Moon Theory

D invitwachedthetingTah him.The Pogesar Plains no longer held many surprises for him，but might this be one？He had heard the gossip of Pogesar swapping talesaboutaman calledPurtsa Gyalo Dondrup.They rammed together the name as if it belonged to a single soul，butLobsang knew that these were the monikers of atrio.

The man walking up front was called Purtsa. Lobsang took hismeasure first.All of theherders on the PogesarPlainshad sharp eyes—not only the meaty pair above their cheeks，but another set， too， somewhere deep inside.Lobsang was looking at Purtsa with the second set.

Purtsa，on the other hand，believeda glance atSherabtheYellowStallionwouldsuffice.He needed nothing more than his two earthly eyes. As he approached， he motioned disdainfully at the horse.He dared to speak openly in front of Lobsang's family：“My opinion might sting，butI don't thinkit'sright to hold back.\"

Lobsang walked stiffly to his horse'sside.He combed the horse's braided mane with his fingers， then slipped his hand down to grip the rope of yak hair fixed to the bridle.

“Come with me，” Lobsang whispered to the horse.“We won't give them the pleasure of a reaction.I'lllet you piss in their bowls.They'll take itasatonic！\"

Lobsang led the horse to a patch of grass nearby.Heglancedbackthewayhehadcome. “Look！” he urged the horse ina low voice.“From here，their table looks tiny. Thosemen thereare no biggerthanmarmots.\"Hewanted to tell Sherab about the three men.Hecleared his throat.He thought itbest to start with Purtsa：‘Ashameless man！No，that was jumping to the conclusion too quickly. There was no need to rush through the story.If he lost his temper， the story would be incomprehensible to the horse.He needed to be sure that he didn't stray from the facts.

“Let me start this way，”Lobsang said.“Purtsa isfamousforhisdivorces.Hehasbeendivorced more times than the other two combined.Now， don't get me wrong！I'm not saying that divorce is necessarilya moral failure.The specifics of each case need to be taken into account， right？ Shhh. You're fine.Just listen.\"He stroked the yellow horse's mane. The words began to spill out of him like the bone beads of a mala scattering on the floor when their string is snapped.

Lobsang pointed out the ring of keys tied at Purtsa's waist.“A great big bunch of keys， isn't it？ Probablyweighsatleastajin.Allthosekeys！That's more than the keeper of the monastery has on his ring！ There are onehundred and eightin total. But why so many， you ask？Purtsa doesn't trust his women.He doesn't only havea lock on the tsampa bin，he locks up the pantry.Even worse，he keeps \"He's come up with a theory， you see...his ‘Moon Theory.' It's like this： you're out walking on the grasslands， under a full moon， but if you choose not to look up at it， is it really there？ His theory says it's not. The moon ceases to exist.\"

all the keys for himself.Whenhis wife needs to make tea，shehas to ask him for the keyto unlock the cabinet.If his wife wantsto know what time it is，she hastoask him for thelocked-up watch， too.He locks up the bowls.He keeps everything locked up. That’s why his wives always end up leaving him.\"

Lobsang was ready to offer his conclusion：“So， youtellme，Sherab...Shouldamanlikethatbe allowed to advise the Chairman of the Pogesar PlainsHorse RacingPromotion Association？I consideritan insulttoallof ourintelligence！\"

Lobsang noticed Sherab's attention fading The horse tossed its head，jerking so abruptly thatLobsang'shand was almost knocked from his mane.

A plait slipped throughLobsang'shand.

Sherab huffed out a whinny， drawing the eyes of the men.

“Sherab，\"Lobsang said，“I've always said， your biggest problemis that you refuse at the worst possible times to be cooperative.You should learn from Purtsa's two underlings. You see how closely thetwinsattendto him？A-ha！Youdidn'trealize theywere identical twins，did you？Ican tellby your face.But it's true. They used to look quite similar. Their parents even got them mixed up.Later， after they left the house and got married， they started to become their own men.One of them became

fat.Hischeekswere tanned verydark.Hestarted losing his hair. The other one became as skinny asarail.Meanhatchetface.He grewhishair long.Helooked like an old nag. Can you see the resemblancenow？\"

Lobsang went quiet. The three advisers to the association marched up to inspect Sherab. They didn't seem to notice Lobsang standing beside hishorse.Their eyes flickered withaweird， unfathomablelight.

