Chengdu Audio Guide

Chapter 1 · Why Does an Imperial Temple Bear a Minister's Name?

Step through the gate of Wuhou Shrine and look up: four large gilded characters read Han Zhaolie Temple. The dignified script formally announces the site’s rightful occupant, Liu Bei, founding emperor of Shu Han. Yet for centuries, ordinary people have rarely called this place Zhaolie Temple. The name passed down by word of mouth has always been Wuhou Shrine. Emperor and minister share the shrine, but the minister’s name has eclipsed the emperor’s, something almost unheard of in Chinese architectural and historical convention. Shu Han was a very short-lived regime. From Liu Bei declaring himself emperor in AD 221 to his son Liu Shan surrendering to Wei in AD 263, it lasted just forty-two years. In a history full of dynasties that stretched for centuries, that span is almost nothing. By any ordinary logic, a small separatist state with such a short life should eventually have been worn away by time. Yet Shu Han somehow became an attachment in Chinese memory that people cannot let go of. People remember Shu Han for the loyalty and ideals associated with its rulers and ministers, rather than for the size or duration of the state. Most imperial temples from successive dynasties fell into ruin as regimes changed. This one alone is different: people have chosen to give their deepest respect to a minister. The plaque above the gate speaks of imperial legitimacy, but what ordinary people have kept alive is the bond between a lord and his minister through the ages.

Chapter 1 · Floods and a Decision Two Thousand Years Ago

Visitors to Dujiangyan today are often drawn to its green hills and clear water. But to understand this water project, go back to the 3rd century BC and the survival crisis people on this land faced. Back then, the Min River was fierce. It rises in the Min Mountains, and above the point where it leaves the mountains, the drop reaches several thousand meters. The river carried meltwater from the plateau, along with mud, sand, and boulders from collapses, and rushed south at high speed. When it hit the flat Chengdu Plain, its speed dropped sharply. Sediment and boulders settled in huge quantities, filling the riverbed and causing the river to shift course and breach its banks. Summer and autumn rains turned the plain into a vast inland sea; winter and spring drought left the land cracked and dry. 'Parched land for a thousand li in drought, a vast sea in flood' described the Chengdu Plain more than two thousand years ago. After Qin conquered Shu, King Zhaoxiang of Qin appointed Li Bing governor of Shu. Faced with a region battered by floods for centuries, Li Bing surveyed the terrain and water flow, then saw the fatal flaw in the traditional dam-and-block approach: a high dam at the mountain outlet would be filled by millions of tons of sediment the Min River carried each year, becoming rubble within a few years. Li Bing made a bold decision for his era: build no bricks or dams, avoid a head-on fight with the river, and instead use the terrain and principles of fluid mechanics to follow the water's nature and turn its force to your advantage. His systematic strategy was to divide the furious Min River in two, send one branch into the plain for irrigation, leave the other in the original channel to discharge floods, use the water's own energy to cast sediment aside, and strictly control the amount of water entering the plain. Today, Erwang Temple stands at the foot of Mount Yulei, built by later generations to honor Li Bing and his son. Ancient trees shade the temple, and its halls climb the mountainside. Carved into the stone walls are the six-character rule distilled from centuries of water management: 'Dig the channel deep, keep the weir low.' An eight-character maxim adds: 'Follow the flow and guide it; adapt to the season.' These plain words sum up the reason and ingenuity Li Bing showed in the face of natural disasters. He put his faith in observation rather than the gods, beginning a project that would protect the Chengdu Plain for more than two thousand years.

