History is weirdly circular. One minute you’re looking at a dusty anecdote from the Shishuo Xinyu (A New Account of Tales of the World), and the next, it's the hottest cinematic reference in Asia. Honestly, most people probably hadn't thought about Zhou Chu Chu San Hai since high school literature class until the 2023 film The Pig, the Snake and the Pigeon blew up. But the original story? It’s grittier than the movies. It’s a story about a guy who was basically the local "public enemy number one" and decided to fix his reputation by killing two monsters—only to realize he was actually the third one.
Who Was the Real Zhou Chu?
Zhou Chu wasn't just some mythical figure. He was a real guy from the Jin Dynasty. Imagine a dude with massive physical strength, a short temper, and zero regard for the law. That was him. He lived in Yangxian, and while he was young, he was a total menace. People in his village didn't just dislike him; they were terrified of him.
The "Three Evils" (San Hai) weren't just a metaphor back then. According to the legend, the first evil was a man-eating tiger on the mountain. The second was a flood dragon (a jiao) in the river. And the third? Well, that was Zhou Chu himself. The villagers, being clever and desperate, decided to play a trick. They told him, "Hey, you're so strong, why don't you go kill the tiger and the dragon?" They basically hoped all three would kill each other off. It was a win-win for the townspeople.
He went for it.
Zhou Chu hunted the tiger. He wrestled the dragon. The fight with the dragon supposedly lasted three days and three nights, drifting down the river for miles. When Zhou Chu didn't come back after three days, the village threw a party. They were celebrating his death. But then, he walked back into town, covered in blood and very much alive. Seeing his neighbors cheering over his "death" was the wake-up call. He realized he wasn't a hero; he was the monster they wanted gone.
The Psychology of the Third Evil
This is where the story gets nuanced. Most folk tales end with the monster dying. Here, the "monster" has to live with the realization of what he is. Zhou Chu didn't just get mad and kill everyone in the village for hating him. Instead, he felt a crushing sense of shame.
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He sought out Lu Ji and Lu Yun, two famous scholars of the time. He told them he wanted to change but felt it was too late because he was already older. Lu Yun’s advice is famous in Chinese history: "If a man learns the truth in the morning, he can die content in the evening." Basically, it’s never too late to stop being a jerk.
Zhou Chu actually did it. He reformed. He became a high-ranking official and eventually died in battle for his country. It’s one of the few historical "redemption arcs" that feels earned rather than forced. In modern pop culture, especially with the recent movie, we see this theme explored through the lens of modern crime. The movie The Pig, the Snake and the Pigeon uses the Buddhist concept of the "Three Poisons"—greed, anger, and ignorance—which are symbolized by the pigeon, the snake, and the pig.
- Greed (The Pigeon)
- Anger (The Snake)
- Ignorance (The Pig)
The protagonist in the film, Chen Kui-lin, mirrors Zhou Chu Chu San Hai by hunting down the top two fugitives on the most-wanted list, unaware (at first) that he is also on that list. It’s a brilliant way to flip an ancient story into a gritty, modern noir.
Why Does This Story Keep Coming Back?
We love a comeback. But more than that, we love seeing a bad person realize they are bad. There’s something deeply satisfying about self-awareness. In the original text of the Book of Jin, Zhou Chu’s transformation is treated as a massive civic victory. It wasn't just that the tiger and dragon were dead; it was that the social fabric of the town was repaired because its biggest threat became its biggest protector.
Many people get the "Three Evils" part wrong. They think it's just an action story. It's not. It’s a psychological study on reputation.
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Think about it. Zhou Chu had to "kill" his old self. That’s a lot harder than stabbing a dragon. The physical monsters were just a warm-up for the internal battle. When we look at modern adaptations, they focus on this specific irony: you can't clean up the world until you've cleaned up your own backyard.
The Historical Reality vs. The Legend
If you dig into the Jin Shu (The Official History of Jin), the details are a bit more grounded than the folklore versions.
- The Combat: Was there a literal dragon? Probably not. It was likely a large crocodile (the Yangtze alligator was much more common and dangerous back then).
- The Timeline: Zhou Chu’s reform wasn't an overnight switch. He spent years studying and rising through the ranks.
- The Death: He died in 297 AD. He was sent on a suicide mission by a superior who hated him. Even though he knew he wouldn't survive, he went anyway because his new sense of honor demanded it. He died fighting the Qiang people in northwestern China.
This adds a layer of tragedy to the Zhou Chu Chu San Hai narrative. He spent the rest of his life trying to outrun his past, only to be betrayed by the very system he tried to serve. It makes the story feel much more human and less like a fairy tale.
Actionable Takeaways from the Legend of Zhou Chu
If you're looking at this story and wondering what it actually means for us today, it’s about the "Three Poisons" mentioned earlier. You don't have to be a Jin Dynasty warlord to have "evils" to clear out.
Audit your own "Third Evil"
We are often the villains in someone else’s story without realizing it. Zhou Chu’s biggest shock wasn't the dragon; it was seeing his neighbors happy that he was dead. Take a look at your impact on the people around you. Are you the tiger, the dragon, or the guy everyone is secretly hoping doesn't show up to the party?
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Seek a "Lu Yun" figure
When Zhou Chu wanted to change, he didn't do it alone. He found mentors who were smarter than him. If you're trying to pivot your career or your personality, you need someone who can see the potential in you that you can't see yourself.
Accept that the past is heavy
Zhou Chu never fully escaped his reputation. Even when he was a "good guy," his past was used against him by his enemies. Redemption doesn't mean your past disappears; it means you've built something better on top of it.
Focus on the internal dragon
Killing the tiger was easy for Zhou Chu because he was strong. Changing his heart was hard because he was proud. Most of our modern "monsters" aren't external problems like a bad boss or a tough economy. They’re internal habits like ego or ignorance.
The story of Zhou Chu Chu San Hai stays relevant because it's the ultimate "it's not too late" narrative. Whether it’s a 5th-century scholar writing in a garden or a 21st-century director filming in a neon-lit city, the message is the same: the most dangerous monster is usually the one in the mirror, but that's also the only one you actually have the power to change.
To truly apply the lessons of Zhou Chu, start by identifying the one "evil" habit that most affects your immediate circle. Don't try to slay three dragons at once. Start with the self-awareness to admit you are part of the problem. Once that's done, find a mentor or a community that values the person you want to become, rather than the person you used to be. The transition from the "menace of Yangxian" to a respected hero didn't happen by accident; it happened through deliberate, painful self-correction.