《周易参同契考异》

Zhouyi Cantong Qi Kaoyi is a one-volume work by the Song scholar Zhu Xi, included in the Daoist section of the Masters division of the Complete Library of the Four Treasuries. The introductory note explains the book’s origins and discusses Zhu Xi’s purpose in collating and annotating the Zhouyi Cantong Qi.

Chen Zhensun writes in his Bibliographical Notes that the wording and rhythms of the Cantong Qi are archaic and profound, making it difficult to understand. Readers with limited learning often alter characters arbitrarily, so this text contains more textual errors than other books. Zhu Xi compared and corrected readings across different editions. Zhu Xi himself also said that variant readings from the various editions were all preserved for examination, which is why the book was titled Kaoyi, “Examination of Variants.”

After checking the text, however, the compiler of the introductory note found very few places where variants are explicitly marked. For example, some editions have “li” where others have “zhi,” and some have “xi” where others have “yi.” Only two passages cite other editions for comparison. Zhu Xi himself corrected or questioned only six or seven readings. Much of the remaining content consists of explanations following each passage of the scripture; in practice, it is more like a commentary, and does not always involve textual correction. The compiler therefore concludes that, despite its title, the book is not entirely a study of textual variants.

At the end of the book is the signature “Daoist of Kongtong, Zou Xin.” The introductory note conjectures that “Zou” may be a disguised form of “Zhu,” created by removing the “town” component from the character for “Zhu” to hint at the surname Zhu; “Xin” and “Xi” have similar ancient pronunciations and may have been used to hint at Zhu Xi’s given name. He may have signed this way because he considered the alchemical formulas of the elixir arts outside a Confucian scholar’s proper concerns, and so used an assumed name in symbolic language.

Zhu Xi’s recorded sayings mention the Cantong Qi several times, and his chronological biography records that in the third year of the Qingyuan era, when Cai Yuanding was about to be sent into administrative exile in Daozhou, he spent the night with Zhu Xi at Hanquan Retreat, where the two discussed the Cantong Qi. In a letter to Cai Jitong, Zhu Xi wrote that, while reading the Cantong Qi, “there was no gap at all, and no deliberate thought”; he only hoped that one day he might attain the Way and ascend to heaven like Liu An’s chickens and dogs. On this basis, the introductory note suggests that Zhu Xi may have turned to the immortals’ teachings to express a wish to withdraw from the world amid the hardships of public life. Huang Ruijie’s supplementary note likewise holds that the teacher and his disciple shared an aspiration to transcend the mundane world.

Huang Zhen, in his Daily Notes, argues that the Cantong Qi was written by Wei Boyang of Shangyu and derives from the teachings of the immortals, so it is not reliable. He adds that although Cai Jitong was widely learned, he became absorbed in this book; Zhu Xi associated with him and consequently corrected the text, helping it to circulate, even though its underlying principles cannot in fact be discovered. The introductory note considers Huang Zhen’s argument sound in its general stance, but says that he failed to understand the further point: Zhu Xi was using the book to express a wish to withdraw from the world.

In the ninth month of the forty-sixth year of the Qianlong reign, this book was collated by imperial order and respectfully submitted. The chief editors were Ji Yun, Lu Xixiong, and Sun Shiyi; the chief proofreader was Lu Feichi.

The Zhouyi Cantongqi Kaoyi, included in the imperial Complete Library of the Four Treasuries, was written by Zhu Xi of the Song dynasty.

In his “Preface to the Explanation,” Peng Xiao of the Five Dynasties period says that Wei Boyang was from Shangyu in Kuaiji. He devoted himself to cultivation, nurtured his aspirations in stillness and silence, kept his thoughts calm and empty, was widely learned, and understood the study of prognostication and celestial portents. He obtained the ancient Jing of the Dragon and Tiger and grasped its subtleties. He then composed the three parts of the Cantongqi on the basis of the Zhouyi, and wrote an additional piece, “Supplementing Omissions and Gaps.” The book makes extensive use of allegory and allusion, employing obscure language to disclose meanings on different levels. Wei secretly passed it to Xu Congshi of Qingzhou. Xu concealed his name and wrote a commentary on the text. During the reign of Emperor Huan of the Han, Wei Boyang also passed the book to Chunyu Shutong, a fellow native of his commandery. Only after that did it circulate in the world.

“Can” means to combine or intermingle, “tong” means to connect, and “qi” means to correspond or accord. The title means that the principles explained in the book are connected with and accord with the Zhouyi. The text uses the relationship between ruler and minister to explain inner and outer principles, and discusses Kan and Li—names of Zhouyi hexagrams often used in alchemy to symbolize Yin and Yang. It speaks directly about cultivation through alchemical terms such as mercury and lead. It uses Qian and Kun—Zhouyi hexagrams often symbolizing Heaven and Earth, or Yin and Yang—to explain the arrangement of the crucible. It calls the crucible “father and mother” to describe the beginning and end of the cultivation process. It also uses the union of husband and wife and the birth of children as metaphors to clarify the transformations of Yin and Yang and the principles by which things come into being. The text further explains the rhythms of cultivation through the dark and bright phases of the moon—the end and beginning of each month—the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang, their rising and descending, changes in hexagrams and their lines, the direction of the Big Dipper’s handle, the movements of the stars, the alternation of day and night and dawn and dusk, and the measurement of time by the water clock. In short, the book draws throughout on the images and numerical patterns of the Zhouyi to explain the Way of the Elixir; hence its title, Zhouyi Cantongqi.

Note: There are nineteen annotated editions of the Cantongqi, comprising thirty-one volumes. Their catalogue is found in Zheng Qiao’s Yiwenzhi from Jiaji. Peng Xiao’s edition circulated most widely. He divided the original text into three volumes and ninety chapters, corresponding to the number “nine over yang”; he also treated “Song of the Crucible” as a separate piece, corresponding to the number “one of water.” This arrangement was probably modeled on Heshang Gong’s division of the Laozi into an upper and a lower classic, comprising eighty-one chapters. The original text, however, was not arranged this way.

Bao believed that Peng Xiao’s edition had been recklessly altered by shallow scholars in recent times. Copies kept in the imperial archives and copies circulating among the people also contained errors, interpolations, and omissions, making it difficult to determine which version was reliable. Zhu Xi therefore examined and established the text, citing supporting materials as evidence. Other interpretations are not included here.

Zhu Xi said: The Cantong qi was not originally written to explain the Book of Changes. It merely borrowed the method of na jia—matching the Heavenly Stems, phases of the moon, and trigrams—to describe changes in timing and progression during cultivation. Zhu Xi once hoped to learn this art of cultivation, but no one taught it to him, and he did not know where to begin, so he did not dare to comment on it lightly.

The method of na jia described in the book, however, is the same as the divination method associated with Jing Fang, said to have been devised by the Han-dynasty figure of that name, and the method found in the Huozhu lin. These may preserve the tradition through which the method was transmitted. The characters jia, yi, bing, ding, geng, and xin in the book describe the moon’s changing appearance as it rises and sets at dusk and dawn; they are not Heavenly Stems assigned to the positions of the six trigrams. Although the Cantong qi was not written to explain the Book of Changes, the principles contained in the Book of Changes are broad. So long as this account forms a coherent system and its reasoning holds together, it can still accord with the Book of Changes.

The Cantong qi by Boyang, the author Wei Boyang, may well be connected with the teachings of the lineage of Xiyi, Chen Tuan, an important figure in Daoist and Changes traditions. The Earlier Heaven Diagram, which represents the sequence and positions of the trigrams, resonates with the system of nayin, which matches the sexagenary cycle with the Five Phases and musical tones. Cai Jitong, the Southern Song scholar Cai Yuanding, believed that the Earlier Heaven Diagram corresponded to the Cantong qi. Read through the diagram, the Kun and Fu hexagrams correspond to the last day of the lunar month; Zhen corresponds to the third day, symbolizing the first emergence of Yang; the eighth day corresponds to Dui, when the moon is at first quarter; the fifteenth day corresponds to Qian; the eighteenth corresponds to Xun, symbolizing the first emergence of Yin; and the twenty-third corresponds to Gen, when the moon is at last quarter. Kan and Li represent the moon and the sun respectively. For this reason, the Cantong qi does not treat Kan and Li as ingredients of the elixir, but uses the other trigrams to explain the regulation of the firing process: the control of timing, progression, and intensity in cultivation.

Shaozi, the Northern Song scholar Shao Yong, elaborated on the Earlier Heaven Diagram. The diagram is said to have been passed down by Xiyi, who himself had another teacher. It originally belonged to the arts and methods used by practitioners in their cultivation, and the Cantong qi discusses just this kind of material.

The writing of the Cantong qi is excellent, and probably came from the hand of a gifted writer of the Eastern Han. Its diction is grounded in ancient books and is not something later writers could easily imitate. Because it is also difficult to understand, many versions have circulated, and interpretations often diverge. The book says: “After a thousand recitations, its brilliance shines forth; after ten thousand, it may be seen. The spirits may reveal it to a person, and the soul suddenly awakens to understanding.” This means that after reading and reciting it again and again, perhaps a thousand or ten thousand times, the essential meaning of the text may emerge, as if the spirits had given a revelation and the mind and spirit had suddenly grasped it.

Liu of Xuxi, the Southern Song scholar Liu Chenweng, said that among ancient books, only the Cantong qi reads like a work from the pre-Qin period.

Qian and Kun—the Qian and Kun hexagrams—are the gateway to the Yijing and the foundation of all the hexagrams. Seen in terms of Heaven and Earth, Qian, Heaven, is above, and Kun, Earth, is below. The changes of Yin-Yang, and the birth, growth, decline, and death of all things, take place between them. Seen in terms of the human body, Qian represents Yang above and Kun represents Yin below; the changes of Yin and Yang throughout the body unfold from this arrangement. Qian and Kun are therefore like the gateway to the Yijing and the parents of all the hexagrams. Whatever is discussed in the Yijing concerns the changes of Yin-Yang; in the cultivation of the human body, this refers to what is called the great medicine of the Golden Elixir. Are Qian and Kun, then, like the furnace and vessel used in alchemical practice?

Kan and Li—the Kan and Li hexagrams—are like a city wall enclosing the four sides, or like a wheel’s hub and the axle that passes through it. Qian and Kun occupy the upper and lower positions, while Kan and Li ascend and descend between them: this is what is meant by the Yijing. In the Earlier Heaven arrangement of the trigrams, Qian is in the south, Kun in the north, Li in the east, and Kan in the west. The four hexagrams mark out a shape like a walled enclosure; Kan and Li’s rising and descending are like an axle passing through a hub and turning the wheel, moving up and down. The hub is the wheel’s center, where the spokes join and the axle fits; the axle is a wooden rod that runs beneath the carriage, with each end inserted into a hub.

The four paired hexagrams are Zhen, Dui, Xun, and Gen. The tuo is a bellows, and the yue is the pipe that directs its air. Here, the bellows illustrate how the phases of the Moon correspond to the hexagrams in the Na Jia method: Qian corresponds to the full Moon, Kun to the dark Moon, while Kan and Li rise and descend between them. Zhen corresponds to the Moon’s first appearance of light, and Dui to the first quarter; Xun corresponds to the beginning of the Moon’s waning, and Gen to the last quarter. These changes work like a bellows, sometimes slowly and sometimes quickly.

