HENAN, Central China — It was only mid-May, but the sun was beating down as Niu Shishan picked his way across a pockmarked field in the central Chinese city of Anyang.

Niu, a tall, bespectacled 57-year-old archaeologist, is used to the treacherous ground, but he kept his head down as he worked his way around the mounds of earth. Each tiny pile represented a shot in the dark: the remains of an exploratory dig for signs of China’s oldest archaeologically attested dynasty.

Beneath our feet lies Yinxu, the last capital of the Shang dynasty (c. 1600–1046 BC) and the holy land of Chinese archaeology. First excavated by Dong Zuobin in 1927, over the past century it has yielded a treasure trove of information on the origins of Chinese civilization, from thousands of oracle bone fragments to some of the best-preserved early tombs ever discovered on Chinese soil.

For the past two decades, Niu has been one of just a handful of archaeologists working in Anyang full time. Much of his time is spent organizing so-called “rescue excavations” conducted in advance of nearby urban development projects.

While such interventions may resemble emergency surgery — such as a recent rescue dig in the eastern Shandong province, where villagers uncovered a 5,000-year-old tomb — Niu’s work is not limited to crisis management.

Since 2021, he’s also been leading a far more ambitious project: mapping the roads that once connected Yinxu’s palaces and temples to the rest of the city.

Despite nearly a century of excavations, archaeologists believe only a tiny fraction of the Shang capital has been uncovered, in part due to the difficulty of identifying the city’s network of earthen roads, which are almost indistinguishable from the surrounding earth. Even the exact size of the city remains a topic of debate: The current protected area, outlined half a century ago, covers nearly 30 square kilometers, but recent findings suggest it may have been significantly larger.

Identifying these streets has become Niu’s specialty, and it was that skill that brought him out on a sweltering May day as his team crossed to the less-studied north side of the Huan River in search of roads connecting Yinxu’s palace and temple complex to the royal tombs. His search, which he would declare largely finished in June, potentially holds the key to the next century of Yinxu archaeology.

“When people hear that I’m an archaeologist, they often ask me what treasures I’ve unearthed,” Niu tells Sixth Tone. “But it’s not specific artifacts that hold the most value. Structures like canals and roads, which might seem uninteresting to most people, are actually of greater significance to us.”

Digging deep

In 1899, a Qing dynasty (1644–1911) official named Wang Yirong came across a curious traditional remedy known locally in Anyang as “dragon bones.” Before being crushed into a powder and added to various cures, the bones — typically turtle shells or ox bones — had strange markings, which Wang identified as a form of Chinese writing.

Wang’s mysterious discovery drew widespread attention to Anyang. Gradually, a mix of scholars and archaeologists, including Luo Zhenyu, Wang Guowei, Dong Zuobin, Li Ji, and Liang Siyong, unraveled the mystery of the bones and eventually identified their source as the Late Shang capital.

Over the next 100 years, archaeologists working in and around Anyang would produce some of the most spectacular finds anywhere in the country, including the tomb of the warrior queen Fu Hao — the first and so far only excavated Shang royal tomb to not have been looted by grave robbers — and the burial site of a Shang general.

In the early 20th century, their efforts were mostly focused on the palace and royal tombs, as archaeologists searched for artifacts like oracle bones and bronzes. Digs only expanded outward from the 1950s, as scholars gradually decoded the social structure of the Shang capital.

By the turn of the millennium, archaeologists and historians had reached a broad consensus that the Shang capital was organized around clan-based communities and were buried in familial units. In 2009, Tang Jigen, the then-head of the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences’ Anyang Work Station, expanded on this theory, arguing that the clan-based settlements were smaller and more numerous than had previously been believed, and that they had been connected to the palace and each other by a mix of roads and canals.

But plenty of questions remain. Part of the problem is that much of the site remains buried. According to He Yuling, Tang’s successor and the current head of the Anyang station, only 5% of the Yinxu site has been excavated to date.

“After generations of digs, we now have a clearer understanding of Yinxu’s layout,” He tells Sixth Tone. “But many fundamental questions remain unresolved, and solving one problem often raises new ones.”

