was not quite ready.  If Xi-Sing had practiced the unladylike art of gambling, she would have won a sizeable bet on this news.  "She is so looking forward to this trip," Din Lei-Lan went on.  "She hardly ever gets to see her Grandma Chi. And I do hope you will all have the chance to take tea with my brother, Chi Fu, although his duties at the palace do keep him so busy."

No one could have a five-minute acquaintance with Madam Din without hearing about her brother, Chi Fu.

"I'm certain Xi-Sing is looking forward to that honor," remarked Hsa Kuan, with a dry look at his daughter.  Xi-Sing regarded him with as cross a face as she could bring herself to make at her esteemed parent.

Lei-Lan, oblivious to this, slipped her arm through Xi-Sing's and drew her aside.  "Dear Xi-Sing, you will look after Lien-Liu, won't you?  You've been such a good friend to her.  I'm sure no one knows better what a fine girl she is, such a pure heart, so kind and gentle, and she does try so hard.  But, somehow, she always seems to come to misfortune."

"Don't worry, Madam; she'll be fine.  I think the change of scenery will do us all good."

"You're right, of course.  You know," the anxious mother confided, "I don't think Madam Tso has been quite fair with her.  She is a little jealous, I'm afraid.  Of our family," the lady whispered.  "My brother, you know."

Xi-Sing nodded her agreement with this conspiracy theory and, assuming an air of superiority that sat beautifully on her, she replied, "Between the two of us, Madam Din, I fear the boys that Madam Tso purports to represent leave a great deal to be desired."

"Well, you would know, dear," the woman conceded sympathetically, with such genuine simplicity that Xi-Sing saw no point in being offended.

"I'm here!  I'm coming!" caroled a voice from the house, and Lien-Liu staggered toward them, lugging an enormous basket.  Her brother came behind, shouldering her travelling case.

Din Lien-Liu was the image of her father, which would have been to her advantage if only she had been a boy.  She was a full foot taller than Xi-Sing, and slim as a bamboo cane.  Her high-waisted gown only exaggerated the fact that she was all legs, and her skirts were not long enough to conceal the flat feet that patted up little puffs of dust from the ground as she jogged toward them.

"Darling, don't run," her mother admonished.  "No one is leaving without you."

"Where's Bao?" the girl asked, looking around.

"Not coming," Xi-Sing answered.  "Or, so she says.  I thought we'd drive by her house and give her one more chance."

The pony cart was loaded, and the girls said their goodbyes.  "Take the green fan, that's your best color," Din Lei-Lan was fussing, "and put your hair up in a double-twist, the way we did it yesterday; you looked so pretty..."

Xi-Sing hugged her father.  "Wish us luck."

"Those men don't stand a chance," he smiled.

And off they went.  Going to the Imperial City to look for husbands had been Xi-Sing's idea.  She had not expected her father to agree to it, but she had proposed it to him as an altruistic mission to aid her unfortunate young friends, and he had listened.  Lien-Liu's parents had suggested that the girls stay with Grandma Chi, who would fill the needed role of chaperone.  Grandma Chi, in turn, had pulled some strings to arrange an interview with not one but two matchmakers, Madam Yi, and Madam Chao, both renowned for the fine families they represented.  With all these arrangements in place, Hsa Kuan had given his blessing to the plan.  Bao's participation had been kept a secret from her parents; not that it mattered now, since she had backed out.  Xi-Sing directed the driver to take them past the Pang estate, just in case, but she held out little hope.

"Mother packed my bags so I wouldn't forget anything," Lien-Liu was chattering, trying to find a safe place for the basket.

"I hope that's breakfast," Xi-Sing's lips curled into an eager smile.

"Some of it is," was Lien-Liu's guarded reply, as she decided the safest place was probably on her own lap.  The cart, however, was not big enough to keep it out of Xi-Sing's reach.

"Ooh, plums!"  She bit into one and immediately reached in for three more.  "Oh, these are heavenly!"

"Xi-Sing, stop it!  I picked those out especially for Madam Yi!"

"You can buy more in the city.  I'll buy you all the plums you want."

"I brought rice cakes," Lien-Liu offered up the breakfast she had prepared for them.

"You know I only like rice cakes with peaches," Xi-Sing reminded her, the plum juice staining her lips a delectable purple.

"Oh, here," Lien-Liu sighed and set the basket between them.  "Help yourself."

"You are a darling," Xi-Sing beamed, digging in.

