I'm often fascinated by ancient tombs that have long since been robbed.
Walking through the messy robbery holes and stepping into the looted tombs, there are often only broken pottery fragments, messy loess, and a kind of silence that has been hollowed out by time and manpower. For many, this is the end of the story.
But I always feel that there may be another door hidden here.
The tomb robbers' iron drill once cut through a certain layer of history fiercely, grabbing all the "value" in their eyes, and then left with satisfaction. They took away gold, silver and jade, but they may never know that their fanatical digging just opened a glimmer of light for another, more distant and silent world.
Beneath the rammed earth where they stopped, deeper into what seemed to be raw soil, another tomb may have slept peacefully for centuries. When it was built, there may have been no trace of the later "prominent" tomb on the ground. Its owner has completely different beliefs, skills and imagination of eternity. The tombs of later generations were accidentally stacked on top of it, but instead it was covered with the strongest armor, allowing it to avoid all subsequent explorations and disasters targeting the "upper level".
Therefore, a deserted robbery cave, a scene that seems to be the end, may actually be the prologue of a legend in my eyes. That kind of "emptiness" is not nothingness, but like a carefully set up mystery. The "emptiness" of the upper tomb chamber and the unknown "fullness" of the lower chamber form a very tense historical overlay.
Exploring such a place is like resonating with two eras and two destinies.