Lobsang listened to the three men talking， but nothingtheysaidatfirstmademuchsense.Aftera moment，he realized that they were talking about Sherab.Purtsa was saying that the yellow horse had never taken part in any sanctioned races. Purtsa didn'twant Sherab to takepartinthisrace， either. The association wanted to be sure that their own members’horses took the top prizes. Sure，Purtsa would let the horse run-but not in this race，and not until he registered with the association.

“And so， that’s why we've come to speak with you，”Purtsasaid.“We'rehere onbehalfof Chairman Dawa.He's come up with a theory， you see...his ‘Moon Theory.’ It's like this： you’re out walking on the grasslands，undera full moon，but if you choose not to look up at it， is it really there？ His theory says it’s not. The moon ceases to exist. Chairman Dawa puts it better than Icould： ‘If you refuse to see something， then it'snot really there. You got it？ Sherab the Yellow Stallion might have madeaname forhimself across these Pogesar Plains，butif we don'tacknowledge him，then he doesn't exist.\"

“What do you mean，‘doesn't exist？” Lobsang Tashiasked.

\"That's exactly what I mean，” Purtsa replied.

“Butthisis Sherab theYellow Stallion standing rightin front of you.You can't see him？\"

“Well，I can see a horse standing there，” Purtsa said，“true enough.But who's to say the horse I see in front of me is Sherab the Yellow Stallion？

“There’s only one Sherab，”Lobsang said. \"Have you people lost your minds？\"

“I seea horse，”Gyalo said.“Itis indeed yellow， asyousay.Itmightbeastallion.Butthatdoesn't mean thisis Sherab theYellow Stallion.\"

Lobsang could scarcely believe his ears.

“Asit stands，\"Dondrup said，“if Chairman Dawa doesn'trecognize Sherab the Yellow Stallion， then it simply doesn't exist，just like the moon ain't there，if he doesn’tlook up at night...

“The moon is there， whether anyone looks up at it or not，”Lobsang said，his eyes growing wider in disbelief.“This is Sherab the Yellow Stallion， whether or not anyone decides to recognize him as such.\"

“What does it really mean when we say ‘the moon’？\"Purtsaasked.“Whatis‘Sherab'？These are titles. They don't mean anything.\"

“What exactly are you trying to say？” Lobsang said.

“If our Chairman can say the moon doesn't exist，”Purtsa said，“accordingto his theory， then he can do the same for your horse.It’s up to him to decide.\"

Lobsang felt a buzzing in his skull.He was dealingwithmadmen！Could theyevenbe considered men at all？

Lobsang knew that the Chairman must have made clear to them that no matter what， they needed to look after the interests of the association. When he mentioned the Chairman，Purtsa's eyes hadgleamed.Thatgaveitaway-butGyalo's contorted expressionwouldhave， too，orthe strange ticsofDondrup，whoselipscurledwhile hespoke，likeasmokertakingthe firstdrag ofthe morning.ButLobsang would not give in so easily. Ifthese men wouldn't grant him the right to enter Sherab in therace， then hewould takematters into hisown hands.His scheming was interrupted by theapproaching roarofan engine.

Lobsang glanced over theheads of the three men.Acloud of dust rose from the grasslands.It wasbeingkickedupbyablackLexusLX570.Men whodrovecarslikethatdidn’tcareabouttheir functionality， only that the car granted the driver a particular status.Lobsang guessed that the man behind thewheelmustbe thechairmanof the racingassociation.

Purtsa，Gyalo，and Dondrup visibly tensed up The chairman had come in person.Why would he make the trip himself—did he not trust them？ Surely not.But his own prestige was on the line. If the association's registered stallions failed to take the top two prizes，his standing would be tarnished beyond repair.EvenanLX57O couldn't buythatback.

Purtsa pointed，and Gyalo and Dondrup followed his finger. They turned to see theLexus steaming across the prairie like a mighty ship， riding the undulations in the grasslands as if they werewaves.Soon， thecarroared toastop in front of them.

