"H-H-HOW CAN YOU T-T-TALK?" MING stammered.
"Don't be afraid. I know how you feel." The terra-cotta head's now flat and unhurried voice made him sound like one of the old men at the teahouse about to tell a suspenseful tale.
"How could you know how I feel? You're-you're made of clay," Ming protested, trying to smooth the fear out of his voice.
"I used to be a human like you, though not as thin and brittle." The head paused and sniffed derisively. "As you can see, I was better built."
"Better built? I bet if you had grown up on nothing but buckwheat noodles and old cabbage, you'd have turned out differently," Ming replied bitterly.
The head glanced at the chipped bowl sitting on the end of the desk. A few strands of thin noodles clung wetly to the edge.
"Is that what you are eating? Hmmph. My mother cooked the best noodles! That is probably why I was much taller and stronger than the other boys my age."
Ming wanted to say that his mother used to cook him all kinds of delicious food, but the head didn't give him a chance.
"I heard those men call you Ming. My parents named me Stone, Shí, 石!"
"They called you Stone? Why not Mud?"
Shí gazed balefully at Ming. "Don't you know that unattractive names were given to children so ghosts would not steal them? Besides, my name was prophetic. Here I am, strong as a rock!" The head wiggled from side to side.
Shí's sarcasm and good-natured taunts reminded Ming of his friends in Xi'an.
"You must have a pretty generous definition of 'strong.'" Ming tilted his head at the broken terra-cotta pieces.
Shí grinned. "I'd like to see how you would look after being buried for two thousand years!"
"Two thousand years!" Ming's face lit up with excitement. "What were you doing down there all that time?"
"I'm a brave soldier in the army that protects Emperor Qin Shi Huang's mausoleum!" Shí grinned proudly.
"Army? How many of you are there?" Ming's heart pounded.
"Thousands! But I can't tell you the exact number," Shí said guardedly.
"My bā ba was a history professor. He knows all of Emperor Qin Shi Huang's secrets!" Ming retorted.
"What's a professor?"
"A teacher. He used to teach at the best university in Xi'an."
"Xi'an? Where is that?"
"Do you know of Xi'anyang?"
"Of course! That's where Emperor Qin's capital was."
"Well, they call it Xi'an now."
"Hmm… that's far away. How did you end up here?"
"It's a long story." Ming sighed. "Our leader, Chairman Mao, favors the peasants and workers who supported him, but he dislikes the educated men and women-the 'intellectuals.' My bā ba wasn't very enthusiastic about Mao's policies, so the government sent our family here to be 'reeducated' by peasants."
"Emperor Qin did not trust scholars, either!"
"I've read that he burned some of them to death." Ming picked up a book from a stack on the desk. "My bā ba has a lot of books on Emperor Qin, and I have read them all. I know exactly how Qin became the first Emperor of China, Zhōng Gúo, 中国." He held the book up in front of the head. "It's all in here!"
Shí stared blankly at the brown cover.
"Wait… can you read?" Ming asked suspiciously, pointing at the characters History of Qin, Qín Shi, 秦史.
"Reading and writing is for scholars and merchants." Shí sounded embarrassed. He paused and said haughtily, "I doubt that book can tell you the whole story, as I can. I was there! You may be smart, but apparently not smart enough to keep from interrupting me."
"Sorry! Please go on." Ming leaned back in his chair, grinning with excitement.