《洞灵真经[注](何璨)》

His mind and spirit attained a state of emptiness, clarity, and desirelessness, while his De (Virtue) reached into the subtle mysteries. His influence harmonized with the workings of the four seasons, and the people were naturally transformed by it.

Kangcangzi lived south of Mount Yu, a legendary mountain of antiquity, for three years. No epidemic or illness afflicted the region, and the grain harvest was abundant year after year.

The local people spoke among themselves: “When Kangcangzi first arrived, we thought he was extraordinary. But looking at him from day to day, we can see no apparent change. Over the course of a year, though, the harvest has been plentiful. Perhaps he really is a sage!”

A person’s sagehood can be measured by the benefits he brings to the people. That is why people suspect he is a sage.

I remain detached and content with myself, without setting my mind on pleasing the world.

What I do each day seems to achieve little, yet over the course of a year there is still something to spare. Could I, too, count as a sage?

A person’s sagehood can be measured by the benefits he brings to the people. That is why people suspect he is a sage.

Since everyone has received so many kindnesses from him, why not unite in acclaiming him as ruler, establish an ancestral temple and an altar to the soil and grain gods, and worship him with the rites of the ritual impersonator and sacrificial prayers? Why not have him sit facing south and honor him as they would a ruler?

Kangcangzi heard this and looked displeased. His disciple Yanchuo was standing beside him, so he spoke up to urge him.

Yanchuo was Kangcangzi’s disciple. Wanting to go along with everyone’s wishes, he joined them in urging Kangcangzi.

Kangcangzi said, “I have heard that the Perfected One, whose cultivation has reached the highest state, lives quietly in a narrow room, like a ritual impersonator, without making a display or taking action. Yet the people admire him and come to follow him in great numbers. Why they follow him, even they cannot say.

“Now ordinary people in the villages are privately discussing how to honor me with ritual vessels. Am I someone for people to gaze at and celebrate?

“So I have listened to Lao Dan (Laozi), but I cannot feel at ease.

“Lao Dan said, ‘When I practice Wuwei (non-action), the people transform themselves. When I do not interfere recklessly, the people become prosperous on their own. When I cherish stillness, the people naturally become upright.’ Now people want to honor me in this way. It is the very opposite of Lao Dan’s words, and so I cannot feel at ease.”

Yanchuo said, “Perhaps things are not quite as you think…”

“Not so” means “it is not like that.”

“A muddy pool of ordinary depth cannot give a great fish room to stretch its body, but it can let small fish such as salamanders and loaches move about freely. A small hillock one or two zhang high cannot shelter a great beast, but it can become a place where foxes work their mischief…”

Eight chi make one xun, and two xun make one chang. “Pool” refers to a pond. “Return” means to turn back or go back and forth. A salamander is a small fish with legs. “Control” carries the sense of claiming exclusive possession. Six chi make one bu, and seven chi make one ren. “Wash away” means to remove or cleanse. Several characters in the original passage are corrupted. According to the general sense of the commentaries, a puddle is too small to hold a large fish, and a low hill cannot shelter a great beast. This is a metaphor: Kangcangzi’s virtue was so lofty that he deserved generous emoluments.

Moreover, honoring the worthy, employing the able, pursuing goodness, and seeking what benefits oneself have been customary since the time of Yao and Shun. How much more so among people in the present age! Sir, please listen to me. Kangcangzi said, “Ah, come here.”

“Ah” is an exclamation of sighing. Seeing that the other person had not understood his intention, Kangcangzi sighed. Since he was about to explain profound principles, he also called the other person over to listen.

Did those two—Yao and Shun—really understand these principles?

“Those two” refers to Yao and Shun. The phrase “did they understand?” is rhetorical and means, “Could they possibly have understood?”

A fierce beast large enough to fill a cart, if it leaves the forest alone, will fall into a net. A great fish capable of swallowing a boat, once it leaves the water, will be troubled by ants. Thus birds and beasts always seek high places to dwell, while fish and turtles always seek deep water. Those who wish to preserve their lives should likewise choose secluded and remote places in which to hide.

“Fill” means to occupy completely; “alone” conveys the sense of being by oneself; “far” means deep and remote.

I tell you, the source of great disorder lies in the abdication from Yao to Shun. Its calamities will continue for a thousand generations. After a thousand generations, people will surely eat one another.

“You” simply means “you.” Events often succeed at first and fail later; they begin auspiciously and end in danger. How can one be certain that things must turn out a particular way? Although Yao and Shun’s abdication won them a good reputation for a time, the story was passed down to later generations and ultimately gave rise to the calamities of usurpation and regicide. As the Zhuangzi says: “Yao and Shun abdicated and became emperors, while Zizhi’s abdication brought the state of Yan to ruin. Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou seized the realm and became kings, while Bai Gong’s bid for power ended in his destruction.” This is precisely the evidence. Only by refusing to establish a reputation for goodness can one avoid leaving behind deeds for later generations to imitate and admire.

King Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou seized the realm through contention and became rulers. Bai Gong, too, tried to achieve his aims through contention, but in the end he was defeated and destroyed. Are these not examples? Only those who do not deliberately establish a reputation for goodness leave deeds that fade from memory, no longer becoming objects of admiration and pursuit.

Rong Zhi Chu heard these words, drew his knees together, sat upright with a solemn expression, and said, “I am already very old. What should I take as my guiding principle for how I live and act from now on?”

Rong Zhi Chu here is Nan Rong Chu, as he is called in the Zhuangzi. On hearing profound teachings, he grew solemn, drew his knees in, and sat on his mat, hoping to receive instruction so that he could follow these words with reverence.

Kang Cangzi said, “Preserve your body and nourish your life. Do not let your thoughts turn ceaselessly. If you can keep this up into old age, perhaps you will grasp the teaching I have just given.”

“Restless activity” means ceaseless movement and turning; “the years of life” refers to one’s entire life, or old age. Preserve the body and nourish life; let thought fall quiet and the mind become empty and settled. Then the Dao can abide naturally. If you can live this way throughout your years, you may grasp these words.

“Even so, my abilities are limited, and I am not fit to teach you. Why not travel south and pay a visit to my teacher, Dan?” Dan was Laozi’s personal name.

After seeing Rong Zhi Chu off, Kang Cangzi ceased to be bound by worldly conventions. He withdrew from the world and moved about like a dragon, changing without pattern and advancing or retreating with the times.

Water is clear by nature, but when stirred up by earth it becomes muddy and can no longer remain clear. Human nature aspires to longevity, but when disturbed by external things, it cannot enjoy the full span of life.

“Disturbed” means thrown into disorder. People are naturally capable of long life, but interference from external things prevents them from reaching the natural end of their years.

External things are meant to sustain life. Yet people confused by the world today spend their lives pursuing external things instead. They do not understand what is weighty and what is light.

External things such as clothing and food sustain life, and we cannot go even a day without them. Yet some people damage their lives in pursuit of external things. The more they accumulate, the greater the harm to their lives. They do not understand that life is precious and external things are of little worth; they have completely reversed the order of importance.

Thus, when the sage encounters sounds, colors, and delicious foods, he takes what benefits his nature and rejects what harms it. This is the way to preserve one’s nature. When many people draw their bows and shoot at the same target, no target escapes being struck. The myriad things, swirling and restless, all assail a person’s life; no life escapes injury.

The sage governs the myriad things in order to preserve the nature proper to each of them. He does not let external things damage their nature, so that their innate simplicity may be kept intact.

When nature is preserved, the spirit is whole as well. A person whose spirit is whole can understand without thinking and respond aptly without planning. Their keen insight has no bounds, their will is gathered between Heaven and Earth, and their De (Virtue/Power) covers and supports all things, like Heaven above and Earth below. Such a person, when exalted as Son of Heaven, is not arrogant; when lowered to the rank of a commoner, is not confused. This is what it means to preserve the Great Dao.

To keep the mind balanced and unmoved by external things is called “clarity.” If clarity endures, it becomes illumination; if illumination endures, it becomes emptiness. When the mind is empty and free of obstruction, the Dao can remain complete within it.

When Qin Yi, an ancient man of the Dao who was said to be a friend of Laozi, died, Kangcangzi, a Daoist figure, wept for him. His disciples asked, “Everyone in the world dies. Why do you weep, Master?”

Kangcangzi replied, “Everyone in the world is weeping. How could I not?”

Crying in response to the way things are, one may weep without truly feeling grief.

Kangcangzi’s attendant asked, “Those who weep must feel sorrow in their hearts, yet you seem never to grieve. Why is that?”

“Never” means not once. People in the world often feel sorrow when they weep. But you have wept without showing any grief. I venture to ask why.

Kangcangzi said, “Looking across all under Heaven, there is nothing with which I can share joy. So where would I find sorrow?”

Where there is joy, there is sorrow; this is ordinary human nature. The person who has attained understanding views all things with a broad perspective and makes no distinction between those near and those far. Since they do not rejoice together with all things, nothing can make them grieve.

Earth transforms and becomes water; water transforms and becomes Qi; Qi transforms and becomes emptiness; emptiness transforms and becomes the Dao. Here, “transform” means to shed one form and become another: shedding the form of earth to become water, shedding the form of water to become Qi, shedding the form of Qi to become emptiness, and shedding emptiness to return to the Dao. In the same way, only when the Perfected One is not bound by feelings of sorrow or joy can they attain the highest realm.

Emptiness is the Dao’s substance, stillness is its foundation, order is its guiding principle, and understanding is its particulars. When the Perfected One is open and empty in mind, still, able to discern things clearly and gain understanding, they accord with the Dao’s substance and comprehend its guiding principles and particulars.

The Dao preserves the spirit; De (Virtue) expands one’s capacity; ritual brings order to one’s bearing and conduct; and concrete things nourish the body. All four help a person maintain their life, and not one can be lacking, even for a moment.

Those who like things that are white regard black as impure; those who like things that are black…

Those who love what is white see black as dirty; those who love what is black, in turn, see white as dirty. How can I know what is truly clean or dirty in the world? So I do not impose my own judgments about cleanliness and dirtiness on all things.

Someone suffering from blurred vision, a condition called mou, may see yellow as red and blue-green as black. The colors I now regard as clearly black and white—how can I know that someone with clear eyesight would not see them as red and yellow? And how can I know what the true colors of the world are? So I do not cling to my own judgments about the colors of all things.

Mou means blurred vision; tou means yellow; cheng means red. Because someone with blurred vision cannot see clearly, they may mistake yellow for red and blue-green for black. This is like ordinary people clinging to their own judgments about what is clean or dirty. Even a great sage—who can establish a single standard for all under Heaven? So do not treat cleanliness and dirtiness as fixed, and do not let distinctions among the many colors lead you astray.

People who are especially fond of possessions see no other lovable things; those who are especially fond of fine horses likewise think nothing else is worth loving; and those who are especially fond of books are just as likely to overlook other things worth loving. How can I know what in the world is truly and certainly worth loving, or what is certainly hateful? So I do not regard any external thing as something worth clinging to and storing away, and nothing can disturb my mind.

Guo means certain or definite; bao carries the sense of keeping something close or cherishing it.

Lord Huai of Chen sent a Chen official named Dao to Lu on a diplomatic mission to convey the courtesies of an official visit.

The Qing of the Shusun clan said privately, “We have a sage in Lu. Do you know that?”

Here, Huai is a posthumous title, Liu is a personal name, and Dao is the name of the Chen official. The Shusun clan had served for generations as ministers of Lu.

The Chen official asked, “What grounds are there for being certain that he is a sage?” The Qing of the Shusun clan replied, “He is not governed by preconceptions in his heart, and he responds to affairs in the world through his physical form.”

The sage’s state is lofty and extraordinary, beyond the reach of ordinary people’s understanding. If we see only that he can respond to worldly affairs and conclude that he is a sage, how could we truly understand why he is called a sage?

An official from Chen said, “Although our state of Chen is small, we too have a sage. His abilities differ from what people have heard.” Duke Ding of Lu asked, “Who is this sage?” The official replied, “There is a man named Kangcangzi. He has especially deeply grasped Lao Dan’s Dao and is held in the highest esteem among his disciples. That is why he is said to have ‘obtained it in part.’”

It is said that Kangcangzi could hear without using his ears and see without using his eyes. Astonished by this, Duke Ding sent a member of the Shusun clan to pay a return visit and invite Kangcangzi to come, intending to receive him with the highest courtesies accorded to a minister of the highest rank. When Kangcangzi arrived, he was lodged in the secondary palace.

The Duke of Lu humbly asked him for instruction. Kangcangzi said, “When I hear and see without relying on my ears and eyes, I am not changing their original functions. The person who reported this has exaggerated.” The Duke of Lu said, “To hear that you have such abilities astonishes me even more. What, then, is your Dao like? I truly wish to hear about it.”