It was a moment worth savoring. Purtsa wore apanicked expression，like oneofhisownwives caughtbreakingthelockonthetsampabin.Gyalo and Dondrup looked like they'd just woken up after their wedding—to another set of twins， naturally-andrealizedtheysleptwiththe wrongwoman.

Purtsa feltaroundinhispocketand drewouta whitekhata.No，wrongone.Herummagedagain andcameupwithayellowone.Hebreatheda sighofreliefasheheldthekhatabetweenhistwo hands.GyaloandDondrupscrambledtofind theirownyellowkhata.Whentheyhad，andthe salute was complete， the door of the LX57O finally opened.ChairmanDawa'sround head emerged， his few remaining hairs tossed by the wind.“Big brother，\"Purtsashouted.

Once again，Lobsang could not believe his ears.This was a violation of the customs of the highlands！Itwasobvious thatChairmanDawa was at least twenty years younger than Purtsa.It wasbizarre to seean old crow likePurtsa salute a middle-aged manas his elder.But the Pogesar Plains no longer surprised Lobsang. He knew that the hard men of the range were often not quite what they seemed.They put up a good front. You could imagine themknockinga fencepostflat into thegroundaseasilyas theychomped through a stick of straw.But，deep down，they were pettyprattlers.

“Big brother，” Purtsa called again，“what brings you out this way？ I told you we were going to handle this.No need for you to make the trip.\"

“Bigbrother，”Gyalo said，“we're right in the middle of teaching the yellow stallion's owner a lesson in how the world works.\"

“Brother Chairman，”Dondrup squeaked， \"it's very good that you've come.If you're here to supervise，there's no way we can foul things up.\"

Eachmaninturnlaidhiskhataaround the neck of ChairmanDawa.With the garland of silk scarves，thechairmanseemed to brimwith selfassuredness.He seemed to swell with arrogance. Even his slack belly seemed to expand， straining against his shirt until a button popped off， exposingaslabof paleflesh.

The chairman took a step away from the car. He had no interest in concealing the reason for his visit.His gaze went immediately to Sherab the Yellow Stallion.The horse glared back at the chairman.His opinion of the racing association head wasclear.

Thechairmanreachedoutwithonehand to grabthe rope hanging from the horse'sbridle and. with the other， felt desperatelyaround his pockets， like a heart patient looking for his nitroglycerin. In the end，he produced not a pill，but the sort of cloth used to clean glasses.He didn'tneed the cloth.He needed the magnifying glass wrapped insideit.Hegotcloserto Sherab，then，with

\"They don't want us to race， Sherab，\" Lobsang said， “but that's exactly what we're going to do. I don't give a damn about the chairman， or his Moon Theory.\"

surprising deftness， flicked out the magnifying glass to inspect the horse's ear. Before Lobsang could figure out what the chairman was doing，he wasalready moving the magnifying glass to the horse'snose.Next，he examined Sherab's teeth. This went on fora full five minutes，after which the chairman handed the magnifying glass to Purtsa and reached into his trouser pockets for ahandkerchief.Hewipedhishandsclean， then dropped the handkerchief tobe tossed about by the wind.

After that， the chairman stared at Sherab，as if lost in thought. The horse watched Lobsang， who was studying the yellow fuzz scattered across the chairman's pale，protruding belly.Even these humble hairs seemed to vibrate confidently. The chairman turned away fromLobsang before he spoke.His tone was proud， like the mating call of a rock partridge.

Chairman Dawa did not turn back.He seemed to be trying to prove that his Moon Theory could be applied to anyone—and not only moonsand horses.

So，Lobsang did not exist.He wasn't there.If Chairman Dawa did not look atLobsang，and he did not exist， then the racing association head was addressing only the horse and his lackeys.Instead offivemen，therewerefour.

“Did you ask whether or not he would sell it？\" Chairman Dawa asked his underlings.

“We could ask，”Purtsa said，“but there's no guaranteehe's willing to listen.\"

“They say there will be a full moon tonight，” the chairmansaid.“Buthowfull willitbe？Ifwe don't look up at it， it doesn't reallymatter.It's not up there in the sky.\"

\"Don'tbother asking，”Lobsang cut in.“Sherab is not for sale.\"

“Are you sure about that？”Purtsa said.“Think it over！ This isa horse in his prime-and the good years are going to be short.We're going to make sureSherab theYellowStalliondoesn'texist.He'll belike the moon.Wewon'tseehim.Idon'twant you to regret your decision.\"

Lobsang took back Sherab's lead. The racing association chairman had heard Lobsang's voice， evenif he would not acknowledge him.He walked back to the Lexus， got in，started the engine， and drove away.