Zhu Xi’s note says: Shao Yong held that Qian and Kun establish the upper and lower positions, while Kan and Li are arranged at the left and right gates. The opening of the Cantong qi (Token for Joining the Three) lays out the positions of the hexagrams and describes the same principle.

The Dao of Yin-Yang encompasses Heaven and Earth. It is like the skillful charioteer who holds the reins and bridle, follows the measures of the carpenter’s line and the wheel tracks, and remains centered as he directs what moves around him. This passage speaks of the human mind’s ability to govern Yin-Yang and regulate the pivotal movement of Qi, thereby refining the Golden Elixir. The reins and bridle represent the methods for directing Yin-Yang; the carpenter’s line represents the standards for controlling the firing times; and the wheel tracks represent the paths of ascent and descent. The precise measures are determined by calendrical timekeeping.

Mastering the principles of Yin-Yang change is like a skilled driver gripping the reins and controlling the carriage pole, guiding the vehicle by rules and straightedges along its appointed course. The practitioner should grasp the central pivot to regulate external changes. Here, “number” refers to arranging the firing times according to the calendar.

Each month is divided into six periods of five days. The Yin-Yang changes in cultivation are scheduled according to the movements of the sun and moon, together corresponding to sixty hexagrams. Each hexagram has firm and yielding aspects, as well as inner and outer ones. A period consists of five days in the middle of the month, and six periods make one cycle. Counting day and night separately gives sixty time periods in all. Day belongs to firmness and night to yielding; firmness is inner, yielding outer. Among the sixty-four hexagrams, Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li have other uses related to the furnace and elixir, so only sixty hexagrams are used to arrange the firing times.

At dawn on Shuo, the first day of the month, the Tun hexagram presides; at dusk, the Meng hexagram takes its turn. One hexagram is used for the day and another for the night, rotating in sequence. This is the general rule for arranging the firing times with the sixty hexagrams: one cycle runs through the month, while the actual practice must also accord with the early and late hours of each day.

On Hui, the last day of the month, the Ji Ji hexagram is used at dawn and the Wei Ji hexagram at dusk. Then the cycle ends and begins again. The days and hours set the limits for arranging the firing times, with movement and stillness each having their own early and late phases. Here, “brightness” refers to the moon’s first appearance in light, that is, the waxing of its brightness.

In spring and summer, the inner aspect operates from the Zi hour through the Chen and Si hours. In autumn and winter, the outer aspect operates from the Wu hour through the Xu and Hai hours. Spring and summer correspond to morning, and autumn and winter to evening. “Inner aspect” refers to the preceding hexagram, and “outer aspect” to the following one. This, too, is a rule for arranging the firing times with the sixty hexagrams. Later, the text pairs the Tun hexagram with the Zi and Shen hours, and the Meng hexagram with the Yin and Xu hours, then explains this through the Na Jia method, a system for correlating the heavenly stems and earthly branches with hexagram images. In general, the key hours used in a day are Zi, Wu, Mao, and You.

The arrangement of rewards and punishments corresponds to spring and autumn; the changes between dusk and dawn follow the cold and heat of the seasons. The benevolence and righteousness expressed in the hexagram and line texts likewise show joy and anger as the seasons turn. In this way, following the course of the four seasons brings the sequence of the Five Phases into harmony.

Heaven and Earth each establish their position, and the changes of the Yi unfold between them. Heaven and Earth refer to the Qian and Kun hexagrams; “establishing positions” means arranging the positions in which Yin and Yang correspond; here, “Yi” refers to the Kan and Li hexagrams.

Heaven and Earth established the positions of Qian and Kun, and change moved within them. “Heaven and Earth” refers to the Qian and Kun trigrams; “establishing their positions” means that Yin and Yang are arranged in their respective places and work together. “Change” refers to the Kan and Li trigrams. Kan and Li are the two forms of change through which Qian and Kun function.

This passage cites the Classic of Changes to explain the roles of Qian and Kun, and of Kan and Li: Qian is above and Kun below; the Qi of Li descends, while the Qi of Kan rises. “The two functions of Qian and Kun” refers to the use of nine in the Qian trigram and the use of six in the Kun trigram: nine represents old Yang, and six represents old Yin.

These two functions have no fixed line positions. They circulate through the space represented by the six lines, with no fixed location or conventional distinction between above and below. Hidden from view, they rise and fall and transform within the trigrams, encompassing all things. They are the guiding principles of the Dao. What is formless can govern what has form; a vessel works precisely because it contains an empty space. As Yin and Yang wax and wane, the functions of Kan and Li likewise disappear from view.

In the six lines of the Qian and Kun trigrams, each nine and six has a fixed position; the use of nine and the use of six, however, have no fixed position. The nines and sixes in the six lines are precisely these circulating, rising and falling transformations. The Najia method assigns the Heavenly Stems to the Eight Trigrams: Qian is assigned Jia and Ren, Kun Yi and Gui, Zhen Geng, Xun Xin, Gen Bing, and Dui Ding. These all have fixed positions. Kan is assigned Wu and Li Ji, but these have no fixed positions. The changes of Yin and Yang in the six trigrams are the expression of the middle lines of Kan and Li circulating, rising and falling. Thus, formless change governs things that have form. A vessel has form, but its function lies in the empty space within it. This is like what Laozi says: “Clay is shaped into a vessel, but it is the hollow within that makes the vessel useful.”

“Waxing and waning” refers to the growth and decline of Yin and Yang: Yang Qi begins to grow in the Kun trigram, passes through Zhen and Dui, and continues until it reaches Qian. It then begins to decline from Qian, passing through Xun and Gen until it reaches Kun. “Disappearing” means having no fixed position. The later section, “The use of nine moves freely and is the source of change,” conveys the same idea.

Zhu Xi said, “Someone asked whether the Longhu Shangjing was the original source of the Cantong qi. I replied, ‘No. It seems that later people saw the phrase “Longhu Shangjing” in Wei Boyang’s biography and forged this scripture. For the most part, it is made up of passages pieced together from the Cantong qi, and some parts are incorrect. For example, “the two functions” refers to “Using Nine” and “Using Six”; Nine and Six correspond respectively to Kan and Li. “The six voids” refers to the positions of the six lines of Qian and Kun—that is, the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, and top line positions. The statement “Though the two functions have no line positions” means that Using Nine and Using Six have no fixed line positions of their own, yet move continually among the six lines of Qian and Kun, just as a person’s Jing and Qi circulate throughout the body without remaining in any fixed place. The Longhu Jing, however, mistakenly says “Xu and Wei.” Unable to find any relevant basis, its author seized on a single character and forced an explanation.’”

Additional note: Peng holds that after Wei Boyang obtained the ancient text of the Longhu Jing, he wrote the Cantong qi. Zhu Xi, by contrast, believed that later people forged the Longhu Jing. Examining the Cantong qi today, we find that some of its ancient passages about the dragon and tiger may have existed long before it, such as passages of the “Huojì” type. These texts, however, may not be the same as the versions circulating today. Bao says they may be like the Hushou Jing among the Three Mounds texts, whose authenticity is difficult to determine.

A further note: The Jinbi Guwen Longhu Shangjing is shorter than the Cantong qi, but its wording and arrangement are quite similar, and more orderly. At the end, it says, “The Huojì was not composed in vain”—a phrase also found in the Cantong qi. This suggests that the Huojì may itself have been a source for the Cantong qi.

“Words should not be carelessly contrived, nor arguments groundlessly advanced. Cite evidence and demonstrate results; compare and measure against the divine and the luminous. By reasoning from analogous cases and joining characters, take principle as proof. Kan is the essence of the moon, Wu; Li is the light of the sun, Ji. Sun and moon together form the character yi, ‘change’; hardness and softness are appropriately matched. Earth rules in all four seasons, weaving through beginning and end. Blue-green, red, white, and black each occupy one direction, and all are governed by the functions of Wu and Ji in the central palace.”

This passage says that arguments should not be invented at will, but should rest on verification and practical results. Their principles should be explained by reasoning from analogous cases and by analyzing the forms of characters. Kan and Li respectively symbolize the moon and the sun: Kan is paired with Wu, and Li with Ji. Together, the sun and moon form the character yi, “change,” symbolizing the pairing of Yin and Yang, hardness and softness. In the Five Phases, Earth is strong in all four seasons and runs through the beginning and end of things. Blue-green, red, white, and black represent the east, south, west, and north respectively, and are all governed by the Earth of Wu and Ji in the center.

Here, the structure of the Chinese character is used to show how the Kan moon and Li sun combine to form yi, “change.” Kan is paired with Wu and Li with Ji; Wu and Ji belong to central Earth. The Qi of the four directions and their corresponding phases are likewise governed by the central Earth of Wu and Ji.

Here, the method of “making characters” is used to explain how the Kan moon and Li sun combine to form the character “Yi.” Kan and Li occupy the central position of Earth, and the Five Phases in the four directions all receive nourishment from the Qi of central Earth.

“Yi” means taking images. No image in Heaven and Earth is more evident than the sun and moon. By observing their movements, one can discern subtle changes: Yang Qi recedes and Yin Qi arrives; the two gather and move in cycles, like a turning wheel, coming and going, sometimes expanding and sometimes contracting.

This passage gives a general account of how the sun and moon combine to form “Yi.” What follows explains in detail the method and the arrangement of the stages of cultivation over the course of a month.

From the last day of the lunar month to dawn on the first day, the Zhen trigram begins to receive its mandate. At this time, Heaven and Earth join and exchange essence and Qi, while the sun and moon respond to each other. The male Yang spreads the dark Qi, and the female Yin transforms and nurtures the yellow Qi. They meet one another within primordial chaos, thereby establishing a foundation and nurturing life. As spirit gathers, form gradually takes shape; all kinds of beings are conceived in this way, even the smallest insects. Confucius praised the primordial, undivided state of Heaven and Earth, calling the De of Qian and Kun vast and profound. In examining ancient writings, he also used “Primordial Sovereign” to name the beginning of Heaven and Earth. The poem “Guanju” is regarded as the beginning, symbolizing the first union in marriage and the joining of Yin and Yang Qi. From the first year onward, all things sprout and grow. Sages do not appear from nowhere: they look up to observe the signs in Heaven and make clear the confirmations Heaven reveals. The celestial signs advance and recede, bend and extend, changing with the seasons.

The method in this book divides the month into six stages, each matched with one of six trigrams: Zhen first, Dui second, Qian third, Xun fourth, Gen fifth, and Kun sixth. Each stage lasts five days. Thus, at dawn on the first day of the lunar month, the Zhen trigram begins to govern, symbolizing the start of the sun and moon, and of Yin and Yang, responding to one another; the practitioner also begins work at this time. This is like the sages’ compilation of the Six Classics, each with its own beginning. This is one of the central points of the whole text. The line “the male Yang spreads the dark Qi, and the female Yin transforms and nurtures the yellow Qi” is the key to this section; the rest of the passage explains it.