Kangcangzi said, “My body joins with my mind, my mind joins with Qi, Qi joins with Shen, and Shen joins with emptiness. Even the most minute presence or faintest sound, whether it comes from the farthest reaches in any direction or is right before my eyes, is known to me as soon as it arrives. As for what I perceive through my seven orifices, hands, and feet, and what I learn through my six bowels and five organs or through thought, each of these simply registers what it can.”

Body and mind become one; Shen and Qi join in subtle profundity, opening into clarity until distinctions are forgotten and one becomes one with emptiness. In this way, the stiller the mind, the farther-reaching its wisdom; the quieter the Shen, the clearer its insight. When principles are pursued to their limit, understanding comes of itself, and profound insight arises without deliberation. Who but one who is supremely sage and spiritual could attain this state? This is the essential key to the wondrous and true Dao, and the mysterious way of Chongxuan, the Daoist teaching that deepens through successive layers and transcends distinctions.

“Using the Dao,” Chapter Two

Practicing the Dao means benefiting all beings, following Heaven’s intent, restraining selfish desires, and returning to benevolence. In this way, instruction can be put into practice and punishments set aside.

Heaven is not dependable, nor is the earth. Other people are not dependable, and even one’s own heart is not dependable. Only the Dao (the Way) is worthy of trust. How could wise rulers and outstanding people see through it easily?

In the past, Jie of Xia believed that Heaven would entrust the realm to his ancestors and that he himself could rule the lands within the four seas, but he did not devote himself to cultivating the Dao. Heaven therefore took his kingdom and gave it to the Shang. Zhou of Yin likewise believed that Heaven would entrust the realm to his ancestors, but he did not cultivate the Dao himself. As a result, Heaven took his kingdom and gave it to the Zhou.

The commentary explains that “give” means “to bestow,” and “ancestor” means “ruler.” Jie of Xia and Zhou of Yin indulged in excess and luxury, believing that Heaven’s mandate was theirs. But they were violent and cruel, and failed to cultivate the Dao; they therefore lost their kingdoms, and the realm passed to Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou.

Today, some lazy farmers assume that the earth will naturally grow the hundred grains, but refuse to farm according to the proper seasons and practices. Weeds overrun their fields, and their crops cannot be harvested.

Duke Jian of Qi believed that people naturally understood how to yield to one another, but he did not understand the way of conducting himself in the world, and handed his entire state over to someone else. That man was greedy and cruel, and in the end seized the state of Qi.

The commentary says that Duke Jian of Qi was killed by Chen Heng, who then seized the state of Qi. “Owl-like righteousness” describes greed and cruelty.

Anyone who does not cultivate the Dao follows their own inclinations and takes their heart as their teacher. Their desires then grow without end, while calamities and illnesses arise one after another, harming the body and shortening life. The heart itself is what truly brings harm upon a person. Here, “many” means “numerous,” “arise” means “occur or be set in motion,” and “harm” means “injure.”

Thus, only the Dao is worthy of trust. The Dao is broad and level, tranquil and serene, untouched by attachment to external things.

The Dao (the Way) is broad, tranquil, and at ease. It is unstained and free of attachment. If a person can empty their mind and return to the Dao, both body and mind, and their nature and life, can be preserved.

If Heaven does not attain the Dao, it cannot remain stable for long. When Heaven attains “the One”—the Dao’s root—it becomes clear; when Earth attains “the One,” it becomes peaceful.

If the people have no worthy leaders, they cannot live in peace and follow willingly. If government affairs lack capable officials, they cannot be governed harmoniously. When the worthy and capable are all appointed to office, the Dao can govern the myriad things through them.

Those who truly practice the Dao do not display their influence, yet allow its blessings to nourish the myriad things, and they do not claim credit for themselves. They build merit in secret and quietly help others, so the people say, “It all happened naturally.” The principles of the spirits are made manifest, virtuous works flourish, accumulated good deeds gather into blessings, and grace is passed down through generations.

To know things and distinguish among them is called “discernment”; to know things without making distinctions is called the “Dao.” Governing people through discernment and judgment leads them to distinguish good from evil and abandon evil for good. To settle people through the Dao is to be broad-minded, empty, and calm, without casually slandering or praising anyone, thereby bringing peace to restless and contentious hearts.

When the rooster crows at dawn, people rise. They spend the day exposed to the sun, laboring hard as sweat pours from them, and get only a little rest at midnight. This is how ordinary laborers live. Here, “the rooster’s dawn” means the time of cockcrow; “the middle of the night” means midnight; “bearing the sun” means being exposed to its heat; and “barely resting” means getting only a little rest.

Bending down to pick things up and looking up to demand more, they calculate sharply, ponder with all their might, and exhaust themselves in hopes of making a profit. This is how merchants pursue gain. Swallowing and taking in Qi, cultivating the spirit, restraining thought and reducing stray notions, roaming freely and rising lightly, absorbing the Sun’s essence (the sun’s vital energy), and concentrating on refining and nourishing the body in pursuit of immortality: this is the way of the elevated adepts. The commentary explains that “swallowing Qi” includes methods such as embryonic breathing and taking in the Qi of the Five Sprouts; “the Valley Spirit” means cultivating the spirit.

Devoting the mind to one purpose, correcting one’s thoughts, committing one’s full effort to one’s duties, following established rules and regulations, and even going without sleep to achieve results and protect one’s official position: this is how ministers act.

Devote yourself wholeheartedly to setting your intentions aright, serve your ruler with loyalty, investigate the principles of things, weigh matters carefully, and do your best in the position entrusted to you. This is the way of a minister.

Keep the heart clear and still, reflect on your own thoughts, examine those close to you, and strive to appoint people of ability and good character, so as to bring stability to the people. This is the way of a ruler.

To clear the heart is to reduce one’s cravings and desires; to reflect on one’s thoughts is to harbor no selfish motives. “Those close by” refers to the ministers who attend the ruler.

If these principles are extended to people of every kind, so that each person sets their intentions and conduct in order and keeps to their own occupation and work, then the world will be governed by the Dao.

Farmers and merchants each attend to their own occupations; enlightened rulers and worthy ministers each cultivate and clarify their own way. Then the world will be orderly, and every undertaking will be stable.

Training the sinews and bones can preserve the body; curbing desires can preserve the spirit; speaking with care can preserve good fortune. One who achieves these three kinds of preservation may be called upright and wise. When one’s Dao and De are deep, even spirits and gods will lend their aid; when trust and righteousness are sincere, noble-minded people will be drawn together; when ritual and righteousness are complete, even petty people will give their allegiance.

The knowledgeable believe they are right, and the ignorant believe they are right too. Those who follow the Dao are quiet and say little, yet the dull-witted may also remain silent. Things can appear right when they are not, and appear wrong when they are right. Sometimes there is wailing at first and laughter later; sometimes a fortunate beginning leads to a disastrous end. A person may be worthy of closeness, yet their abilities may not be worth relying on; another may have abilities worthy of respect, yet be someone one should not draw close to. Excessive respect can make closeness difficult; excessive intimacy can cause respect to fade. Those who are close may become distant, and those who are distant may become close. Too much generosity may provoke resentment; excessive favor may invite dislike.

Some matters are best handled quickly, others slowly; some call for directness, others for tact and indirection. The differences in how each matter should be handled are often extremely subtle, and one must understand them; even the wise find them difficult to grasp. In quiet circumstances, the spirit readily finds understanding; in hardship, the mind may instead become clear. When one holds an honored position, one’s words are readily heeded; with ample wealth, one’s actions are more easily carried out. Such effects arise naturally from the principles of things and the force of circumstances.

The Wang recension (another version) reads “principles,” meaning that the principles of things and the force of circumstances naturally produce these effects.

People with shared aspirations are drawn to one another, while those who like the same things may become jealous of one another. Those who give together are drawn to one another, while those who compete for the same things may become jealous. When people are in hardship, their feelings are easily understood by one another; when they hold high status, their words readily find common ground; when they are wealthy, they readily connect through their actions. This is what circumstances bring about.

The Wang edition (another version) reads, “This is what principle and circumstance bring about,” meaning that it accords with reason and is also brought about by circumstances.

People with shared aspirations are drawn to one another, while those who like the same things may become jealous. Those who give together are drawn to one another, while those who compete for the same things may become jealous. Those suffering from the same illness are drawn to one another, while the strong may become jealous of one another. Such is human nature.

When people understand one another’s feelings and have nothing to seek from each other, they readily grow close and affectionate. When they vie to outdo one another and test their abilities, they readily become jealous. This is what circumstances bring about.

A person of outstanding talent who remains modest and courteous; poor and lowly, yet never ingratiating; enduring hardship without feeling disgraced; and growing still more respectful and diligent after attaining wealth and rank—such a person may be called virtuous.

Chapter Three: The Way of Governance

Issue commands in accord with the Way of Heaven, making no distinction between those who are close and those who are distant. People from different regions will ultimately unite under one rule; when they see where the wind is blowing, they will all submit.

People cannot rely on their own knowledge to grasp the seasonal changes between cold and heat, or to know the patterns of the sun, moon, and stars in their courses. If they can follow the climate of the four seasons and the movements of the sun, moon, and stars, then every living creature in the world, endowed with life and vital energy, can find its proper place and grow and multiply in peace.

Ministers, too, cannot rely on their own knowledge to foresee whom the ruler will reward or punish, or grant rank and stipend. If the ruler dispenses rewards and punishments appropriately and bestows rank and stipends properly, then those close to or distant from him, those of high or low standing, and those who are capable or mediocre can each put their abilities to use in service of the state.

When trust is preserved, the world is at peace; when trust is lost, the world is in danger. When the people are worn down by hardship and their resources are depleted, they begin to think of seizing from others and harming them, and trust between people is lost. The root of the people’s loss of mutual trust lies in the unfair conduct of government. Unfair government is the fault of officials; officials are at fault because punishments and rewards are not carried out consistently. The inconsistency of punishments and rewards arises because the ruler is not diligent in observing and discerning matters. When the ruler is diligent and discerning, punishments and rewards can be made consistent; when they are consistent, officials will obey the laws; when officials obey the laws, government orders can be carried out among the people; when those orders reach the people, they can each settle into their proper place and regain trust in one another. Thus, the root of the world’s loss of trust lies in the ruler’s failure to be diligent in observing and discerning matters.

Kangcangzi, a Daoist figure, lived at Xirang, a place in Zhou, for five years. King Ling of Zhou sent his minister, the Duke of Ji, bearing silk in a bamboo basket and fine jades strung together with silk thread, as gifts to invite him. King Ling said, “I am young and lacking in talent and virtue, yet I occupy the ruler’s throne. Floods and droughts have come out of season, bringing suffering upon the people. How can these calamities be dispelled?”

King Ling said, “I have little ability and lack virtue, yet thanks to the kindness of the former kings I occupy the throne. Now floods and droughts have come one after another at untimely moments, and the people are hungry and suffering. I ask how these calamities can be averted.”

Kangcangzi replied, “Floods are caused by Yin energy falling out of balance. In the realm of government, Yin corresponds to punishments; in human affairs, it corresponds to selfishness.”

Here, “imbalance” means disorder or a departure from what is normal. Water symbolizes Yin, which governs punishments. Water also flows secretly and remains hidden from view. Thus, floods may occur when judicial decisions are unjust or officials conduct public business for private gain.

“Droughts are caused by Yang energy becoming excessive. In the realm of government, Yang corresponds to virtue; in human affairs, it corresponds to complacency.”

Drought symbolizes Yang, which governs virtue. Yang also suggests what is exposed, flourishing, and proud or complacent. Thus, severe drought may occur when a ruler fails to cultivate virtue and people become extravagant and self-satisfied.

Kangcangzi believed that when floods or droughts strike, the Son of Heaven should ensure punishments are fair and cultivate virtue, while officials should put aside selfishness and guard against complacency. If they correct the causes associated with each portent, the calamities will recede and good fortune will follow.

“Chu” is Kangcangzi’s personal name; references to “Chu” later in the text should be understood in the same way.

The state of Zheng possessed a great jade tablet from Hu, called the “Feng Tablet,” and a bow from Hu, called the “Rong Bow.” These two treasures originally belonged to Hu and later came into Zheng’s possession.

On one occasion, Zheng went to Chu to attend an alliance meeting of the feudal lords but failed to arrive on time. A scheduled audience with the Son of Heaven, or an alliance meeting, was called a “tong.” “Jing” was an old name for Chu. At the time, Chu was powerful, and the lords of the other states all went there, but Zheng arrived late.

Chu said, “You must hand over the Feng Tablet and the Rong Bow, or we will send troops against you.” Relying on its strength, Chu used Zheng’s lateness as a pretext to threaten it with force and demand the two treasures.