Even seemingly basic questions, like how big Yinxu was, have no clear answer. In the 1960s, 29.47 square kilometers of land were designated as the Yinxu archaeological site, including a core protection zone of 14 square kilometers covering the palace and temple complex, the royal tombs, and the city. More recent finds have led archaeologists to call for an expansion, arguing that the city was at least 36 square kilometers, if not far larger.

To know for sure, however, will require a much greater understanding of the city’s infrastructure. “Every archaeologist dreams of uncovering every detail (of a given period), but that’s simply impossible,” He says. “Archaeology always prioritizes the study of the structure and layout of ancient sites.”

Royal roads

But in the case of the Shang, that’s easier said than done. Unlike most ancient cities, Yinxu did not have walls — given its highly militarized society and battlefield prowess, archaeologists have theorized that the Shang rulers saw no need for them.

Instead, archaeologists must look for other, less obvious markers, such as roads. That’s where Niu comes in. A graduate of the prestigious Peking University, he joined the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences’ Institute of Archaeology in 1993. After excavating a series of significant sites dating to the Shang and Zhou (1046–256 BC) dynasties, he was reassigned to Yinxu in 2005.

Over the past 20 years, China has invested heavily in archaeology, leveraging new technologies to better understand and classify its past. But much of the frontline work is still conducted the old-fashioned way, using a wide range of traditional yet effective tools like the Luoyang shovel to probe key areas in advance of digs.

Originally invented by grave robbers, the Luoyang shovel is perhaps the quintessential tool of Chinese archaeology. Consisting of a semi-cylindrical iron tool attached to a wooden or bamboo handle, it penetrates over a meter into the soil and captures a sample that can be brought up to the surface. Experienced pros like Niu can tell at a glance whether the resulting earth is “dead” — that is, undisturbed by human activity — or “live” soil, and whether further investigation is needed.

According to Niu, black soil might indicate decomposed ancient coffins, while green soil is likely oxidized fragments from buried bronze or iron artifacts. Ash pits often point to home stoves, and compact rammed earth might signify ancient walls or platforms.

Roads are trickier, however. Niu prefers a hands-on approach. “Due to long-term vehicle and foot traffic, the topsoil of the road is compacted, forming a hard surface with thin, stratified layers,” Niu says.

“It’s like a mille-feuille pastry,” he notes. Sensing that the analogy may not have landed, he adds: “You have to get your hands on it. That’s how you learn to feel it out.”

Since the 1990s, when archaeologists first identified the traces of streets at Yinxu, three types of roads have been discovered at the site. The main roads can exceed 10 meters in width, while medium-sized roads are about seven meters wide, and the narrowest are between three and four meters.

But the streets discovered to date are all concentrated on the south bank of the Huan River, within the palace and temple complex. Niu believes that similar finds can be made on the north bank, where the tombs and city center were located.

If they can be identified, the roads will point the way to potential digs outside the royal complex — an area that remains a relative mystery to archaeologists.

“Just like today, roads were crucial to a city in ancient times,” Niu says. “Only by identifying the roads can we determine the extent of the royal tomb area and, in turn, understand the urban planning and zoning of the late Shang capital on the north bank of the Huan.”

Buried horsepower

But roads are just one part of understanding Yinxu. They didn’t just connect the city, they also supported military movements. While Niu uncovers Yinxu’s layout, across the river, 63-year-old Li Cunxin is tackling a different mystery: the origin of the Chinese chariot, one of the Shang dynasty’s most powerful weapons.

On April 13, 1935, less than a decade after excavations began at Yinxu, archaeologist Gao Quxun made an unusual discovery in a pit designated M20: a faint, bright red streak in the soil. Further digging revealed the remains of four horses and three humans, alongside scattered bronze ornaments and weapons.

The red streak turned out to be the remnants of lacquer that had once coated a chariot’s wooden frame. Though the wood had long since decomposed, the lacquer had preserved its outline, giving archaeologists their first glimpse of a chariot pit at Yinxu.

Li Ji, the leader of the Yinxu archaeological team at the time, later remarked, “Regardless of the outcome, the excavation and study of M20 is a historical milestone; it marks the beginning of research into wheeled vehicles in ancient China.”

Gao’s find was groundbreaking in other ways. Chariots seemed to arrive in China out of thin air. Prior to the late Shang, China had almost no wheeled vehicles. But after about 1250 BC, chariots suddenly appear in the archaeological record, fully formed and remarkably sophisticated.