The Yi governs the heart of the Way of Heaven. The Fu hexagram marks the beginning and the first sprouting. The eldest son, Zhen, receives the form of his father, Qian, and establishes his foundation through his mother, Kun. The rhythm of Yin and Yang waxing and waning corresponds to musical pitches, while their rising and descending transformations are regulated by the pivot of the Northern Dipper.

Here the month is also divided into twelve stages, matched in sequence with the twelve hexagrams Fu, Lin, Tai, Dazhuang, Guai, Qian, Gou, Dun, Pi, Guan, Bo, and Kun. Each stage lasts two and a half days. The Fu hexagram is the inner body of the Zhen trigram among the six trigrams described above. Zhen is the eldest son, Qian the father, and Kun the mother. The statement below, “At dawn on the first day, it is Fu,” means that the Fu hexagram corresponds to dawn on the first day of the lunar month.

On the third day, sunlight appears, fresh and clear; the Zhen trigram corresponds to Geng and is placed in the west. On the eighth day, the Dui trigram corresponds to Ding, coinciding with the first quarter moon, whose face is straight as a taut string. On the fifteenth day, the form of the Qian trigram is complete and the moon reaches fullness, corresponding to the Jia position in the east.

The third day marks the latter half of the first phase, and its lunar aspect corresponds to the “Return” hexagram in the Yi.

On the third day, the moon shows a faint light. The Zhen hexagram corresponds to Geng and occupies the western position. On the eighth day, the Dui hexagram corresponds to Ding. The moon is at first quarter, and the boundary between light and dark is straight as a taut cord. On the fifteenth day, the form of the Qian hexagram reaches its fullness, corresponding to Jia in the east.

The third day falls at the midpoint of the first phase, when the moon has just begun to show its light. It begins to receive one portion of sunlight and appears at dusk in the western position of Geng. The eighth day falls at the midpoint of the second phase, when the moon is at first quarter. It receives two portions of sunlight and appears at dusk in the southern position of Ding. The fifteenth day falls at the midpoint of the third phase, at full moon. The moon receives sunlight completely, its brightness is abundant, and it appears at dusk in the eastern position of Jia.

The toad and the rabbit’s essence—images used by the ancients to refer to the moon—correspond to the light of the sun and moon, and do not differ from one another. The toad represents observing the sequence of hexagram Qi and the seasonal periods. “Rabbit” carries the sense of “spitting out” and symbolizes emitting light. The passage describes the full moon on the night of the fifteenth, when it receives sunlight completely. Thus the toad represents looking, while the rabbit represents giving forth radiance.

The moon completes its waxing around the seventh or eighth day, then bends and begins to wane, gradually diminishing. On the sixteenth day, the fourth phase begins. The moon now receives Yin Qi, and its hexagram is Xun, corresponding to the Xin position; it appears in the west at dawn. The Gen hexagram corresponds to Bing and occupies the south. On the twenty-third day, the moon is at last quarter, and the Kun hexagram corresponds to Yi. On the thirtieth day, the moon loses its light in the northeast.

When the lunar changes reach their end, they alternate and continue, beginning anew. The Zhen hexagram corresponds to Ren, while Gui is paired with Yi; Qian and Kun govern the beginning and end of the month.

“Seven and eight” refers to the fifteenth day; the sixteenth marks the start of the fourth phase. At this point, the moon first gives rise to one portion of Yin Qi, forming the Xun hexagram. The moon’s essence—the part that gradually darkens—begins to appear, sinking at dawn in the western position of Xin. The twenty-third day is the midpoint of the fifth phase. One further portion of Yin Qi arises, forming the Gen hexagram. The moon is at last quarter and sinks at dawn in the southern position of Bing. The thirtieth day marks the end of the sixth phase. All three portions of Yang Qi have vanished; the moon has lost its light, and its body lies hidden in the northeast. Here, the name of the Yi hexagram “Peng” is borrowed to mean “brightness.”

A month is divided into six phases. Once they have all run their course, the next month takes over. The eldest son—the Zhen hexagram—succeeds the father—the Qian hexagram—and the moon reappears as the Zhen hexagram. Ren is paired with Jia, and Gui with Yi; both pairs fall under the governance of Qian and Kun. Qian and Kun encompass the beginning and end of the ten-day cycle. From the last day of the lunar month to the first day of the next, this is the monthly timing cycle (huohou) that governs the sequence of cultivation in Daoist practice.

A note appended by Zhu Xi says: Within a single breath, the changes of darkness, new moon, first quarter, and full moon are all contained. At the first quarter, the breath begins to gather, as though moving downward from above. At the last quarter, the breath gradually wanes, as though moving upward from below. At the full moon, the moon’s Qi is abundant: the sun lies below, while the moon appears in full above. At the transition between the dark moon and the new moon, the sun and moon join above. This is what is meant by “raising Water to extinguish Fire” and by sayings such as “Metal returns to the beginning of nature.”

Seven and eight together make fifteen, corresponding in turn to nine and six; all four together make thirty. As Yang Qi gradually disappears and lies hidden, the moon appears full above. [The following passage makes the same point:] At the transition between the dark moon and the new moon, the sun and moon join above. This is what is meant by “raising Water to extinguish Fire” and by sayings such as “Metal returns to the beginning of nature.”

The Eight Trigrams are arranged in sequence, and the movements and changes of the sun, moon, and stars never depart from the Way of central balance. The subtle and profound principles cannot be seen directly; one can only infer their patterns and verify their signs. In settling their dwellings, people observe the heavens, establish standards in accordance with their forms, and use them to discern good and ill fortune. In issuing commands, they must follow the seasons and never miss the proper moment for changes in the line images. Above, they observe the patterns of the Yellow River Chart; below, they examine the order of the terrain; between them, they consider human affairs, comparing and verifying the conditions of Heaven, Earth, and humanity—the Three Powers. In action, they follow the sequence of the hexagram Qi and the seasons; in stillness, they rely on the hexagram statements. Only when the Way of Qian and Kun is put into effect throughout the world can the world be governed.

This passage draws on the saying, “When Qian and Kun use nine, the world is governed.” “Qian and Kun use” refers to Qian’s use of nine and Kun’s use of six. Some editions write “order” instead of “govern,” possibly to avoid a taboo character in the name of a Tang emperor. From here through “the state suffers no harm to the Way,” governing the state serves as a metaphor for cultivating the Dao.

How could one fail to be cautious? The first priority in managing affairs of state is to grasp the crucial points with care, understand change, and apprehend and apply the essential principles. Qian and Kun are like the pivot and guiding framework that direct change. The line images stir within, while good and ill fortune appear without; the movements of the five planets, too, intersect and change. This explains that when the Way of Qian and Kun is properly applied, the world can be governed. The character for “govern” may also be written as “order,” perhaps to avoid a Tang taboo.

The key to governing affairs lies in carefully grasping the main principles and closely attending to fine details. Open when opening is called for, and close when closing is called for; only then can the essentials of governing the state be put into practice. The guiding principle is like a handle of authority: it governs change and serves as its pivot. When the Yin-Yang lines and images stir within, good and ill fortune become apparent. Outside, the Five Planets move, crossing and diverging in favorable or contrary courses, responding to the seasons as they change. If the four and seven fall out of measure and their movements become erratic, they depart from the proper path. The Wenchang star oversees the records, inspections, and questioning of the senior ministers, while each official is responsible for the affairs within their own jurisdiction. The sun joins with the Five Phases, and the moon follows the Six Pitch Pipes; five multiplied by six makes thirty degrees. Once a cycle of movement is complete, it begins again. This describes tracing things back to their beginnings, examining their final outcomes, and following the pattern of change between survival and extinction.

At times, a ruler may become arrogant and undisciplined, excessively self-satisfied, and so violate the proper path. At other times, ministers may be treacherous and flattering, acting contrary to the rules. Anomalies in the waxing and waning of the crescent and full moons foretell calamity. The officials responsible for law enforcement investigate wrongdoing; if blame reaches the ruler, the North Pole Star bears the sign of a loss of balance. The ruler should remain centered and upright, appoint ministers with composure, and govern from the Ming Hall, the ancient place for deliberation and state affairs, so that the country is not harmed and the proper path is not violated.

All of the above uses the metaphor of governing affairs, and it contains points worth considering closely.

In terms of inner cultivation, one should nurture oneself, quiet the mind and spirit, empty oneself of attachments, and return to the root of life. Let the inner realm become subtle and clear; turn inward to observe the body, gather in the senses and spirit that have scattered outward, and strengthen the numinous root. “The Three Lights Sink into Obscurity”—the radiance of the sun, moon, and stars sinking from sight—means drawing in outward brightness and gently nurturing the “Child Pearl,” a term in Neidan cultivation for the coagulation of inner essence and Qi. Though unseen, it is close at hand within oneself and easy to attain. The inner Qi of the Yellow Center gradually becomes accessible, nourishing the skin and filling out the body. One must begin by setting oneself upright in order to complete the cultivation; establish the foundation first, and only then can it be maintained to the end. “Using the One to conceal it from the world” means that the essential key is hidden and unknown to outsiders.

This is an interpretation in terms of inner cultivation. It is the most important and essential part of the scripture. The phrase “The Three Lights Sink into Obscurity; Gently Nurture the Child Pearl” is the key within the key. The earlier metaphors of governing affairs—“the beginning of governing,” “the handle of authority,” and “the guiding pivot”—refer precisely to this central point of cultivation. “Upright at the beginning, foundation established” describes setting the root firmly at the outset; “cultivation completed at the end, maintained to the last” describes bringing the practice to completion and sustaining it through to the end. “Concealing it with the One” refers to the hidden, unseen point from which cultivation begins.

Those of Superior De cultivate through Wuwei, without deliberate searching or probing. Those of inferior De act with intention, continually applying effort in their cultivation. When the upper aperture is closed, this is called “being”; when the lower aperture is closed, this is called “nonbeing.” “Nonbeing” is used to nourish “the upper.” In the upper region there is the De of numinous clarity, residing between these two apertures; in cultivation, Metal Qi also works in coordination with it.

The text from this point becomes increasingly difficult, so for now I will explain it according to its meaning.

“Higher De” refers to the yin side discussed earlier: it transforms and nurtures the yellow enclosure, within which the light of the sun, moon, and stars is hidden. It also refers to the later passage in which mercury transforms into a flowing pearl, accompanied by the Azure Dragon. The statement “the flowing pearl is the mother of water” describes a subtlety that is difficult to grasp through deliberation or inference. “Lower De” refers to the yang side discussed earlier: it disperses dark Qi and provides warmth and nourishment, allowing the cinnabar pearl to grow. It also refers to the later passage in which the White Tiger becomes the pivot of refinement and yellow earth becomes the father of metal. These are the parts that require focused intention and deliberate effort. If these two aspects are blocked, both lose their proper function. The phrase “cannot be without” below means that this aspect must be present; “that which is absent” refers to the mother of water, the subtlety that cannot be grasped through deliberation. “Lower De” still refers to the yang side and its nourishing function; blocking them likewise causes each to lose its proper function. The Scripture of the Dragon and Tiger says, “Above, the Azure Dragon dwells in the Qi of metal.” Here, the Azure Dragon refers to the yang side, corresponding to the White Tiger. In general, when yang Qi descends, yin Qi naturally rises; the “aperture” refers to the place where they meet. The Song of the Crucible and Vessel says, “Yin is above, while yang rushes downward.” This, too, is an especially important statement.