Chapter 1 · Superstars

In the northern outskirts of Chengdu, the Chengdu Research Base of Giant Panda Breeding is home to giant pandas, several of which have become well known online. Every morning, fans from across China and around the world line up outside the gates, carrying long lenses and competing for the best photo spots. Here you need no script or special effects to catch live eating shows, wrestling matches, and playful tantrums. In this top-of-the-line panda mansion, every panda has a distinct personality, and the four biggest panda stars turn daily life into a wildly entertaining variety show. First, meet the leading star: Hua Hua. Hua Hua is instantly recognizable: short body, short legs, no obvious neck, a round profile and soft, full facial features. Sitting still, she looks like a soft, triangular rice ball, making her one of the easiest pandas to identify online. As the base's top female star, she does not rely on tricks or stunts. Her gentle, comforting personality and heartwarming moments have won countless fans, making her a uniquely easygoing celebrity in the panda world. Hua Hua is naturally a little slow and gentle, and she moves, eats, and reacts more slowly than other cubs her age. Her early years produced many classic moments, the most famous being the repeated theft of her peeled bamboo shoots. She would carefully peel a shoot, only to have a companion snatch it away. She never fought back or got upset; she simply found another shoot and started peeling again. That gentle, forgiving manner comforted countless viewers. Hua Hua does not understand standard Mandarin, but she can accurately recognize Grandpa Tan's calls in Sichuan dialect. As soon as she hears the keeper's voice, she slowly looks up and walks over, obedient and endearingly clumsy. She was physically weak as a cub and developed slowly, but she kept eating well and growing steadily, with a gentle, resilient nature underneath. In daily life she is quiet and calm, not fond of climbing or roughhousing. Her gentle temperament has made her one of the base's most popular pandas.

Chapter 1 · White Lotus by the Stream

About twelve hundred years ago, by a tributary of Chengdu's Jin River, there lived an ordinary young woman named Ren. She supported her family by washing silk and cloth for others. In those chaotic times, when she saw displaced people with no one to turn to, or poor people cold and hungry, she could not help but offer them a flatbread or a helping hand. Over time, neighbors spoke highly of this Ren girl whenever her name came up. In a year of severe drought, a wandering monk came to the stream. The monk was covered with sores, his torn robe crusted with pus and blood, and he gave off a foul smell. Passersby covered their noses and walked around him. Only Ren did not avoid him. She walked up calmly, took the monk's filthy cloth robe, carried it to the stream, crouched down, and began scrubbing it. But the moment the dirty robe was fully submerged in the water, white lotus flowers suddenly appeared on the once-calm surface, and their fragrance drifted down the whole street on the breeze. The monk put his palms together, smiled at her faintly, then turned and disappeared into the crowd. From then on, the names Huanhua Stream and Baihua Pond spread throughout the Shu region, and the washerwoman's reputation reached the government offices. At that time, the Xichuan military governor stationed in Chengdu was traveling incognito to observe local conditions. When he heard about this common woman's goodness and reputation, he was moved. He prepared generous gifts, visited her home, and married her with great ceremony. After entering the governor's residence and becoming a high-ranking official's wife, Ren did not change at all. She still dressed plainly, treated the servants well, and often had the kitchen open its doors to give out porridge. She brought the warmth and humility of the street into the walled governor's mansion.

Chapter 1 · Fierce-Chase Bay: Who Is Chasing Whom?

In eastern Chengdu, below the 339 TV Tower, lies Fierce-Chase Bay. Visitors hearing the name for the first time often pause and wonder: who is chasing whom here? Behind the name are several old stories, some more dependable than others. Long ago, the Fu River bent sharply here, reed beds covered the mudflats, and nearby farmers often drove pigs there to graze. An older local nickname was Muzhuwan. It meant “Sow Bay.” In the local dialect, its sound was said to drift toward Mengzhuiwan, which means “Fierce-Chase Bay.” English can show the two meanings, but it cannot reproduce the sound that links them. So a folk habit reshaped the local name. Once the name became bold, legends attached themselves to it. According to one story, in the late Ming dynasty a military commander caused chaos in Chengdu, and warrior monks from Daci Temple took up staffs and chased the rebel troops all the way to this river bend. The story is entertaining, but historical records offer no evidence for it. Another, older explanation reaches back to the Tang dynasty. When the city was being built, the river took a sharp turn here. The current swirled and surged, with later waves pushing the earlier ones, as if they were chasing and tussling with one another. Today, the channel at Fierce-Chase Bay has been tamed into a calm stretch of water, and both banks are lined with people drinking tea and soaking up the sun. As for how the water once came to “chase fiercely,” or whether Zhang Xianzhong was really chased off by warrior monks, these are now part of local conversation.

