In the ancient days of the world, when the boundaries between the heavens and the earth were still fluid, a great disaster befell the Middle Kingdom. For generations, the land was submerged under a relentless deluge that transformed the fertile valleys into vast inland seas and the hills into lonely islands. The sky was a perpetual shroud of grey, and the roar of rushing water replaced the songs of the birds. This was the Great Flood, a time of liquid despair where the people lived in trees or atop mountain peaks, starving and cold. The reigning Emperor Yao looked upon his drowning empire with a heavy heart, seeking a man capable of ending the suffering. First, he called upon Gun, the father of Yu. Gun was a man of great ambition who sought to conquer the water through force. He stole the Xirang, the magical 'swelling earth' from the gods, which could grow on its own to form massive dikes. However, the more Gun built his dams, the higher the water rose, as if the rivers were mocking his arrogance. After nine years of failure, Gun was removed, and the task was passed to his son, Yu.
Yu was unlike his father. He was a man of quiet observation and iron will. He understood that to master the water, one must first understand its nature. Rather than blocking the flow, Yu proposed to guide it. He envisioned a system of great channels that would lead the floodwaters away from the plains and into the four seas. This task, however, was monumental. It required the reorganization of the entire landscape of China, cutting through mountains and dredging deep riverbeds. Before he began his work, Yu married a noble woman from the Tu Mountain, known as the Lady of Tu Mountain. They were deeply in love, but their happiness was brief. Only four days after their wedding ceremony, a messenger arrived with an urgent summons from the new Emperor Shun. The flood had breached another series of settlements, and the people were dying. Without hesitation, Yu bid his bride a tearful farewell, promising to return only when the land was dry. He did not know then that his mission would consume the next thirteen years of his life.
Yu traveled the length and breadth of the Nine Provinces, walking until the hair was worn off his shins and his skin was baked dark by the sun. He worked alongside the common laborers, his hands calloused and his clothes tattered. He carried his own tools and shared the meager rations of the workers. It was during these long years of toil that the legend of the three passes was born. The first pass occurred about a year after he had left his home. Yu and his team were surveying a new canal route that happened to lead directly past the village of the Lady of Tu Mountain. As he approached the gate of his own courtyard, he heard the sharp, rhythmic cries of a newborn baby. It was his son, Qi, whom he had never met. The sound of the infant's voice pierced Yu's heart with a longing so sharp it nearly brought him to his knees. His assistants urged him to stop, just for an hour, to see his wife and hold his child. Yu stood at the gate, his hand trembling on the wood. He looked back at the muddy, churning waters in the distance and thought of the thousands of families whose children had been lost to the waves. He realized that if he allowed himself the luxury of family now, his focus would waver. He withdrew his hand, wiped his eyes, and commanded his men to move forward. He did not enter.