Secrets of the Terra-Cotta Soldier

by Ying Chang Compestine

  The robbers started coughing violently and shielded their eyes. Some cried out in panic.

  Ming’s body tensed as he watched more of the powder float down. He thought he tasted something intensely bitter, almost like tar. Panicking, he gasped, his face flushing beet red.

  Shí quickly took hold of one of Ming’s hands and dug his finger into the web between the thumb and the index finger. A tingling sensation traveled through Ming’s hand. “Keep breathing!” Shí instructed. “The poison is too far away to harm you. The Valley of Harmony acupressure point should calm you.”

  Gradually, Ming felt he could breathe easily again. When he looked back into the corridor, he was shocked by what he saw. Some robbers lay motionless on the ground. Others were trying to scramble through the rubble toward the section of corridor with the cherry blossoms, away from the yellow dust. A few fired their rifles wildly. Several terra-cotta soldiers were struck and broke into pieces. One bullet punched through the storage room’s thick wooden door, shattering one of the porcelain stools. Ming ducked down.

  “No, you will want to watch this.” Shí pulled Ming up to the window.

  The leader of the robbers, now blinded by the poison dust, tried to navigate by tapping his hand against the wall. When his fingers touched one of the cherry blossoms, thin needles shot out from the center of each of the flowers. Twitching and screaming, the men yanked the needles out of their bodies and ran into one another, as if they were possessed by demons. Then they collapsed.

  Ming leaned against the wall, breathing deeply and hugging himself. He couldn’t stop shaking.

  “Are you all right?” Shí asked anxiously.

  Ming wiped his face with sweaty fingers. “Are they dead?”

  “No. The snake venom on the needles will only temporarily paralyze them.”

  The door to the corridor swung open. Shí quickly turned, fists raised, ready to face the intruder.

  21

  THE WALKIE-TALKIE

  GENERAL WANG WALKED IN.

  “Was the explosion caused by the dynamite you warned us about?”

  Shí stood at attention. “Yes, sir. They have a large box of it.”

  “What about the weapons that shattered my soldiers?”

  “They’re called guns,” Ming said.

  Turning to Ming, the general said, “Some of my men are in pieces out there because I did not listen to you. The explosion damaged the moon gate and almost set off the tomb’s self-destruction system.” He pointed a finger upward. “I am sure there are more robbers up there. I can defeat enemies armed with swords or spears, but I can’t fight against opponents with these powerful new weapons. If they try again, I am afraid they will trip the self-destruct mechanism, destroying my army and the entire tomb, including the Emperor. Can you help us?”

  “Yes, sir!” said Shí eagerly.

  “Not you. I mean your friend. Ming, can you advise me?”

  Ming forced himself to look up at the general. He racked his mind for ideas, but anxiety and uncertainty made him dizzy. His head was as empty as a bowl licked by a hungry dog.

  A crackling sound drew their attention to the corridor, where Feng and Si Ji were reassembling a broken terra-cotta soldier. The sound came from the two-way radio.

  “What’s that?” asked General Wang.

  “It’s called a walkie-talkie. You use it to talk to people who are far away,” Ming explained. An idea sparked. “Maybe we can use it to lure the remaining robbers into a trap!”

  “Can you do that?” the general asked thoughtfully. “If we can get them down here, we can handle them.” He grimaced. “Unfortunately, the explosion cut us off from the main tomb, where most of my soldiers are stationed. So we must respond to this situation ourselves.”

  Ming could not help glancing toward the robbers lying in the corridor. Although he knew that they had planned to harm his bā ba, he didn’t relish the idea of killing them or any of the others. “What are you going to do to them?” he asked softly.

  The general seemed to read Ming’s mind. “Remember,” he said, “these men are pitiless. They would not hesitate to hurt you or anyone standing in their way. There is no place for mercy on the battlefield.”

  Ming knew the general was right. The robbers expected to have his bā ba take the blame and wouldn’t think twice about damaging or even destroying the tomb.

  “Please, Ming, we need your help,” said Shí.

  “Yes … I can try,” Ming agreed.

