Best 26 quotes of Elizabeth Lim on MyQuotes

Elizabeth Lim

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    Elizabeth Lim

    Above, the stars faded behind the misty sky, and the sun fanned its light upon us. We melted into each other until the dawn slid into dusk, and the sun paled into the moon, and the stars, once lost, became found again.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    All they could do was flutter their fans and bat their eyes. The matchmaker Mother hired bragged that they were perfect porcelain dolls. What she didn't say was they had no minds of their own." Shang grimaced at the memory without looking at her. "They'd say anything to make me like them." How familiar that sounds. Mulan put her hands on her hips. "Not all girls are like that. You have to look at it from their perspective, too. Girls are raised to be pretty and graceful, and quiet." She made a face. "They aren't allowed to speak their minds, and they don't have a choice in who they marry. My parents were lucky that they fell in love, but their marriage was arranged, too. And my mother, she doesn't even belong to her family anymore after they got married. It wasn't my mother's decision, but her family's. They told her that a woman's only role in life is to bear sons." Shang leaned forward. "You sound quite passionate about this." His closeness made Mulan hunch back. Remembering who she was pretending to be, she felt her cheeks burn. "I just... I mean, I bet there are some girls who'd make better soldiers than boys. If they were given the chance." "A female soldier? That's the craziest thing I've heard." "Girls can be strong, too." "Not like us, Ping." Mulan hid a smile. "You'd be surprised.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    And this one?" the ghost at the front of the line called, pointing at Mulan. Yama waved his hand. Instantly, his demon guards prepared to jostle Mulan to the back of the line. But Mulan was too fast. She jumped, balancing atop two demons' spears, stepped onto one of the demon's shoulders, and leapt onto King Yama's dais. She closed King Yama's book and rested her palms on his desk. The ghosts and demons gasped at her audacity, but Mulan didn't care. Now she had King Yama's attention.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    As she drank, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine she was drinking her grandmother's porridge. What she wouldn't give for a hot bowl of fish congee, sprinkled with green scallions and topped with a dollop of sesame oil! She'd even have willingly downed one of her mother's herbal soups; Fa Li used to make red sage soup almost every day when Mulan was growing up. How she'd hated the smell and pungent taste. She used to pick out the chopped pieces of the root and chew on the sweet wolfberries instead. She missed home so much.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    Chi Fu was right," she said wretchedly. "This is all my fault." "Don't listen to that catfish," Mushu said. "Chin up. You're strong, and you're smart. Heck, you defeated an army of Huns. You'll get the captain through this." "I hope so." "Keep talking to him," Mushu suggested. "Make your voice soothing, like a good cup of tea." Mulan rolled her eyes, but she desperately wanted to believe the dragon's words. "You can make it, Shang," she said to the captain. She touched his arm, then clasped his hand, warming his cold fingers with her own. "Whatever battle you're fighting in there, I'm going to help you." "That's it," Mushu encouraged. "Keep going. Maybe you should give him a little kiss." "Mushu!" The dragon shrugged. "Hey, it works in all those folktales.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    Four scrolls hung on the east-facing wall, their edges slightly wrinkled with age. Her great-grandfather had spent years painting the scrolls. Each one portrayed a different season- spring, summer, autumn, and winter- in their family garden. Mulan stopped in front of the scroll of spring, studying her ancestor's confident brushstrokes and the delicate cherry blossoms forever captured in midbloom. Her fingers crept up, skimming the painting from the top of the trees to the bright yellow carp swimming in the pond.