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At dawn, I always like to squat on the blue brick floor of the Terracotta Warriors and Horses restoration area, watching the sunlight slowly sweep across the faces of the terracotta warriors like an archaeological brush. That day, the restorer Lao Zhang suddenly handed me a bamboo stick: "Try it? The armor pattern of this kneeling archer still has the fingerprints of the craftsman two thousand years ago." The moment the tip of the bamboo stick touched the clay, I suddenly understood what it meant to "get in touch with history". The philosophy of time in mutton soup steamed buns Master Sun in Huimin Street always complained that the steamed buns broken by tourists looked like mahjong tiles. It was not until I took out the donkey rolls I brought from Beijing in exchange that he smiled and opened the copper pot: "Look, the steamed buns must be broken into the size of bees so that they can bloom in the mutton soup." When the amber soup soaked the steamed buns,...