Cassie deliberately shifted her attention away to ease Rou’s discomfort. Her eyes swept the interior of the museum. “I expected we would meet you at a dig site,” she remarked to Jun. “Not in the middle of a museum.”
“Oh, there’s nothing much to see at the site these days,” Jun countered. “It’s a three-hour drive to Chaoyang and another hour to the site, but digging has been suspended for a while. All the artifacts that have been found to-date are housed right here in this museum. Before the Iron Age and the Bronze Age, China had something called the ‘Jade Age.’ You’ll soon see why.” He motioned them toward an exhibit room on the first floor. The English lettering below the Chinese characters announced that they were entering the “Dawn of Chinese Culture” gallery.
Once they all filed into the exhibit, Jun explained, “Everything you see here originated with the Hongshan Culture. The artifacts have been found at numerous dig sites clustered around Chifeng and Chaoyang. The Hongshan were neolithic agriculturalists who thrived between 4700 and 2900 BCE. They fabricated stone tools and plows and lived in simple villages, but their ceremonial sites were much more elaborate. The largest temple complex we’ve discovered is called Niuheliang. It’s fifty square kilometers around.”
“What’s that in miles?” Cassie murmured to Griffin.
“About nineteen,” he whispered back helpfully.
Jun was still talking. “Excavations there have uncovered pottery, statues, jade carvings, and finely-crafted jewelry. There are also standing stones with carvings to mark astronomical events.”
“Griffin and I have become experts on star-mapping the hard way.” Cassie smiled ruefully. “Calendar stones in Turkey, more calendar stones in Africa, solar observatories in India. The list goes on.”
“Then you can appreciate the level of astronomical sophistication the Hongshan possessed.” Jun walked toward an aerial photograph on the wall of the exhibit room. The others followed.
He pointed to an image that looked like a long rectangular strip of furrowed earth on top of a hillside. Sprouting from the sides of the rectangle were asymmetrical lobes. “This is the dig site of the goddess temple.”
“Why is it called that?” Cassie asked.
“Because numerous votive figurines were discovered inside—all of them female.”
Jun turned toward a glass case on his right. “Here’s an example.”
They all studied a nude figure of a kneeling woman made from polished jade.
“Of course, this is a small specimen,” Jun said. “Inside the temple itself were many oversized pottery figures of females, some of them three times life-size. Archaeologists assumed the statues were of the divinities which the Hongshan worshipped. The most striking image of a goddess is right here.” He walked a few feet further down the gallery and paused before a life-size clay head of a woman.
“This was found in the underground temple. The body had been broken apart, but the head is still intact. It would have originally been painted red. Dated to 3000 BCE, it is the oldest known goddess figure ever discovered in China.”
Cassie felt herself mesmerized by the face. The eyes were inlaid with two large globes of greenish jade. The full lips were curved into a Mona Lisa smile. The deity’s features conveyed strength, unlike the prettified sculptures of overlord goddesses. The Hongshan goddess was mysterious and a trifle scary while being vaguely benevolent at the same time.
Griffin broke into her thoughts. “Doesn’t all this remind you of something?”
She stared at him uncomprehendingly.
“Oversized female divinities. Underground temples. The lobed shape of the structure itself,” he prompted.
Her eyes widened in recognition. “Malta. This is like the temples we found on Malta.”
“Oh yes, it’s quite possible,” Jun chimed in.
Cassie whirled to look at him. “You mean Niuheliang was built by some Maltese goddess-worshippers?”
The trove keeper chuckled. “No, but the two cultures were roughly contemporary. Each flourished around 3000 BCE.”
“But Malta is thousands of miles away,” the pythia objected.
“You’d be surprised how far-ranging the trade routes were back then.”
Griffin spoke. “Mainstream historians have fostered the belief that Stone Age cultures sprang up in isolation from one another. The kinds of trade goods that have been found in Turkey and in the Americas, originating from thousands of miles away, contradict conventional theories of an insular Neolithic world.”
“Certainly, we have evidence that the Hongshan traded with nomads from the steppes.” Jun gestured for the group to follow him past several more glass cases.
Rou stuck to him as persistently as a shadow and just as silently.
He paused before a case of Hongshan jewelry. “You see. Copper rings.”
“Is that unusual?” Cassie asked warily.
“Indeed, it is.” Jun chuckled. “The Hongshan did not produce these rings. At that point in time, the nearest copper-working people would have been the Afanasevo culture—Caucasian steppe nomads who ranged across central Asia.”
“You mean overlords?” Cassie felt shocked. “They came this far east?”
“Most assuredly, though distinct proof of their presence is to be found centuries later and many miles away. Since the Hongshan Culture bears no other marks of overlord coercion, the Afanasevo may have merely traded with the inhabitants of this region. Copper rings aren’t the only evidence of outside influence. Look at these.” He gestured toward a case which contained small pieces of turquoise jewelry. “Though some turquoise has been found in Liaoning, it was more typically sourced from central Asia. That’s the same area where the Afanasevo originated just as the Hongshan culture reached its peak. The Hongshan sites also disclose black-on-red painted pottery which was imported as well.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Cassie watched as Rou quietly unzipped the collar of her jacket to reveal a perfectly normal mouth and chin. Given all the camouflage, the pythia had convinced herself that the girl might have some facial deformity she’d wanted to hide. However, Rou appeared to be suffering from nothing worse than a terminal case of shyness.