  The group moved into the corridor. Ming’s legs shook as he carefully picked his way between the bodies of the unconscious robbers. He saw yellow saliva dripping from the corner of the leader’s mouth. His eyes were milky white, reminding Ming of a dead fish. As Ming bent over, he smelled the man’s foul breath. Repressing the urge to retch, he quickly wrested the walkie-talkie from the leader’s grasp.

  There was thick static, and then a blurry, metallic-sounding voice. “What’s ha—? … Pschshh.”

  Ming studied the radio in his hand. General Wang, Shí, Feng, Si Ji, and the other soldiers watched him intently. He removed the back from the walkie-talkie and found a loose wire. He carefully reattached the wire, snapped the cover back on, and adjusted the dial. The static disappeared, and a man’s voice poured out.

  “Report! Report! Why was there shooting?”

  Ming muted the volume. He looked at General Wang for instructions.

  “Shí, go with Ming. Lead the robbers down the pit corridor. Feng, Si Ji—you are in charge of cleaning up here.”

  Ming turned the sound back on.

  “Answer me!” The voice from the radio sounded louder and angry. “What’s going on down there?”

  Ming held the walkie-talkie to his mouth and pushed the button down, making a faint click. In his deepest voice he said, “Everything is under control. A coward was frightened by shadows.” He released the button. Clack.

  “But did you find anything?”

  Click. “Yes! We found a gold statue. It’s enormous. We need everyone’s help, but first we need to scout for traps. Wait for my instructions.” Clack.

  “Hurry—we don’t have much time before sunrise.”

  General Wang pointed at the wall. Shí tugged the lion’s tail, and the secret door slid open. Ming followed him through it into a corridor illuminated by the sooty, dim glow of blue lanterns. He was captivated by a vivid mural of a massive battle, with soldiers locked in eternal combat.

  An early-fourteenth-century watercolor of mounted warriors pursuing enemies, believed to be Mongols.

  Shí stopped abruptly. “Ming, once the robbers come into the pit corridor, you must lead them far enough in so that you reach this horse.” He pointed to a large white horse on the wall, standing on its rear legs, head up, as if it were ready to jump out of the scene. “A trap door will open, and they will drop into a prison cell.”

  “It’s bright here.” Ming knitted his brow. “They’ll see me.”

  “I can take care of that!” Shí pressed his hand to the mural, touching a flaming rock that was hurtling from a catapult through the air. Instantly, the lanterns were extinguished, leaving them in darkness.

  Ming pulled out his flashlight and turned it on. He brought the walkie-talkie to his mouth again. Click. “Come down! Follow my flashlight.” Clack.

  The walkie-talkie crackled. “OK, we’re coming!”

  Ming crept closer to the opening, holding the flashlight steady.

  A group of men entered the passageway. Ming slowly backed up toward Shí.

  The men cautiously moved forward.

  “Deng?” a chubby man at the front, caught in the flashlight’s glow, called out. “Is that you?”

  Ming’s heartbeat quickened. He could sense that Shí was near him. Without replying, he waved the light up and down, luring the men farther along the corridor. The moment Ming passed the white horse, Shí pressed on the horse’s tail.

  The lanterns flared to life, and the floor before them opened. A wave of ear-pierci
ng screams filled the space, and the robbers disappeared from view.

  The floor shut, leaving Ming and Shí alone. An ominous silence filled the corridor.

  22

  SACRIFICE THE ARM, SAVE THE BODY

  GENERAL WANG LED A SQUAD OF SOLDIERS INTO THE pit corridor. He smiled down at Ming. “Good job! You would have made an exemplary Qin soldier.”

  Ming bowed his head and tried to suppress his grin.

  Turning to Shí, General Wang said, “The Emperor is safe again, thanks to both of you!”

  Ming shook his head and said, “Sir, their leader, the Political Officer, is not among them. He will come with reinforcements. And so will others.”

  General Wang frowned. “We have all sworn to protect the Emperor for eternity. We will fight to the end. But I fear that another explosion will cause the tomb to self-destruct.”

  He turned and headed into the fishermen corridor, with Ming and Shí trailing behind him. There they found Feng, Si Ji, and other soldiers loading the paralyzed robbers onto stretchers.

  A thought struck Ming. “I wonder …”

  General Wang stopped and looked at him with a newfound respect. “What are you thinking, Ming?”

  “If I can prove to the museum that this is Emperor Qin’s tomb, they will take special care to protect it, treating everything inside with the utmost respect.”