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    Her reflection's hair was short, but she wore a simple violet robe tied at the waist with a blue sash. At her hip was her father's sword, and tucked in her hair- a blossom from their family's cherry tree. Mulan knelt and lowered her fingers to the glass. It rippled at her touch. "This one. This is me." A beat. Are you sure? asked the girl in the mirror. "Yes," said Mulan firmly. "It doesn't matter whether I'm a girl dressed like a bride, or a girl dressed like a soldier. I know my heart." Mulan flattened her hand against the glass, facing her reflection. Together, they said, "I am Fa Mulan, a girl who would sacrifice her life for her family and for China. I am a girl who journeyed into the Underworld to save her friend from dying. I am a girl who has fought battle after battle to finally recognize herself in the mirror. And now I do.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    Her sword weighed heavily in her hand. She stared at the polished blade, wondering if its reflection would be the last sight she ever caught of herself. Would she die as Ping, the Fa son she'd made up so she could join the army in her father's place? If she died here, in the middle of this snow-covered mountain pass, she'd never see her father or her family again. Mulan swallowed hard. Who would believe that only a few months ago, her biggest concern had been impressing the Matchmaker? She could barely remember the girl she'd been back then. She'd worn layer upon layer of silk, not plates of armor, her waist cinched tightly with a satin sash instead of sore from carrying a belt of weapons. Her lips had been painted with rouge instead of chapped from cold and lack of water, her lashes highlighted with coal that she now could only dream of using to fuel a fire for warmth. How far she'd come from that girl to who she was now: a soldier in the Imperial army. Maybe serving her country as a warrior was truer to her heart than being a bride. Yet when she saw her reflection in her sword, she knew she was still pretending to be someone else.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    It just struck me how glad I am that I followed you up that hill," Shang continued. "If I hadn't been attacked by Shan-Yu, none of this might have happened." Mulan's lips formed a coy smile. "You mean I never would have gone to Diyu, and you would never have been rescued by Ping's sister?" "That," agreed Shang, "and I might never have discovered how I felt about... about you." Her breath hitched. She couldn't take another step. Her feet had frozen, rooting themselves to the dusty road beneath her shoes. "I meant what I said in front of the gates," said Shang softly. "I'll never meet another girl like you.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    I want you to know that some journeys have ends, but not this one. This one will change you. Irrevocably." "Don't all journeys change you?" "It isn't the same." He leaned forward. "I, too, once journeyed beyond the stars." "What did you find?" His voice turned lethally soft. "That it's just the beginning.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    Making use of the break, Mulan untied the knot on her head. Her hair tumbled down again, brushing against the nape of her neck. She unfastened her armor, freeing her shoulders of their heavy burden. The demons watched her in disbelief. "A girl?" "I am Mulan." She raised her sword high. She'd never fought as herself before- as a woman, not a woman pretending to be a man. No more hiding, no more pretending. No more fears that she'd endanger herself and her family. She was who she'd always wanted to be. Even if that feeling could only last here in Diyu- even if they made it back to the real world and she had to go back to pretending to be Ping, Mulan knew she'd never forget it. Taking off the mask was exhilarating; it spurred her courage.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    Mei reached into her pocket and took out another steamed egg cake, this one topped with a dark red date. "How about a treat for the loyal guardian?" ShiShi's fur bristled, and his tail became stiff and straight. "Absolutely not. I won't be fooled into accepting food from you." "Fine, your loss." Mei took a bite. "Mmm. So delicious. I always thought guardians had a weakness for sweets." "Or spirits." Liwei snickered. "Where do you think all those gourds of rice wine go when you leave them for your ancestors at the altar?