The impact of these weapons on the battlefield can be likened to that of the tank in 20th century warfare, allowing their riders to smash through enemy infantry and turn battles into one-sided massacres. That the earliest military chariots found in China are concentrated in and around Yinxu helps explain the dynasty’s resurgence during the Late Shang, which came after a period of decline.

Less clear is how this happened. While a handful of Chinese scholars argue for a native origin, the current consensus is that the vehicles arrived in China via the Eurasian steppe, possibly via a trade route through what is today Chifeng, in the Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region.

Crucial to this consensus have been advances in archaeologists’ ability to extract and reconstruct chariots from little more than earth.

In Gao’s day, this was all but impossible. Wood decomposes quickly in soil, leaving little to be salvaged. It wasn’t until the 1950s that an excavation team, led by the famed archaeologist Xia Nai, reported the first successful recovery of an ancient chariot from the Warring States period (475–221 BC), centuries after the fall of the Shang.

Recovering the far older chariots buried at Yinxu would remain exceedingly difficult until the 1990s, when new techniques simplified the process. To date, nearly 90 chariot pits have been excavated at Yinxu, many of them by Li Cunxin.

Li, who is not related to Li Ji, comes from a radically different background from the Peking University-educated Niu. An Anyang native who never attended college, he got his start as a porter. He caught a break when, in 1976, Zheng Zhenxiang urgently needed manpower to excavate the tomb of Fu Hao, the Shang warrior queen.

The then-15-year-old Li volunteered, and quickly distinguished himself. In 1977, he officially joined the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences’ Institute of Archaeology, and today he is one of China’s top experts in preservation and soil analysis. Renowned artifacts such as a turquoise dragon-shaped piece from Erlitou, in present-day Henan province; the bronze masks found at Sanxingdui, outside of the Sichuan capital Chengdu; and lacquerware from the Haihunhou Tomb, in Jiangxi province, have all passed through his Beijing lab.

But his greatest expertise may lie in chariot pits. For all the technological advances of the past few decades, the excavation process remains slow and dependent on manual labor.

According to Li, the process starts when archaeologists identify the telltale color of decomposed wood and lacquer in the soil. “Next, we dig trenches around the remains, looking for the ends of the shafts and axles, which often contain hard-to-detect copper components,” he says. “Once we locate the shafts and axles, we trace them to find the yoke and wheel hubs, and then clear out the wheels, carriage bodies, horse frames, and poles. The final step is to rebuild the chariot using the original soil from the burial site.”

“The entire process can take two or more months,” he adds.

The results are often worth the wait. Shang chariots were stunning displays of the dynasty’s power, measuring nearly four meters long and three meters wide, most are adorned with exquisite patterns meant to reflect their owners’ wealth and status.

That beauty masks their violent purpose. Although archaeologists have uncovered some cargo and ceremonial vehicles, the vast majority found to date were weapons of war.

As for their origin, Li seems uninterested in the debate. “We field workers do not engage in academic disputes,” he tells Sixth Tone. “But the more meticulously we approach our work, the more detailed information and materials experts will have.”

A stroke of luck

Even with a structured approach, however, some discoveries still come by chance. In late July 2021, Anyang experienced several days of unusually heavy rain — part of the same deadly deluge that flooded the provincial capital of Zhengzhou. The rains soaked the soil and made the layers more distinct, allowing Niu’s team to discover an unusual trench in the eastern part of the royal tomb area, north of the river. They soon excavated a trench running over 200 meters north to south. In March of the following year, they discovered another trench, this one 40 meters west of the first.

These two trenches expanded the known area of the royal tombs from over 100,000 square meters to 160,000 square meters. In the newly added area, archaeologists have already found over 460 sacrificial pits and relics.

The current evidence points to the two trenches being royal moats, separating the sacred from the mundane — a major discovery that hints at just how many secrets remain buried in Yinxu’s earth.

“Successful archaeology requires the right timing, location, and people,” Niu says. “And serendipity.”

(Header image: Exhibits at Yinxu Museum, Anyang, Henan province, May 2024. Wu Huiyuan/Sixth Tone)