  From General Wang’s puzzled expression, Ming realized that he should define “museum.”

  “A museum is where the government displays old and important objects for people to study and see. They are responsible for excavating and caring for artifacts.”

  “How can you be so certain they will protect us?” asked the general.

  “Our leader, Chairman Mao, greatly admires Emperor Qin. I don’t think he’ll allow anyone to destroy his tomb. One thing I’m certain of is that now that robbers know where you are, more of them will come. The Emperor’s tomb is no longer safe.”

  “In that case, we must sacrifice the arm to save the body!” General Wang made a fist. “We will seal the Emperor’s chambers and reveal ourselves to protect him. If anyone ever breaks into the Emperor’s chambers, the final trap will destroy the tomb. I hope it never comes to that.”

  General Wang reached into a leather satchel on his hip and fished out a yellow silk pouch. “Take this! It’s the Emperor’s chop—his official seal. Show it to your museum officials.”

  A royal chop, or stamp, was used instead of a signature on documents and orders.

  Ming accepted the heavy pouch. His hands were shaking with excitement and anxiety. He realized that with the Political Officer still up there, Bā ba and the tomb would never be safe. If he failed to convince the museum directors, he would lose everything dear to him. He unbuttoned his cotton jacket and carefully put the pouch in his inner pocket.

  “Shí, you go with Ming. Help and protect your friend,” ordered General Wang. “Let me accompany you to the frog exit.”

  He turned abruptly and led the way back toward the armory. Ming and Shí followed in single file. Ming waved as they passed Feng and Si Ji. The two were now placing broken terra-cotta soldiers into large woven bamboo baskets.

  Suddenly, a gunshot broke the silence.

  Ming dove to the ground. General Wang pulled out his sword with lightning speed.

  Ming looked back and saw Feng and Si Ji run over to Shí, who was lying on top of one of the tomb robbers. Ming rushed to them.

  “What happened?” General Wang demanded.

  Feng’s and Si Ji’s eyes were wide with panic. In a broken voice, Feng said, “A robber regained consciousness. He fired his gun at Ming. Shí flung himself on the thief to protect Ming.”

  “He crushed the enemy with his body,” Si Ji added mournfully, kneeling beside Shí.

  “But he’ll be OK—right?” Ming asked desperately. “I mean, he was in pieces when I first saw him!”

  Shí was lying facedown on the ground. There was a large hole in the back of his head where Old Tian’s signature seal had once been.

  Feng’s face was drawn with grief. “No, Ming. His seal is gone. Without it, he’s … he’s lifeless.”

  Ming desperately ran his hands through the rubble around Shí. “Yes, yes, I know. But we’ll find it! We have to find it!” The thought of losing Shí drove him to tears. Si Ji brought down a lantern from the ceiling. Feng and the other terra-cotta soldiers dropped to their hands and knees, rummaging around Shí.

  General Wang grabbed Ming’s arm. “We do not have time, Ming! You need to complete your mission.”

  Ming stood up, fighting to control his sobbing. He knew that Shí would want him to be strong. Now he was even more determined to save his new friends and the tomb. He would take the back road out of the village. He would run, walk, or crawl to Xi’an. He just hoped he wouldn’t be too late to save these terra-cotta soldiers, the tomb … and his bā ba.

  “Yes, sir! I’ll be back!” Ming dashed away.

  23

  THE TRAP

  THE GARDEN WAS BRIGHTLY ILLUMINATED. MING wondered whether the lanterns had been lit the whole time or had somehow sensed his approach and re-ignited. When he reached the pond, he bent over, separated waxy green leaves, and found the frog frozen in midleap. As soon as he twisted the head off its body, the door began to grind open.

  With the frog’s head in hand, Ming ran down the short tunnel and out the door. Soft dawn light was peeking through the ceiling, illuminating the entrance cave. Ming quickly placed the head back on the body of the headless frog.

  Resting briefly on his heels and catching his breath, he watched the door close behind him.

  “Ming!”

  Startled, Ming turned. He could hardly believe his eyes. “Bā ba!” he cried.

  At that moment, someone kicked him, sending him sprawling on the ground. The detonation of pain inside his stomach was unlike any he’d experienced.