Chapter 1 · Twin Stars of the Tang Dynasty

Ask any Chinese person who the greatest Tang poet was, and the answer is always two names: Li Bai and Du Fu. In the eighth century, the Tang Empire stood at the peak of wealth and power in East Asian civilization. In that glittering literary world, these two men were like twin stars in the sky. Yet they represented two completely opposite worlds. Li Bai was eleven years older than Du Fu. In his day, Li Bai was a superstar across the empire, dashing, wild, and famously devoted to wine, as if he always walked above the clouds. He wrote about the moon in the sky, immortals in the mountains, and strong wine that kept him clear-headed even after a thousand cups. For Li Bai, the real world was only a canvas for his imagination. He was a genius at writing about dreamscapes. Du Fu, by contrast, was a man with his feet planted firmly in the earth. While Li Bai looked up at the stars, Du Fu looked down at the human world. He wrote about wars that filled the sky, taxes that could never be lightened, abandoned farmland, and the faint struggles of ordinary people caught in the currents of history. He was a witness to everyday life. If Li Bai was the Tang Empire's most dazzling and dreamlike mirror, then Du Fu was the last conscience of that glorious age. The place where you are standing today is not some grand imperial palace, but a very simple thatched cottage. This was the last home that the poet who recorded the human world found for himself after surviving great calamities.

Chapter 1 · Cavalry from Afar

Today you might visit Kuanzhai Alley to have your ears cleaned and sip covered-bowl tea, watching visitors stroll past gray-brick and black-tile houses. It is hard to imagine that this ground was once the harshest, most forbidding military zone in Qing-era Chengdu. In 1718, to strengthen the southwestern frontier, the Qing court transferred 3,000 Manchu and Mongol Eight Banner troops from Jingzhou to Chengdu. To house the troops and their families, the court built a high-walled "city within a city" west of Chengdu's main city. It was called the Small City, or the Manchu City. The rules of the Small City were extremely strict. Manchu and Han were kept completely separate, and the area inside the walls belonged only to the Eight Banners. Any Han Chinese who entered without official business was punished by law. The city's layout had none of the relaxed, winding character of ordinary market alleys. It was arranged as a cold-weapons-era military formation. Changshun Street ran down the center as the main axis, with forty-two alleys extending symmetrically to the east and west. The grid was so precise that from above it looked like a giant centipede showing its dense legs. The court originally intended to plant these 3,000 elite troops deep in the southwest, keeping them sharp with bow and horse so they would act as an "iron nail" fixed in Sichuan. But the court underestimated the gentle softening power of Sichuan's waters and the quiet, slow influence of Chengdu's land. When these hard northern men, who drew bows on horseback and were used to the wind and frost of the northern frontier, first stepped into the Small City, they still carried the dust of campaigns and a fierce military edge. But they never imagined that from the moment they settled in Chengdu, a two-hundred-year "Chengdu-style taming" had already quietly begun.

Chapter 1 · A City of More Than Two Thousand Years

Archaeological surveys beneath Tianfu Square have found ancient roads, house foundations, wells, and bricks and tiles spanning more than two thousand years. Together they form a complete record of the city's growth, sealed deep underground. Most ancient cities in China have seen their urban core shift several times because of war and the passage of time. Chengdu is the exception. Since the city was founded around 221 BC, during the Qin and Han period, this spot has remained its urban center for more than two thousand years. The city was damaged by war and fire again and again, but after every destruction Chengdu's people refused to leave this land and always rebuilt in the same place. What stopped the city's ancient residents from moving away or clearing the rubble was not a refusal to change. They were limited by practical conditions. Removing construction debris on a large scale was slow, labor-intensive, and extremely expensive, so the most practical approach was to cover the ruins with earth, tamp it level, and build new ground on top. Old roadbeds were buried and raised, new roads were laid over them, and new houses rose on old foundations. Each rebuilding raised the surface a little higher. Over time, the remains of different dynasties settled and stacked up beneath the city. Today's flat, open Tianfu Square was once a broad body of water. Around AD 590, a local king in the Chengdu area dug earth here to build a city, and over time the work created the vast Mohe Pool. From the 7th century to the 13th century, this was Chengdu's premier leisure destination, where ordinary people boated on the water and writers gathered to compose poetry. In the 10th century, two later dynasties expanded the area into the royal Xuanhua Garden, a quiet garden reserved for the imperial family. After the dynasties changed, the royal garden gradually fell into neglect, and silt kept building up. As the city's population surged, residents kept filling the low-lying lake with earth to enlarge their homes and repair roads. Through hundreds of years of piecemeal changes, the famous lake was completely filled in. It became a thick layer of soil and now lies buried under the busy city.