Liu Bei is not the most brilliant strategist, nor the fiercest warrior, nor the most cunning politician of the Three Kingdoms. Yet across centuries – through both historical records like Chen Shou’s Records of the Three Kingdoms (Sanguozhi) and the romanticized drama of Luo Guanzhong’s Romance of the Three Kingdoms – he remains the figure with whom ordinary people most deeply identify.
His life was not a saga of effortless triumph, but a relentless cycle of failure, flight, and fragile hope – mirroring the struggles of countless individuals who dream big yet face daily setbacks. In Liu Bei, we see ourselves: under-resourced, underestimated, perpetually on the run – but never truly broken. His greatness lies not in invincibility, but in perseverance against impossible odds, making him the ultimate everyman hero of Chinese history.
A lifetime of defeats
Liu Bei’s early career reads like a catalog of disasters:
- He nearly died fighting Zhang Chun’s rebellion, earning only the minor post of Magistrate of Anxi.
- After modest success against the Yellow Turbans, he became County Chief of Gaotang – only to be routed by rebel forces and forced to seek refuge with Gongsun Zan.
- When he answered Tao Qian’s call to resist Cao Cao, he was swiftly defeated – saved only by Cao Cao’s sudden retreat due to unrest in his rear.
- After inheriting Xuzhou upon Tao Qian’s death, Yuan Shu attacked, and while Liu Bei fought him off, Lü Bu seized Xuzhou from behind.
- Defeated again and again – by Yuan Shu at Guangling, by Lü Bu at Xiapi – he was reduced to submitting as a vassal to his former betrayer.
- Even after briefly regaining strength, he was driven out by Lü Bu once more, fleeing to Cao Cao.
Before the Battle of Guandu, Liu Bei tried to reclaim Xuzhou under the guise of blocking Yuan Shu – but when Cao Cao came in person, Liu Bei fled without a fight, seeking shelter with Yuan Shao. There, he suffered yet another defeat alongside Wen Chou at Yanjin.
He then bounced between Runan, allying with bandits like Liu Pi, launching guerrilla raids on Cao Cao’s rear – only to be crushed repeatedly by Cao Ren. Each time, he retreated, regrouped, and tried again. Occasionally, he won small victories – like defeating Cai Yang – but whenever Cao Cao turned his full attention, Liu Bei ran.
Even at Bowang Slope, his famous ambush of Xiahou Dun was a tactical skirmish, not a strategic turning point. And at Changban (Dangyang), his army was annihilated by Cao Cao’s elite Tiger and Leopard Cavalry, forcing him to flee to Xiakou with barely his life.
By age 50, Liu Bei had spent decades losing battles, changing patrons, and clinging to survival. Only after the Battle of Red Cliffs did fortune finally smile: he seized four southern Jing Province commanderies and borrowed Nan Commandery from Sun Quan – establishing his first real base.
The ordinary man in an age of titans
What makes Liu Bei so relatable is precisely what made him weak by the standards of his era:
- No elite pedigree: Though descended from the Han imperial clan, his family was impoverished and obscure. His father died young; he grew up selling straw sandals with his mother.
- No political upbringing: Unlike Cao Cao, who absorbed statecraft from childhood, Liu Bei had no exposure to governance or grand strategy.
- No military genius: He lacked Cao Cao’s tactical brilliance or Lu Xun’s strategic foresight. He couldn’t even conceive of policies like tuntian (military-agricultural colonies) or merit-based recruitment.
- No superhuman prowess: He wasn’t a warrior like Lü Bu or Sun Jian, nor did he have a heroic elder brother like Sun Ce to pave his way.
- No clear master plan: He operated reactively – grabbing a city when he could, fleeing when overwhelmed, seeking a patron when desperate.
In short, Liu Bei was ordinary – in talent, resources, and planning. And that is why we love him.
The triumph of the underdog
In an era dominated by hereditary aristocrats and powerful clans, Liu Bei rose not through birthright, but through character, loyalty, and sheer stubbornness. He gathered around him not just elite scholars like Zhuge Liang, but also commoners, outlaws, and loyal friends – men like Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, Zhao Yun, who followed him not for profit, but for principle.
He proved that virtue, empathy, and perseverance could rival raw power. While Cao Cao declared, “I would rather betray the world than let the world betray me,” Liu Bei lived by a different creed: “I will not abandon those who follow me.”
His eventual founding of Shu Han – a state carved from adversity – was not the work of a prodigy, but of a man who kept getting up after every fall. At 47, he still had no territory. At 50, he gained his first foothold. At 60, he declared himself emperor.
Liu Bei and us: The modern parallel
Today, millions live like Liu Bei:
- Working jobs that barely cover rent,
- Dreaming of starting a business but lacking capital,
- Watching others succeed while they struggle to stay afloat.
Yet like Liu Bei, they refuse to quit. They endure layoffs, failed ventures, broken relationships – and still show up the next day.
- Liu Bei’s legacy isn’t victory. It’s resilience.
- He didn’t win because he was strong – he won because he never stopped trying.
And in that, he remains the most human of all Three Kingdoms heroes.
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