  The Political Officer loomed above him. “Ha! So this is where you’re hiding your treasure! Where is my terra-cotta statue?”

  Goat Face straddled Ming and pinned his arms to the ground. Ming struggled to break free.

  “Don’t hurt him!” Old Chen shouted. Although his hands were tied behind his back, he charged into the Political Officer with his shoulder and knocked him off Ming.

  Ming gasped for air and struggled to stand. The Political Officer sprang to his feet and swung at Ming, landing a punch below his rib cage. A burst of pain shot through Ming’s body. He collapsed and curled up into a ball, struggling for breath. His eyes watered.

  “Stop!” Bā ba stumbled up and pushed himself between Ming and the Political Officer.

  Goat Face shoved Bā ba away. He grabbed hold of Ming’s hair and pointed his pistol at his temple. “You think you’re smarter than me. But you forgot about your footprints in the snow! Now, show me how to get inside or I’ll kill you both!” He fired a shot at the cave floor. It echoed like a firecracker.

  Ears buzzing, Ming sucked in a partial breath. He rallied his thoughts and gestured at the dragon.

  “What’s that?” The Political Officer’s eyes locked on the jade ball. He shoved Ming aside. “I don’t need you. I know how to open this door.”

  He stood in front of the dragon. Eyes alight with greed, he reached for the jade ball.

  Two metal darts shot out of the dragon’s eyes. Goat Face had no time to react. Like a sack of flour, he fell to the ground with a thud.

  Ming turned and saw his bā ba staring in terrified wonder at Goat Face’s body. “Are you all right?” Ming asked. He quickly untied the ropes binding his bā ba. Old Chen’s face was haggard and his eyes red, but joy shone through his smile.

  Bā ba hugged Ming tightly. “The colonel did an excellent job in the general’s absence.”

  Dragon face carved on stone.

  24

  VISITORS

  THE SUN HAD BROKEN AWAY FROM THE HORIZON. Dazzling yellow beams streamed through the gaps in the dense pine trees. Scattered pools
of light splashed on Ming and his bā ba as they walked back home. Although he was exhausted, Ming described in detail all that had happened—assembling Shí … eating worms … entering the tomb … meeting General Wang … experiencing the dynamite explosion … seeing the tomb robbers foiled by the traps.

  Bā ba didn’t know what to make of Ming’s account of his adventures. After a long silence, Old Chen wrapped his arm around Ming’s shoulder, pulling him close in a tender way. “That’s a great story, son! You’ve outdone the old men at the teahouse! Now tell me what really happened.”

  Ming was reaching for the seal when he spotted a jeep parked in front of their house. His heart skipped a beat, and he turned to Bā ba with a look of concern. Had they come to arrest him? Should they run?

  An old man with gray hair and thin eyes got out of the backseat. “Ah, Chen, I have been waiting for you! I am sorry I missed you when you came to Xi’an yesterday. I was in Beijing.”

  It was Director Gu of the Xi’an museum, Bā ba’s friend. Ming let out his breath.

  Director Gu took hold of Bā ba’s hand. “We have to close your office. I know this is hard for you, so I came to inform you personally. I tried to change the board’s decision, but I failed.”

  Ming looked at the two adults. He knew this was the moment. He pulled the silk pouch out of his pocket and offered it to the director. “I think this will change your mind,” he said with confidence.

  For a moment, both men looked puzzled. Then the director accepted the pouch from Ming.

  Slowly and carefully he took out the heavy gold seal. He held it in his hand, then turned it over and studied it. Suddenly, he froze and stared at it in disbelief. The silence seemed to stretch for an eternity. Finally, he blurted, “My goodness, it’s—”

  “Yes, it’s from Emperor Qin’s tomb!” Ming’s face lit up with a grin. “My bā ba found it!”

  Bā ba stared at Ming with wide eyes.

  25

  THREE MONTHS LATER

  SUMMER CAME EARLY. SHORT SLEEVES REPLACED spring jackets. As the sun rose over Li Mountain, it shone like a burning rice cake, scorching the excavation site. The air was thick with the fragrance of growing wheat, grass, and wildflowers from the surrounding fields. Around the archaeological site was a sea of blooming color—green, yellow, purple, and white—as if the earth were bursting into song.