The Resilient Spirit of Shu

Lately, I've been pondering how the history of a certain emperor remarkably resembles the story of the Chongqing Dog. What could a dog possibly have in common with a ruler of an empire? Quite a lot, as it turns out. For starters: both are inextricably linked to the same region – Sichuan and Chongqing. These lands were known by their ancient names Shu and Ba, and in the time of our hero, the entire area was referred to as Yizhou.

Our emperor came from a humble family, distantly related to the main imperial lineage. Nevertheless, thanks to an extraordinary perseverance in pursuing his goal, countless setbacks, and even near complete annihilation, he achieved the objective he set in his youth. The values he upheld and strived to represent ensured that, even today, on the anniversary of his death in Baidi (now in Chongqing), incense is burned in his honor.

Allow me to take you on a quick journey through this remarkable tale of resilience, loyalty, tenacity, but also justice and care for common people. Can you guess who today's post will be about?

Humble Beginnings

In 161 CE, a boy was born into a poor family in present-day Zhuo County, Hebei Province. His father – a low-ranking official – died young. His mother supported the family by making and selling straw sandals and mats. This was hardly a noble life. Yet, there was something extraordinary about him: the boy was a distant descendant of the imperial Liu clan from the declining Han dynasty. The kinship was so remote that it brought neither wealth, nor power, nor titles – yet it instilled in him a sense of identity and purpose.

Even as a child, he had big dreams. Legend has it that one day he pointed to the crown of a mulberry tree and said he would one day ride in an imperial chariot with such a canopy. Everyone laughed – except his uncle, who believed in the boy and helped him pay for his education under the esteemed Confucian scholar, Lu Zhi. It was there that the boy internalized the ideals of loyalty, justice, and moral obligation – values that guided him throughout his life. But ideals alone aren't enough… Allow me to introduce you to Liu Bei.

Dark Times and the Mandate of Heaven

War, rebellion, and ambition were looming – ushering in one of the darkest eras in Chinese history. It is estimated that in the coming years, China's population plummeted by approximately 70%. Famine, wars, displacement, and disease claimed the lives of about 40 million people.

In 184 CE, when Liu Bei was just over 20 years old, a powerful rebellion erupted across China. A religious movement known as the Yellow Turban Rebellion – led by Taoist healers and mystics – flared up in northern China and quickly spread. Their leader, Zhang Jue, claimed that the Han dynasty had lost the Mandate of Heaven, the divine right to imperial rule. The poor starved, officials were corrupt, and official titles were sold for money. Desperate people joined the uprising en masse.

This was a colossal socio-economic revolt – and frankly, it had its justifications. People had suffered for too long, and Emperor Ling did nothing to improve their situation. Although the rebels had legitimate grievances, their methods were brutal, and the ensuing chaos threatened society as a whole. Liu Bei joined the government forces to suppress the rebellion – not to defend the corrupt court, but to restore order and gain recognition. With borrowed money, he managed to organize a small unit of volunteers who joined the Han army. Alongside him fought other ambitious individuals you might know:

• Cao Cao – a brilliant strategist and politician, who at the time was a cavalry captain in the imperial army.
• Yuan Shao – a politician from an aristocratic family, holding one of the most important positions at the imperial court at the time.

Each of them sought to make their mark in a world consumed by chaos.

The Fall of the Empire

Though the Yellow Turban Rebellion was suppressed, even greater chaos ensued instead of peace. The emperor died, and a brutal power struggle erupted at court. Eunuchs and generals murdered each other. Into this situation stepped Dong Zhuo – a ruthless warlord from the west. He marched into Luoyang, murdered the new emperor, placed his younger brother on the throne (as his puppet), and declared himself regent, ruling from behind the throne.

When he felt threatened, he burned the capital Luoyang, moved to Chang’an, and ruled by terrorizing society. Legend has it he enjoyed cooking opponents in oil. Liu Bei joined a coalition aimed at overthrowing Dong Zhuo, but the alliance crumbled due to mutual distrust. China shattered like a broken vase. Dong Zhuo was eventually betrayed and killed by his own ally – Lü Bu.

Meanwhile, Cao Cao, promoted after his successes in suppressing the rebellion (by 196 CE he was, among other things, Minister of Works), made a brilliant move: after Dong Zhuo's death, he took the young Emperor Xian under his "protection," bringing him to his capital in Xuchang. By controlling the emperor, he could "act in his name" – which gave him immense legitimacy and an advantage over other warlords.

And Liu Bei? He continued to wander the land, lost battles, often had nothing, shifted allegiances, and fought for survival alongside Yuan Shao, Cao Cao, or Liu Biao. Though he hit rock bottom multiple times, he never gave up.

The Peach Garden Oath

In these turbulent times, Liu Bei was not alone. He formed a blood brotherhood oath with two extraordinary commanders: Guan Yu and Zhang Fei.

Together, they became folk heroes, especially thanks to later literature. Although the Peach Garden Oath is a literary invention, their bond was real – according to the Records of the Three Kingdoms, they treated each other as their own limbs.

Liu Bei still believed in something greater: the restoration of the Han dynasty – not for himself, but in the name of justice. He had no land, no army – only an unyielding will. This will was destined to attract one of the greatest minds in Chinese history.

The Awakening of the Sleeping Dragon

At this point, Liu Bei had tried everything: fighting, fleeing, alliances – but he still had no true base. He remained an outsider. He had one more move. This move was a man.

