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Six villages dotted the northern borders of the Kingdom of Wei. There lived the descendants of the military families who were garrisoned in the north to defend their homeland from their ancient enemies. This had been the heart of their kingdom back in the days when it was still young and small. Now the Kagan's lands stretched wide east across the mountains, west across the desert, and south into the fertile lands around the yellow river.
In one of these villages lived a young woman by the name of Mulan. Not long after she was born, the Kagan had moved his court from their old capital in the north to the newly conquered old Han capital of Chang’an. "It was part of the Kagan’s campaign to become the Heavenly Emperor," Mulan's father had explained to her with a sneer, "to consolidate his rule over his new Han subjects." They were sitting by the fire in winter, and he was carving her a new bow for the upcoming hunting season. "We are few," he carved off another scrap of wood with his knife, "while they are many."
After the permanent departure of the royal court, the north gradually fell into decline. But the people left behind, such as Mulan’s father, took great pride in their generations of service to their homeland. "Never forget," he met her eyes across the fire, "that we are the defenders of the Xianbei way of life."
And so, when the Rouran invaded their borders, again, and the Kagan called the villages to arms, Mulan’s father was eager to fight. "Now the Kagan finally remembers us! Now the people in the capital will finally realize that only we can protect them!" But fifty years of toiling in the fields and hunting in the woods had worn him down, and a bad fall last spring had left him with a permanent limp.
And so Mulan took his sword and rode off in the middle of the night to fight in his stead. For ten long years Mulan and her army fought off the Rouran, chasing them deep into the cold northern lands, slaying their men, burning their villages, killing all their boys, and selling off all their women and girls. They fought and fought, until they ensured that the Rouran would have no more men to invade their cities, burn their villages, slay their men and boys, and sell off their women and girls for at least another generation.
After the war, Mulan was paraded into Chang’an as a hero. There, she met the Kagan, before returning proudly to her village in the north. Her father beamed at her as she got off her horse, and patted her on the shoulder as if she truly were a son. But Mulan took off her armor and returned to her weaving. She had earned her peace now, she thought, and left war to the youth who now followed her Kagan into new campaigns of conquest in the south and east.
After uniting all of northern China under his rule, her Kagan finally crowned himself Heavenly Emperor. In the same year, he ordered the adoption of the Han language and Han customs at court, and issued an edict forbidding the use of their Xianbei mother tongue when discussing official matters and banned the wearing of Xianbei clothing in public offices. From now on, one heavenly emperor shall rule them, one common language shall bring them together, and one code of dress shall bind them all.
What was there to miss about his mother tongue? The emperor thought contemptuously. His own mother, after all, had been forced to commit ritual suicide when he had been chosen as heir to the throne, in accordance with the Xianbei custom those traditionalists held so dear.
There was little opposition to the emperor's new edicts from the Xianbei elites in Chang’an. For generations, they had mixed and mingled with the old Han nobility, and most had already adopted the customs of their new lands in their own homes. But in Mulan’s northern homeland, outrage spread like wildfire.
"How could he," said the women gathered at the markets. "A Xianbei Kagan of the most noble lineage!" They shook their heads in indignation.
"How could he," said the men gathered in taverns all over the six villages. "Forcing his own people to abandon the customs of our forefathers! To take up the ways of a people we conquered!" They pounded their fists in rage. "How could he humiliate us like this?"
Mulan could no longer sit still at her loom. She remembered her victory parade through the capital, so many years ago. The bright lights of Chang’an evenings and the richness of its morning markets. Goods and people from all across the empire and beyond flowed into that city, little of it ever reaching her village or any of the towns in the north. Her brother had failed to secure a government post last year, despite having diligently learned to read and write hanzi, all because he still struggled to wrap his tongue around the Han spoken language. Her sister has started dressing her children in Han robes this spring, following the new requirements of their Confucian schoolmaster.
Mulan looked down at the robe she had just finished weaving. It was a Xianbei robe, with classic patterns and colors traditional to her people. She put on the robe, picked up her sword from where it hung on the wall, and stepped outside her house. It was time to remind the “Heavenly Emperor” who had kept him safe on his throne when the Rouran attacked, who had allowed him to rule over so many with so few.
Mulan had returned to her loom having defended her country and won honor for her family, and that was to have been the end of her story. But when the ballad was over, and after the applauding crowd had dispersed, and the storyteller had packed up his table and counted his coins, Mulan picked up her sword again, and joined the many other northern veterans in their ill-fated rebellion against the Kagan they had so valiantly served.