"Here we are," the driver pointed at the gates of the Pang estate.  There was no light, no sound, no hint of anyone nearby.

"Do you think she's here?" Lien-Liu whispered.

"If she were here, she'd be sitting on her trunk right in front of the gate, just waiting to be caught," Xi-Sing opined.

Lien-Liu had already swung down from the cart and was poking around among the shrubbery, whispering for Bao.  Xi-Sing selected a peach to go with her rice cakes, and went to work on diluting her purple lip stain down to a ripe orange-red.  Finishing a mouthful and dabbing away the juice, she finally said, "I told you, she isn't there."

Sadly, Lien-Liu gave up the search and clambered back into the cart.  "It's too bad she isn't coming with us."

"She had her chance," said Xi-Sing, and ordered the driver on.  He doubled back and headed toward the high road.

They were driving toward the town gate, Xi-Sing peeling an orange and contentedly sucking the juice from her fingers.  Lien-Liu, homesick already, was leaning over the back of the cart, watching the houses recede behind them, when, suddenly, she cried out, "Stop!"  She reached up and slapped frantically at the driver's shoulder.  "Stop!  Stop!"  Xi-Sing turned around to see what was the matter, and spied a small, rainbow-colored figure toddling after them, some distance behind.  With the rattle of the cart stilled, her shrill voice carried all the way to their ears.

"Wait!  Don't go!  Come back!"

"It's Bao!" exclaimed Lien-Liu.

"Turn around!" Xi-Sing commanded.  "Quickly!"

"Stay there, Bao," Lien-Liu shouted back to her.  "We're coming to get you!"

"Hurry up!" Xi-Sing prodded the driver, and hopped down from the cart as soon as they were upon her.  Sobbing with exhaustion, Bao tumbled into Xi-Sing's arms.  "Come here," Xi-Sing hugged and patted her, and Lien-Liu helped pull her up into the cart.  "You might have chosen a better pair of shoes to run in," Xi-Sing remarked, looking at her feet.

"I don't have any shoes to run in," Bao panted.  "Oh, look at me!" she moaned, her skirts spattered with mud and her hair falling down around her shoulders.  "My mother would die if she saw me like this!"

"Perhaps we should go back and show her," murmured Xi-Sing.

Lien-Liu frowned at her.  "Here, Bao, have some plums."

They had turned around and were heading toward the gates again, when Xi-Sing at last thought to ask, "Where are your things?"

"Oh!" Bao sat up, alarmed.  "Oh, no!  We have to go back!  I left my case in the street!"  With a sigh, the driver, without being asked, turned his horse again.  "I was trying to catch you," Bao explained, "and it was too heavy.  I thought I'd missed you," she addressed Lien-Liu; "I went to your house and you were gone, but your mother said you were going to my house, so I started back to my house, and then there you went, and you didn't hear me, and I called and called..."

"Well, you're here now," Xi-Sing handed her a peach to shut her up, "and there's no harm done."

Bao's trunk was retrieved, and they made one last attempt to head toward the city.  This one was successful, and by mid-morning they were at the home of Grandmother Chi.

"I hope she has room for us," Xi-Sing whispered.  The house was immaculate, but tiny, with a neat, miniature garden.  The driver carried their luggage inside, as Grandmother Chi came out to meet them.  She was a slender woman, and, despite her advanced years, she still maintained her proud, straight posture.  She embraced Lien-Liu warmly, and smiled when the other girls bowed respectfully to her.

"Thank you for inviting us to your home, Madam Chi," said Xi-Sing.

"We're very honored to meet you," Bao seconded.

"I'm delighted to meet you," the old woman extended her hands to them.  "Lien-Liu has told me so much about you."

"She speaks very highly of you," Xi-Sing answered.

"Grandma, what a pretty sash you're wearing," Lien-Liu admired her.

Bao poked Xi-Sing and smothered a giggle.  Grandmother Chi was wearing the green sash with blue and gold butterflies that Lien-Liu's uncle had bought from Hsa Kuan.

"Do you like it?  It was a gift from Chi Fu.  My son, the Emperor's Counsel," she explained proudly to Xi-Sing and Bao -- as if there were any chance they did not already know this.

"He has remarkable taste."  Xi-Sing uttered this with such a perfectly straight face, Bao could not contain a fit of giggles.  Xi-Sing nudged her to be quiet, but, fortunately, her ridiculous laughter sounded so much like an attack of hiccups, Grandmother Chi took it as such and exclaimed, "You poor child!  Come inside at once and let me pour you a cup of tea.  The dust on these roads is insufferable," she clucked, patting Bao's back helpfully.  The girls followed her inside.

