Mausoleum of Qin Shi Huang

Listen to the air inside the great hangar. It is hushed, but never silent. Shoes shuffle on the walkway. Voices drop to a murmur. Below the railing, the earth is the colour of old dust, a pale yellow-brown loess that settles on everything. And rising out of that earth, rank after rank, stand the soldiers. They face east. They have been waiting in this posture for more than two thousand years, and they are not finished waiting yet.

You are standing at the edge of one of the largest burial projects ever attempted by a single ruler. This is the mausoleum complex of Qin Shi Huang, the man who called himself the First Emperor of China. It lies outside Xi'an, in the Lintong district, at the foot of Mount Li. The warriors you see are only one part of the complex. The emperor himself lies under a great earthen mound a short distance to the west — and that mound has never been opened.

So who was he? Before him, the land we now call China was divided into rival kingdoms. They fought for centuries in a time historians call the Warring States period. The ruler of the state of Qin defeated the others one by one. In 221 BCE, he declared himself the first emperor of a unified realm. The name China itself is often linked to the name of his state, Qin, which is pronounced like the English word chin.

His reign was short, but it changed everything that came after. He standardised writing, so that people across his empire used one script. He standardised coins, weights, and measures. He even fixed the width of cart axles, so wagons could run in the same road ruts everywhere. He linked earlier defensive walls in the north, an early stage of what later became the Great Wall. He was also ruthless. Later historians remembered him for harsh laws and for the burning of books.

Work on this tomb began early in his rule and continued until his death in 210 BCE. The most famous written description comes from Sima Qian, a court historian who wrote about a century later. He described hundreds of thousands of labourers. He wrote of a tomb chamber with a map of the heavens on the ceiling and rivers of mercury flowing below. He also mentioned crossbows rigged to fire at intruders. No one can yet confirm the details — but here is the first surprise.

Scientists have tested the soil of the burial mound. Several studies reported mercury levels far higher than normal for the area. That does not prove Sima Qian's account. But it does suggest that his story may not be pure imagination. This is one of the reasons archaeologists have chosen to leave the emperor's chamber sealed. They worry about damage, about toxic metals, and about whether today's methods are good enough to protect what lies inside.

Now look back at the soldiers. Their story begins not with archaeologists, but with farmers. In 1974, local villagers were digging a well during a drought. Their tools struck fragments of baked clay — a head, pieces of a body. They had no idea what they had found. Specialists soon arrived, and over the following years three large pits were identified. The one in front of you, Pit 1, is the largest, with long earthen corridors packed with infantry.

Walk slowly along the railing and study the faces. Look at the moustaches, the beards, the shape of the eyebrows, the way the hair is tied in a knot. The figures were made in sections, using moulds for the basic forms. Then craftsmen added details by hand. The result is that no two faces seem quite alike. Some look stern. Some look tired. A few look almost amused. Rank shows too — in the hairstyles, the armour, and the height of the figures.

Here is the second surprise. These warriors were never meant to be this colour. Originally, they were painted in bright pigments — reds, greens, blues, purples, and pale skin tones. When the figures are exposed to air, that paint can curl and flake away within minutes. This is part of why excavation here moves so slowly. Conservators now work carefully to protect any colour they find, and in the museum you may see fragments where traces of the original paint still survive.

The soldiers once carried real weapons. Archaeologists recovered bronze arrowheads, spearheads, and swords from the pits. The wooden shafts and handles rotted long ago. Many figures were also found broken and toppled, with signs of burning in parts of the pits. A popular explanation links this damage to rebel forces after the dynasty collapsed, only a few years after the emperor's death. The roof beams that once covered the corridors collapsed too, crushing many of the figures beneath them.

At the back of Pit 1, you may notice an area that looks like a workshop. Warriors stand propped up or lie in pieces, some wrapped or tagged. This is where restorers fit fragments together, piece by piece, like enormous puzzles. In the smaller pits, you will find different units. Pit 2 holds archers, cavalry, and chariot troops, including a famous kneeling archer. Pit 3 is small and is often described as a command post for the whole army.

Do not leave without visiting the museum hall with the bronze chariots. They were found near the burial mound and are scaled-down models of carriages, each with a driver and a team of four horses. The metalwork is extraordinarily fine. Look at the thin bronze reins, the canopy, the small fittings. Beyond the warriors, excavations around the mound have found more pits, with figures of acrobats, officials, and armour made from stone plates. The whole site is like an underground court.

The complex became a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1987, and excavation continues today. When you go outside, look west towards the mound. It is covered in trees now and looks like a gentle green hill. In late summer and autumn, farmers nearby sell pomegranates, which grow well in this area. It is strange to stand among ordinary orchards and roadside stalls, knowing what may still lie in the earth beneath them.

Before you go, take one last look over the railing. Notice the dust on the walkway, the light falling through the high roof, the soldiers still facing east. They were made to guard one man forever. Instead, they now meet travellers from every part of the world. As you walk out, listen again to the voices around you — dozens of languages, all quiet in the same way. That hush may be the closest thing to the silence the emperor wanted.