The ruler of Zheng was distressed. He went by chariot to see Kangcangzi and said, “The Feng Tablet and the Rong Bow were acquired by my predecessor from Hu. They have passed down through generations, recording his achievements and accomplishments, and were handed on to his descendants.”

“Illness” means distress, “continuity” means experience and endurance, and “heirs” refers to descendants. After the former ruler obtained these two treasures, he respectfully stored them away, intending to pass them on to his descendants as treasured objects associated with his achievements.

Now Chu, relying on its great strength, says it must have the treasures. If it cannot obtain them, it will send troops, and the state will be in danger. I am thinking of sending another gui, a jade ritual object, and a military bow. What should I do?

“Another gui” means a gui different from the genuine one.

Kangcangzi said, “Your Majesty, for now, set your mind at ease.” He was urging the ruler of Zheng not to worry or be afraid.

“Chu also has treasures like these.” The treasure Kangcangzi meant was trustworthiness and righteousness.

“To use Chu’s own treasure as a disguise, seeking to buy the ruler an exemption from blame, is something Chu cannot accept.” The meaning is this: using another gui to deceive Chu, while hiding the deception behind Zheng’s longstanding reputation for keeping faith. Even if this could delay blame for a time, it would ultimately bring mortal danger. It would also implicate the ruler in wrongdoing and damage Zheng’s trustworthiness, so this must not be done.

“Your Majesty must send the genuine treasure.” This was advice to the ruler of Zheng not to try to placate Chu with another gui.

Now Chu is using its power to impose harsh penalties over a minor offense, indulging its momentary desires, acting unjustly, and seizing the interests of its allies. This is why Chu has lost the support of the other feudal lords. When they hear of this, they will certainly take it as a warning, alerting and encouraging one another and strengthening their defenses. They will unite to uphold justice, firmly rallying behind Zheng. Your Majesty should wait for now; this may yet turn into a blessing.

“Minor” means slight; “few” can mean small in number or degree. “Relying on” means using one’s power, and “indulging” means acting as one pleases for immediate satisfaction. “Peers” refers to people of the same kind or standing. “For now” means temporarily. Zheng did break its promise, and that was indeed a minor offense. But Chu is relying on its power to flaunt its might, demanding the gui and the military bow and seizing the interests of its allies. Your Majesty should wait for now; this may yet prove to be a blessing.

“Shallow” means small or slight; “rely on” means to presume upon something; “indulge” means to seek one’s pleasure and act as one wishes; “equal in comparison” means alike or comparable. “For the time being” means temporarily. Zheng’s failure to meet the deadline was indeed only a minor offense. But the state of Jing, relying on its strength, sought to make a show of power and impose punishments, forcing Zheng to hand over the jade tablet and bow, and seizing the property of an ally. Such conduct—lacking virtue and driven by greed—would inevitably cost Jing the support of the feudal lords.

So Zheng sent envoys carrying the Hu jade tablet and Rong bow to Jing. Before they reached Ying, the capital of Jing, the people of Jing heard of Mo Jicang’s plan.

The people of Jing said, “He is using the teachings of the sages to deal with this matter. How can we take these things and let the world witness our violence and injustice, thereby causing the feudal lords to turn against us?” So they immediately returned the goods and treated Zheng with even greater friendliness.

Here, “violence” means to make something manifest, and “immediately” means without delay. “Gifts” refers to the jade tablet and bow sent by Zheng.

Human nature desires life and detests death, desires security and detests danger, and desires prominence and detests humiliation. When people everywhere get what they wish for, they are happy, and happiness makes them feel secure. When they cannot get what they wish for, they suffer, and suffering leads them into danger. If a ruler indulges his own desires, then the officials and administrators of every affair will each pursue their private wants as well.

As a result, the poor exhaust their strength and the rich exhaust their wealth. The four groups of people—scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants—each lose their proper place, and no one can satisfy their wishes. When people everywhere cannot obtain what they seek, they compete and fight over it, shelter and protect those who have fled, hide those who wander without a home, and gather wild fruits in the hope of staying alive.

The officials pursued and arrested them again. The people could no longer bear the hardship and suffering, and gradually began to think of gathering together in revolt. Once this thought took hold, the state was no longer the state it had been. Do not greedily seek a large population, or the people will flee from you. Do not keep expanding the city walls, or the people will be worn down by forced labor. If taxes are collected unfairly, the poor will grow more destitute by the day. If punishments are imposed improperly, the powerful will grow more arrogant by the day. If laws and prohibitions are not enforced, the state will fall into decline.

Here, “the Mean” refers to handling affairs with fairness and moderation.

If officials lack ability, they will lose all measure in showing leniency or imposing strict penalties. Some officials also compete with the people for profit. The people then become cunning, and the state falls into decline.

Here, “the Mean” refers to handling affairs with fairness and moderation.

If officials lack ability, they will show leniency and severity inappropriately. Some officials compete with the people for profit, so the people become deceitful and hard to fathom. When it is difficult to understand the people’s circumstances, those in higher positions grow suspicious; when those above grow suspicious, those below become even more confused. Once the people are confused, their leaders are endlessly burdened with work. When leaders are exhausted, rewards cannot sufficiently encourage people, and punishments cannot prevent wrongdoing. Society then becomes prone to turmoil and difficult to pacify. This happens because the officials appointed are unsuited to their posts.

The most important thing in governing is to carefully examine and select capable people.

Here, “effort” means diligence and attentive care.

If a scholar—someone of talent and virtue—is capable of governing a township, appoint him to govern one. If he is capable of governing a county, appoint him to govern one; if a province, appoint him to govern a province; if a state, appoint him to oversee its government. In this way, each person can put their abilities to use, and no talent will be left undiscovered.

If someone commits wrongdoing in a township, the township head should first instruct him.

Here, “transgression” means an offense. When someone does wrong, the township head should first admonish him.

If he does not mend his ways after being instructed, send him to the county to be flogged.

If he does not mend his ways after instruction in the township, send him to the county for punishment.

If he still does not mend his ways after being flogged, send him to the province to be exiled.

If wrongdoing is not corrected, people become violent and rebellious. Those who endanger the state should be punished according to law. Only then can conduct that violates ritual and righteousness be eliminated. If this can truly be achieved, no one in the world will harbor thoughts of defiance, betrayal, or disrespect. Such a person is called a “Jingren”—one who brings peace to people’s hearts.

When the worthy and capable are appointed, and the violent and wicked mend their ways, the world will be at peace.

In governing the affairs of the world, nothing is more important than seeking out talented people. For those awaiting appointment, nothing is more suitable than understanding the work of government. And among those who understand government, none are more suitable than people who can bring peace to others’ hearts.

When a ruler understands the teachings of the sages and worthies, talented people will gather around him. When many worthy and capable people govern the state together, none are better to appoint than Jingren.

A Jingren’s ability might be assessed through writing, but among a hundred people, one would be hard pressed to find four or five who qualify.

Writing is often showy: it is deliberately polished yet lacks substance. If we now strictly assess a Jingren’s ability through writing, fewer than four or five out of a hundred will qualify.

If we assess people by their speech, perhaps one or two out of ten will qualify.

Those who speak persuasively do not necessarily have De, and those who have De are not necessarily good at expressing themselves. So perhaps only one or two in ten will qualify.

If we assess people by their bearing, composure, and demeanor, we can select eight or nine out of ten.

Worthy people are broad-minded, with calm expressions. Their movements are steady, and their demeanor accords with ritual propriety. Observe them closely, and eight or nine out of ten can be recognized.

All this depends on an enlightened ruler in a peaceful age having the discernment to recognize people, examine them, and select those who are suited to serve.

Even if worthy people are found among the common folk, a ruler without the discernment to recognize them cannot select them.

In an age of decline and upheaval, if a ruler selects officials by their writing, the fashion for ornate, contrived, and excessively superficial writing will only grow stronger, while upright, elegant, plain, and grounded people will be overlooked.

If a ruler selects officials by their speech, there will be more people who boast, flatter, and deliberately polish their words; those with the talent to speak frankly and remonstrate will be further obscured.

If men are selected on the basis of a quiet appearance and proper conduct, those who seem upright outwardly but are crooked within will receive ever greater respect, while those who are truly honest and cultivate virtue will be overlooked.

If men are selected on the basis of their words and arguments, those who are boastful, ornate in speech, and skilled at concealing their intentions will become ever more numerous. Those who are forthright, dare to speak, and persist in remonstrating will receive ever less regard. Once the flashy and argumentative gain power, loyal and upright talent will go into hiding.

If people are chosen solely for their quiet appearance and dignified conduct, those who are upright outwardly but crooked within will receive ever greater respect, while those who are honest, discerning, and sincere will be further obscured. Because the ruler lacks sound judgment, it is difficult for him to choose the right people when making appointments.

In this way, the more worthy people there are, the further government may stray from the right path; the more frequently orders are issued, the more confused people become. Appointing the unworthy as though they were worthy will only plunge the realm into greater disorder.

The realm is an undertaking of the greatest importance, and the position occupied by an emperor is of the greatest consequence. With worthy men, the government can be brought to stability; without them, it will fall into disorder. The ruler should devote himself to seeking talent; once he has appointed such people, he can govern with ease. Alas, how can one who bears Heaven’s trust and brings the people of the realm together fail to treat men of talent with sincerity?

The ruler should be most concerned when the people’s circumstances and claims are not handled properly. Nothing is more serious than criminal cases. When discerning and capable officials hear lawsuits and examine cases, they may use deception to test people in order to uncover the facts; they may question them under pressure, guide them to disclose the truth, or impose punishment. Though the expedients they use may differ, they must ultimately be fair.

Even when only one matter is handled improperly, a wise ruler will be deeply troubled—how much more so when the matter is as serious as criminal justice? In reviewing cases and questioning prisoners, the true circumstances must be established. If someone conceals the facts, he may be questioned under pressure; he may also be guided to disclose the truth or punished. Though the methods may vary as circumstances require, the innocent must never be wronged or punished excessively.

Then the people of the realm, while alive, will not feel that they owe the ruler a debt of gratitude; when they die, they will not resent him. For when they ought by right to live, they need not repay the ruler for the favor of their lives; and when they ought by right to be put to death, they have no resentment after death.

Mastering the affairs of state in this way, appointing officials, and enforcing punishments may be called the highest achievement in governance. Under such rule, people’s intentions are harmonious and upright, and every kind of livelihood can develop as it should. People care for and respect one another, and relations between those above and below are secure and hard to disrupt. The whole country becomes like one family. Even if someone goes against the right path, causes disorder, or rebels, how could they shake the state?

King Ping, who succeeded Kings You and Li, inherited a realm in turmoil, where laws and institutions had fallen into ruin. He therefore quelled the disorder and restored the proper way, moved the capital east to Luoyi, in the area of present-day Luoyang, corrected past mistakes, and did all he could to find worthy and capable people. Whenever he heard one useful suggestion, he would be delighted for days.

Attendants and servants repeatedly praised a certain minister as exceptionally worthy, and this continued for more than a year.

The servants were low-ranking attendants close to the ruler. The text says that, seeing how pleased the king was to hear praise, they catered to his wishes with flattery.

King Ping said, “My virtue is unclear, and I am striving to find people of exceptional worth. I am all the more concerned that talented and virtuous people in the mountains and countryside may be overlooked and go unrecommended. How could hearing good things make me so pleased that I shut my eyes and ears to the truth? Lately, my deceitful attendants have repeatedly praised powerful ministers, then used their proximity to me to climb the ranks. They probably think I am weak and foolish, unable to see clearly and make decisions. Such people do nothing but echo one another and cling together, until their faction gradually grows stronger. Nothing ruins one’s virtue more severely than taking oneself to be wise. If they are not stopped in time, they will form a tightly bound faction.”

King Ping then had three of his close attendants executed and their bodies displayed in the marketplace. In ancient times, executions were often carried out in the marketplace so that everyone could witness and condemn those being punished.

Five men, including the Minister of the Various Offices, a powerful official in charge of state affairs, were demoted.

The decree said: “Do not let officials attach themselves to their subordinates and deceive their ruler, currying favor with him to protect their salaries.” When people throughout the realm heard this, they praised the clarity of the government. Seven states west of Hainan submitted to the court.

When governance reaches its highest level, carriages, horses, and clothing are plain; laws are lenient and straightforward; and prohibitions and punishments are not numerous. When carriages, horses, and clothing are plain, people do not envy or compete with one another. When laws are lenient and simple, there are few things for people to avoid. When prohibitions are not stringent, people can readily avoid wrongdoing and are less likely to break the rules.

When people do not envy one another, their desires diminish and they are content to pursue their own work. When there are few things to avoid among the people, what was once suppressed can unfold, and people can interact with one another gladly. When prohibitions are easy to avoid, people can distinguish what they like from what they dislike, honor De, and understand shame.

