The Spy Who Built an Empire: The Origins of the Zheng Guo Canal

In 246 BCE, as the young King Ying Zheng of Qin (later the First Emperor of China) broke ground on his legendary mausoleum at Mount Li, another monumental project began—one that would transform China’s breadbasket. Korean hydraulics expert Zheng Guo arrived in Xianyang with a bold proposal: a 300-li (93-mile) canal diverting the Jing River to the Luo River, promising irrigation for 40,000 qing (≈460,000 acres) of farmland.

Unbeknownst to the 13-year-old king, Zheng was a spy sent by the rival state of Han. Their “Fatigue Qin” strategy aimed to exhaust Qin’s resources through massive infrastructure projects. When the ruse was exposed, Zheng famously argued: “Though I began as a spy, this canal will benefit Qin for millennia. I extended Han’s lifespan by years, but built Qin’s eternal advantage.” (Book of Han)

Wheat’s Journey East: A Agricultural Revolution Beneath the Surface

The canal’s completion after a decade of labor created a spiderweb of waterways across the Guanzhong Plain, but its secondary effect was more profound. The silt-laden Jing River waters fertilized saline-alkali soils, enabling an agricultural revolution. Among the beneficiaries was wheat—a crop with a telling linguistic history.

Oracle bone inscriptions reveal wheat’s foreign origins: the character 麦 (mài) incorporates 来 (lái, “to come”). Archaeological evidence traces wheat’s 4,000-year journey from Xinjiang’s Peacock River to the Central Plains. By the Western Zhou era (1046–771 BCE), wheat reached the Huai River basin, with the Han Dynasty agricultural manual Fàn Shèngzhī’s Book detailing winter and spring wheat cultivation techniques.

Murals in Xianyang depicting wheat ears suggest the crop’s cultural ascent. As one farmer explained: “Water conservation is everything—spring drought means disaster.” The Zheng Guo Canal turned this vulnerable crop into a staple, fueling Qin’s eventual unification of China.

The Dirt That Built an Empire: Xianyang’s Earthen Legacy

Modern Xianyang’s archaeological sites face a paradox. The very rammed earth (夯土) that formed Qin’s capital—a UNESCO World Heritage candidate—now hinders urban development. Covering 23 km² of protected land, these “useless dirt piles” spark tensions between preservationists and developers.

Similar conflicts plague other ancient capitals like Yinxu (home of oracle bones). Unlike the tourist-friendly Terracotta Army, unexcavated earthen foundations offer little immediate economic return. Proposed solutions include archaeological parks, aligning with ICOMOS’s Venice Charter emphasizing contextual preservation.

Living Beside Ghosts: When Modernity Meets Antiquity

Villagers near the site embody this clash. One farmer lamented, “Our village suffers—no new homes allowed,” while another boasted, “Our caves sit atop imperial palaces.” Their mixed pride and frustration mirror nationwide struggles with cultural heritage. Since 2010, relocations for the Xianyang National Archaeological Park have displaced generations, their sacrifices echoing Zheng Guo’s unintended legacy.

Silent Sentinels: What the Earth Still Holds

The full extent of Xianyang’s rammed earth foundations remains unknown. Yet these unassuming mounds—some revealing pigments from vanished murals, others preserving the earliest “gallery” (画廊) structures—whisper secrets of Qin’s architectural prowess. As archaeologists now leave their compounds to engage locals, a new chapter unfolds in reading China’s earthen archives.

In the end, the Zheng Guo Canal’s true victory wasn’t just watering wheat fields, but proving how even adversarial actions can seed civilizations. The oracle bones’ “wheat” character, once marking a foreign import, became a symbol of cultural synthesis—much like the spy’s canal that nourished an empire.