Once Upon A Rejected Luna

It was the year 1934, Sexagenary Year of the Wood Element, Zodiac Year of the Dog on the Chinese Calendar, in the first month of autumn, when it all began. At the tomb of the Bian Clan alongside Huan Xiang River which flowed at the foot of Mount Yan, the swift galloping of horses broke the silence of the night. Horse bandits were riding fast, holding flaming torches in their hands.

One of the bandits was barking hoarsely, ordering his men to round up the family, who had been the keepers to the graves, before restraining them with ropes, gagging them and covering their heads with black bags. A few of the men tied a thick rope to a tree before lighting it on fire. Some of the rest ran for the cluster of graves in the mausoleum of the Bian Clan, with shovels, pickaxes, and other tools.

Not far away, a large man, with a face covered by a beard, sat on his horse. With proud eyes and a stern gaze, the man, who seemed to be the leader of the bandits, pointed to a mound and spoke to the man who was barking orders:

"Send some of our men to take that vantage point. Fire some shots and warn the villagers off. We do not need curious onlookers crowding around here!"

The man with a hoarse voice replied meekly to his chief, "But sir, won’t the gunshots attract the nearby soldiers?"

The chief waved off his subordinate's fear dismissively and replied, "No. This area is the demilitarized zone as sanctioned by the Tanggu Truce. Neither the Japanese or the Chinese military will be within a hundred miles from here. Tell the men to relax and do as they will!"

"Yes, sir!" His lieutenant croaked an assent and ran off, heading towards the clump of graves.

"Wait!" called the chief again. "Have men guarding every road that leads here. They are to drive away anyone who comes near. Shoot them if they must!"

"Bang! Bang! Bang!" Three gunshot sounds were heard from a distance. The people from the village nearby all slammed their doors shut, fearing that trouble would come knocking. The light spots shuttled through the cluster of graves and the smoke of the burning rope filled the air.

"Boss, this is not the one!"

"This one too!"

Numerous reports came from the bandits who were plundering the graves. They had not found the one they were after.

The chief took out a pocket watch and looked at it in the firelight. He leaped down his horse and walked quickly to his men still digging the graves.

"Time is running short! We must find it before dawn!" The chief shouted to his lieutenant.

Just then, another bandit came over to him, looking more mild-mannered than the others, although he carried a holstered pistol. He seemed to be the strategist of the group. The man spoke to his chief, "At this rate, Boss, we will not find it even when daybreak comes. The item we're looking for is ancient, so if we filter out newer coffins, we can find the oldest graves as soon as possible."