“Know the white and keep to the black, and the spirit’s illumination will come of itself. White is the essence of metal; black is the foundation of water. Water is the pivot of the Dao, and its dispersal is one in each direction.” White refers to mercury, black to lead. “Essence of metal” means that it is born from lead; “foundation of water” means that it can generate water. White and black are each distinct, while water is the pivot of the Dao. This is the “De of the spirit” mentioned earlier.

“At the beginning of Yin and Yang, the dark contains the yellow sprout; master of the five metals, the northern River Cart.” The yellow sprout contained in dark Qi means that earth exists within water, in a state of stillness that nonetheless contains the potential for life. The “northern River Cart” is black in color and can generate water. In light of what follows, this passage is speaking of lead.

Thus lead is black on the outside, yet contains the golden flower within. It is like someone wearing coarse cloth while holding jade close to the heart: outwardly, they seem ordinary, even dull. This lead is the Qi of metal mentioned earlier.

Metal is the mother of water: the mother lies hidden within, nurturing her son. Water is the son of metal, concealed in the mother’s womb. This is precisely what the earlier phrase “know the white and keep to the black” expresses.

The state of the True Person is supremely subtle, seeming both present and absent, as though dwelling in an abyss, now sinking, now rising. Then it withdraws and disperses, each part remaining in its own place.

This is what is meant by cultivating and refining the “Child Pearl” (a metaphor in practice for the inner elixir pearl formed through the condensation of Jing and Qi) by gentle methods.

From a distance, it appears white; during refinement, however, it is vermilion. Vermilion protects it on the outside, while its pure white substance dwells within, steadfastly guarding the center. It occupies a space one inch square, where its parts blend together and restrain one another. It came into being before Heaven and Earth and holds a lofty place. Walls and gates surround it, shaped like Penghu, the legendary island mountain in the sea. It is enclosed on every side and tightly sealed, yet open in all four directions. All comings and goings must be carefully guarded, lest vigilance fail. Lofty halls and winding pavilions connect with one another to guard against mishap.

“An inch across” refers to what is called the Child Pearl. “Walls and gates” may refer to the statement below that “the chamber of the lord of emotions is built outside and always serves as a city wall and gate,” though the precise meaning of these expressions is unclear.

In cultivating the Dao, it is difficult to avoid being stirred by distracting thoughts, and equally difficult to keep worry from exhausting the spirit. When Shen and Qi fill the body, nothing can take them away. Guard them, and they will flourish; lose them, and they will decline. Cultivation should accompany daily life, whether one is active or at rest. Those who repeatedly examine the organs, visualize within the mind, pace out ritual patterns, perform methods according to the Six Jia and the days of the calendar, use Yin-based spells to suppress harmful forces, muddle together the “Nine-One” techniques, guard the mysterious womb, take in Qi until their bowels rumble, expel the old and draw in the new, or go without sleep day and night, even through the new moon and month’s end, often wear their bodies down to exhaustion. Their minds grow dazed, as if foolish, while the hundred pulses surge and cannot be still. Some build altars and shrines all around, offering reverent worship morning and evening in the hope that spirits will appear. They also become moved by dreams and, in their joy, convince themselves they will surely prolong their lives. Instead, they die soon, their corpses exposed to decay. Their conduct is often perverse and confused, and they lose the essentials of cultivating the Dao. Such techniques are numerous, numbering in the thousands; in every advance and retreat they violate the teachings of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi, and wander far from the Nine Capitals, the legendary realm of immortals or their dwelling place.

The passage says that the Daoist methods discussed in this book differ from various minor, heterodox techniques. The original commentary says that their full meaning cannot be set out here.

Those who understand these principles can clearly discern their own safeguards and shortcomings, and suddenly grasp the path of cultivation. They then practice diligently, without pause by day or night. After taking elixirs for three years, they can lighten their bodies and ascend, traveling far in every direction. They can enter fire without being burned and enter water without getting their clothes wet. They can appear and disappear, enjoying lasting peace and freedom from sorrow. Once their cultivation of the Dao is complete and their De (Virtue/Power) perfected, they withdraw into seclusion and wait for the right moment. Taiyi, a deity in Daoism, then summons them and grants them a dwelling in the Central Continent. When their merit is complete, they ascend to Heaven and receive celestial registers and talisman diagrams. The records of the firing process are not false: the author uses the principles of the Yi to explain them.

The “reclining moon,” shaped like a half-moon turned upward, is the symbolic form of the cauldron and furnace. The White Tiger, an alchemical term referring here to lead, fire energy, and related substances, is the pivot of the heating process; Mercury, the essence of the sun, is like flowing dew. The Azure Dragon, an alchemical term referring here to water, the hun soul, and related substances, rises together with it. East and west unite, and the hun and po souls are bound to one another. The waxing half-moon corresponds to the number eight of the Dui trigram, and the waning half-moon likewise corresponds to eight.

Note: “Reclining moon” may refer to a shape that is rounded at the front and hollowed at the back, like an inverted crescent. The White Tiger refers to lead, fire, Qi (vital energy), the west, the po soul, Yang, and other such things. “The pivot of heating” means that it moves downward, setting in motion steaming and moistening, which then rise upward. Mercury refers to the essence of the sun; the Azure Dragon refers to water, the east, the hun soul, Yin, and other such things. The waxing half-moon belongs to Yang, and the waning half-moon to Yin.

Zhu Xi said: Names such as Kan and Li, water and fire, Dragon and Tiger, lead and mercury, are simply terms borrowed and exchanged for one another. In fact, they refer only to Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy). Jing belongs to water, Kan, the Dragon, and mercury; Qi belongs to fire, Li, the Tiger, and lead. In cultivation, Shen (spirit) directs Jing and Qi, causing them to congeal into an elixir. Yang energy first arises below, forming water; fire is then applied to refine it until it congeals into an elixir. This account differs greatly from the usual understanding.

When the Jing and Qi of the two half-moons unite, the forms of Qian and Kun take shape. “Two eights” correspond to one another, together making one jin (a traditional unit of weight). In this way, the principles of the Yi are set right, without deviation. On the eighth day, the moon appears as a waxing half-moon and corresponds to the Dui trigram. Eight days later, it is full and round, corresponding to Qian. On the twenty-second day, it appears as a waning half-moon and corresponds to Gen. Eight days later, the moon has disappeared into darkness, corresponding to Kun. Another commentary says that one jin contains 384 zhu, exactly matching the number of lines in the hexagrams. The moon begins its waxing with the new moon symbolized by Zhen, gradually filling out until it reaches Qian; it then gradually wanes until it reaches the total darkness symbolized by Kun.

When gold is cast into a fierce fire, its color does not change, and its pure luster naturally appears. Since the creation of Heaven and Earth, the light of the sun and moon has not diminished, nor has the weight of gold decreased. The forms of the sun and moon remain as they always have: gold first emerges from within the moon, gradually becomes full, then wanes until it is entirely depleted, as symbolized by Kun.

Gold enters fierce fire, yet its luster and essence remain unharmed. Since the creation of Heaven and Earth, the light of the sun and moon has never diminished, and gold has not lost its original weight. The forms of the sun and moon remain as they have always been. Gold originally comes into being in the moon and, on the first day of each month, receives the sun’s response. Gold then returns to its mother. At the end of the month, the sun and moon join; the moon’s light draws in and conceals itself, sinking into emptiness. Gold recovers its original nature, its radiance appears, and the cauldron begins to burn.

Here, “gold” means lead. “Gold returns to its mother and recovers its former nature” refers to drawing inward and concealing itself, so that its effects are no longer apparent. “The sun does not shine on the moon” symbolizes the pure Kun hexagram, composed entirely of Yin. In the original text, the character xi is written in some editions as xi or xi. According to the Shuowen Jiezi, xi means “flame,” and the character was also commonly used in later times.

The numbers associated with the Zi and Wu directions combine to make three; Wu and Ji together are called five. When three and five are harmonized, the eight minerals each settle into their proper order. They respond to one another through the breath; with the mind still and the spirit focused, they seem to become a husband and wife. Yellow earth is the father of gold, and flowing water is its mother. Water regards earth as the force that overcomes it: earth blocks the waterways, preventing the water from flowing. The Vermilion Bird, the divine bird representing fire and perhaps referring here to the fire of the heart, is the essence of fire and presides over balance, regulating which force prevails. If water overcomes fire, the fire is extinguished; both return to thick earth. Once the natures of water, fire, and earth have joined, they return together to their source.

Zi belongs to water and has the number one; Wu belongs to fire and has the number two. Together, they make three. Wu and Ji belong to earth and together are called five; three and five combine to make eight, symbolizing the eight minerals. In practice, however, water and fire do most of the work, with earth in the leading role. Earth corresponds to the spleen, which governs intention. The passage says that intention should direct fire and water, making fire descend and water rise so they answer one another. The commentary also says that gold is fire. The Vermilion Bird probably refers to the heart and is also connected with the directing power of intention. The “fire” here is not the same as the fire of “smelting” mentioned earlier. “Holding the balance” means maintaining equilibrium, with earth in the leading role. Earth belongs to the spleen, governs intention, and also has the function of regulating and coordinating. The passage’s general meaning is to use fire to cook water, then use water to restrain fire. This resembles the earlier account of the moon receiving sunlight and then returning to its mother.

Giant-seed sesame can prolong life, and the refined Returning Elixir can be consumed. Gold’s nature does not decay or rot, so it is a treasure among all things. Those who cultivate the Dao and consume it can extend their lives. Earth moves through the four seasons, guarding all directions and establishing their order. Once cinnabar and gold enter the Five Viscera, their medicinal power spreads like mist and flows like wind and rain, reaching the limbs. The complexion becomes radiant and beautiful; white hair turns black again, and lost teeth grow back. An aging man regains the vigor of youth, and an elderly woman becomes like a young girl. Their appearance is transformed, and they are spared the world’s calamities. Such a person is called a Perfected One: someone who has cultivated the Dao to its realization.

When discussing Neidan (internal alchemy, based on cultivating the inner Jing, Qi, and Shen), the meaning of the entry point has not yet been explained in detail. The related methods of protection are found in a later chapter, “Rushing Beneath the Red Gate.”

When lead powder is cast into fire, its color changes and eventually turns white again. When ice and snow meet warm water, they melt. These phenomena are used to explain the making of Taixuan Gold: sand is the main ingredient, mixed with mercury and made to transform. Its transformation follows its inherent nature and remains continuous from beginning to end. The text therefore uses the mutual transformation of things of the same kind as a metaphor.

To refine medicines for ingestion and transcendence, one should choose materials of the same kind. For example, grain is sown from grain seed, and chickens are hatched from eggs: only by using like things can one follow nature and bring things into being. Clay can be fired into vessels, but a fish’s eye will not become a pearl, and mugwort will not grow into a catalpa tree. Things follow one another only when they are of the same kind; if the materials are incompatible, they cannot be refined into a treasure. Thus sparrows cannot give birth to phoenixes, nor can foxes and rabbits produce horses. Water does not flow upward as fire, and fire does not moisten downward.