Taking no notice of his granddaughter’s unveiling, Jun had already moved on to the next display. “As you look at these jade carvings, bear in mind that the raw material wasn’t sourced locally. The jade itself came from mines far beyond China’s borders.”
The group made the rounds of the rest of the exhibit, pausing here and there to study items of interest.
“What are these?” Cassie pointed to a curious set of jade objects. Each one appeared to form a capital letter “C.” The front of the C was shaped into a dragon’s head, but the snout was squared off. It didn’t look like any dragon the pythia had ever seen before.
“Those are pig-dragons,” Jun explained. “You can tell why they’re called that from the blunt shape of the nose. It’s interesting when you think about the creatures the Hongshan chose to carve most often: turtles, birds, pig-dragons. All of them are symbolically associated with yin.”
“As in the female principle of yin and yang?” Griffin asked.
“Yes, exactly. It’s a further indication that we are dealing with a female-centric culture. Of course, we also know the Hongshan were matristic because they were a highly complex society with no evidence of warfare or oppression of any kind.”
Cassie shook her head in disbelief. “Given how male-dominated Chinese society is today, nobody seems to realize there was an earlier stage of development that was a far cry from overlord.”
“The truth has been buried for a very long time,” Jun remarked sadly.
“Burning of books...”
The other three turned to look at Rou in surprise. They’d all but forgotten her presence. Her accent was thicker than her grandfather’s though still understandable. Apparently realizing for the first time that she’d spoken out loud, Rou clapped both hands over
her mouth in a frantic attempt to prevent any more words from escaping.
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 contradicted the ideal totalitarian state the Qin wanted to maintain. All the books which contained subversive ideas were collected and burned. However, two copies of each were kept under lock and key by court scholars. The knowledge they contained became inaccessible to the public at large. Any citizen caught discussing these works risked execution.”
“How awful.” Cassie felt shocked.
Jun continued. “That era in Chinese history is commonly referred to as ‘the burning of books and the burying of scholars.’”
“One hesitates to inquire about that second phrase,” Griffin remarked dryly.
“Perhaps Rou should tell you what it means,” Jun hinted.
Rather than reply, the girl stuffed her mouth so full of noodles that no words could emerge. Chewing energetically, she shook her head.
Her grandfather sighed and resumed the story. “Many scholars criticized the burning of books, and this provoked the emperor to take action against them. According to legend, 460 Confucian scholars were buried alive in Xianyang City. It is very possible that the number has been exaggerated.”
“Still,” Cassie objected. “That’s a pretty horrible way to go.”
“And that was precisely the point,” Jun said. “An unpleasant death was the perfect way to discourage intellectual dissent. If even one scholar was buried alive, the others would think twice before spreading ideas than ran contrary to the imperial ideology.”
“The concept of ‘thought police’ is much older than I estimated,” the scrivener observed.
“I’m glad Rou brought up the subject,” Jun said. “It explains why we have lost so much of China’s matristic past. All the histories which documented the time of the Hongshan and other early cultures were destroyed during the Qin Dynasty purge. Even the two copies which would have been kept in the court library were lost to us in 206 BCE when the imperial palaces were burned by invading enemies. Now all tha
t remains are the myths of Nu Kwa.”
Taking another helping of sweet and sour cucumber salad, Cassied asked, “What’s a ‘Nu Kwa’?”
Rou giggled softly but offered no comment.
“Did I say something wrong?” Cassie gave the girl a curious glance.
Jun elaborated. “Rou is laughing because Nu Kwa isn’t an ‘it’ but a ‘she.’ There are many different pronunciations of her name. Nu Kwa. Nuwa. Nugua. But they all refer to the same being. A female divinity who created the cosmos. Later historians saddled her with a male consort—her brother Fuxi.”
Griffin raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Whenever we hear of brother-sister marriages, we’re usually dealing with a transition from matrism to patriarchy, both in mythology and in actual social practice. Your fable of Nu Kwa hints at a time when China was matrilineal.”
“Chinese names confirm that theory,” Jun agreed. “The lettering of the most ancient surnames all contain a female root character. This would indicate a time in China’s prehistory when lineage was traced through the mother’s side of the family.”
The trove keeper smiled self-consciously. “I seem to be straying from the topic. To return to the story of Nu Kwa. China’s mythical past begins millennia ago under the rulership of three successive sovereigns followed by five emperors. You must understand that the terms ‘sovereign’ and ‘emperor’ are honorary titles since imperial China didn’t exist until 221 BCE. The three sovereigns were: Nu Kwa—the Creator, Shen-Nung—the Divine Farmer, and Huang Di—the Yellow Emperor. Nu Kwa is the first, which makes her the primordial ancestress. As I said earlier, Chinese imperial historians married her to a brother-consort, but in the original myths, she reigned alone. Early records are vague on timing, but some say that Nu Kwa lived around 2900 BCE. That would make her contemporary with the Hongshan culture. In myths, she is often called the ‘snake goddess.’ The upper half of her body is human while the lower half is that of a snake.”
Griffin nodded sagely. “Women and snakes have been mythologically connected since the beginning of time. The python seer in Botswana, the West African goddess Mawu, the Egyptian cobra goddess Wadjet, the pythia at Delphi, the Medusa, Minoan snake handlers, even Voodoo queen Marie Laveau and her python.”
Arkana Archaeology Mystery Box Set 2 Page 35