Tiny as her home was, Grandmother Chi had arranged a pleasant space for her guests in an airy, upstairs room.  As soon as they had taken tea with her, Lien-Liu begged to be excused so she could go to the market.  Xi-Sing, still owing her a fresh batch of plums, offered to go with her.  Bao, who had already put in a day's worth of walking before ever leaving Chuanyan, stayed behind with Grandmother Chi, who had taken a particular liking to the young girl -- doubtless because of her charming taste in fashion.

No two women in China could have been more particular shoppers than Lien-Liu and Xi-Sing.  Lien-Liu had the eye of a good cook when it came to selecting the best cuts of pork, the most tender chicken, the freshest vegetables.  Xi-Sing was an adequate cook but a splendid gourmand who, deprived of any other outlet for her earthly passions, derived great pleasure from the consumption of food.  By the time they were ready to return to the house, Lien-Liu was lugging enough ingredients to prepare a royal banquet.

"I hope the matchmakers are hungry," she smiled.

"I hope we get to eat some of this," answered Xi-Sing.

"Do you think I should make spring rolls or wontons?  Maybe I'd better do both.  I'm making dumplings, too, if that matters.  And eight-treasure rice pudding."

"I never knew anyone who could resist your eight-treasure rice pudding."

Lien-Liu spent the afternoon in the kitchen, cooking, while Xi-Sing drilled Bao in her Admonitions.

"The five qualities of a good wife are..."

Bao chewed her finger.  "Obedience..." (this was the only one she could consistently remember) "umm...  patience...  diligence...  oh, the S one..."

"You can't say 'the S one' to Madam Yi.  You have to know which 'S one.'"

"Sincerity?"

Xi-Sing shook her head.

"Sensitivity?"

"No-o-o," she groaned.

"Simplicity?"

"Only in your case, dear," Xi-Sing sighed.  "It's serenity.  Can you please just try to remember that one little word??  Serenity??"

"Xi-Sing, don't snap at her."

"But, we've gone over this six times already!  How hard can it be?"

"Well, I beg your pardon!" Bao stamped her foot.  "We can't all be Xi-Sing and impress the matchmaker and get ourselves betrothed on the first try.  And the second try."

"Bao, that isn't nice," Lien-Liu scolded.  "It isn't Xi-Sing's fault things didn't work out for her."

Bao slumped back in her chair and sniffed, "My mother says when one prospective husband runs away from you, you can call it bad luck, but when two of them run off, you have to wonder what you're doing wrong..."

"I didn't do anything wrong," Xi-Sing retorted.

"Of course not," Lien-Liu handed her a bit of Apple Pulling Golden Threads.  "Those men weren't suitable, not at all."

"That's right," Xi-Sing relaxed a little as she bit into the chunk of fried apple dipped in caramel.  "I mean, if a man can't take a few constructive suggestions..."

"What happened to obedience and patience?" Bao taunted her.

"I'll show a man obedience and patience when he deserves it," Xi-Sing declared.  "And he can show me a few other things, first.  Now, you still owe me one more quality," she prodded Bao.

"Modesty," the girl answered promptly, surprising them both.

"There, see," said Xi-Sing, "you know them all, if you'll just think about it."

She only hoped that Bao would remember them tomorrow.

In the first few days after the return of Captain Li Shang's forces, and the defeat of Shan Yu by the courageous Fa Mulan, the Imperial City had been overrun with newly-discharged soldiers, who found themselves with nothing better to do than roam the streets and squander their army pay.  Ling, Yao, and Chien-Po had run through their funds in less than eighteen hours.  Chien-Po had personally enriched every noodle and dumpling vendor who had had the good fortune to cross his path.  Yao, unable to refuse a dare, had gambled away most of his.  And Ling was the darling of every pickpocket in the city -- especially the pretty ones.  Their poverty had been short-lived, however, for, while exploring one of the less-reputable neighborhoods, they had been lucky enough to stumble into a dark den where a man was offering an interesting wager:  Stay in the ring with his champion prize-fighter until the sand had run through a middling-sized hourglass, and take home a sack of coins.