Here, the text again uses things of different kinds that cannot bring one another to completion to restate the preceding point.

Many people in the world who study the Dao pride themselves on their exceptional intelligence, yet never meet a worthy teacher or find the right opportunity. As a result, they exhaust their fuel and money. They interpret the words recklessly, refine according to their own ideas, and have neither a reliable method nor any understanding of proper measure. They grind and fire substances such as Qiang stone, alum, mica, arsenolite, magnetite, and sulfur; they also refine Yuzhang clay together with mercury, and use the five metals and stones, copper, and other materials as auxiliary ingredients. Since the substances all have different properties, how could they possibly be combined into one? After a thousand or ten thousand attempts, failure is inevitable. In seeking an immortal medicine, they only grow foolish. Their hair turns white with age, yet they remain perplexed halfway along, turning away from the right path and clinging to a dead end, leaving the proper road for a crooked one. Their understanding is as narrow as looking through a bamboo tube, making it impossible to gauge the changes that lie ahead.

This passage concerns Waidan (external alchemy, the practice of refining medicines with furnace fire): if the substances are not of the same kind, they cannot be refined into a treasure.

As for the sages, Fuxi merely drew the Bagua (Eight Trigrams), modeling their patterns on the images of Heaven; King Wen inherited and ordered these trigrams, then developed the hexagram and line figures and composed their statements. This is used here to show that narrow understanding makes it difficult to judge the changes that lie ahead.

This passage is still speaking of Waidan: if the substances are not of the same kind, they cannot be refined into a treasure.

As for sages such as Fuxi, they merely drew the Eight Trigrams, modeling them on celestial patterns to present their lines and forms. King Wen carried on Fuxi’s teachings, ordering the hexagram forms and developing the statements attached to the lines. Confucius, as the foremost of the sages, composed the Ten Wings to explain and support the Book of Changes. These three sages were all specially brought forth by Heaven and arose in succession. They lived in different ages, and their studies and writings followed different sequences, yet their merit and virtue were equal. Each took up what came before, and each examined and weighed things with careful precision. Tangible things are easy to estimate; intangible principles are hard to fathom. Their deeds could serve as models and establish standards for texts in later generations. Relevant passages in the Book of Odes and the Book of Documents have never offered clear foresight; their meaning could be grasped only through a teacher’s guidance. Once the principles become clear, it is like lifting a curtain, climbing a high terrace, and opening one’s eyes to look far into the distance. The account here of the three sages arising in succession and doing somewhat different things means, in brief, that Fuxi took Heaven as his model, King Wen carried on Fuxi’s work, and Confucius carried on King Wen’s. Tangible things are easy to arrange, while intangible principles are hard to grasp. The author also says that he understood these principles through his teacher’s guidance. The meaning of the two passages from the Book of Odes and the Book of Documents remains unclear.

The six hundred chapters of the Fire Record, an ancient work on the timing and regulation of alchemical firing, all share the same purpose; they simply restate it with solemn emphasis. If people fail to think carefully and trace the sources and development of these teachings, they will not understand that the hidden and the manifest are connected at their roots. I have privately waited for a worthy person to explain them; how would I dare hastily commit them to writing? If I keep silent, I fear I will sever the Great Dao and incur guilt. If I set my thoughts down on bamboo and silk, I worry that I will reveal Heaven’s secret tokens. So I hesitated and sighed, turning the matter over again and again, before setting down these humble views. Alchemical work has its own methods and rules. I cannot bear to make all of them public, so I have outlined only the essentials, allowing the details to be glimpsed in broad strokes.

The text following “the six hundred chapters of the Fire Record” repeats the same point: the author fears that setting the contents down on bamboo and silk will disclose Heaven’s secrets. After hesitating and sighing, he finally gives only an outline of the methods and rules of alchemy, letting the details show in broad strokes.

The “six hundred chapters of the Fire Record” were probably an ancient book, now lost; its precise nature cannot be determined.

Use Metal as a dike so that Water and Fire can continue to flow in balance. The number of Metal is fifteen, and the number of Water is also fifteen. When determining the weights beside the furnace, the portion of Water should be slightly more than five parts. When Metal and Water are combined, true Metal is refined, its weight remaining the same as before. Three parts of it do not enter the Water; the other two parts combine with it. The three substances contain and blend with one another, and their transformation is like a marvel. Below, the Qi of the sun lies hidden and rises in vapor; in an instant, it first turns to liquid and then congeals. This is called the Yellow Chariot, the yellow substance formed during the alchemical process.

This is the first transformation in the alchemical method. Metal and Water appear at the same time. In one version, the word “enter” in “enters above” is written as “Fire.” The passage below mentions “three substances,” which seems to support reading “Fire” here. But it also says below that “beneath is the Qi of the sun,” which makes it seem as though there are only two substances. It is therefore also possible that “three substances” is a copyist’s error for “two substances.”

Here, the quantities of both Metal and Water are given as fifteen. The Water is divided into five parts, of which only two are taken—roughly one-sixth of fifteen. The remaining three parts amount to roughly one-ninth of fifteen. In one version, “two parts of Water” is written as “two parts of Fire,” echoing the “Water and Fire” above and the “three substances” below. Yet the passage above gives no quantity for Fire, and the word “sun” appears below, so this evidence is not conclusive. The phrase “the two substances contain and receive one another” refers to Yin and Yang, and to Kan and Li—the trigrams representing Yin and Yang—intermingling. It is clear that “three substances” is a textual error.

As the years draw to a close, if one damages one’s nature and life, the body becomes like ash and earth, like dust beside a bright window. This is the second transformation in the alchemical method.

After pounding, refining, and blending, place it in the mouth (“the red gate” refers to the mouth), close the entrance, and make it secure and intact. Kindle a fierce fire below, which sounds continuously day and night. At first, refine it patiently and carefully so that cultivation can continue; in the end, complete the work with intense heat. Observe with great care, adjusting cold and heat precisely as it passes through twelve stages. At the end of each stage, inspect it personally. As Qi gradually dissipates and life is about to end, stop the process, lest body and spirit perish. Its color then turns purple, bright and lustrous, and at last the Reverted Elixir is formed. Take out the powder and pinch it into a pill. “Knife-tip measure” is a very small unit of measurement; this elixir is said to have extraordinary potency.

This is the third transformation in the alchemical method. “Pound, prepare, and combine” must refer to some other procedure, but the specific operation is unclear. “The red gate” means the mouth. The liquid congeals into an ash-like substance; according to the passage, it should be spat out, refined, and then swallowed. “Blazing fire” is the Qi of the sun mentioned earlier. A similar phrase appears later: “the sound is urgent and earnest,” describing a sound that is hurried and plaintive, like an infant longing for its mother. The character “cultivate” is probably a mistake for “follow”; in Tang-dynasty texts, the two characters were often used interchangeably. “Qi exhausted, life ended” means the same as the earlier phrase “the Fire goes out and the Metal returns.” The precise meanings of “powder” and “knife-tip measure” remain unclear.

The numerical principles underlying the Five Phases—Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water—can be explained simply and clearly, without elaborate exposition. Raise water to attack fire, and the flames suddenly go out. The sun and moon move in turn, waxing and waning, yet the pattern between the dark moon and the new moon remains constant. When water is strong, Kan water overwhelms Yang energy; when fire is weak, Li fire dims the daylight. Yin and Yang mingle and nourish one another, like beings that feed each other. This is the way of nature. A “name” identifies a condition, while a “designation” is established in accordance with its nature. Only when Metal energy returns to the root of its original nature and life can it be called “Returning the Elixir.”

This passage explains the origin of the name “Returning the Elixir” in the preceding text: after the fire goes out, Metal energy returns to its original state.

I dare not make claims without basis; I am only following the words of the sages. Ancient books record accounts of the Dragon and Tiger, the Yellow Emperor, Fine Gold Flower, Huainan refining autumn stone, and Wang Yang refining yellow sprouts. Those of virtue can persevere in cultivation; do not practice alongside those who lack virtue. From ancient times to the present, the principles all lead back to the same proper Way. Discussions between teachers and friends about their aims should likewise center on this. Those who seek learning should redouble their efforts, keep these teachings in mind, and reflect deeply on their most important principles. These words have been made quite clear; I have not deceived you.

Middle Section

Qian is firm and strong; Kun is yielding and compliant. They join and harmonize, each embracing the other. Yang energy receives its endowment from Yin, and the male and female depend on one another. Yin and Yang must support each other for transformation to unfold and vital essence to expand. Kan and Li—the Book of Changes trigrams symbolizing water and fire—stand at the forefront, and radiance emerges from them. The profound and mysterious principles are difficult to fathom and cannot be fully depicted in diagrams. The sages measured and ordered these patterns, making them the sequence of the hidden and subtle foundations.

The Four Images blend and return to unity, entering directly into emptiness. The sixty-four hexagrams—the complete set of images in the Book of Changes—are laid out in sequence, like a carriage that bears its load and moves forward. The Dragon Horse draws the carriage, and an enlightened ruler rides in it. When the seasons are in harmony, the carriage and horses move in accord with the moment. A level road keeps them from veering off course; take a crooked road, and the way becomes perilous and obstructed, while the state falls into ruin and danger.

This passage echoes the first chapter of the preceding section.

The noble person dwells in the realm of emptiness. The sixty-four hexagrams are laid out in sequence, like a carriage that bears its load and moves forward. The Dragon Horse draws the carriage, and an enlightened ruler rides in it. When the seasons are in harmony, the carriage and horses move in accord with the moment. A level road keeps them from veering off course; take a crooked road, and the way becomes perilous and obstructed, while the state falls into ruin and danger.

This passage echoes the first chapter of the preceding section.

When a noble person speaks well at home, people a thousand miles away respond. It is like a ruler who, though living deep within the palace, issues commands in harmony with the seasonal changes of Yin and Yang. He should keep his abilities in reserve and wait for the right moment, without going against the times indicated by the trigrams.

The Cantong qi says that the Zhun hexagram corresponds to the days zi and shen, and the Meng hexagram to the days yin and xu. Each of the other sixty hexagrams also corresponds to particular days. Here, these two hexagrams are offered simply as examples; the principles involved have not yet been fully explained. Enacting laws, applying punishments, upholding benevolence and righteousness, and granting favors should all be timely. To go against the seasons brings misfortune; to follow them brings good fortune.

When acting according to the calendar, one must be sincere and focused, meticulous and exact, carefully observing the days and distinguishing the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang. Even the slightest error may bring regret and disaster. If the seasonal markers of the winter and summer solstices fall out of order, or those of the spring and autumn equinoxes become confused, anomalies will appear: bitter heat in midwinter, hail or snow in midsummer; an imbalance in the lengths of day and night, with the hours out of step; irregular winds and rains, with floods and droughts striking in turn; swarms of locusts, collapsing mountains and splitting earth, strange signs in the heavens, and one abnormal event after another.

A filial child’s sincere efforts can move the Son of Heaven and even affect distant foreign lands. People’s thoughts and actions may bring disaster or blessing; they may usher in peace or provoke war. All these outcomes arise from within. A person’s activity and stillness should follow an established measure and accord with principles. When the four seasons are balanced and in harmony with the Qi of Heaven and Earth, the boundaries between firmness and yielding become clear, and neither encroaches upon the other. The Five Phases—Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water—must each keep their proper order and must not be increased or diminished arbitrarily. The Dao of the Yi turns in cycles, bending and extending in alternation.

