The pythia peered at her. “The what now?”
Rather than answering the question, the girl shook her head in panicky denial.
Her grandfather intervened. “That’s a long story, and it’s almost lunch time. I know a good noodle shop nearby. While we eat, Rou and I will tell you all about it.”
His granddaughter ducked her head and scurried toward the exit ahead of the rest.
“Is Rou... ahem... is she... quite alright?” Griffin’s tone was perplexed.
Jun sighed dolefully. “She’s going through what you Westerners might call ‘a phase.’”
Chapter 10—Incendiary Prose
Cassie and Griffin trailed behind the Zhangs as they scurried up one street and down another in search of Jun’s favorite noodle shop. After about ten minutes of walking, they arrived at a small restaurant with a red awning. There was a line out the door with ten people ahead of them.
Sensing Cassie’s dismay, the trove keeper said, “Don’t worry. This will move quickly.”
The pythia studied the plate glass window facing the street. It was covered with pictures of various dishes. Although there were no helpful English subtitles, she could identify most of the food by the images—marinated salads, noodles, meat and vegetables combinations, dumplings, and soups. Taken aback by the sheer number of choices, Cassie asked hesitantly, “Can you recommend something?”
Jun chuckled. “I’ll order four different items. That way we can share, and you can try a little of everything. You’re sure to like the hand-pulled noodles.”
“Hand-pulled?” the pythia asked suspiciously.
“You’ll see in a minute.” Jun gave a mysterious smile.
As the trove keeper had promised, the line moved briskly. In only moments, they were at the front counter where the cashier took their order.
While Jun spoke for the group, Cassie scanned the dim interior of the restaurant. It was minimalist—bare floors, no cloths on the tables, hard wooden chairs. The lack of upholstery served to amplify the noise inside. It made her think of bistros back home where the collective din meant you had to yell to be heard by the person sitting across from you. Waiters, oblivious to the racket, darted between tables and dodged patrons as they carried steaming platters of food.
Griffin and Cassie followed Jun and his granddaughter past the cashier. Cassie happened to glance to her left and stopped dead in her tracks. A clear plastic partition separated the kitchen area from the patrons. The pythia watched as one of the chefs lifted a ball of dough and began to pull it apart. He continued to stretch it, fold it and flip it around until the long strand of pasta resembled a lariat. Then he did something even more amazing. He stretched the rope of dough further and twirled it over his head and around his shoulders in ever-widening circles. Cassie hadn’t seen a display like that since she’d watched a cowboy demonstrating lasso tricks at a rodeo. After several more minutes of pulling and twirling, the ball of dough had transformed itself into strands of spaghetti which the chef broke into segments and placed in a pot of boiling water.
Both the pythia and the scrivener stared goggle-eyed at the performance until Jun interrupted their trance.
“Just like Las Vegas,” he quipped. “You get food and a floor show.”
Both of them burst out laughing, as much at their own stunned reaction as at his joke.
Rou tugged insistently at her grandfather’s sleeve to hurry him along. The girl motioned the trio to follow her through the narrow aisles of the restaurant toward an empty table for four. Rushing ahead, she commandeered the space just as a young couple was about to claim it. Shooing them off, she threw her jacket over one of the chairs and stood guard until Cassie, Griffin, and Jun caught up with her.
The little party had no sooner sat down and gotten settled than a waiter bustled over with their order. He set down platters of cucumber salad, pan-fried noodles with vegetables, pork dumplings, and cashew chicken over rice. Then he distributed plates and chopsticks, so they could all share the food.
“That was fast,” Cassie observed in surprise.
“I imagine they must run a brisk business,” Griffin said.
“Yes. Talk fast, eat faster, then leave,” Jun cautioned.
“So much for ambience.” The scrivener shrugged.
“Who cares about ambience when the food is so good.” Cassie was already sampling the hand-pulled noodles. “This stuff is amazing. I’ve never tasted noodles like this before in the States.”
They took turns passing around the platters, and after everyone had filled their plates, Cassie returned to the topic they’d abandoned when they left the museum.
“You were going to tell us something about China’s buried past?” she suggested gently to Rou.
The girl slid her gaze toward the floor, refusing to make eye contact.
When it became obvious that she wasn’t going to speak, her grandfather took over. Jun paused to swallow a dumpling and then launched into the tale. “It happened a long time ago when rival provinces were fighting for control of the whole country. The Qin ended the Warring States Period by conquering the other states and establishing imperial rule over all of China although their dynasty only lasted from 221 to 206 BCE. They wanted to solidify control of the entire country, and they did this by centralizing the government. Like many governments which followed, theirs was heavy-handed and bureaucratic. Not content to control the population through force of arms, the first Qin emperor wanted to control their thinking as well.”
“That’s rather a modern notion, isn’t it?” Griffin asked.
“Oh no, a very old one in China,” Jun countered. “Qin Shi Huang sought to purge ideas which ran contrary to his dynasty’s official ideology. The texts that were considered most subversive were poetry, history, and philosophy. The emperor reasoned that if people read about better times in the past, they would become dissatisfied and wish to change the present state of affairs. Likewise, the philosophical treatises often expounded theories that