How could the moon really not exist？

Howcould Sherab the Yellow Stallion not exist？

If the chairman's theory was correct， did Lobsang himself not exist？

Lobsang ran his fingers through Sherab's mane. then pressed his face against the horse's muzzle. Sherab did not turn away. The hot breath from his nostrils smelled like grass.Lobsang felt as if he could not hold back his true feelings much longer The thuggish men from the association finally left. He could still hear their words echoing in his ears. “They don't want us to race， Sherab，”Lobsang

said， “but that’s exactly what we're going to do. I don'tgivea damnabout the chairman， or his Moon Theory.”He began leading the horse back home.Hedecidedthatthiswasatimewhen he should seekhisparents'advice.

Lobsang tied Sherab at the hitching post outside.Itwas as quiet in the earthen home as the plainsin themomentsbefore dawn.His fathersat holdingabowl ofmilk tea，watchingthesteam risefromit.Hismotherrested herchininher palm，appearing to be lost in thought.Lobsang decidedtobreakthesilencefirst.Heknewthathe couldn't start with the topic of Sherab.He began with something else， easing his way in the right direction.He rubbed his forehead tentatively. When he spoke，he was surprised by the mildness ofhis owntone.He wonderedifhisact had gone too far.

“Mama， papa，” he said，“it was certainly an interesting day， wasn'tit？\"

“Indeed，”his father said，“the sort of day that makes you look at the world differently.\"

“I was fighting to stop from laughing，”his mother said.“All those giggles-Ihad to swallow them.”She patted her belly.

“Yes，”his father said，“watching those three men from the association lecturing you so seriously， itall felt likeadream.\"

“You can't let those sorts of men get silly ideas，\"

JIANGYANGCAIRANG江洋才讓

Jiangyang Cairang （also knownas Jamyang Tsering） is an award-winning Tibetanwriter born in 197O in Yushu，Qinghai，where he continues to live and work.Drawing inspiration from local lifeand Tibetan culture，he has published two novels and numerous short stories. His 2O16 short story \"One and Four，\" first published in the literary magazine Zuopin，wasadapted in 2021 intoa celebrated crime suspense film depicting a tense standoff between forest rangers，poachers， and the police.Hebegan the series\"Lobsang Tashi and Sherab the Yellow Stallion\" in 2024，a collection of standalone short stories published individually in various literarymagazines.“Moon Theory，\" firstappearing inShanghai Literature in June 2025，is the latest installment.

his mother said.“All that nonsense they were talking？Wel， it’s as ridiculousas—as trying to put a diaper on a dog！”

Whenhis fatherchuckled，Lobsang sawthe chance to say what was on his mind：“They're saying they won’t let Sherab run.Why do they want to keep us out of the race？\"

Although he already knew the answer， Lobsang adopted an expression of confusion.He pretended to be lost in a fog.

\"By the Bodhisattva， do you even need to ask？”his mother said.“They'reafraid Sherab will win！Their own horses can't keep up. They're wicked men.\"

“That’s right，” his father said.“I wonder why they evenbother racing atall.Why not just have a little party and hand trophies to one another？\"

“You've got it all wrong， old man，” his mother said.“They need to put on a show—and make sure it looks legitimate.Of course， theymake sure to ban any challengers beforehand.Nobody watchingfromtheoutsidewould knowwhat's really going on.\"

“I want to disprove the chairman’s Moon Theory，\"Lobsang said.\"Ihavean idea，butIneed to know that you'll support me.\"

“You want to put Sherab in the race？\" his father asked.“I'm with you！\"

\"But they've already told you they don't want Sherab torun，’hismothersaid.“Whatare you planning？\"

\"Don't worry，\" Lobsang said. \"I've got it all figured out.\"

Lobsang wentto prepare Sherab.He threwa saddleonthehorse.Hecinchedthesaddletight arounditsbelly.Hisparentscameouttowatch. Manandhorsebothsawthesympathyintheir eyes.AsLobsangpulledhimselfastrideandstuck his feet in the stirrups，Sherab did not need the squeeze ofhisrider'sknees to know thatitwas time to gallop.

