木兰从军2

The Yellow River stretched below me like a golden brown thread pulled into a loom. I was someone new, as yet unnamed.

Yesterday, I was Hua Mulan, a girl weaving cloth to sell at the market.

I had trouble making the cloth. The lines of thread kept getting tangled and breaking.

My weaving had been no more ordered than my mind, which was going back and forth trying to find the right way.

Two days before I had seen the lists of men’s names called to war.

Every list I had read had my father’s name. “ My father is too old and sick!