This passage continues from the previous one, explaining how the hexagram structures and functions of Zhun and Meng correspond to the hours of a day and night. “Inner structure, outer function” means that the hexagram lines have both an internal arrangement and an external correspondence used to trace the passage of time. The method is based on “assigning the stems” (najia), which matches the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches with the trigrams and line positions: Qian is matched with Jia and Ren, Kun with Yi and Gui, Zhen with Geng, Xun with Xin, Kan with Wu, Li with Ji, Gen with Bing, and Dui with Ding.

When hexagrams are formed by doubling trigrams, the lower three lines and upper three lines of each hexagram are assigned different stems and branches. For example, the lower three lines of Qian are matched in order with Jiazi, Jiayin, and Jiachen, while the upper three are matched with Renwu, Renshen, and Renxu. The other hexagrams are assigned stems and branches according to the same najia rules. The sequence given here serves to match the hexagram lines with the hours of the day.

The inner structure runs from the Zi hour through the Chen and Si hours, while the outer function runs from the Wu hour through the Xu and Hai hours. Thus, in the morning, Zhun begins the sequence: its initial nine, Gengzi, corresponds to the Zi hour, and its fourth line, six over four, Wushen, corresponds to the Mao hour. In the evening, Meng begins the sequence: its initial six, Wuyin, corresponds to the Wu hour, and its fourth line, six over four, Wuxu, corresponds to the You hour. The remaining sixty hexagrams are calculated in the same way. This is a second account of the “fire times” within a single day—the scheduling of timing and stages in alchemical cultivation.

At the juncture between the dark and bright phases of the lunar month, when the Moon and Sun exchange places, Yin and Yang unite and move within. Heaven and Earth are in a state of primordial chaos; the two forces of Yin and Yang follow one another, nurturing transformation and generation.

At the transition between the dark day at the end of the month and the new moon at its beginning, the Yin-Yang tally joins and moves at the center, in a state of primordial chaos before anything has taken clear shape. The two Qi move in harmony, nourishing all things and allowing change and movement to flow without end. The wondrous transformations between Heaven and Earth cannot be measured. By following their workings, one can secure one’s person and conceal one’s form, or remain hidden from view.

The movement begins in the northeast, where the Ji and Dou stars are located, then turns to the right, like the moon’s disk drawing in and releasing the Qi of new growth. At first it lies hidden in darkness; gradually its form appears and its light shines forth, until it reaches the west, where the Bi and Mao stars are located. The Yang Qi symbolized by the Zhen trigram begins to stir. The first nine line is like a hidden dragon. Yang is established through the number three, while Yin finds passage through the number eight; thus, on the third day of the month, the moon’s image resembles the Zhen trigram, and on the eighth it resembles the Dui trigram.

The second nine line is like a dragon appearing. Yin and Yang are in balance, and the light gradually grows clear. The qualities of the numbers three and five are complete, and the form of the Qian trigram takes shape. The third nine line is watchful and self-disciplined through the night. The signs of the cycle shift between fullness and decline, gradually turning until they return to their starting point. The Xun trigram carries the movement onward and firmly holds the hinge where the phases meet. The fourth nine line is like a dragon poised to leap but not yet airborne; between advance and retreat, its position is precarious. The Gen trigram governs stopping and advancing, and the movement must not exceed its appointed time. On the twenty-third day, one watches for the crescent moon. The fifth nine line is like a flying dragon in its place in Heaven. Yang reaches its height and brings an increase of good fortune. The “six-five” belongs to the Kun trigram, which receives and brings this phase to a close.

At the point of ending, Yin and Yang are stored and nurtured, allowing many further transformations to arise. Kun is like the mother of the multitude of children. When the Yang numbers reach their limit, a new cycle begins beyond that limit. By tracing the principles at work and bringing nature into harmony, Yin and Yang turn and alternate, moving in accord with one another. The uppermost nine line is like an overreaching dragon at war with Yin in the wilderness. With the use of nine, Yin and Yang move back and forth in flight, becoming the law of their movement. Following the course of the Jade Pivot, they rise and descend, circulating through the six lines. Their transformations are difficult to perceive directly, so they have no fixed, unchanging position. This is the fundamental principle of the Book of Changes.

Here, Na Jia is again used to explain the stages of the fire cycle over the course of a month. The six lines of the Qian trigram are also incorporated to explain the waxing and waning of Yang Qi. The text places the Ji and Dou stars in the northeast and the Bi and Mao stars in the due west as a way of using the four directions of the sky to indicate earthly directions; it does not mean that the constellations are actually located in the northeast or due west of the sky. “Six-five” is likely a mistake for “twenty-six”: the character for twenty is read ru, meaning “enter.” From the twenty-sixth day onward, the Kun trigram governs. The material beginning with “the use of nine” at the end corresponds to the earlier discussion of the “two uses” of Qian and Kun.

On the morning of the first day of each lunar month is the hexagram Fu, “Return,” among the twelve growth-and-decline hexagrams, signifying the first stirrings of Yang Qi. Yang Qi has just begun to circulate, moving in and out without obstruction. Set up a gnomon to measure the sun’s shadow, and subtle changes can be discerned. At this time Yang Qi is still faint, yet it is beginning to sprout. In the Zi month, the Huangzhong pitch of the pitch-pipe system comes into season. All things are gradually nourished, and warmth spreads, allowing the people to live in peace.

Then Yang Qi gradually grows, like branches budding beside a furnace fire. It opens a bright path; the light grows stronger, and the days lengthen. In the Chou month, the Dalu pitch comes into season, and the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang begins to show itself. Next comes the hexagram Tai, “Peace”: Yin and Yang, firmness and yielding, act upon one another. Yin Qi recedes slightly while Yang Qi grows, and in the Yin month all things gather and sprout, moving in accord with the season.

After this, Yang Qi continues to increase. The Mao month corresponds to the hexagram Dazhuang, “Great Strength.” The elm’s samaras fall, returning to their source; Yin and Yang Qi wax and wane against each other, and the lengths of day and night begin to approach equality. With the hexagram Guai, “Resoluteness,” Yin Qi withdraws while Yang Qi rises and advances, like a bird washing its feathers and shaking off accumulated dust. Then comes the hexagram Qian, “Heaven”: Yang Qi is vigorous and bright, spreading widely in all directions.

Yang Qi reaches its peak in the Si month, after which Yin and Yang meet; from this point the hexagram Gou, “Encounter,” begins. Yin Qi first appears, as frost beneath one’s feet foretells the cold, and a cold spring has already formed at the bottom of the well. The Wu month corresponds to the Ruibin pitch. Yin Qi now gradually rises and comes to predominate. With the hexagram Dun, “Withdrawal,” Yang Qi steps aside, gathers in its Jing, nurtures its De, and waits for the right moment, withdrawing for a time into darkness.

With the hexagram Pi, “Obstruction,” Heaven and Earth close off and cease to communicate, so sprouts cannot grow. Yin Qi extends while Yang Qi withdraws. With the hexagram Guan, “Contemplation,” one should observe the measure of Yin and Yang’s waxing and waning, and also attend to the climate of mid-autumn: nurture small living things, allow the withered and declining to flourish again, and the young shoots of shepherd’s purse and wheat to sprout in their turn. With the hexagram Bo, “Stripping Away,” the branches and bodies of plants wither, and their forms waste away. The force of transformation through Qi is exhausted, and the vital Shen (spirit) disappears with it. When the movement of Qi reaches its end, it returns to the original ground symbolized by the hexagram Kun, “Earth.”

The way of Kun constantly follows the movement of the Earth, receiving the Dao of Heaven and distributing it among all things. The space between Heaven and Earth is deep and subtle: though they seem separate, they are connected. Following their proper measure, they nurture seeds and form the source of Yin-Yang change. This process is vast and elusive, and its beginning is difficult to know. At first, one loses sight of the pattern; later, one grasps the governing Dao. Nothing under Heaven remains forever level without tilting: this is the natural order. Things change, rise and decline, and wax and wane in mutual succession. In the end they return to Kun, then begin again with Fu, like a circle turning without end. If rulers govern the world in accord with this pattern, they can preserve the realm for a long time.

The twelve growth-and-decline hexagrams above divide each month’s “fire timing”—the arrangement of seasonal timing and the measures of advance and retreat in the process of refinement and cultivation—into finer stages. They can also be used to work out the fire timing of the year. By the month, each hexagram corresponds to roughly two and a half days. Fu pairs Zhen with Kun; Lin pairs Dui with Kun; Tai pairs Qian with Kun; Dazhuang pairs Qian with Zhen; Guai pairs Qian with Dui; Qian pairs Qian with Qian; Gou pairs Qian with Xun; Dun pairs Qian with Gen; Pi pairs Qian with Kun; Guan pairs Kun with Xun; Bo pairs Kun with Gen; and Kun pairs Kun with Kun. In another sequence of derivation, Lin corresponds to Fu combined with Zhen, Dazhuang to Fu combined with Dui, Qian to Fu combined with Qian, Dun to Fu combined with Xun, Guan to Fu combined with Gen, and Kun to Fu combined with Kun.

The derivation relies chiefly on the names of the hexagrams, the pitch names, and the names of the times of day. In the text, “radiating together” refers to Taicu; “lined up side by side” to Jiazhong; “washing and cleansing” to Guxi; “middle” to Zhonglü; “dim and obscure” to Linzhong; “extending” to Shen; “containing and storing” to Nanyü; “obstructed” to Hai; and “responding” to Yingzhong. Most of these correspondences are forced associations and are not worth probing too deeply. The final phrase, “afterward as master,” should also be read as “and afterward one finds the main point”: the meaning is that one finds the central message only after reading the Book of Changes. Connecting the word “master” to the preceding sentence is a longstanding misreading.

To preserve one’s innate nature, lengthen life, and delay death, one should carefully consider the beginning and end of things, first examining the fundamental endowment received at the start of human life. The human body is formed from primordial Jing (the vital essence at the root of life), with Qi flowing throughout it. Life takes shape through the primal Qi, while Yin-Yang provides its law of operation.

The hun and po souls dwell within the body: the yang spirit is called the Sun Soul, and the yin spirit the Moon Soul. They depend on one another, each serving as the other’s dwelling place. Nature governs the inner self, establishing boundaries within; emotion governs the outer self, building walls around it. Only when the inner and outer are secure can a person’s life be settled. At this point, emotion accords with Heaven and Earth: Qian is active and firm, spreading Qi and setting vital essence in motion; Kun is still and receptive, becoming the place where the Dao resides. After firm Qi has exerted itself, it yields, and gentle Qi follows to nourish it.

The phrases “nine returns and seven reversals” and “eight returns and six dwellings” refer to the laws by which Yin-Yang and the Five Phases return and transform during alchemical practice. Men belong to white, women to red; Metal and Fire restrain one another, allowing Water to settle. Thus the Five Phases begin to operate. The highest good is like water, clear and without blemish. The Dao may be compared to this image, but the true “One” is difficult to depict. It changes and spreads, each part existing independently. Like black and white joined within an egg, it measures no more than an inch in any direction: this is the beginning of life. The limbs, five viscera, sinews, and bones then gradually take shape. After ten months, the infant leaves the womb. At that point the bones are soft and pliable, and the flesh is smooth, like lead.