The wind whistled inLobsang's ears.The landscapeseemed torushtowardhim.The mountains in front of Lobsanglooked like two fistsstacked atop each other.The tall grass of the hills waved like hair caught ina gale. The stream traced its way between green hummocks as round as overturned pots.He could imagine the sound Sherab's hooves might make pinging off of them，asif they really were metal.But the horse avoided the imperfectionsin the plains， racing through the grass so fast thatadewymist roseinhiswake.In thehighlands，itwasthefinest season.Thebleating of the sheep at the foot of the mountain beckoned the lowing of the yaks.These soundswere carried and composed by the wind. In an instant， they seemed to have arrived at the Draksum Bertsegna Valley.

The Draksum Bertsegna Valley was one of theplaces where the PogesarPlainsnarrowed. There were cliffs on either side of the valley， which ran likea pair of trains side byside across thegrasslands.

Lobsang gasped. A peculiar black bird flew from the underbrush into the sky， making Sherab stagger. Lobsang was nearly pitched fromthesaddle.

He gripped the pommel with both hands and pulledhimselfback into position.Helookedlikea sack of wheat being set upright.

Hespokewithoutthinking.Hefell uponaword thathadoncebeenfamiliartohim.

\"Drua-ko！\"Lobsang swore.\"You scaredthe daylights out of me.\"

Lobsang had once needed to break himself of thishabit.Nobody liked theword.It wasvicious.It meant“parentlessbrat.\"

His father had forbidden the curse.“Drua-ko，\" he had said to his son，“you go around saying that all day， you're going to end up as one.\"

Lobsang slapped himself across the mouth. Buthe noticed that the calm atmosphere of the DraksumBertsegna Valley seemed not to have changed.Abreeze tossed thebraidsin Sherab's mane.More birds shot upwards， like so many stonescatapulted from theunderbrush.

Thenext sound heheard washoofbeats.At first，he thoughtit was stones rolling down the cliffs， but there was no mistaking the equestrian cadence.Itwasasif thebanditsthat oncehaunted thevalleyhad returned.In those days，men earned aliving robbing the herdersand traders that passed through.But they wound up exterminated. Lobsang'sfatherhad told himabout the time he wasoutherding sheepand heard the sound of bullets hitting flesh.The cries of the wounded echoed through the valley.The sheep huddled together， trembling.

Beforehe knewit， the hoofbeats seemed to be around him.Acloud of dust rolled around him， andwhenitcleared，hesaw the threemen from theassociation， each astridea horse.

Purtsa pulled up first.Everyoneknew his mount.Theblack horsewith thewhiteblazehad a reputation among the herders of the Pogesar Plains. The stallion not only had won two races， but was known for its peculiar aggression toward its rivals.It had anabsurdly long moniker， Snowland'sBigBlackBottleMSC1376.This sortofname，evenforaregisteredhorse，wasa bit unwieldy.When Big Black spotted Lobsang's horse，Purtsa'sstallion tossedhishead， glared threateningly. The horse gnawed its bit，as if it intendedtotakeabiteoutofSherab.

Gyalo was astride a sorrel.Dondrup rode a white horse. They both had impressive names， suitable forassociation horses.Gyalo'swas called Red Flags O'er thePlateau CL7676.Dondrup's was Snowland's Grand White Spirit SL769. Although Dondrup's Grand White was jumpier， he was a better runner and maintained an advantage

Sherab the Yellore Stallion tore past Big Black. Hooves kicked up high， his tail whipped behind him like a race car exhaust. Lobsang felt the horse hit a breaking point of speedraw， unstoppable.

overRedFlagsintheirraces.Lobsangknewall aboutthehorses.Hereadabouttheminthe association's brochure.That did nothing to settle hisnerves，however.

Purtsa，aswashishabit，broke the silence unceremoniously：“Drua-ko！ You don'tknow your place，doyou？Iknewit.Wefiguredwe'd need to show up to dissuade you.If you think you're going to get to our chairman，you've gotanother thing coming.”