Yao had rubbed his hands together at this golden opportunity.  "Lemme at him!  I'll knock him into the next dynasty!"  Unfortunately, the boxer could have passed for one of the defeated Huns, and the next dynasty proved to be a little farther off than Yao had anticipated.  The spectators were so amused by the squat, cocky soldier who kept getting up from the mat and attacking again and again that the boxer let him land a few blows just to please the crowd, but at last, well before the sand had run out, he yawned, took a little punching practice with Yao's chin, and dumped him out of the ring in a heap.

Ling dragged the groaning lump of Yao away from the mat and poured a bucket of water over him to freshen him up.  "Come on, Yao, he's not so tough," Ling grabbed him by the chin and shook his face.

"Mom?" Yao blinked groggily, "Is that you?"

"Great," said Ling, "now we need money for bandages."

Chien-Po, who had been watching anxiously, now did something he hardly ever did.  He frowned.  He looked up at the boxer, who was strutting around the ring, waving his arms in triumph and shouting, "Ha!  Who's next?"

Chien-Po stepped up onto the mat and calmly informed him, "I am."

The crowd cheered.  This was going to be good.  The two combatants prepared themselves, and got the signal to come out fighting.  The boxer grinned and brandished his fists, advancing on his opponent.  Chien-Po walked to the center of the mat and stood.  The boxer circled him, moving in for a punch here or there, trying only to taunt him.  Chien-Po placed his hands together in a meditative gesture and stood.  The crowd began to boo and throw things.  They wanted to see a fight.  The boxer drove his fists into Chien-Po's stomach.  Chien-Po did not budge.  Ling began to cackle with laughter.  "Look at him!" he pulled Yao's head upright by his topknot.

Yao's vision finally cleared to the point where he could comprehend what was going on.  "Don't just stand there, slug him!" he yelled.

Chien-Po turned and smiled at him.

"What are you doing?!?" Yao railed.  "Fight him!"

"He doesn't have to fight him," Ling grinned.  "All he has to do is stay in the ring.  Atta boy, Chien-Po!  Show him what you're made of!"

As soon as Chien-Po's turn of the hourglass had run out, the three of them were turned out into the street.  "And stay out!"

Chien-Po sat down where he was, counted out his winnings, divided them into three equal portions, and handed a share to each of his friends.

"Ha!" Yao chortled, jingling the coins in his hand.  "Good work!  Now we can stay at least another week."

"I want to go home," said Chien-Po.

"Better yet," Yao hadn't heard him, "we could set up our own boxing ring!  Go three rounds with the Mighty Giant, Chien-Po!  We'll make them pay for a chance to fight you."

"Yao, I don't want to fight," the Mighty Giant protested.  "I want to go home."

Yao patted his massive shoulder.  "Aw, you're just tired.  We'll find a place to spend the night, and by tomorrow, you'll be ready to take on the world!"  He bared his teeth and threw a few punches at the air.  "Heh heh heh.  C'mon, let's go."

Chien-Po got up and looked around.  "Where is Ling?"

Yao looked, too, and found him.  "Uh-oh.  There goes his share of the winnings."

Ling had crossed the street and was loitering around an ornate gateway down the lane.  Three painted lovelies were oohing and ahhing over his muscles and listening with practiced delight to what was probably an account of how he had just gone ten minutes in the ring with Bruiser Bo.

Yao and Chien-Po came up to him.  "Hi, guys," Ling welcomed them, with a wicked grin.  "Look, I made some new friends."

"Sorry, girls," Yao took his arm, "his mom's calling."

"Hey!  Let go!"  Ling struggled and kicked as his two friends dragged him away.  At a safe distance, Yao emptied Ling's pocket.

"At least they didn't get his money," he noted gruffly, stuffing the coins into his own pocket.  "I think I'd better hold onto this for you."

"Hey!" Ling yelped.

"Ling..." Chien-Po began to rub his shoulders and rock him slowly back and forth.  "Yao is right.  Now, relax..."

"But, the girls..." he whimpered.

"Your mother wouldn't like to see you with girls like that," Chien-Po admonished gently.

"My mother isn't here!" Ling protested.

"I think it's time to go to bed," suggested Chien-Po.

Ling yowled pitifully, "That's what I was trying-- "

"To SLEEP, you idiot!" Yao socked him.  Ling rubbed his arm as they hauled him away.

Leaving the sordid neighborhood, they found decent lodgings at an inn in a more respectable part of town, and went to sleep.  Yao dreamed of pounding the bean curd out of Bruiser Bo the Boxer.  Ling dreamed of the three lovely ladies he had left behind at the Gates of Paradise.  And Chien-Po dreamed of home.