This passage echoes the previous chapter’s discussion of “knowing the white.” It describes human life as arising from the union of Yin and Yang; alchemical practice follows the same principle. The “Dao” mentioned here is simply another name for the Elixir. The character for “lead” may be a mistaken writing of the character for “maltose,” perhaps due to their similar forms.

The Yangsui, a concave bronze mirror used to kindle fire, needs the sun’s help to produce a flame. Without the stars and moon shining upon it, how could the Fangzhu, a vessel for collecting water, obtain dew? Though the Yin and Yang energies are hidden and far-reaching, they can resonate with and transform one another. How much closer, then, is the relationship between Yin and Yang within the human body? The key lies in the heart. Their harmony, like that of the sun and moon or water and fire, is a sign of the progress of cultivation.

The ears, eyes, and mouth must be guarded and not readily opened outward. The perfected person, one who has attained the Dao, sinks into the depths like a swimmer in an abyss and abides by the proper discipline. The spirit of the heart turns and circulates like an axle and its linchpin, continuing without end through movement and stillness. Li energy, which symbolizes fire, moves inward to nourish the body; Kan, the trigram that symbolizes water, does not rely on the acuity of the ears and eyes or the use of speech. Speak little, following the undivided, natural state. The ears, eyes, and mouth are essential to cultivation. Relax the body, dwell in a quiet room, entrust the mind to emptiness, and regularly let the heart remain free of thoughts.

The results of cultivation cannot easily be altered by external forces. Keep the heart’s spirit focused and do not let it scatter at will. In sleep, let spirit and Qi embrace one another; when awake, attend to the changes in body and mind. The complexion gradually grows lustrous, and the joints and bones gradually grow firm. Only after dispelling all kinds of Yin influences can one uphold the true Yang. With steady, unremitting practice, the breath flows like clouds and rain, ceaselessly: like spring rain nourishing all things, and like water flowing as ice melts. It descends from the head to the feet, then rises again, circulating without end. When the breath fills the body, this is evidence of the Way of repeated return. Softness and weakness are the foundation of De. Clear away accumulated impurities and stagnation, and even the finest details will be brought into harmony and free flow. Turbid energy is the path by which it becomes clear; after long darkness, clarity will at last appear.

Zhu Xi’s note says: “In ‘Li energy nourishes and protects inwardly,’ he once heard an elder read the word ‘inwardly’ as ‘receive.’ This reading makes sense.”

People in the world delight in minor techniques but fail to understand that the Great Dao has both shallow and profound aspects. They abandon the proper path for crooked shortcuts, hoping to achieve results quickly, only to end up blocked and unable to advance. This is like a blind person trying to walk without a staff, or a deaf person trying to distinguish the notes of the palace and shang modes; it is like diving underwater to catch a hare or climbing a mountain to look for fish.

People delight in all kinds of minor arts, yet do not understand that the Great Dao has both shallow and profound aspects. They abandon the right path and take a crooked one, hoping for quick success, only to find themselves blocked and unable to proceed. This is like a blind person refusing a walking stick, or a deaf person trying to distinguish the tones of court and shang; like diving underwater to catch a hare, or climbing a mountain to look for fish and dragons; like sowing wheat but hoping to harvest millet, or using a compass to seek a square. They exhaust their strength and spend their spirit, yet see no result even after a whole year.

If you want to know the method of ingesting elixirs, it is simple and not complicated. The Sun’s Flowing Pearl, an alchemical term for an elixir material associated with Yang, is always trying to depart from the person. Once Golden Florescence, an alchemical term for the brilliance or essence produced when metals are refined, is obtained, the two transform into one another, becoming a white liquid that hardens like gold when it congeals. Golden Florescence acts first, then soon dissolves into water. The Yang qi of “horse-tooth railing,” an obscure alchemical term, goes forth to mingle with it, and their natures and dispositions naturally harmonize. Yin qi is pressed and restrained, as though shut behind a door. A loving mother raises her children, and a filial child repays her kindness; a stern father issues commands, teaching and disciplining his descendants.

The Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) take turns in power and act upon one another: Fire can melt Metal, and Metal can cut Wood, depriving it of the power to grow. When three and five combine, the vital essences of Heaven and Earth are contained within them. These principles can be conveyed orally as secret instructions, but are difficult to teach through writing alone.

You should turn to the right, while the noon position, due south, rotates eastward. Mao and You, the eastern and western positions, mark the dividing line, each fixing its own name and place. These statements explain that Yin and Yang each have a fixed position. The dragon calls to the tiger, and the tiger draws in the dragon’s essence. They join and attract one another, then connect, swallow, chew, and take each other in. This is a metaphor for Yin and Yang harmonizing, and for the relationship of mother and child giving rise to one another.

Yinghuo, Mars, keeps watch in the west, while Taibai, Venus, stretches across the sky. Wherever killing qi reaches, what could fail to be overturned? The fox and dog keep watch and guard, while birds and sparrows fear the hawk; each has its own role, and who would dare make a sound? If you do not understand these principles, you should not speak rashly. One may exhaust the family’s wealth, leaving wife and children in hunger and poverty. From ancient times to the present, those who have favored this art number in the hundreds of millions, yet few have had the chance to encounter it, and very few have truly succeeded. If you do happen to encounter the opportunity and glimpse its signs, you should reason from these examples and examine how things change from beginning to end, as well as the laws by which the Five Phases overcome one another.

The Five Phases overcoming one another can also form the way of parent and child: the mother contains and nourishes, while the father presides over giving. When essence and qi gather, the physical form comes into being. Things of metal and stone can endure without decay; the key is to be cautious and single-minded, letting nothing dissipate, so that the Great Dao may be attained. Those who study minor arts labor without result, while those who obtain this method can accomplish things simply, without needless complication.

The commentary following the scripture says: “The passages beginning with ‘Sun’ correspond to the chapters earlier in the text on ‘Knowing the White,’ ‘Firing the Pivot,’ and ‘Yellow Cart.’ The Five Phases generating one another are like the affection between mother and child; Fire overcoming Metal is like a stern father enforcing commands. There are two explanations of ‘three and five’: one says that Fire, Metal, and Wood all receive the qi of Earth; another holds that ‘three and five’ refers to Zi, Wu, Wu, and Ji from the earlier text, though what it means exactly remains unclear. The character ‘east’ is probably a mistake for ‘left,’ explaining the fixed positions of Yin and Yang. The six lines about the dragon and tiger explain the affection between mother and child; the eight lines beginning with Yinghuo and Taibai explain the stern father’s commands. The passage beginning ‘If you do not understand these principles’ says that those who refine Waidan (external alchemy) without understanding the principles will exhaust their family wealth seeking costly medicines. ‘Reason from these examples’ is like the earlier passage ‘the eight minerals establish the proper order’: it uses similar things to illustrate the principles.”

Raise a bamboo pole and its shadow appears; call into a valley and an echo answers. Are such effects not reliable? So it is with the manifest signs between Heaven and Earth. When seeking to understand potent medicines, one may take Waidan (external alchemy, in which elixirs are prepared from substances) as an example, just as the previous passage discussed the eight minerals used in alchemy and things that set the guiding principles in order.

Some poisonous plants can be deadly even when only an inch long. Even a single liang of croton seed, once swallowed, can immediately make a person rigid, unable to bend forward or backward. At such a point, how could King Wen of Zhou divine with milfoil, Confucius interpret the trigrams, Bian Que apply acupuncture, or Wu Xian beat a drum and bring the person back to life, so that they could stand and walk again?

The Maiden of the Yellow River, a mysterious and wondrous alchemical substance akin to mercury, disperses as soon as it meets fire, leaving not even a trace of dust. It is like a ghost in hiding, like a dragon in concealment, impossible to find. To subdue it, one must take Yellow Sprout, another alchemical substance essential to the process, as the foundation. The Yin-Yang nature of all things cannot be defied. If one goes against the source of the Dao, even an egg that is incubated cannot produce a fully formed chick. Why? Because Yin and Yang have not yet joined and circulated through one another; the Three and Five, alchemical numbers and relations of correspondence, have not converged; firmness and gentleness remain apart, and the generative Qi of transformation cannot exert its power.

The natural workings of Heaven and Earth follow the same principle. Fire rises as it burns, and water flows downward; no one has taught them to do so. All things begin from these workings and follow their own patterns, which cannot be altered at will. Observe the union of male and female: firmness and gentleness come together, closely joined to one another. This is not controlled by a craftsperson’s skill, but follows the fitting measures and laws.

For example, a boy is born face down, while a girl is born lying on her back. This is the state formed in the womb when they receive Qi and life begins. Their state at birth is mirrored in corresponding signs at death. Their parents do not teach them this; it is determined from the moment of conception. The Kan male, represented by the Kan trigram, is the Moon; the Li female, represented by the Li trigram, is the Sun. The Sun gives forth light and heat, while the Moon receives the Sun’s light and shines without its own form being damaged. When Yang Qi loses its proper correspondence, Yin Qi encroaches on its light. The new moon, the dark of the moon, and eclipses of the Sun and Moon all result from their obscuring one another. When Yang Qi wanes, Yin Qi rises in its wake, and calamities follow.

Man and woman depend on each other and nourish one another through breathing. Male and female unite, each seeking what is of its own kind. Metal can transform into water, whose nature is fluid and unsettled; fire can transform into earth, which prevents water from flowing. Thus the man initiates and gives outwardly, while the woman remains still and gathers inwardly. If they exceed the proper measure and lose restraint, they come under the influence of Yin Qi, which makes the Po constrain the Hun and keeps them from excessive indulgence. When cold and heat are balanced, and advance and retreat are timed properly, each finds harmony with the other, and both display the corresponding signs.

The preceding passage compares “poison can kill” to “yellow teeth can subdue the maiden.” Here, Waidan seems to refer to cinnabar, but what “yellow teeth” and “maiden” specifically signify remains unclear. All things have Yin-Yang properties. Those who understand this method should take the union of Yin and Yang as their foundation.

Cinnabar belongs to Fire. The essence of Wood can unite with Metal; Metal unites with Water, and Wood pairs with Fire. When these four are mixed, they take the form of the Dragon and Tiger joining: the Dragon belongs to Yang and is associated with odd numbers; the Tiger belongs to Yin and is associated with even numbers. The liver, associated with green, is the father; the lungs, associated with white, are the mother; the kidneys, associated with black, are the child; and the spleen, associated with yellow, is the ancestor. Three substances are brought together as one family, and in the end all return to Wu and Ji, the Earthly Stems associated with Earth. Hardness and softness rise in turn, each taking its proper place: the Dragon is in the west, the Tiger in the east, arranged according to the directions of Mao and You. Punishment and Virtue operate together, meeting and joining one another. Punishment governs concealment and killing; Virtue governs growth and flourishing.