Being content to pursue one’s work is called “accord.” Gladly interacting with one another is called “harmony.” Honoring De and understanding shame is called “uprightness.” Those who are frivolous and indolent cannot easily achieve accord; those who defy what is proper cannot easily achieve harmony; and those who are crooked and wicked cannot easily achieve uprightness. Accord, harmony, and uprightness are the foundations of governing a state.

In a declining age, carriages, horses, and clothing are made elaborate and ornate; laws and prohibitions are numerous and perverse; and the network of restrictions is unjust. When carriages, horses, and clothing are made ostentatious, social customs drift with the current, and people follow one another in envy and rivalry, like flames spreading upward. When laws and prohibitions are numerous, people have many things to avoid. When the network of restrictions is perverse, people no longer know how to escape it.

When people compete to get ahead and imitate one another, they lose their loyalty and integrity, and come to regard simplicity as shameful and extravagance as valuable. When worldly taboos are too numerous, people cannot speak their minds freely, and those above and below turn against each other. When people do not know how to escape calamity, slander and misfortune occur frequently, and people cease to fear death.

The word huan means “to escape.”

When people compete to get ahead and imitate one another, they lose their loyalty and integrity, and come to regard simplicity as shameful and extravagance as valuable. When worldly taboos are too numerous, people cannot speak their minds freely, and those above and below turn against each other. When people do not know how to escape calamity, slander and misfortune occur frequently, and people cease to fear death. To be ashamed of simplicity and prize extravagance is called superficiality; for those above and below to turn against each other is called perversity; and for people to have no fear of death is called recklessness. A person of true De (Virtue/Power) will not employ the superficial; a fair and upright person will not employ the perverse; and a capable person will not employ the reckless. These three tendencies—superficiality, perversity, and recklessness—are the steps by which a state descends into disorder.

The ruler of Chu, Xiong Yu (of the Xiong clan, named Yu), asked how to govern in the face of floods and droughts and bring stability to the state. Kang Cangzi replied: “Floods and droughts come from Heaven, but a state’s stability or disorder is caused by people. If human affairs are conducted harmoniously and in good order, then even when floods or droughts occur, they cannot cause harm. Yao and King Tang of Shang were like this.”

During Yao’s reign, there was a flood that lasted nine years; during King Tang’s reign, a drought lasted seven years.

Thus the Zhou Book: Offices and Ranks says: “When human affairs are strong, they can overcome natural calamities.”

If human affairs fall into ruin and disorder, the state will gradually collapse and fragment even without floods or droughts. Was the downfall of Jie of Xia and Zhou of Shang really caused only by floods and droughts? Another version reads, “Was it because of floods and droughts?” Jie and Zhou lost their states through tyranny, extravagance, and unrestrained indulgence; floods and droughts alone did not bring about their downfall.

The ruler of Chu turned to face north, stepped back, bowed, and knocked his head to the ground, saying: “Heaven has not abandoned me, an unworthy man, but has allowed me to hear these words.” One version reads “followed and cultivated,” meaning that he stepped back and paid his respects. The ruler of Chu revered Kang Cangzi, and therefore called him “Heaven.” “I, the unworthy one” was a humble form of address used by rulers and nobles. By saying “Heaven has not abandoned me,” he meant that Kang Cangzi had not forsaken him, and so he had the opportunity to hear these words.

The ruler presented Kangcangzi with ten pairs of large jade discs, precious jade gifts, to wish him long life, and appointed him deputy minister.

“Hongbi” means large jade discs; “ten peng” means ten pairs. “Deputy minister” explains the title ya yin.

The ruler said, “Perhaps this will help our country’s troubles improve?” Kangcangzi had no choice but to change into ordinary clothes in the middle of the night, leave Zheng, and go to another state.

“Recover” means to be cured or improve; “depart” means to leave.

In an age governed by the highest principle, there are no people in the mountains pretending to be recluses, no people in the marketplaces making profits by crooked means, and no people at court earning their stipends through flattery. Zichan, a senior official of Zheng whose personal name was Gongsun Qiao, asked, “How can the people be made simple and honest?”

Kangcangzi replied, “When government orders are cumbersome and harsh, people become deceitful and false. The denser and more explicit the laws, the more thieves there are. Keep government orders few and simple, and the people will be honest. When governance is lenient and uncomplicated, the people will be generous and sincere.”

The people’s ways change in response to the rules set by the state, just as inchworms change with the color of the leaves they eat: when they eat green leaves, their bodies turn green; when they eat yellow leaves, their bodies turn yellow.

Zichan then asked, “How can the people be made prosperous?” Kangcangzi replied, “Collect taxes at the proper times, and keep the government honest and frugal; then the people will be honest and prosperous. If taxes are collected without restraint and officials are extravagant and self-indulgent, the people will be impoverished.”

Arrow shafts from Gouyue in the southeast, fitted with arrowheads made of refined gold and feathers from fierce birds such as falcons and eagles, are no different from ordinary sticks of dry wood if used to beat someone.

“Gan” means an arrow shaft; “fierce birds” refers to raptors such as falcons and eagles; “to beat” means to strike; and “no different” means indistinguishable. The ancient text Erya lists bamboo arrows from Kuaiji among the prized products of the southeast.

But use these shafts to drive off invaders, charge into battle, and win on the field, then fit them to a powerful crossbow, and no enemy will be able to withstand them, even from three hundred paces away.

The Flying Radiance (Feijing), a sword’s name, has a keen, piercing edge. Its might seems to snatch away the light of day, and its sword energy is immense, like a purple rainbow. Yet if used to harvest rice, it would be no different from an ordinary sickle.

When baleful influences and epidemic Qi spread everywhere, bringing turmoil and unrest, hold the Flying Radiance in your hand and sweep it through the air: within a thousand li, no epidemic Qi can remain. The phrase “baleful influences spreading their poison” refers here to the Qi of pestilence. Wherever the Flying Radiance’s shining power reaches, epidemic Qi cannot linger.

Every implement has its proper use; its value lies in being used in keeping with the times. Ordinary wooden tools and blades serve only everyday needs, while Yuegan, a kind of bamboo, and the Flying Radiance are used to ward off calamities. Different materials each have their strengths, and should be put to use according to the circumstances.

In ancient times, during the reign of the August Emperor Ming, the realm was at peace. All things flourished, and every kind of creature was able to develop fully. This was the result of skillfully adapting to the times without causing disturbance. In recent times, however, there are many treacherous people in the realm and few upright ones; many are frivolous and shallow, pursuing profit, while few are honest and principled, yielding and tranquil. The words of the treacherous pass themselves off as loyal counsel, and artful deception confounds truth and falsehood, making them difficult to distinguish.

As a result, people throughout the realm suspect and harm one another. It is truly lamentable. In making laws, what matters is that they be easy to obey and hard to violate. In correcting abuses, what matters is reducing burdensome interference and bringing the laws into accord. Only when the powerful and violent are suppressed can officials carry out their duties in peace; only when penalties and prohibitions are strictly enforced will officials dare not seek private gain, and the people be able to prosper.

Shi Xing said, “Those who err through negligence or misfortune may be pardoned.” But pardons should not be granted too often. If pardons are too frequent, wrongdoers will think they can profit by taking chances, and ordinary people will also begin to contemplate wrongdoing. The wicked will grow more brazen in their misdeeds, and ordinary people may be led to do what is wrong.

People of worth and virtue are obstructed and denied the treatment they deserve. When someone commits a serious crime and is arrested by officials, many other matters are then dragged into it. Innocent people are falsely accused, and connections are stretched far beyond reason in a reckless effort to implicate them all. The offenders hope only to stall for time until they are eventually pardoned. Those who have truly suffered harm receive no comfort to the very end, and must bear their pain alone. Ordinary people then devise one cunning scheme after another, officials are driven to exhaustion, and government orders grow ever harsher, yet disorder still cannot be stopped. These are all the evils caused by frequent pardons.

People reject conduct that defies the Way and violates justice because it is punished; they strive to follow the right path and practice what is just because it is rewarded. Now those who defy the Way and violate justice are pardoned, while those who follow the Way and act justly are envied and receive no reward. How difficult it is, then, to expect people to do good! Any wise ruler or outstanding person in the world should be able to understand this principle.

“End” means to be finished; “relief” means ease and comfort; “suffering” means pain; and “willing” means able or willing.

People may resent you for reasons other than your failure to receive them, just as the spirits may grow angry for reasons other than your failure to sacrifice to them. If you rely on flattering words, people will resent you all the more; if you perform improper sacrifices indiscriminately, the spirits will grow even angrier.

Dongling True Scripture, Scroll Two

Chapter Four: The Way of the Ruler

The ruler should remain tranquil and practice Wuwei (non-action), setting an example and guiding the people.

Heaven first brings the myriad things into being; afterward, people nurture them to maturity.

The growth of the myriad things begins with Heaven. People follow Heaven’s intent and help nurture them. Only by caring for what Heaven has brought into being without interfering recklessly can one be said to follow the Dao (the Way). The ruler, too, should set an example and guide the people.

All things begin to grow through the generative power of Heaven, while people help Heaven nurture them. Those who can care for all that Heaven brings forth, letting things grow naturally and without resistance, and govern what disrupts their growth are called “Sons of Heaven.”

“Ying” means to disrupt. The guiding principle for a Son of Heaven’s actions is to preserve the Qi of Heaven and Earth that gives life to all things. Offices are established to nurture all things and safeguard life. Heaven cannot govern all things directly, so the sages govern on its behalf. The sages, in turn, cannot handle every matter alone, so they establish offices to assist them. The fundamental purpose of appointing officials is to nurture all things and preserve the life-giving vitality of Heaven and Earth, keeping it from harm.

Today, some foolish rulers establish too many offices, thereby harming the vitality of the people and all things. This goes against the original purpose of creating offices. When there are too many officials, government affairs become complicated; when they become complicated, matters are easily left unattended, ultimately harming all things.

When plants and trees become obstructed and stagnant, they rot and breed insects. When the flow of a person’s Qi is impeded, illness follows. When a state’s decrees and policies become blocked, all kinds of disorder arise at once, and a crisis becomes difficult to contain. A state is “stagnant” when the ruler’s virtuous governance cannot reach the people, and the people cannot make their wishes known to the ruler. Treacherous ministers deceive the ruler, preventing virtuous governance from reaching the people; the people suffer injustice and oppression, and their pleas cannot reach those above them. Too many officials, burdensome government, and congested affairs are like rotting plants breeding insects.

Therefore, wise rulers value loyal ministers and upright people, because they dare to speak frankly and can clear blockages. When rulers restrain their private desires and behave with humility and propriety, worthy people will naturally come to join them.

When the ruler personally plows the fields and the empress personally raises silkworms—an ancient practice through which rulers demonstrated farming and sericulture—the people are moved by their example and naturally follow it.

From this we can see that worthy and upright people can only be awaited until they come of their own accord; they cannot be obtained by coercion. Even if coercion brings them, they are not truly worthy.

When a ruler observes propriety and understands humility, worthy ministers will naturally gather around him, so he need only wait. If the ruler lacks the virtue of humility, then even if he repeatedly seeks worthy people, those who come will not be truly worthy.

The people’s conduct can be guided through instruction; they should not be forced through punishments. To resort to punishments is to go against reason.

When a ruler personally farms and raises silkworms, the people follow his example, and instruction can therefore succeed. If the ruler does not do these things himself but demands that the people do them, they will surely disobey. Even if punishments are then imposed, they cannot attain the highest principle.

When Yao and Shun ruled, they devoted themselves to governing the people and worked tirelessly in their duties, but they did not treat the throne as a tool for satisfying their private desires. Thus, everyone under Heaven could fulfill their aspirations.

Here, “diligence” means taking pains and laboring to nurture all things. “Desire” means caring only for one’s own ease and providing for one’s own enjoyment.

Though Yao and Shun occupied the ruler’s position, they did not act as though entitled by their status. They had no selfish desire to care only for their own ease, so everyone under Heaven could give free expression to their own intentions.

Here, “position” means occupying the throne and conducting affairs of state; “heart” means seeking ease and making oneself comfortable. “Give free rein” means to unfold and express oneself fully.

There are people of integrity whom everyone under Heaven cherishes, though the ruler dislikes them. There are also people whom only the ruler favors, while everyone under Heaven dislikes them.

Those who devote themselves to fairness and loyalty and work for the welfare of all the people will be cherished by everyone under Heaven. Those who cater to the ruler’s private feelings and curry favor with one person will be liked by the ruler.

If the ruler appoints those whom everyone under Heaven cherishes, the realm will be at peace. If he appoints those whom only he favors, the realm will be in danger. How can a ruler simply indulge his own likes and dislikes? Therefore, to value the esteem of all under Heaven, he must restrain his own feelings.

