The Three Evils

Once upon a time, in the old days, there lived a young man by the name of Dschou Tschu. He was of more than ordinary strength, and no one could withstand him. He was also wild and undisciplined, and wherever he was, quarrels and brawls arose. Yet the village elders never ventured to punish him seriously. He wore a high hat on his head, adorned with two pheasants’ wings. His garments were woven of embroidered silk, and at his side hung the Dragonspring sword. He was given to play and to drinking, and his hand was inclined to take that which belonged to others. Whoever offended him had reason to dread the consequences, and he always mixed into disputes in which others were engaged. Thus he kept it up for years, and was a pest throughout the neighborhood.

Then a new mandarin came to that district. When he had arrived, he first went quietly about the country and listened to the people’s complaints. And they told him that there were three great evils in that district.

Then he clothed himself in coarse garments, and wept before Dschou Tschu’s door. Dschou Tschu was just coming from the tavern, where he had been drinking. He was slapping his sword and singing in a loud voice.

When he reached his house he asked: “Who is weeping here so pitifully?”

And the mandarin replied: “I am weeping because of the people’s distress.”

Then Dschou Tschu saw him and broke out into loud laughter.

“You are mistaken, my friend,” said he. “Revolt is seething round about us like boiling water in a kettle. But here, in our little corner of the land, all is quiet and peaceful. The harvest has been abundant, corn is plentiful, and all go happily about their work. When you talk to me about distress I have to think of the man who groans without being sick. And who are you, tell me that, who instead of grieving for yourself, are grieving for others? And what are you doing before my door?”

“I am the new mandarin,” replied the other. “Since I left my litter I have been looking about in the neighborhood. I find the people are honest and simple in their way of life, and every one has sufficient to wear and to eat. This is all just as you state. Yet, strange to say, when the elders come together, they always sigh and complain. And if they are asked why, they answer: ‘There are three great evils in our district!’ I have come to ask you to do away with two of them, as to the third, perhaps I had better remain silent. And this is the reason I weep before your door.”

“Well, what are these evils?” answered Dschou Tschu. “Speak freely, and tell me openly all that you know!”

“The first evil,” said the mandarin, “is the evil dragon at the long bridge, who causes the water to rise so that man and beast are drowned in the river. The second evil is the tiger with the white forehead, who dwells in the hills. And the third evil, Dschou Tschu–is yourself!”

Then the blush of shame mounted to the man’s cheek, and he bowed and said: “You have come here from afar to be the mandarin of this district, and yet you feel such sympathy for the people? I was born in this place and yet I have only made our elders grieve. What sort of a creature must I be? I beg that you will return home again. I will see to it that matters improve!”

Then he ran without stopping to the hills, and hunted the tiger out of his cave. The latter leaped into the air so that the whole forest was shaken as though by a storm. Then he came rushing up, roaring, and stretching out his claws savagely to seize his enemy. Dschou Tschu stepped back a pace, and the tiger lit on the ground directly in front of him. Then he thrust the tiger’s neck to the ground with his left hand, and beat him without stopping with his right, until he lay dead on the earth. Dschou Tschu loaded the tiger on his back and went home.

Then he went to the long bridge. He undressed, took his sword in his hand, and thus dived into the water. No sooner had he disappeared, than there was a boiling and hissing, and the waves began to foam and billow. It sounded like the mad beating of thousands of hoofs. After a time a stream of blood shot up from the depths, and the water of the river turned red. Then Dschou Tschu, holding the dragon in his hand, rose out of the waves.

He went to the mandarin and reported, with a bow: “I have cut off the dragon’s head, and have also done away with the tiger. Thus I have happily accomplished your command. And now I shall wander away so that you may be rid of the third evil as well. Lord, watch over my country, and tell the elders that they need sorrow no more!”

When he had said this he enlisted as a soldier. In combat against the robbers he gained a great reputation and once, when the latter were pressing him hard, and he saw that he could not save himself, he bowed to the East and said: “The day has come at last when I can atone for my sin with my life!” Then he offered his neck to the sword and died.

Note: A legendary tale rather than a folk-story, with a fine moral.

LXII

Moral

A young man courageously confronts three moral evils within and beyond himself. His victory teaches that righteousness demands action, not silence.

Historical & Cultural Context

Chinese folk tales carry thousands of years of Confucian, Daoist and Buddhist moral thought, featuring dragons, immortals, filial sons, clever scholars and mountain-dwelling sages whose stories spread along the Silk Road and into East Asia.