Lobsang was stunned.It took hima moment torealizethatthethreeassociationadvisorshad discerned his true intentions.He hadn't let slip his plans to anyone.Buthe had heard Purtsa mention theJajgyad Valley，and then overheard Chairman Dawa talking on the phone about the eligibility inspectionscheduledforthenextday.Asudden flash of insight struck Lobsang. The two clues clicked together，and the arrival of the three men proved thathe'd guessed right.

Purtsa hollered again，letting the familiar curse fester on his lips.Lobsang feltanger rising within him.Sherab'snostrils flared.The horse was ready to charge.

The wind carried the first curse away， so Purtsa shouted itagain：“Drua-ko！We threeare here to prove the chairman'sMoon Theory.If you—\"He was cut off.

Lobsang felt a surge of momentum，as if someonehadslammedtheaccelerator onthe world. He tilted backwards. The wind stung his eyes.He felt tears.This wasa physiological response，nothing to do with emotions.

Sherab snorted.Theotherhorsessawhis fearsomegazeandbecameafraid.Hecharged the men and horses like an M2 tank.Lobsang saw Gyalo's sorrel flee in panic，followed byDondrup's white horse.

The other horses moved to escape，but Purtsa's Big Black stayed locked in place，coiled likea leopard.Commonsensesaid to go for theweaker foes，butSherabchargedforBigBlack.

Bang！ Sherab the Yellow Stallion tore past Big Black.Hooves kicked up high，his tail whipped behind him likea race car exhaust.Lobsang felt the horse hit a breaking point of speed—raw， unstoppable.The other three horses’competitive instinctsflared instantly.Theyraced tightlybehind Sherab.Glancing back，Losang sawBig Black's eyes shot through with blood.His rider，Purtsa， waspracticallysnarling.Thesorrelandthewhite horse stayed close，sevenmetersbehind.Sherab ranasif mad，everystride carvingarcs through theair，his braided mane beating rhythmically againsthis neck.

Suddenly，upahead，a pit yawned in the grasslands.Itwasabout eightmetersacross.Sherab was moving too quickly to stop before reaching it. Lobsang knew that evenif he jerked the reins， the horse's momentum would dump it into the pit.The pit wasn't deep—onlya couple of metersat most— but crashing into it would mean serious injury.

Lobsang braced himself and shut his eyes. He onlyheard one sound.Itwasavoice that said to him： “It is better to leap and crash than it is to lose one's nerve and fall.Leap for glory！ Don'thesitate！\"

In theair， on Sherab'sback，Lobsang could not tell whether they were moving quickly or slowly. They came back to the earth smoothly. Lobsang opened his eyes.His mouth gaped.His hands were frozen in place.

The three men behind were not so lucky. Their horseshad notbeen going fast enough that they couldn'thave stopped.But Sherab's leap provoked Big Black.Purtsa's horse raced toward the pit， breathinghard，eyesbloodshot， the musclesinits neck strained taut...

Lobsang turned to look.Purtsa came first， cursing，with hisleft eye black.BigBlack limped behind him.Gyalo and Dondrup followed their horses out of the pit. They were both panting. Gyalo spat a tooth into the grass.Dondrup spat a mouthful of blood. The three men and their horses had no more will to fight.Defeated， they watched Lobsang astride Sherab， racing effortlessly across the plains.

Anunbearablesenseofdefeatmadethemen wilt.Purtsa suddenlyrecalled thechairman's theory.If you didn'tlook upat the moon， it wasn't there.If you chose to ignore something， it did not exist.“None of this happened，\"Purtsa muttered to himself.

\"Never happened，\" Gyalo and Dondrup echoed.

Thewind rose.The dust of theplains rolled acrossthepitand wiped cleanthe footprints. Soon， it really did seem possible that nothinghad actuallyhappened.

Author's Note：

Iwas born on a vast grassland，where mornings began with the whinny of horses.Even in the city，amid theroutines of workand life，Ioftenpicture onestanding ona windy slope，its hooves tapping at the prairie as if to remind me of something.The series“Lobsang Tashi and Sherab the Yellow Stallion\"began when Idrove my battered Chevrolet deep into the grassland.At sunset， in the stillness，a young herdsman appeared with a yellow horse-tired，solitary.That moment lita spark， and Iwrote their first line in my phone.