The sage is concerned with whether the realm is at peace or in peril. If he wants the realm to be at peace, the ruler must not indulge his own likes and dislikes, but should curb his selfish desires.

“Under Heaven” refers to the inclusion of all things; a “state” refers to the presence of a multitude of people. The people are the foundation of the state, and only when they are at peace can the state be at peace. Therefore, a ruler concerned for the safety or peril of the state cannot indulge his own likes and dislikes, but must curb his selfish desires.

The term “all under Heaven” refers to the many things that exist throughout the world; the term “state” refers to the people within it. The people are the foundation of the state. Only when they are at peace can the state be at peace. A ruler concerned for the state must therefore strive to find people capable of governing the people.

All under Heaven is vast because it contains many things; a state is prosperous because it has a large population. A ruler concerned for the state’s security cannot help but appoint worthy and capable people to assist him.

Jade is hard to distinguish because it contains stones that resemble jade; gold is hard to distinguish because it contains brass that resembles gold.

A stone may look like jade, and brass may look like gold. In the same way, wicked people can appear upright while harboring evil within, making them difficult to recognize.

For example, if the wings of a falcon are placed on a quail, someone with poor eyesight may look at it and think it is a falcon. Only someone with keen eyesight will see that it is actually a quail.

Petty people often recite the classics and books on techniques, or study unusual arts and miscellaneous teachings, then put on the blue and purple robes of office. The foolish hear them speak and watch how they act, and assume they are exemplary people. Those who understand hear and observe them, and recognize that they are petty people. “Unusual arts” means skills outside the ordinary; “miscellaneous teachings” means various disparate doctrines.

Thus, when a ruler is truly discerning, he can select people according to their words, abilities, and conduct, and the state will be well governed. When a ruler lacks discernment, selecting people by their words, abilities, and conduct will bring disorder to the state. A discerning ruler uses people’s words and actions to make his choices, and the result accords with the principles of good governance. Even when a benighted ruler also chooses people by their words and actions, the result is still disorder.

A sage ruler values people whose achievements go unheard, whose contributions remain unseen, and whose work cannot be put into words. In this way, the people can live in peace and order on their own.

Worthy people who govern the world do not make their names known, display their achievements, or boast of their abilities. They accomplish things in secret and quietly provide support, allowing order to flow naturally. They leave behind no reputation or record, and do not stir in people a desire to chase fame and gain or to admire and compete with one another. This is why a sage ruler values them.

If a ruler values only the accomplishments reported through what he hears and sees, people throughout the realm will trade in goods and chase profit, then use these pursuits to win a reputation.

If a ruler values hearing about his ministers’ achievements, wicked people will have no room to act. People will no longer compete with one another or chase empty fame. Thus, a wise ruler values his ministers’ actual accomplishments.

If a ruler values only the accomplishments reported through what he hears and sees, people throughout the realm will use wealth to seek advantages and thereby pursue a good name.

If a ruler values accomplishments that are visible before his eyes, people throughout the realm will exaggerate their appearance, display unusual skills, and compete to show themselves off. Boastful appearances and ingenious skills only spur people to outshine one another, making the realm more chaotic.

If a ruler values accomplishments that can be spoken of, people throughout the realm will practice clever speech and argument, deliberately embellishing their words. Such people speak quickly and argue deftly; their language is ornate, but their content is empty and insubstantial.

When people throughout the realm compete to buy a reputation and seek advancement, and then win favor by polishing their words, government will fall into ruin. When everyone vies for fame and displays their abilities, the principles of justice decline.

Rulers all know that a mirror can show them their own appearance, yet they dislike scholars pointing out their faults. A mirror’s effect in revealing outward appearance is small; a scholar’s effect in identifying problems is great. To notice only the mirror’s slight benefit while overlooking the scholar’s great benefit is to fail to distinguish what matters more from what matters less.

A mirror can show whether a person’s appearance is beautiful or ugly; a scholar can discern whether a person’s heart is good or evil. Correcting outward form has little effect; correcting the heart has much greater effect. Yet rulers today value what is small and overlook what is great. Is this not foolish?

Alas, if a ruler quiets his heart and reduces his affairs, while his ministers are respectful and frugal and faithfully perform their duties, peace can soon be achieved. Yet some people in the world think this is difficult, and I truly do not understand why. If a ruler’s heart loses its clear judgment and resolve, then the patterns governing Heaven and Earth, the affairs within the Four Seas, and all animals and plants will each lose their proper order.

Here, “a square inch of ground” refers to the heart. “Moving” refers to breathing animals, and “growing” refers to plants and trees.

If officials are selected solely on the basis of what is seen and heard, government offices will become overstaffed and public affairs will fall into disorder.

If people are chosen solely by what the eyes see and the ears hear, those skilled at putting on a show will multiply, as will those who compete for office. The ruler will struggle to distinguish what is genuine from what is false, and the result will be bloated officialdom and disorderly government.

If people are examined and selected through careful thought, there will be fewer officials, and affairs of state will be clear and well ordered.

If people are recognized through inner intention and Shen (spirit)—that is, inward insight—even fewer officials will be needed, and government will be better conducted. From this we can see that in times when people follow the natural order of things, they make a point of seeking talent that keeps out of sight and does not depend on fame. In times when customs are shallow and the world is in turmoil, however, they busy themselves choosing talent that is conspicuous and easy to see and hear. Alas, how can rulers understand this? When people are chosen only by what the eyes and ears perceive, everyone competes to win fame and favor. When they are chosen through inner discernment, people become calm, upright, and diligent in cultivating De (Virtue). Officials who are calm, upright, and diligent in cultivating De can influence others through their conduct alone, without saying a word. Officials who compete to win fame and favor feel no awe, even when punishments are imposed. How can rulers in this world understand this?

On the Way of the Minister, Chapter Five

Devote your full effort to planning and carrying out the duties entrusted to you.

When a state is about to flourish, the officials at court vary: some are short, others tall; some are unattractive, others handsome; some are gentle, others stern; some offer sound opinions, while others disagree.

“Chou” means unattractive, “yi” means gentle, and “li” means stern.

Even if their words and appearances seem completely different, examining their aims and testing their hearts reveals that all of them serve the state wholeheartedly. Thus, ministers criticize their superiors frankly without bearing resentment, and are neither alarmed nor afraid when dismissed or rebuked. Their deliberations are apt and do not depart from what is right. In this way, the seasons remain in due order, the benefits of the land are not depleted, and the people’s customs do not fall into disorder. The spirits lend their aid, distant peoples submit and live in harmony, all under Heaven remains at peace, and the myriad things grow and flourish.

When a state is flourishing, its court officials are loyal to their duties. Each does what he can, striving to act impartially and avoid favoritism or private dealings. The seasons then run their proper course, the land provides in abundance, human affairs remain orderly, and spirits and gods offer their protection and support. People from distant regions come in succession to submit.

When a state is about to perish, its court officials are often handsome in appearance, pleasant in expression, gentle and artful in speech, and seemingly considerate and composed in their conduct.

Ministers of a doomed state appear amiable and compliant, but inwardly they are suspicious and distrustful. Each pursues private gain, while secretly scheming against and harming the others. They seem to delight in one another’s company, yet closer scrutiny reveals that each is vying for office. They regard unfamiliar reports as strange and react with alarm to unusual events. They envy and deceive one another, and in the end lose the right way.

Thus, when the heavenly signs depart from their proper order, calamities descend. When things appear on earth that defy the natural order, they are called yao—abnormal portents of disaster. When people commit wicked acts, spirits and gods watch for an opportunity to bring calamity upon them. Here, “watch” means to wait for an opportunity and lie in wait. The right way is then lost, and the Rong and Di—ancient names for peoples to the north and west—invade from every direction. War and death follow one another without end, and all things are unable to grow and transform.

Those who achieve great works and establish a record of service without wasting resources, overburdening the people, or harming officials—and who thereby enrich the people and increase the ruler’s Virtue—are loyal and worthy ministers. Those who squander wealth, trouble the people, and harm officials, seeking only immediate results and the ruler’s praise and rewards while disregarding the disasters they will leave the state in the future, are treacherous ministers.

In times of good government, offices are held by the right people. In times of poor government, people are instead controlled by their offices. Zhu Longqi asked Kangcangzi about the way to serve a ruler. Kangcangzi said, “Once your name has been entered in the rolls and you have become another’s minister, the foremost concern in your heart should be impartiality, without favoritism or private dealings. Your manner should be kind, and your words should be upright. Impartiality does not mean putting on a show of cleverness; kindness should not become disorder; and upright speech does not mean offending the ruler. When the ruler has not noticed something, there is no need to deliberately affront him in the name of frank remonstrance.”

One should maintain a gentle appearance and speak with propriety. Be fair and impartial without deliberately displaying supernatural powers. Gentleness should be untainted, and proper speech should not offend others.

Even when a ruler has not noticed a minister’s faults, it is unwise to remonstrate by offending the ruler to his face.

In ancient times, people were honest and diligent in order to govern the state and improve its administration. Today, some are honest and diligent for their own sake, seeking a reputation and praise. Those who improve the administration for the state can handle affairs with a clear sense of order, act at the proper time, and take the larger picture into account. Those who seek fame for themselves may also arrange affairs methodically, but their outlook is narrow and they cannot grasp what lies ahead; they become caught up in minor details. Thus, when the Dao is foremost in one’s heart, matters can each be put in their proper place. When affairs are foremost in one’s heart, one may lose one’s bearings in dealing with the world.

To put the Dao first is to act from public-mindedness; to put affairs first is to be governed by private interests. “Di” means to come into contact with or encounter.

A minister who holds high office but does not offer remonstrance, or who holds low office but is not impartial, is unworthy of receiving a stipend.

“Shan” means to provide for or give relief.

If a ruler cannot treat ministers with solemn respect, senior ministers will find it difficult to demonstrate their sincerity, and junior ministers will be unable to devote themselves fully to their duties. Such ministers are not fit to serve at court. A capable person is not necessarily loyal, and a loyal person is not necessarily capable. A minister’s concern should not be that he himself might be disloyal, but that he may give his full loyalty and still not be trusted by the ruler. A ruler’s concern should not be that he himself might distrust his ministers, but that he may trust them and yet fail to let them take on and manage government affairs.

“Shishi” means taking responsibility for duties and managing government affairs.

When people of the highest caliber are allowed to fulfill their nature, the world can be well governed. When people of middling ability are allowed to follow their nature, the world will fall into disorder. A wise ruler who employs people of the highest caliber should entrust them with authority to act as circumstances require, allowing them to make full use of their abilities. Such people are worthy, fair, and upright, without favoritism or self-interest. Once in office, they can correct and assist the ruler. Even when they sometimes need to adapt to circumstances, they will ultimately return to the right path.

When employing people of middling ability, the ruler should assess their accomplishments and guide them through rewards and penalties.

The people described here as middling are those with specialized skills. They follow good conduct when they see it, but may also be influenced by bad conduct. The ruler should therefore guide and restrain them through rewards and penalties.

Chapter Six: The Way of the Worthy

Restrain your selfish desires and bring your words and actions into accord with ritual propriety; worthy people will then come of their own accord.

A worthy and capable person may repeatedly seek office yet never be appointed. It may be hard for him to advance and easy for him to withdraw into seclusion. This is not because he is selfishly protective of his own life or unwilling to die for his ruler, but because he fears that even after giving his full loyalty, the ruler will still not trust him.

A person who knows his own abilities and understanding appears respectful and cautious, yet inwardly feels neither anxiety nor fear. In the company of others, he is cordial and upright, never frivolous or overly familiar. The closer others draw to him, the more dignified he becomes; when they distance themselves, he steps back without resentment. When circumstances are difficult, he consoles himself by accepting his fate; when he rises to prominence, he sets himself right according to the Way. People who observe his bearing may judge him wise, and those who hear him speak may also judge him wise. Yet when they examine his spirit and temperament and assess his understanding, they may sometimes find that he has fallen short of their expectations.

Once appointed, a worthy person points out his ruler’s faults and praises his virtues when in his presence. Away from court, he remains respectful and composed. He diligently carries out his duties, and at home he lives simply and quietly. “Admonish” means to point out the ruler’s faults; “praise” means to commend the ruler’s virtues. “Respectful silence” means composure and caution; “manage” means to administer, and “restrain” means to guard against excess and impose limits.

Before he is appointed, a worthy person hides himself among the crowd, keeps his understanding in his eyes, and holds his words back. He eats calmly and walks at an unhurried pace, seeking only to cultivate himself, uphold what is right, and refrain from resentment. The wise do not suspect others; the clear-sighted do not readily doubt people. A person of understanding does not let his expression grow distant, even when he is in danger. His words may be modest, but his principles remain firm and unshakable. This means that he does not change his resolve even in a chaotic age; though his circumstances are perilous, his expression remains calm. His words are modest, yet his principles are certain and steadfast.

