Tang had visited before and walked among the archers, soldiers, and horse-drawn chariots, smelling the rich Shaanxi earth, imagining the rhythmic beat of marching feet.
He felt empowered here.
Qin Shi himself had walked this hallowed ground. For 250 years, ending in 221 BCE, seven ruling kingdoms— Qi, Chi, Yar, Zhao, Han, Wei, and Qin—had fought for dominance. Qin Shi ended that conflict, conquering his neighbors and establishing an empire with all authority centered in himself. Eventually, the land itself acquired his name. A perversion of the way
China.
Tang found it hard not to be impressed by such grand accomplishments, and though Qin Shi had lived long ago, the man’s impact still resonated. He was the first to divide the land into prefectures, each composed of smaller units he named counties. He abolished the feudal system and eliminated aristocratic warlords. Weights, measures, and currencies became standardized. A uniform code of laws was enacted. He built roads, a wall to protect the northern border, and cities. Even more critical, the various and confusing local scripts were replaced with one written alphabet.
But the First Emperor was not perfect.
He enforced severe laws, imposed heavy taxes, and requisitioned people by the thousands for both military and construction services. Millions died under his reign.
A new dynasty succeeded.
The Han.
Whose descendants continued to dominate even today.
Tang was a Han, from Hunan province, another hot, humid place in the south, home to revolutionary thinkers, Mao Zedong its most prominent. He’d attended Hunan’s Institute of Technology, then transferred to Beijing’s School of Geology. After graduating, he’d worked as a technician and political instructor on the Geomechanics Survey Team, then served as head engineer and chief of the political section for the Central Geological Bureau. That’s when the Party had first noticed him and he was assigned positions in Gansu province and the Tibet Autonomous Region, gaining a reputation as both a scientist and administrator. Eventually, he returned to Beijing and rose from assistant to director of the general office of the Central Committee. Three years later he was elevated to the Central Committee itself. Now he was first vice premier of the Party, first vice president of the republic, one step away from the tip of the political triangle.
“Minister Tang.”
He turned at the sound of his name.
The museum’s curator approached. He could tell from the man’s clipped stride and polite expression that something was amiss.
Tang stood on the railed walk that encircled Pit 1, fifteen meters above the terra-cotta figures. The 16,000- square-meter exhibit hall was closed for the night, but the overhead lighting in the hangar-like space had been left on, per his earlier instruction.
“I was told you had arrived,” the curator said. Eyeglasses dangled like a pendant from a chain around the man’s neck.
“Before going to Pit 3, I wanted a few moments here,” Tang said. “The sight of these warriors never disappoints me.”
Outside, six more halls stood in the darkness, along with a theater, book counters, and a menagerie of shops and stalls that tomorrow would hawk souvenirs to just a few of the two million who flocked here every year to see what many called the eighth wonder of the world.
He spat at such a designation.
As far as he was concerned, this was the only wonder of the world.
“We must speak, Minister.”
The curator was a conservative intellectual, part of a Zhuang minority, which meant he would never rise any higher. The entire Qin Shi site came under Tang’s Ministry of Science, so the curator clearly understood where his allegiance lay.
“I’m having trouble containing things,” the curator told him.
He waited for more explanation.
“The discovery was made two days ago. I called you immediately. I ordered no one to speak of it, but I’m afraid that instruction was not taken seriously. There is … talk among the archaeologists. Several know that we broke through to another chamber.”
He did not want to hear that.
“I realize you wanted the discovery kept secret. But it’s proven difficult.”
This was not the place, so he laid a reassuring hand on the man’s shoulder and said, “Take me to Pit 3.”
They left the building and walked across a darkened plaza toward another broad structure lit from the inside.
Pit 3 had been discovered 20 meters north of Pit 1 and 120 meters east of Pit 2. The smallest of the three excavations, U-shaped, and barely five hundred square meters made up its space. Only sixty-eight terra-cotta figures and one chariot drawn by four horses had been found there, none in battle formation.
Then they’d realized.
The dress, gestures, and formation of the warriors suggested Pit 3 to be the underground army’s command center, reserved for generals and other senior officials. The warriors here had been found arrayed with their backs to the wall, wielding bronze poles with no blades, a unique weapon utilized only by imperial guards of honor. In addition, its location, in the far northwest corner, ensured that it was well protected by the armies of the other two pits. In life Qin Shi had led a million armored soldiers, a thousand chariots, and ten thousand horses to conquer and “gloat over the world.” In death, he’d clearly intended something similar.
Tang descended the earthen ramp to the bottom of Pit 3.
Bright overhead lights illuminated the surreal scene. A stable and a chariot filled the first recess. Two short corridors, one on the left and one on the right of the stable, connected with two deeper chambers.
He waited until they were both below ground level before addressing the problem with the administrator.
“I counted on you,” he said, “to make sure the discovery was contained. If you can’t handle the matter, perhaps we need someone else in charge.”
“I assure you, Minister, it is now contained. I just wanted you to know that its existence has leaked beyond the three who broke through.”
“Tell me again what was found.”
“We noticed a weakness.” The director pointed to his right. “There. We thought that was where the pit ended, but we were wrong.”
He saw a gaping hole in the earthen wall, dirt piled to the side.
“We have not had time to clear the debris,” the director said. “After the initial inspection, I halted excavations and called you.”
A jungle of flat cables sprouted from metal boxes and a transformer resting on the ground nearby. He stared at the opening, the bright lights burning on the other side.
“It’s a new chamber, Minister,” the curator said. “Not known before.”
“And the anomaly?”
“It’s inside, waiting for you.”
A shadow danced along the interior walls.
“He’s been there all day,” the director said. “Per your order. Working.”
“Undisturbed?”
“As you requested.”