The “three evils” trope draws from Buddhist teachings – greed, hatred and delusion (the three poisons) – and Confucian vices. This tale positions the protagonist as a moral hero who must act decisively against corruption. It reflects the Confucian ideal of the righteous warrior-scholar willing to sacrifice for justice. Drawing from Chinese moral literature and folktales, such narratives celebrate the individual who speaks truth to power. The protagonist’s courage embodies both Daoist non-action (wu wei) – acting from inner alignment rather than ego – and Confucian duty to correct wrong. Such stories emerged across centuries, reassuring common people that moral victory, though difficult, was possible.

Reflection & Discussion

1. What three evils does the protagonist face?
2. Why is it dangerous to stay silent about wrongdoing?
3. How does courage grow through facing fear?

Did You Know?

• Chinese folk tales date back over 4,000 years, making them among the oldest storytelling traditions in the world.
• Dragons in Chinese folklore are benevolent creatures associated with wisdom, power, and good fortune.
• The Chinese Zodiac, featuring twelve animals, originated from ancient folk tales about a great race organized by the Jade Emperor.

What This Tale Teaches Us Today

Old stories keep their power because their lessons never stop being useful. Here is how this one still applies:

• Reading folk tales aloud to children builds vocabulary, imagination, and a sense of cultural inheritance.
• Every folk tale is also a time machine – a small window into how our ancestors thought about the world.
• Shared stories are one of the strongest bonds within any community – families, cultures, or whole nations.

Why This Story Still Matters

The Three Evils joins a vast global library of folk tales that human beings have been telling one another for thousands of years. Every culture has produced its own stories, but the deepest themes – courage, kindness, cleverness, loyalty, the cost of greed – appear again and again in different clothes. Modern readers who spend time with folk tales inherit something precious: a sense that people have always wrestled with the same basic questions, and that good stories can still help us find good answers. That is why these tales persist. Each one is a small tool for living, handed down quietly through generations.

Cultural Context and Continuing Influence

Folk tales like this one survived for hundreds of years through oral storytelling before any scholar thought to write them down. Grandparents told them to grandchildren, travelers traded them along roads and rivers, and mothers repeated them to babies who would one day repeat them to their own children. Each small retelling sharpened the story, discarded unnecessary parts, and polished the essential lesson. That long process of refinement is why a good folk tale feels so weighty – it has been shaped by thousands of listeners across generations, each contributing something small to the story we read today.

Modern readers sometimes wonder whether folk tales are still relevant in an age of apps and smartphones. The answer is yes, perhaps more than ever. The technology changes, but the underlying questions – about kindness, courage, loyalty, greed, family, fear, love – do not. These are the same questions that children asked around a fire in ancient India, around a hearth in medieval Ireland, around a campfire in 19th-century Korea. And they are the same questions children ask their parents today, just phrased differently. That is why a family that reads folk tales together is doing real cultural and emotional work, not simply entertaining itself.

Why Children Still Love This Story

This tale has been shared for many, many years, and children all over the world still enjoy it today. That is because stories like this one do not grow old. The characters may wear different clothes than we do, and the world they live in may look different from ours, but the feelings inside the story are feelings we all know. We have all felt afraid. We have all been tricked. We have all had to think fast to solve a hard problem. When a story shows those feelings in a clear and honest way, it stays fresh no matter how much time passes.

Children also love this story because it feels fair. Bad choices lead to bad endings, and good choices lead to good endings. That is how children wish the real world worked, and in a folk tale it really does work that way. Every time you read the story, the clever helpers still win, the bullies still lose, and kindness still matters. That is a wonderful feeling, and it is one of the reasons we keep coming back to tales like this one.

There is one more reason this story stays alive. It is easy to remember and easy to share. You can tell it around a campfire, whisper it at bedtime, or read it aloud in a classroom. Some stories need a whole book to unfold, but this one fits neatly into a short visit. That is the quiet magic of folk tales – they travel lightly, and they travel far. A grandmother in one village can pass the tale to a child, and that child can pass it to a friend, and before long the story is living a whole new life in a brand-new place.

Talk About This Story

After you finish reading, try these questions with a friend or a family member. You can answer them in any order you like, and there are no wrong answers. The best answers are the ones that make you stop and think for a moment.

• Which character did you like the most, and why did you pick that one?
• Was there a moment when you wanted to shout a warning to someone in the story?
• If you had been inside the story, what would you have done in a different way?
• Have you ever seen something in real life that reminded you of this tale?
• What single word would you use to describe the lesson of the story?