A worthy person does not call himself worthy. One who boasts of himself has no achievements and therefore cannot be considered worthy. Whether someone is worthy or unworthy can be judged by the results of his governance and his accomplishments in handling affairs: examine his record in office, then look at how he performs his work, and the worthy and unworthy will be distinguished.

In an age of peace, those of the highest rank contribute their understanding, those of the middle rank exert their endurance, and ordinary people contribute their physical strength. In Qi, there was a man named Pouzi whose abilities were sufficient to revive the state and whose conduct enabled him to stand firm on his own. “Revive” means to rescue and restore; “stand firm on his own” means that his virtue was outstanding, beyond anyone’s power to shake.

He served his parents with filial care and caution, and treated his neighbors with respect and courtesy. Knowing that his family was poor and he could not provide for his parents, he had long made keeping faith and acting with righteousness his way of life. Yet wherever he went, he found few kindred spirits. At times, people who seized every chance to boast, flatter, and scheme would mock and deceive him.

So he set out on foot, leaning on a staff, to seek advice from Kangcangzi. “I have heard that the perfected person, whose cultivation has reached a high level, has an open and clear mind and accords with the Dao, and can therefore forget feelings. Ordinary people do not know how to apply their minds to their affairs; most people with ordinary feelings and awareness, however, take trustworthiness and righteousness as their standards, honoring and believing in them.

“Yet I do not know whether what I do can truly be called skillful. Others do not trust me, but I still take keeping faith as my own standard. Even when I have indeed kept faith and am not believed, I still consider myself trustworthy. Some who do not in fact act righteously are called righteous because they admire righteousness; others truly act righteously, yet do not wait for praise from others and still take righteousness as their own standard.

“If this is so, why are people devoted to trustworthiness and righteousness always lonely, troubled, disappointed, and withdrawn? Why are they not held in esteem by the people of their age, or honored by the Way of moral instruction?”

Kangcangzi lowered his head and straightened his robe, then pondered and sighed. A moment later, with a detached air, he sang:

“When the age is prosperous, and trustworthiness and righteousness…”

His expression responds to the times, and he lets out a sigh before singing at ease:

“When the times are bright, trust and righteousness flourish; when the times are dark, trust and righteousness lie hidden. They flourish at times and lie hidden at others—do I favor one side? Asked this question so suddenly, I do not know how to answer.”

The commentator explains: “When the times are bright” is a metaphor for a ruler who follows the Dao; under such a ruler, trust and righteousness flourish. “When the times are dark” is a metaphor for an unenlightened ruler; under such a ruler, trust and righteousness are concealed. The world alternates between order and disorder, so there are times to act and times to withdraw. When circumstances are favorable, one comes forward with them; when they are unfavorable, one withdraws with them. This is simply adapting to the times, not showing partiality.

If someone holds fast to their true nature—an upright and authentic nature—and wishes to act in accordance with it, but receives no response from the things around them or from other people, then their true nature cannot be put into practice. When true nature cannot be put into practice, this is called “the decline of the Dao” (the waning of moral principle).

Trust and righteousness are the expression of true nature; true nature is its foundation.

When the Dao is in decline, the highest sages withdraw. To withdraw is to recognize that there are times when one can act and times when it is unsuitable to act. Circumstances may be favorable or adverse, so one cannot act at all times. There are times when one can display one’s abilities and times when one cannot; action has its advances and retreats, just as visibility has its moments of concealment. One cannot remain forever in a position to act.

Ji Gong asked, “Where can a person of virtue be found?”

Kangcangzi replied, “A person of virtue must wait for the right time; one cannot force the search. Those who seek talent must do so with care. If they seek without care, they will fail to find genuine talent.”

When the Son of Heaven is calm and steady, his ministers clear-sighted and impartial, the law is enforced without favoring the high-born, and favor is extended beyond the upper ranks, worthy people will naturally come seeking appointment. Once they are appointed, the people of the realm can understand what is right and hear sound counsel. Their hearts become open and untroubled. Heaven and Earth each settle into their proper order, all things flourish in their natural abundance, and spirits no longer manifest strange and uncanny phenomena.

The customs of the realm become generous and harmonious, and spirits no longer manifest strange and uncanny phenomena.

Thus, worthy and capable people can be awaited, but they cannot be obtained through deliberate searching. When the Son of Heaven is diligent and clear-sighted, and his ministers seek talent in harmony and fairness, people of broad vision, uprightness, and the ability to bring peace to the people will come. When the Son of Heaven is harsh and exacting, and his ministers seek talent in haste and confusion, they will attract people who are clever and quick-witted, yet abandon principle and go against the right way. When the Son of Heaven is suspicious and his ministers ingratiate themselves with him, they will attract people who cultivate eccentricity, flatter and fawn, and excel in strange arts and techniques. When the Son of Heaven considers himself wise and his ministers care only to keep their positions, they will attract people who prize appearances, chase fame, and are greedy, corrupt, and showy. When the Son of Heaven is indecisive and his ministers are treacherous and sycophantic, they will attract people who seem loyal on the outside but are crooked within, cruel-hearted yet gentle-spoken. Thus, the key to selecting talent lies in how one seeks it; this must be done with great care.

In ancient times, the Yellow Emperor gained Chang Xian, Feng Hong, and Rong Qiu, all of whom served as his ministers. The Shang king gained Yi Yin. During King Xuan of Zhou’s revival of the dynasty, he gained Zhong Shanfu and Shen Bo. Duke Huan of Qi gained Ning Qi. These rulers were all able to embody the Dao and practice benevolence, manifesting sagely wisdom and authority. They sought harmony and clarity, and were generous, prosperous, and upright. Worthy people therefore came naturally to seek appointment; they were not obtained through selection and examination. “Mai” means to put into practice; “ji” means harmonious; “jianhe” means to select and examine.

Ji Gong asked, “You say that worthy people need not be sought, but will come of their own accord. Are there also people who are not worthy or capable who come of their own accord, without being sought?” Kangcangzi replied, “…”

Mai means to walk; ji means to be harmonious; jianhe means to select and examine.

Jigong asked, “You said that worthy people come of their own accord without being summoned. Are there also people who are not worthy, yet come of their own accord without being summoned?”

Kangcangzi replied, “There have always been many who come without being sought, yet are not worthy. When the world follows the Dao, worthy people come of their own accord without being summoned. When the world has lost the Dao, unworthy people also come of their own accord. Rulers who follow the Dao are few, while those who do not are many; worthy people in the world are few, while unworthy people are many. From this we can see that many unworthy people come without being sought.”

Jigong asked, “Worthy people can certainly help the world, and capable people can help it too. Both can bring relief to the age. What, then, is the difference between a worthy person and a capable person?”

Kangcangzi said, “That is a very pertinent question. A worthy person is someone who, after completing great achievements and bringing affairs to a successful conclusion, does not seek reward or fame, but remains respectful and modest, plain and frugal. Once their work is done, they do not cling to position; they discipline themselves through humility.

“A capable person, by contrast, values salary and fame after achieving success, making a show of their brilliance and taking satisfaction in their own accomplishments. A worthy person can bring stability to the state; a capable person can govern it. To bring stability is to govern through harmony and peace, without imposing needless action, so that people do not notice the ruler’s achievements. This is the subtle influence of deep Virtue, which transforms the people without their knowing how it happens. To govern is to diligently oversee affairs and make clear where benefits come from. People depend on the ruler’s achievements and so credit the ruler with them.

“One worthy person can lead many capable people and still have strength to spare. Many capable people, taken together, still fall short of one worthy person. This is the difference between the worthy and the capable.”

Some live in mountain forests yet harbor unjust intentions; others dwell amid worldly affairs yet remain quiet and self-possessed. Some keep themselves upright amid the clamor, while others appear quiet but are crooked in their intentions. Therefore, when seeking a worthy person, one must carefully discern whether that person is upright or corrupt.

When observing a person’s appearance, one may find someone coarse and ungainly who is nevertheless a worthy person. Such people are exceedingly rare, one among ten thousand. One may also find someone refined and elegant in appearance whose heart is shallow and vulgar, quiet and taciturn. There are people who seem boisterous yet are upright, and people who seem quiet yet are devious.

This means that when seeking worthy people, one must discern whether a person is upright or crooked.

When observing a person’s appearance, one may find someone coarse and ungainly who is nevertheless a worthy person. Such people are exceedingly rare, one among ten thousand. But of those who look refined and elegant yet are petty and base, nine out of ten are like this.

This means that worthy people are hard to find.

One who can understand a person’s eloquence without repeatedly weighing his words, discern his bearing without demanding perfection in his appearance, recognize his good deeds without relying on the praise of others, and judge his true worth without being swayed by rumors and slander may be called perceptive.

In other words, one need not wait to hear rumors and slander before recognizing a person’s misdeeds and true intentions.

This concludes the middle volume of the Dongling Zhenjing.

Lower Volume: “Instructing in the Dao,” Chapter Seven

The workings of the highest De (Virtue/Power) are the root of all forms of instruction. The spirits and deities also lend their support, and so it can transform the people.

Min Ziqian, a disciple of Confucius known for his filial conduct, asked Confucius, “How far apart are the Dao and filial piety?”

He wondered whether the Dao and filial piety were far apart.

Confucius said: The Dao is the wondrous working of nature’s course; filial piety is the highest virtue in human relationships.

To investigate the source of all things is called the Dao. To put the Dao into practice in the ethical relationships between people is called filial piety. The Dao enables all things to grow, yet no one knows exactly how this happens; hence it is called wondrous working. Filial piety means serving one’s parents well, honoring and obeying them wholeheartedly. This virtue reaches up to the spirits, and so it is called supreme virtue.

The Dao embraces and moves through Heaven and Earth. It brings forth all things, gives each its own form, and endows them with different natures and lifespans. “Nature” refers to an essential disposition, whether firm or yielding; “lifespan” refers to the span of experience allotted to a life.

The Dao’s workings are real and profound, yet it does not store up the things it brings forth or govern affairs, nor does it claim merit or accept reward. However carefully one investigates, observes, or listens, one cannot grasp it as any particular thing; hence it is called the Dao.

The Dao gives each kind of thing its own form and shapes the bodies of all things. Yet when one seeks the source that governs their growth, no trace can be seen; hence it is called the Dao. The Dao is a presence that is empty and all-pervading.

When practiced in human relationships, this virtue is called “filial piety.” Filial piety means treating one’s parents well. Its foundation lies in reverence and obedience, and in caring for them with sincerity. One attends closely to their wishes and expressions, providing for them in every detail.

With every word spoken and every thought that arises, one remembers one’s parents; with every task undertaken and every step taken, one remembers them. One would not dare serve one’s ruler without loyalty, deal with friends without keeping faith, treat subordinates without respect, or do good without diligence. Even when alone in a room, one does not dare let sincerity lapse. This is called fulfilling filial piety. When filial devotion is utterly sincere, it can move the spirits, and one’s reputation can spread throughout the realm. Whatever one calls forth will receive a response. All this comes from treating one’s parents well.

In ancient times, Yu Shun was a truly filial person. His stepmother deceived his father, causing him repeatedly to hate Shun and plot against him. Yet Shun became more reverent still, remaining cautious and fearful without resentment. His father and stepmother once devised a plan to have him dig a well. When Shun had gone down to the bottom, they filled it with earth. Heaven bestowed its blessing and moved the spirits: Shun quickly escaped through a passage he had dug in advance, and so avoided being killed. After escaping, he cared for his parents with even greater attentiveness. In this way, his profound De became ever more evident, and he eventually became ruler of all under Heaven. All this came from treating his parents well.

The Records of the Grand Historian recounts that Shun’s father, Gusou, his stepmother, and his younger brother all wanted to kill him. They had Shun repair a granary, but Gusou set fire to it from below. Shun used two broad hats to shield himself from the wind and leapt down from the roof, so he survived. Later, they had him dig a well. As he dug, Shun secretly made a passage beside it. When he had descended deep into the well, Gusou and Xiang filled it with earth together. Shun escaped through the passage and avoided death. This is the very event described here. Heaven protected Shun for his virtue, moved his heart, and made the spirits appear, sparing him from calamity. After escaping, Shun served his father with even greater care. Yao learned that Shun possessed sage virtue, put him through many trials, and later ceded the throne to him.

When King Wen of Zhou was still the heir apparent, he too was deeply filial. Every morning and evening, he went to the door of his father’s sleeping quarters and asked the attendants, “Is my father well today? How is he doing?”

A palace eunuch was responsible for serving the ruler.

When King Wen was Crown Prince, he was deeply filial. Every morning and evening, he went to the door of the ruler’s bedchamber and asked a palace eunuch, “Is the ruler well today? How is he?”