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    Elizabeth Lim

    Meng Po raised her arms. At once, the gashes on Mulan's skin healed. Her wounds closed, and the dull pain in her ankle vanished. The rips and tears on her sleeves mended themselves, and her soldier's uniform, which had seen battle on Earth as well as in the Underworld, began to shimmer- until the simple muslin and linen cloth became a rich, forest-green silk. Her tunic lengthened, stretching until it flared behind her calves. Fitted over her chest was the finest armor, emblazoned with pink lotus blossoms and a red dragon.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    Mulan cast ShiShi an apologetic look, suddenly remembering how she'd cut her own hair before stealing her father's armor. Such a simple action, yet it'd changed everything. She'd severed ties with her old identity and gone from Mulan to Ping, from bride to soldier, from obedient daughter to woman who led her own life. But what if she'd cut too many ties? What if when she went home, her parents no longer recognized her? After all, she wasn't the same Mulan anymore. Sometimes, she didn't even know who she was. She'd thought going to war would show her, but things were never as easy as that.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    Mulan stared at the steaming liquid, watching the dried leaves swirl to the bottom. How beautiful the tea looked, too- she'd never seen tea so colorful. Reds and pinks swirled in with amber and blue- like the mesmerizing patterns on a butterfly.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    Mulan's watery reflection stared back at her: a girl with bloodshot, swollen eyes, pale cheeks, and bruises all over her arms and legs. But that wasn't all Mulan saw. She saw a young woman who'd thrown her heart into becoming a warrior, who'd fought battle after battle, whether it was to please her family and honor their expectations, or to protect China from invaders.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    My father used to tell me about the ancient heroes who protected China against demons. How the gods gave them magical stones or lanterns or swords to help them on their quests. But even then, the heroes weren't invincible. They knew fear and loss, yet they fought anyway, because they knew it was the right thing to do. Because in their hearts, they were brave and true." She bit her lip, reflecting on her father's stories. The heroes had always inspired her, even if none of them had been girls.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    Seize the wind," I whispered. "Don't become the kite that never flies.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    She bit her lower lip, a habit the village gossip had once told her was unladylike and unattractive. Strange; all her life she'd striven to become a proper young woman, to make her family proud of her. These past few months, she'd spent doing the opposite. Trying to pass as a man, a soldier. Her worst fear had been that she'd be caught impersonating someone who didn't exist. She never imagined she'd tell anyone of her own free will. She swallowed. "So you... you should know it's true. I'm not... Ping." "If you're not Ping, then who are you?" Shang asked. "I'm..." Mulan sucked in her breath. Her voice shook, and she worried her heart might burst out of its armor. She set down her sword, rubbed the sweat off her palms onto her bare arm. Then she reached for her hair and undid the knot. The black sheet of hair tumbled down, brushing just against her shoulder blades. "My ancestors were right," she said, surprised by how calm her voice was. "My parents never had a son. There is no Ping." She raised her eyes to meet Shang's. "There is only- Mulan.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    She'd grown up with few friends. She'd played with the neighborhood boys, chasing pigeons and catching fireflies with them until it was no longer considered proper. By then, the girls in the village scorned her. In front of her mother and father, they pretended to be polite, but Mulan knew what they said about her behind her back. Ill-bred and ill-mannered. She has the temper of a firecracker and the grace of a bull. It's a miracle she even looks like a girl- look at the hay in her hair, and the dirt on her face. What a discredit to her mother! The insults had never bothered Mulan too much. Back then, her mother comforted her by telling her to ignore what people said, and talking to her father would always make her feel better. And she'd had Khan for company... then, later, Mushu and Cri-Kee.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    She gave off a little neigh when I reached to touch her cheek. I fell in love with her immediately. "You like her more than me," Edan pouted. "That's not hard to do." I petted her mane again; then offered Edan a small smile. "But thank you.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    She landed on a soft, yielding bed of- flowers? Startled, she sat up and gave a quick stretch before leaping to her feet. An overwhelming aroma of peonies and tangerines and lotus blossoms surrounded her. "Not what I expected," she murmured to herself, overcome by the beauty of this level. If not for ShiShi still stuck in the well, she would have stopped to take a better look at her surroundings.