Zhuge Liang was a recluse and a genius living in solitude. The local populace called him the “Sleeping Dragon” – a calm sage whose mind could change the fate of the world. Liu Bei didn't wait for the genius to appear. He visited his thatched cottage himself – three times. This event – known in later literature as the “Three Visits to the Thatched Cottage” – became a symbol of patience, humility, and respect for wisdom.

Zhuge Liang finally agreed. He was the missing piece in Liu Bei's puzzle, offering him brilliant strategy and a vision for success: unify the southwest, build a stable base in Sichuan, and restore order through a new state – Shu Han.

The Birth of Shu Han

According to Zhuge Liang’s plan, Liu Bei led a campaign into Yizhou (present-day Sichuan and Chongqing) – a fertile, mountainous region, relatively untouched by war. The opportunity presented itself – Liu Zhang, who governed this province, asked Liu Bei for support. When political tensions escalated, Liu Bei turned against his host and seized power by force. Betrayal? Perhaps. But in those times, it was a grim norm. Liu Bei believed that seizing Sichuan was necessary to restore peace and unify China under a revived Han dynasty.

Finally, he had his own kingdom – a real one. At the same time, China was already divided into three major powers. In 220 CE, after the death of Cao Cao, his son Cao Pi declared himself Emperor of Wei, formally ending the Han dynasty. In response, in 221 CE, Liu Bei declared himself Emperor of Shu Han. This was more than a title. It was a declaration: "We are the continuation of the Han dynasty. We are the moral heart of China." Meanwhile, in the southeast, Sun Quan also declared himself Emperor of Wu, forming the third of the Three Kingdoms.

Tragedy and Fall

In those times, dreams were a luxury that didn't last long. In 219 CE, Guan Yu was betrayed by Sun Quan's forces and killed. Liu Bei was devastated. Against Zhuge Liang’s advice, he launched a campaign of revenge against Sun Quan, who ruled the southeast. This was the beginning of the end.

Liu Bei lost the Battle of Yiling. Soon after, Zhang Fei was murdered by his own officers. The army was shattered. Liu Bei retreated to Baidicheng – sick and broken. In 223 CE, he died – entrusting the empire to his son, and the burden of its survival to Zhuge Liang.

Echoes of the Past

This is where Liu Bei's story ends – but his spirit lives on. Even in the Chongqing Dog.

This breed, originating from the very same region Liu Bei once ruled, is a symbol of survival. For centuries, Chongqing Dogs hunted in the mountains, lived closely with common people, and guarded their homes. Their character was shaped by the harsh conditions and tough life of Sichuan.

Much like Liu Bei, who despite countless failures and wanderings across the land never lost hope for the Han restoration, the Chongqing Dog survived the darkest times. After the Communist revolution, the breed nearly went extinct. Dogs were seen as a luxury – their ownership was banned, they were culled, almost forgotten. But – just like Liu Bei, who found refuge in Baidicheng after the Battle of Yiling to regroup – the Chongqing Dog survived in the remote corners of Sichuan, hiding in mountain villages, like a spark of hope in the darkness.

In the 1980s, times changed, and breeders could begin protecting what remained. Slowly, carefully, the breed began to revive – as a loyal, resilient companion, deeply rooted in history. This slow, tenacious rebuilding reflects Liu Bei's path, who step by step, despite lacking land and an army, gained trust and built his kingdom from scratch. Their loyalty, tenacity, and adaptability in difficult conditions are the qualities that ensured their survival – exactly as perseverance and fidelity to ideals allowed Liu Bei to achieve his goal, despite losing everything multiple times.

There's another interesting tidbit. Chen Shou, in his Records of the Three Kingdoms, mentions that Liu Bei loved dogs. Did a Chongqing Dog accompany him in Chengdu? We cannot rule it out, as the breed's history reaches even further back, to the time of the Han dynasty, from which Liu Bei himself originated.

My kennel's colors are crimson and white, which carry a double meaning. Beyond the obvious reference to the colors of Poland, the country where I run my kennel, these colors deeply symbolize the spirit of the Chongqing Dog and its historical connections. Crimson is a direct nod to the ancient symbolism of the Han – it's the color of fire (火), which represents energy, virtue, and the continuity of the dynasty. It's a color of strength and unyielding spirit, perfectly highlighting the Chongqing Dog's essence. White, though often associated with mourning in Chinese culture, in this context symbolizes purity of intention and a new beginning. It's like a blank canvas on which I want to write a new history for the Chongqing Dog, building it upon the foundations of ancient values and enduring resilience.

Crimson Dragons… of Shu

That's why my kennel's name includes “of Shu”. For me, the Chongqing Dog is more than just a dog – it’s a living history and the spirit of the past. These dogs hail from a land emperors dreamed of, where warriors fought, and legends live on. From a region that played a vital role in the unification of China by the Qin and Han dynasties.

The values represented by Shu Han – loyalty, courage, perseverance, and brotherhood – are the values I believe in and strive to pass on with every puppy born. In every Chongqing Dog, I see an echo of ancient heroes: they are loyal like Guan Yu, strong like Zhang Fei, wise like Zhuge Liang, and their unyielding will and return from the brink of extinction are the quintessence of Liu Bei's spirit.

Thank you for reading. If this story touched you, feel free to share it – or simply write to me to discuss the breed, its history, or what it means to bring something ancient into the modern world.