If the eunuch said the ruler was well, the Crown Prince’s face would soften with quiet joy. If the ruler was feeling unwell, the Crown Prince’s face filled with worry. When meals were brought each morning and evening, he personally checked that the food was neither too hot nor too cold. Afterward, he asked how much the ruler had eaten and how he had managed the meal.

If the eunuch said the ruler was ill, the Crown Prince would put his robes in order, fast, and quiet his mind, devoting himself to praying for the spirits’ protection. He respectfully inspected the food prepared by the chief cook and personally checked the clothes being sent to the ruler. The Crown Prince would eat only after the ruler had tasted the food and found it pleasing. If the ruler ate little, the Crown Prince would not eat his fill either. Only when the ruler had recovered and returned to normal would the Crown Prince resume his usual meals and routine.

As the ruler’s health improved, the Crown Prince too returned to his usual ways. If the ruler did something wrong, the Crown Prince would humble himself and offer gentle, tactful advice in a calm and agreeable tone. Even the smallest thing the ruler cherished, the Crown Prince treated with respect and never dared to slight.

Thus, King Wen began with filial devotion in his own conduct and extended it throughout the realm. The “Major Odes of the Kingdom” in the Book of Songs says, “As King Wen ascends and descends, coming and going, he is always at the side of the Supreme Lord.” This means that Heaven protected King Wen’s conduct.

King Wen acted calmly and with restraint, conducting himself appropriately as he advanced and withdrew. Heaven was bound to support him, so King Zhou could not harm him. “To assist” means to give support. King Wen served King Zhou with Heaven’s backing. Here, “the Emperor” means Heaven, and “at the left and right” also means to help.

The Book of Rites says that King Wen was ill for twelve days before he recovered. He asked King Wu what he had dreamed, and King Wu said he had dreamed that the Heavenly Emperor granted him nine more years of life. King Wen asked what he thought the dream meant. King Wu replied, “There are nine feudal lords to the west. Perhaps this means you will eventually bring them to peace?” King Wen said, “No. I will live to be one hundred, and you will live to be ninety; I will give you three years of my life.” King Wen died at the age of ninety-seven, and King Wu at ninety-three.

After King Cheng established the Nine Tripods at Jiaoru, an oracle foretold that the dynasty would last thirty generations and the state endure for seven hundred years. This was Heaven’s arrangement, and also the result of being skilled at caring for one’s parents.

Min Ziqian said, “I have been fortunate to hear the principles of caring for one’s parents. May I ask what principles should guide the education of children?” Confucius replied, “In ancient times, the Three Kings always showed their children ritual and music.” “To show” means to demonstrate and teach them.

Music cultivates the inner self and brings the emotions to peace; ritual rectifies outward words and actions, regulating one’s appearance and conduct.

Ritual and music work together to bring a person’s virtue into view through their appearance and conduct, making them gentle and respectful, with behavior that accords with proper forms. If a minister can give up his life for the good of his ruler, how much more should he be willing to benefit himself so that he can better assist the ruler? For this reason, loyal, worthy, and upright men should be appointed as the Crown Prince’s tutors, so that he may understand the duties between father and son, ruler and minister, and elder and younger. Only by learning how to be a son can one become a good father; only by learning how to be a minister can one become a good ruler; and only by learning how to serve others can one govern and direct them. This was the purpose behind the rulers of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties educating their children.

Min Ziqian resigned from office and returned home to care for his parents. Three years later, no one had anything critical to say about his relations with his parents and brothers.

He fulfilled his duties above by honoring his parents, and below by showing affection for his brothers. He did so completely, and no one spoke of discord in his family.

His friends praised his trustworthiness, the people of his community praised his benevolence, and his clan praised his respect for his elder brothers. His virtuous reputation spread far and wide, all as a result of his skill in caring for his parents.

The Crown Prince of Qi was seated on the Qing Terrace. Zhuanghou of Yan wore a tall crown and held himself with solemn dignity. At his left hung an elaborately decorated sword, and at his right, jade pendants; their luster shone on both sides.

The Crown Prince was reading and did not look up. Zhuanghou asked, “Does Qi possess any treasures?” The Crown Prince replied, “A ruler who keeps his word, ministers who are loyal, and a people who support their ruler—these are Qi’s treasures.” On hearing this, Zhuanghou immediately unfastened his sword and left.

This is an example of hearing words that accord with the Way and being won over by them. It shows that a junzi values virtue, not lavish adornment.

Alas, everyone has something about themselves they cannot see. Could a person go through life without ever knowing it? The wise may notice and kindly keep silent. Petty people, driven by strong partiality, go too far when they speak; relatives, out of affection or jealousy, may also speak unfairly. When people have faults, how could they be completely unaware of them?

The word “how” here means “why” or “how could it be?”

So the gentleman regularly examines himself, as if he were always at fault. If he wears his own clothes and eats his own food, knows plainly that he has done wrong, yet cannot find a way to correct it, he considers this a disgrace.

For a minister to fail to correct the ruler—to point out and set right the ruler’s faults—is also a dereliction of duty.

If a gentleman is preparing to offer advice but knows that his words will certainly not be accepted, he will speak only rarely.

When a ruler refuses to accept loyal counsel, a minister should say little, to avoid bringing disaster upon himself.

Before condemning the wrongdoings of others, first consider whether you yourself are virtuous. Before accusing others of perversity, first consider whether you yourself are upright. This is called “turning the light inward”: examining yourself first.

First check whether you are kind and upright, then reproach others for their wrongdoing.

Zhai Xi had a son who was extremely filial and cautious. Zhai Xi loved his son, but often spoke carelessly and said things that were untrue. One evening, after returning home from an outing, he said to his son, “Jia has died.” His son believed him, but later discovered that Jia was still alive. Another evening, Zhai Xi said, “Yi is about to harm someone.” His son waited, intending to take revenge, but later found no wrongdoing on Yi’s part. On another evening, Zhai Xi said, “Ding is ill.” His son went to check and found Ding perfectly well. There were many more incidents like these.

“Observe” means to look into something; “trouble” means worry or illness; “all” means everyone or everything.

As time passed, although the son remained filial and cautious, he gradually stopped believing his father’s teachings. The people of the village resented Zhai Xi for constantly speaking carelessly, and they discussed killing him. When Zhai Xi heard of this, he was frightened and told his son at home, but his son did not really believe him. Later, Zhai Xi was indeed killed.

This chapter warns people not to speak rashly, since careless words can bring disaster. Although Zhai Xi loved his son, he repeatedly admonished him with falsehoods, and the son gradually stopped believing his teachings. The villagers, too, grew so disgusted with his words and conduct that they began to consider killing him.

This chapter warns people not to speak carelessly about affairs of state, lest they invite disaster. A father does not even dare place complete trust in his own son, and may even be killed as a result. How much less, then, should he trust an outsider?

People often assume that the talkative are prone to let things slip. Yet someone who speaks briefly is not necessarily cautious. They also assume that those who are frivolous and impatient lack steadiness in their actions. Yet someone may appear calm and at ease while inwardly restless. To be “frivolous” means to be light-minded and impatient.

People often assume that someone whose conduct is disorderly and petty has a low character. Yet someone may appear neat and proper while inwardly being corrupt. Examples like these could go on without end. Without penetrating insight, who could make sense of every such situation?

At times, people have no choice but to act: inwardly they wish to remain still, but outwardly they must keep moving. Acting is easy; becoming still is hard. For example, when people see an advantage, they greedily pursue it. The more they gain, the more they crave, until they exhaust themselves and find it hard to settle down.

At times, people have no choice but to seek something: inwardly they desire it, while outwardly they wait, and feel joy only when their wish is fulfilled. Once desire arises within, they look to things outside themselves to pursue what they want. They set their hearts on an expected outcome and rejoice when they get it, unaware that their Shen (spirit) is being unsettled and their nature harmed.

Thus, outward calm paired with inner agitation disrupts thought and damages one’s nature. Rushing about in pursuit of gain drains one’s strength and harms one’s reputation. Only by remaining detached and free of desire, unmoved by fame or profit, can people keep their bodies at ease and preserve their inborn nature.

People living in the world sometimes fail to fulfill their ambitions and openly claim that they were simply born at the wrong time. This is as dangerous as wearing a blood-red mark around one’s neck while awaiting execution. To act without caution, speak without humility, and offend those in power is to invite beheading: one can only wait for the appointed moment and the sentence to be carried out.

Those of broad learning and talent who have received neither praise nor appointment can only say that the age is not without clarity; it is their own fate that has yet to meet its moment. Is it not just as dangerous to talk carelessly about having missed one’s time, as to bear the mark of a capital crime and wait for execution?

Those whose learning is broad and whose understanding is far-reaching, yet who have not been recognized or given a position, may rightly be said to live in times lacking clarity, with fate not yet having granted them an opportunity. Is that not so?

“Wei” means “yes.”

Those skilled in offering remonstrance work with the other person’s existing disposition and seek to restrain the causes that stir up emotion. In this way, both sides can enlighten one another and make progress together; their relationship grows close and respectful, and their bond deepens. Those clumsy at remonstrance focus only on criticizing the other person’s disposition, without understanding what gives rise to their emotions. As a result, suspicion and estrangement gradually grow between them, and conflict accumulates over time. What children find easy, older people often consider unsuitable; what pleases the ears and eyes may be disliked by the mind. To rush to condemn everyone under Heaven as foolish is to show that one’s own wisdom is insufficient; to rush to condemn everyone under Heaven as deluded is to show that one’s own understanding is insufficient.

The wise and discerning should forgive the foolish and deluded, rather than blaming them without restraint.

Using Virtue that one does not yet possess to condemn the foolishness of the many will only bring about one’s own ruin. Using discernment one does not yet possess to condemn the delusion of the many will only bring injury upon oneself.

The foolish and deluded suffer no loss; those who rush to condemn them only harm themselves in vain.

On the Way of Agriculture, Chapter Eight

Grain is the foundation on which the people depend for their survival. In governing the state, developing agriculture should be the foremost concern.

Here, “root” refers to agriculture, while “branch” refers to the pursuit of speculative profit. When people abandon agriculture and pursue speculative profit instead, government orders become difficult to unify.

When government orders cannot be unified, the state can neither defend itself nor wage war.

When people have too many avenues for pursuing profit, their aims become divided. The state can therefore neither establish a firm defense nor readily wage war beyond its borders.

When people abandon agriculture and pursue speculative profit, their livelihoods decline. When people devote themselves to chasing speculative gains, their households and productive activities gradually diminish.

When livelihoods are not secure, people are quick to migrate and scatter. When the population disperses, calamities often befall the state. People turn their thoughts to distant places and no longer feel at ease where they live. If they abandon what is fundamental and pursue what is secondary, they will prize cleverness and knowledge. This makes deception more likely; as deception spreads, people exploit the laws and turn right and wrong upside down. The sage kings of antiquity, in governing the people, first devoted themselves to making them secure. This was not only to keep them from chasing profit and moving elsewhere, but also to enable them to fulfill their aspirations. The aspiration they pursued was for the people to live in peace where they belonged.

When the people are settled and simple, they are easy to govern. When they are easy to govern, the borders can be peaceful and the ruler’s position secure. A settled people are like children, with no other thoughts. Like children, they have fewer selfish desires and partial opinions; when selfish desires are few, fair laws can be established. When the people are strong and prosperous, their livelihoods recover and flourish. When livelihoods flourish, people no longer scatter in every direction. They remain peacefully in their own places and make no other plans, so all under Heaven can act with one purpose. When all under Heaven are united in purpose, the methods of Xuanyuan and Jilian, ancient rulers who followed the Way, went no further than this.

The sage rulers of antiquity vigorously promoted farming and weaving, making them the fundamental instruction for governing the state. Thus, the Son of Heaven personally led the feudal lords in the ceremony of plowing the ancestral field, demonstrating the importance of agriculture. The order of plowing was set according to rank and merit, thereby encouraging the people to value their livelihoods. The Monthly Ordinances records that, at the first qi of the first month, the Son of Heaven chose an auspicious day, personally took up the lei and si, ancient farming tools, placed them on the right side of his chariot, and led the dukes, ministers, feudal lords, and high officials in plowing the ancestral field. The Son of Heaven pushed the plow three times, the Three Dukes five times, and the ministers and feudal lords nine times. Through these different ritual roles, the people were encouraged to value agriculture.

The Queen led the imperial consorts and palace women to the outskirts to raise silkworms and gather mulberry leaves in the public fields. Through this, she encouraged the people to work diligently and taught them the methods of sericulture.

The Monthly Ordinances (Yueling) says that around the spring equinox in the third month, the responsible officials shall issue orders forbidding the felling of mulberry and zhe (Cudrania) trees, and shall repair the implements used in silkworm rearing. After fasting, the queen sacrifices to the silkworm deity, then personally raises silkworms and gathers mulberry leaves, thereby encouraging the people to take up silk production.