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    She started to head out, but she passed her room. It was the same as she'd left it: a pile of cushions by her bed for Little Brother to sleep on, a stack of poetry and famous literature on her desk that she was supposed to study to become a "model bride," and the lavender shawl and silk robes she'd worn the day before she left home. The jade comb Mulan had left in exchange for the conscription notice caught her eye; it now rested in front of her mirror. Mulan's gaze lingered on the comb, on its green teeth and the pearl-colored flower nestled on its shoulder. She wanted to hold it, to put it in her hair and show her family- to show everyone- she was worthy. After all, her surname, Fa, meant flower. She needed to show them that she had bloomed to be worthy of her family name. But no one was here, and she didn't want to face her reflection. Who knew what it would show, especially in Diyu? She isn't a boy, her mother had told her father once. She shouldn't be riding horses and letting her hair loose. The neighbors will talk. She won't find a good husband- Let her, Fa Zhou had consoled his wife. When she leaves this household as a bride, she'll no longer be able to do these things. Mulan hadn't understood what he meant then. She hadn't understood the significance of what it meant for her to be the only girl in the village who skipped learning ribbon dances to ride Khan through the village rice fields, who chased after chickens and helped herd the cows instead of learning the zither or practicing her painting, who was allowed to have opinions- at all. She'd taken the freedom of her childhood for granted. When she turned fourteen, everything changed. I know this will be a hard change to make, Fa Li had told her, but it's for your own good. Men want a girl who is quiet and demure, polite and poised- not someone who speaks out of turn and runs wild about the garden. A girl who can't make a good match won't bring honor to the family. And worse yet, she'll have nothing: not respect, or money of her own, or a home. She'd touched Mulan's cheek with a resigned sigh. I don't want that fate for you, Mulan. Every morning for a year, her mother tied a rod of bamboo to Mulan's spine to remind her to stand straight, stuffed her mouth with persimmon seeds to remind her to speak softly, and helped Mulan practice wearing heeled shoes by tying ribbons to her feet and guiding her along the garden. Oh, how she'd wanted to please her mother, and especially her father. She hadn't wanted to let them down. But maybe she hadn't tried enough. For despite Fa Li's careful preparation, she had failed the Matchmaker's exam. The look of hopefulness on her father's face that day- the thought that she'd disappointed him still haunted her. Then fate had taken its turn, and Mulan had thrown everything away to become a soldier. To learn how to punch and kick and hold a sword and shield, to shoot arrows and run and yell. To save her country, and bring honor home to her family. How much she had wanted them to be proud of her.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    The Huns won't be the last of China's problems. The Emperor will always face new threats, new invaders. He needs to have strong, brave men at his side. Men like you, Ping." "Shang," Mulan said, trying again, "stop talking like this." "Now that it's all over, now that my time on this earth is done, do you know what comforts me the most?" He waited, so Mulan gave in. "What?" she asked quietly. Shang lowered his voice. "That I've made a friend like you, Ping. Someone I can trust completely." Tears pricked the edges of Mulan's eyes. This time, she didn't try to hold them back. She knew she couldn't. She swallowed, choking on her words. "Stop talking like this. It's my fault you're wounded." "I would never have thought of firing that last cannon at the mountain," Shang confessed. "I went after you to get the cannon back, but you- you saved us. It was an honor to protect you." How strange, then, that Mulan's tongue grew heavy. There was so much she wanted to tell him. That it was her fault he was hurt; that if only she'd been more alert, she would have anticipated Shan-Yu's attack. She wanted to tell him he was the best leader their troops could have hoped for; a lesser man would have left her to die at Shan-Yu's hands, but Shang was not only courageous- he believed in his soldiers, and treated them as part of his team. She remembered how proud he'd been during their training when she'd defeated him in one-on-one combat. The satisfied smile that'd lit up his face as he wiped his jaw after her kick- she would never forget it. She wanted to tell him that she admired him and had always wanted his friendship.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    This garden was peaceful and calm. Pink cherry blossoms and violet plum blossoms graced the sweeping trees. The petals fell like snowflakes, dancing and swirling until they touched the soft, verdant grass. There was something familiar about this place. Her eyes traveled down the flat stone steps. She knew this path, knew those stones. The third one from the bottom had a crack in the middle- from when she was five and the neighbor's boy convinced her there were worms on the other side of the stones. She'd hammered the stone in half, eager to catch a few worms to play with. There weren't any, of course, but her mother had helped her find some dragonflies by the pond instead, and they'd spent an afternoon counting them in the garden. Mulan smiled wistfully at the memory. This can't be the same garden. I'm in Diyu. Yet no painter could have re-created what she saw more convincingly. Every detail was as she remembered. At the bottom of the stone-cobbled path was a pond with rose-flushed lilies, and a marble bench under the cherry tree. She used to play by the pond when she was a little girl, catching frogs and fireflies in wine jugs and feeding the fish leftover rice husks and sesame seeds until her mother scolded her. And beyond the moon gate was- Mulan's hand jumped to her mouth. Home. That smell of home- of Baba's incense from the family temple, sharp with amber and cedar; of noodles in Grandmother Fa's special pork broth; of jasmine flowers that Mama used to scent her skin.

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    Elizabeth Lim

    We must be in the heart of Diyu." "The heart of Diyu is a garden?" Mulan spoke up. As far as she could see were flowers and trees, all so lush and beautiful Mulan could almost forget she was in the Underworld. Tall grass tickled her waist as she stepped up to a tangerine tree. Behind it was a tinkling brook, teeming with white-and-red-spotted carp.