Is this how you felt when you first encountered the Terracotta Army?

During peak season in Xi'an, on my first encounter with the Terracotta Army, I had some thoughts. Do you feel the same way? Outside the fences of Pit 1 at the Emperor Qinshihuang's Mausoleum Site Museum (Terracotta Army), the heatwave of the crowd pushed me forward. The gray pottery figure arrays were as silent as ever, but the phantom of war that had been in my mind was shattered by the reality of the crowd and distance. I suddenly realized that this dialogue across thousands of years was not on the same channel from the beginning. The Terracotta Army is the solidified glory in history textbooks and the vivid life under the movie lens. I thought seeing it with my own eyes would be as shocking as touching the pulse of history. But in reality, the moving heads and the cold guardrails stand in the way, the tour guide's voice is cut by the noise, and even the arm holding the camera is constantly pushed. The expressions of those pottery figures and the patterns of the armor became blurred symbols in a fleeting glance. I was like a reckless intruder, forcibly squeezing into a banquet that did not belong to me. In other exhibition halls, I finally saw the expressions of the kneeling archers and the delicate details of the bronze chariot, separated by the display cabinets. I suddenly understood that it was not that the Terracotta Army was not shocking enough, but that I was too arrogant, thinking that I could understand the weight they carried with imagination alone. These pottery figures are more than just clay soldiers. They are the epitome of the empire, the hard work of countless craftsmen, and the civilizational code that spans two thousand years. Behind them is Emperor Qinshihuang, whom I admire, but I came with only superficial expectations and noisy curiosity. After returning, I always think of those silent pottery figures. They stand in place, witnessing the rise and fall of the empire, experiencing the surprise when they were unearthed and the regret of fading, but always facing every passerby with the same posture. And I am just an ordinary one of thousands of tourists, leaving with unmet imagination. Perhaps next time I see them, I should stand in front of them with a richer understanding. The dialogue that was once blocked by distance and noise will suddenly open at some point. At that time, the Terracotta Army will no longer be a symbol in the imagination, but a truly vivid history. This late understanding makes me understand that some encounters require preparation, and some shocks are worth waiting for.