The Meaning of Sacrifices (Jiyi) says that in antiquity, the Son of Heaven and the feudal lords each maintained public mulberry groves and silkworm houses, sited near rivers. The ruler divined and selected an auspicious day, and chose suitable women from among the consorts and the shìfu (palace women of official rank) to enter the silkworm houses. The shìfu raised the silkworms themselves and presented the cocoons to the ruler, who then offered them to the consort. The consort personally reeled the silk, turning the reeling device three times, and then entrusted the rest of the reeling to the consorts of the three palaces and the chosen shìfu. This was done to encourage women and to teach them the work of silk production.

Men do not weave cloth, yet they have clothing; women do not plow the fields, yet they have food. This is the way men and women exchange their labor and depend on one another to sustain their livelihood, and it is the system established by the sage kings. Mào means exchange.

Therefore, one must treasure the seasons and the passing of time, verify the results of labor, and assess the effectiveness of work. Liè means to measure.

Men and women exchange their labor and depend on one another to sustain their livelihood; this is the system established by the sage kings. Mào means exchange.

Therefore, one must treasure the seasons and the passing of time, verify the results of labor, and assess the effectiveness of work. Liè means to measure.

Those who are not elderly should not cease work; those who are not ill should not rest. One diligent laborer can feed ten people. The harvest of a superior farmer is enough to support ten people.

One must concentrate on the farm work at hand, refrain from building palaces and other large structures, refrain from mobilizing the army, refrain from having men leave to fetch brides, and refrain from sending women away to distant marriages, so as not to hinder agricultural production. Construction, military mobilization, and marriage arrangements all hinder farm work. Yù means to receive; here it refers to a man going in person to fetch his bride.

The Yellow Emperor said: The changing of the four seasons cannot be corrected; what one can do is to sow the five grains well. Crops are sown by people, but it is Heaven that causes them to grow, and Earth that nourishes them. Therefore, when sowing, one must leave enough space for a person to walk through; when hoeing, one must leave room for the hoe; when weeding, one must leave enough space for the hand to reach in. This is the principle of cultivation: when transplanting seedlings, the spacing should allow a person to walk between them; when hoeing, there should be room to wield the tool; when weeding, there should be room to work with the hands.

Farmers cultivate the land and grow grain, artisans make implements, and merchants trade goods. "Gong" means to govern and to make.

Sowing and nurturing seedlings lets them grow enough to feed people. Plowing the land deeper makes the harvest sufficient for storage. Diligent weeding keeps the land suited to crops. Farmers govern the land to produce grain, artisans make implements, and merchants trade goods.

"Gong" means to govern. The farming seasons must not be disturbed. If the ruler does not treat agriculture with reverence and instead conscripts the people for earthworks and construction, this invites great misfortune.

Planting too early means getting ahead of the season, and planting too late means missing the proper time. When cold and heat lose their measure, crops suffer many calamities. Both "too early" and "too late" arise because the crops did not receive suitable and harmonious climate.

Fifty-seven days after the winter solstice, grasses and trees begin to flourish. Here "xun" means ten days. At fifty-seven days, the season is around the start of the solar term Lichun, when plants begin to sprout.

This is when cultivation should begin. Farm work follows the seasons: when the myriad things are seen to sprout, one sows, and when they ripen and fall, one harvests. "Yi" means to plant, and "huo" means to harvest. Farm work should be arranged in accordance with the heavenly seasons.

Heaven's timing runs on its own, and the land yields its goods without waiting for people to set a date. "Chan" means to grow and produce.

In years of abundance one sacrifices to the land, and in lean years one does so too. "Situ" refers to sacrificing to the spirits of sheji, that is, the spirits of the soil and grain. The spring sacrifice prays for a good harvest, and the autumn sacrifice gives thanks for the yield. People sacrifice in both good and bad years because they value the produce the land brings and care about the people's livelihood.

Do not miss the farming season. When the time arrives, begin cultivating, and when it passes, stop. Even the aged and frail should put their strength into farming, because tilling must keep pace with the seasons. "Dai" means to catch up with or arrive at the right time.

Those who do not understand the farming seasons act before the time has come. When the season has passed, they hope to make up for it, and this is cultivating too late. Even in the right season, if too little labor is invested, the harvest will not be large.

The above explains the principle by which the ruler employs the people and arranges agricultural work.

These three methods of cultivation, although all used in farming, did not accord with the proper timing, so they are classified as inferior.

Plowing must be done during dry weather, so that the clods break apart easily and the soil becomes loose and fertile.

Hoeing must also be done in dry weather. At such times weeds wither easily, and the soil becomes soft and fertile.

Crops are best first planted in soil as fine as dust; after they grow, they take root in firm ground.

“Zhi” means to grow. Before sowing, the soil must be worked until it is fine as dust, making it loose so that roots can penetrate deeply; after the seedlings emerge and rain makes the soil firm, the stems of the plants will also become strong.

Sowing must be done carefully: the seeds should be neither too dense nor too sparse.

“Shu” means dense.

When covering the seeds with soil, there should be neither too little nor too much.

“Applying soil” here means placing the seeds into the soil. If there are too few seeds, the plants will be sparse and the land will not be fully used; if there are too many seeds, the plants will be too crowded and the harvest will suffer. The key is to maintain a moderate density, so that neither the land is wasted nor the crops are harmed.

The ditches in the fields should be dug deep and straight, and the fields should be fertile and level.

“Duan” means upright and straight. If the ditches are deep and straight, water flows quickly; if the fields are fertile and level, moisture can evenly nourish the crops.

Only when the seeds have moisture below to nourish them and sunlight above to shine on them can the crops grow.

“Yin” below refers to the nourishment of water; “Yang” above refers to sunlight and heat.

When seedlings are arranged in rows, they grow faster; strong seedlings do not hinder weak ones, and the crops easily grow tall.

Arrange the seedlings in rows and allow ventilation between the rows, so that the plants are well spaced and the air can circulate.

In this way there will be a harvest, and labor will be more effective. From a distance, the crops may appear luxuriant; but viewed up close, they look sparse, as if the fertility of the land had been stolen away.

This is because the land is poor and the seedlings do not grow luxuriantly, so it looks as though part of it has been stolen.

If the weeds are not removed, the field becomes disordered; but if the weeds are allowed to flourish before being removed, the crops will become sparse—this is damage caused by human cultivation.

“Chu” means to rectify and clear away. If weeds are removed only after they have grown vigorously, the crops will be harmed and appear sparse; this is caused by improper human management.

If the seedlings are weak, they should be separated so that they grow one by one rather than crowding together.

A man who wishes to live together with others dwells among the crowd, sheltering one another and looking out for each other, so that all may be spared harm.

"Chu" (chu) means to weed. If weeds are removed only after they have grown lush, the seedlings are injured. This is harm caused by improper cultivation on the part of the farmer.

While the grain seedlings (he) are still weak, it is best that they grow apart rather than crowded together, one pressed against the next.

Once the seedlings have matured, they need to support one another, for only then are they less likely to be flattened or snapped.

Several seedlings growing together are like kinsmen of one clan who help each other, and in this way the crop yields more grain.

One of the calamities of a crop is that its seedlings do not grow and wither at the same time. When emergence is uneven, the large plants overwhelm the small, and the small ones struggle to thrive. Therefore, seedlings that mature first bear good grain, while those that mature later often bear poor grain. Strong seedlings bully weak ones, and the later-growing seedlings easily fail to bear any seed.

For this reason, when weeding, one should remove the seedlings that grew first, which are like an "elder brother" (xiongzhang), and leave those that grew later, which are like a "younger brother" (didi). This uses human kinship relations as a metaphor for the sequence and relative strength of the seedlings.

Where the soil is fertile, seedlings should not be allowed to grow too sparsely; where the soil is barren, they should not be left to stand alone and isolated. On barren land, a solitary seedling cannot withstand wind, sun, and drought. On rich land, seedlings that are too sparse tend to produce empty, shriveled grains; on poor land, isolated seedlings tend to wither and die.

One who does not understand weeding will remove the seedlings that grew first and keep those that grew later. The result is that no grain is harvested, and instead one gathers something bad. When the growth of seedlings in the field is out of harmony, and the upper and lower parts cannot coexist peacefully, the crop easily dies off in great numbers.

Seedlings sown at the right time and grown in proper measure have tall stalks and large ears, round grains with thin husks, and a sweet, fragrant taste. They are easy to pound into rice and beneficial to the body when eaten. Here "he" refers to millet (su), "tong" refers to the neck of the ear, and "yi" means the taste is sweet like malt sugar.

Seedlings that miss their season have long awns, slender stems, and ears that are pointed and thin. They bear few grains, and the grains have a bluish color.

Broomcorn millet (shu) that grows in season has no awns on its ear, and its grains are full, with little husk.

In threshing grain, what is called "bo" (rubbing) means rubbing the crop by hand so that the grain comes loose.

Millet that has missed its proper season has a thick root, flowers growing alongside its stalk, broad and fleshy leaves, and short, stunted ears.

"Ben" refers to the root. "Huajing" means that flowers grow beside the stalk. "Gao" means fleshy and thick.

Rice that grows in its proper season has sturdy, long stalks, and its ears hang as long as horsetails. "Bao" means large. To say the ears are like horsetails is to describe how long they are.

Rice that misses its proper season has thin, weak stalks and poor growth, a thick layer of chaff, and is prone to withering and dying.

Hemp that grows in its proper season has widely spaced nodes, bright color, and tough fiber, with a small root. "Yang" refers to a bright luster. "Jian" means firm, and here it describes the hemp bark as tough and strong.

Hemp that misses its proper season has many branches and short stems, with tall, lengthy nodes, and its leaves are prone to insect damage. "Fanke" refers to many branches, and "anjie" refers to nodes that grow tall.

Beans that grow in their proper season have long stems and short roots, with fourteen pods to each cluster. They have many branches and nodes, lush leaves, and abundant fruit. They feel heavy in the hand, and eating them makes a person full and strong. Here "shu" is the bean, "zu" means to gather, and "xi" means to be full and abundant.

Beans that miss their proper season often sprawl into vines, with hollow, airy leaves, insubstantial roots, sparse nodes, and small pods.

Wheat that grows in its proper season has long stalks and clustered ears, with fourteen grains in each row. The grains have a thin husk and a yellowish color, and eating them makes a person robust and strong. "Boyi" refers to the thin husk around the grain. Here the text says each row of the ear bears fourteen grains.

Wheat that misses its proper season has swollen, thick stems and roots, is prone to insects and disease, has weak seedlings, and its ears bear many awns.

Therefore, crops that grow in accordance with the seasons yield abundantly, while those that miss their season yield little. All grains are suited to being planted and eaten at the right time. Doing so strengthens the whole body, sharpens hearing and sight, keeps harmful qi (xieqi) from entering, and spares a person much illness.

Chapter Nine: Bingdao pian (On the Way of Warfare)

Therefore, when crops are sown at the proper time, the harvest is abundant; when the season is missed, the harvest is meager. Every kind of grain is suited to cultivation, and people eat them according to the seasons, so that their limbs are strong, their ears keen and eyes bright, harmful qi cannot invade, and the body does not suffer grave calamities.

The "four guards" (siwei) are the four limbs.

Confucius rightly said: when one eats one's fill in winter, the body is warm; when one eats one's fill in summer, the body is cool. When the body can maintain a suitable temperature through both the bitter cold of winter and the scorching heat of summer, a person does not fall ill. When people do not fall ill, pestilence does not spread, and when pestilence does not spread, people can all live out their natural span of years. Thus it is said, "Grain is the root by which people live." Therefore, the wise ruler devotes himself to farming. A ruler who does not devote himself to farming abandons the common people, and a ruler who abandons the people can hardly govern the state well.

Weapons are inauspicious things, to be used only when there is no alternative.

Qin Jingzhu intended to display the might of Qin to all under Heaven. Qin relied on the strategic strength of the Xiao Mountains and on its strong armies and brave soldiers, so it sought to make its military power known throughout the realm, so that the other states would not dare to make an enemy of Qin.

He dispatched the shuzhang (a rank of the Qin nobility), Bao Rong by name, with strict orders to bring Kangcangzi to Qin.

Qin Jingzhu prepared twelve cities as gifts to receive Kangcangzi and secretly urged him to come. He wished to seek Kangcangzi's strategies, so he offered the twelve cities as a mark of honor. Yet fearing that Kangcangzi would not come, he secretly sent Bao Rong to press him, insisting that he must come.

Kangcangzi arrived in Qin, passing from Rongquan to Shangguan, and was received as an honored guest. Rongquan is a place name in Qin.

Qin Jingzhu went three days without...