77 The Temple of the Wailing Moon (1/2)

The founder of the capital of Yuqui was a man who hated religion. He was the son of a gold prospector who spent his money on booze, women, and cards, and not necessarily in that order.

When the boy was twelve, the man vanished into thin air. The boy later found his body crushed under a small mountain of gold nuggets, his spine broken, his arms mangled and a smile of delight and surprise on his face.

The boy carried his large bag of gold to his secret hideaway in the mountains. It was actually a shack where his father likes to hide after a tiff with his mother, who passed away several months ago. The shack had an outhouse, which was seldom used. The boy laid down the bag on the ground, opened the mouth and took out several large nuggets and wrapped them on a square cloth.He tied and bundled it up and made a sling of the cloth and wrapped it on his shoulder and back. He then tied the bag where the rest of the nuggets were, opened the outhouse and threw the bag down the shit hole. He heard a thunk and peered down. The bag was there, quietly sitting on a pile of compost. The boy stepped back, closed the door and quietly walked away.

Over the next ten years, the boy grew into manhood. Growing up with his covetous father, the boy, in turn, learned to covet things. He built a house in the middle of vast tracts of open, rich land then paid people to cultivate and plant crops. The harvest were then parceled and sold into outlying communities in the area. The man worked hard and in less than ten years accumulated wealth which doubled that of the bag of gold nuggets he had still hiding in that pile of compost under that little outhouse up in the mountains.

The wealth of the land attracted hundreds to the town which has now acquired the name Yuqui. The hundreds became thousands and the man, who now impressively titled himself emperor Gu Kang, started to build an army, first to defend his land against marauders, then invaders, and later to planned invasions of its own to acquire land and people to add to his already considerable empire.

Gu Kang was a man of many talents. He fancied himself as a budding architect so designed his kingdom accordingly. He hated buildings higher than his palace so he enforced a strict construction code that is still followed by his descendants. The only thing Gu Kang had no control over was when his empress ordered the construction of a temple, which was two-storey higher than the gables on his own palace.

He would look at this temple and secretly swallow his vomit. The ugly thing was an abomination to him. When his empress opened the temple to worshipers, he nearly went apoplectic with rage. Even when the temple attracted visitors to Yuqui, he remained adamantly resistant to the change. Luckily, his empress died after giving birth to a son so he conceived of a perfect plan to take down, so to speak, the shadow of the structure he so hated.

Gu Kang had the body of the empress interred inside the temple and then banned all visitors even court officials from entering by simply passing an edict saying in effect that the temple was now sacred ground and will become the future tomb of succeeding royalties thereafter.

As a parting shot to the crowd that wanted to protest his decision, he had the building leveled down and rebuilt slightly lower than his palace.The offending tower was now on a level with his own house, and those annoying monks and crowd of worshipers that used to blight his eyes with their comings and goings gone for good.

The succeeding generation followed this imperial directive and even made additions to the temple. A garden was added and a little bridge built over a gently-flowing moat. Statues of deities watch over the bodies of the interned monarch and his kin. Over the years, the temple became what Gu Kang wanted it to be, a quiet place for a monarch to finally lay his head and rest.

There was a new moon that night which barely penetrated the thick fog. The night was cold, but it was not a cold that brings with it fingers of frost. Rather it was soft and soothing, perfect for strolling or staying out in a campfire.

The figure inside the temple shuffled its feet and opened a box placed on a small table. Inside were dishes filled with food. Some cold, some hot. Besides the box was a large jug of clear water. The figure sat in a corner and started nibbling on a piece of chicken pie.

The silence was suddenly disturbed when a door opened and a figure came in. The figure on the floor, however, didn't even stir. It continued eating the pie, its eyes fixed on nothing, as if even its consciousness was not even there. The intruder entered the room then quietly squatted down in front of the eating figure.

The silence lasted an eon but finally the belly was full, the thirst quenched and the figure at last turned and met the intruder's eyes.

”It didn't take you long,” it said.

”Nearly a year,” the intruder shrugged.

”What now? Do you want an explanation?”

”Not necessary. I guessed.”

”You are a very smart young lady. I never expected that.”

The intruder laughed, amused.

”I just want to clarify something. I loved him, you know.”

”It didn't matter. He would have died anyway.”

”Your own son?”

The figure didn't speak.

”You will not succeed.”

”The plans are already in place. He only needs to execute them.”

”You mean, your other grandsons and Sei Sie?”

The faded eyes narrowed with suspicion.

”What do you know, a little girl like you?”

”They're dead. All three of them. I killed them.”

A trace of alarm crossed the pallid face.