When the elms die in the second lunar month, the star Kui is positioned at Zi. When the wheat grows in the eighth month, the star Tiangang takes its place at You. Zi and Wu face one another north and south, together forming the guiding framework. The pattern of nine and one cycles back and forth, ending only to begin again. Primal Qi holds true nature within itself and spreads essence at the Zi position.

The “Ospreys” poem says: “Guan-guan cry the ospreys, on the islets in the river. A lovely, graceful maiden is a good match for a noble lord.” The male bird does not dwell alone, nor does the female live in solitude. The Black Tortoise—a divine creature formed from a tortoise and a snake—coils around its companion, illustrating how male and female unite and ultimately depend on one another.

Suppose two women were made to live together in one room. Even if both were beautiful, and Su Qin, the Warring States persuader, were to plead their case while Zhang Yi, another Warring States persuader, acted as their matchmaker, using eloquent arguments and pleasing words to reconcile them and bring them together as spouses, they still would not come to know one another, even after their hair had fallen out and their teeth had rotted.

If the ingredients are not of the same kind, differ in name and nature, or are combined in proportions that do not follow the proper rules, then even if the Yellow Emperor himself watched over the furnace, the deity Taiyi came down beside it, the Eight Immortals who aided King Huainan in refining elixirs pounded the ingredients, and King Huainan tended the fire, nothing would help. They might build a high platform, set out jade steps, offer precious sacrifices, hold ritual vessels, and kneel in prayer to the spirits. They might bathe, observe purification, and plead for the spirits’ pity in the hope of gaining something. Yet this would be like boiling glue and meat in a pot while applying medicinal herbs to a sore, or adding ice where heat is needed and hot soup where cold is called for. Such a way of refining the elixir would only make the tortoise, snake, and other ingredients that symbolize the female and male even more confused and estranged.

Cinnabar is the essence of Wood; when it obtains Metal, it can unite with it. This is what the earlier terms “Maiden” and “Yellow Sprout” mean. The lines “red heart” and “yellow spleen” are absent from all the editions, so it is unclear which reading is correct. “Dragon and Tiger” and “Zi and Wu” refer to the directions where Yin and Yang unite. From “Guan-guan” onward, the text uses “two women” to explain that the ingredients are not a single substance found ready-made in nature.

Part Two

In ancient times, sages concealed the wondrous and held fast to the true Dao. They took and refined the medicine of the Nine Tripods, then withdrew from sight once their work was complete. They nurtured Jing and Qi and regulated Shen, allowing their virtue to permeate the Three Origins—the three forms of primordial Qi in Daoist teaching. Their bodily fluids became abundant and their sinews and bones strong; no harmful force could intrude, and their vital energy remained intact. Through long and sustained cultivation, they transformed their bodies and became immortals.

Taking pity on later generations who cherished the Dao, they drew on signs they could observe to point toward the contents of ancient books. They made diagrams and texts to pass down to those who came after them. Yet the books revealed only the branches and concealed the root; they also used the names of various minerals to veil many hidden teachings. Those who acquired the books treasured them for a lifetime. Sons inherited their fathers’ work, and grandsons continued the legacy of their ancestors. The texts passed down through generations, but people remained confused and learned nothing in the end. Officials could not fulfill their ambitions, farmers neglected their fields, merchants abandoned their goods, and people with aspirations were left in poverty. I feel deep sorrow about this.

So I have arranged these writings, striving to make them concise and easy to understand, with the content distilled rather than elaborate. I have set out the points one by one, so the facts are clear and easy to consult. The ingredients each have their prescribed measures, and they must be prepared in order, step by step. For this reason, I have deliberately written in obscure, disordered phrases, as openings onto the path, for those with wisdom to ponder and grasp their meaning.

The point is this: the immortals of old wrote books to teach the people of the world, but did not explain the methods of cultivation directly. They used names such as “various minerals” to refer to the transformations of Yin and Yang within the human body, so students often failed to grasp the essential point. The author now makes the wording concise and accessible, yet still fears revealing what is hidden, and so deliberately uses tangled, obscure expressions. “Disordered verses” refers to a song at the end of a work that sums up its overall meaning, like the “Luan” at the end of the Li Sao. The verses that follow summarize the central intent of the entire book.

Among the laws that govern the space between Heaven and Earth, none are greater than Heaven and Earth themselves! The mysterious channels stretch on for tens of thousands of miles. When the River Drum star draws near the station of Xingji, the people are all gripped by fear. When the sun’s shadow advances and retreats out of its proper course, calamities descend within nine years. The ruler observes these signs, and the sovereign accordingly withdraws to reflect on his own conduct. The pivotal force shifts upward and downward, and the Qi of disaster then disperses; the waters of the Yangtze and Huai dry up, and the Yellow River flows once more toward the sea.

This section discusses the calamity of flooding: if the ruler can reflect on his conduct and correct his mistakes, the breath of disaster will dissipate, the flood will subside, and the waters and land will return to stability. “Mysterious Ditch” probably refers to the Celestial River, while “River Drum” is a star name. “Xingji” corresponds to the Ox position among the Earthly Branches, though the precise meanings of these references remain unclear. “Nine years” means that the flood lasted for nine years. “The pivotal points rise and fall” refers to the ascent and descent of Yin and Yang. “Harmful breath” means Qi that brings calamity. As a metaphor for the human body, it can also be understood as a state in which Water and Fire fail to harmonize.

Zhu Xi believed that “harmful breath” probably does not refer to the interior of the human body, but uses the body as a metaphor. The passage above describes a flood causing disaster; the ruler is able to correct his mistakes, so the breath of disaster dissipates and the flood subsides. The character “harm” was later corrupted into “round,” then mistakenly read as “solid.” Later readers consequently altered it arbitrarily to “essence” and added the character “and”; both changes are incorrect. The corruption of “round” may have arisen because the characters resemble one another in seal and clerical script.

The male and female aspects of the Yin and Yang Qi between Heaven and Earth move back and forth, operating in the directions of Zi, Wu, Yin, and Shen; Yin and Shen are the foundations of Yin-Yang’s movement. Yin and Yang Qi circulate in and out, repeating without end. Following the movement of the Northern Dipper, one establishes the measures and degrees and sets the framework of the seasons. The substances are placed on Mount Zeng in a steaming vessel and refined over a rising fire; the White Tiger leads in front, while the azure liquid harmonizes behind.

Zhu Xi explains that “tiger” also appears in variant readings as “yu” or “alum”; these characters may all be phonetic loans. Since “azure liquid” occurs below, the earlier character may perhaps be “yu” or “alum.” In light of “yu and ci lead in front” earlier in the text, “yu” seems the more suitable reading. However, the passage below also mentions the Vermilion Crow and again lists three names of beasts and their directions, so the character here may instead be “tiger,” with “liquid” corresponding to the Dragon. “Leading in front” and “harmonizing behind” may both use such numinous creatures as the Dragon and Tiger as metaphors. The meaning of this section is to refine Water by cooking it with Fire and to harmonize Fire with Water, joining Metal and Water so that they ultimately return to their primordial state.

The Vermilion Bird (Zhuque, a divine creature symbolizing Yang energy and fire) flies and frolics, its feathers brilliantly colored. But it is caught in a net and pinned down, unable to spread its wings. It cries mournfully, like an infant longing for its mother. It falls upside down into the boiling vessel, its feathers broken and damaged. Before half a water-clock interval has passed, dragon scales begin to rise in clusters. Five-colored radiance glimmers and shifts without any fixed form.

The vapors inside the vessel churn and surge like water boiling over without cease. Different vapors cross and overlap, clashing against one another like interlocking dog’s teeth. Their forms resemble the crisscrossed layers of ice in midwinter, and also stalactites of varying heights that weave together and support one another. Once Yin and Yang have been joined, they become calm and still, each keeping to its place.

The Azure Dragon dwells in the Fang lunar mansion, its transformations without fixed form. The vapors inside the vessel churn and surge like water boiling over without cease. Different vapors cross and overlap, clashing against one another like interlocking dog’s teeth. Their forms resemble the crisscrossed layers of ice in midwinter, and also stalactites of varying heights that weave together and support one another. Once Yin and Yang have been joined, they become calm and still, each keeping to its place.

The Azure Dragon dwells in the sixth position of the Fang mansion, representing the generative energy of spring, in the eastern Mao sector. The White Tiger dwells in the seventh position of the Zui mansion, representing autumn’s force of decline and killing, in the western You sector. The Vermilion Bird dwells in the second position of the Zhang mansion, representing pure Yang energy, in the southern Wu sector. The three come together, like relatives and friends.

At first there are only two things; by the end, they develop into three and five. Three and five join and return to unity, eventually converging in two governing positions. Proceed according to the method described earlier, and set the number of days used in the corresponding sequence. During refinement, the substance first appears white, then turns yellow, and finally becomes red throughout. This is called the “First Cauldron.” The medicine to be ingested is about the size of a millet grain.

The “return” (fu, the season when Yang Qi begins to turn back) sums up the essentials of returning the elixir to its origin: refining an elixir so that its ingredients return to their original state. Zi and Wu refer to Qian and Kun (Heaven and Earth, Yin and Yang); Yin and Shen refer to Kan and Li (Water and Fire). “Raising and steaming” means the refining, turning, and steaming described earlier.

The White Tiger (a symbol of Metal), Azure Dragon (a symbol of Water), and Vermilion Bird (a symbol of Fire) describe a process in which Metal generates Water, Water then controls Fire, and an elixir is ultimately refined. This is roughly how the process works. It is also what the earlier discussion meant by liquid appearing first and later solidifying, and by images such as “horse teeth crossing like a railing.” The howling sounds produced during refinement are precisely the sounds said earlier to continue day and night. Yin and Yang are brought together and kept in stillness; that is, each remains within its own bounds and dwells alone in peace. The Fang mansion is one of the seven eastern lunar mansions; “six” refers to its degree. The phrases “seven,” “Zhang two,” and “release” concern the lunar mansions and their degrees, as well as Yin and Yang and the “three and five” (the coordination of the firing process or changes in Yin and Yang). Metal and Wood both receive their Qi from Earth. The original text also discusses phrases such as “joined with the One” and “what is taken, fu,” but their precise meaning is difficult to determine.

The transformations of nature proceed in this way of themselves; they are not fabricated or false. Vapors rise among mountains and rivers, gather into clouds, and then become rain. When soil dries out, it becomes dust; when fire goes out, ash remains. Sprouts can be used to dye cloth yellow, and indigo plants can dye it green. Boiling hides produces glue, while qu (the grain starter and malt used in brewing) makes wine. In each case, materials of the same kind interact and readily produce an effect; with different materials, the result cannot simply be made from nothing.

All these examples serve to explain the principle discussed above.

This wondrous method must be examined with care; what is said about it is no deception. It has been handed down through countless generations, clear and intelligible, and open to investigation. It shines like stars arrayed across the sky, and flows like rivers returning to the sea. In studying it, one must think it through thoroughly and examine it from top to bottom a thousand times over. By investigating it carefully and surveying it ten thousand times, one will eventually see its underlying principle. At times, the spirits may offer guidance, and a person’s soul may suddenly understand. Trace the beginnings and investigate the threads, and the path of entry can surely be found. The Way of Heaven shows no partiality; it generally transmits this teaching to the worthy and wise.

The meaning expressed in this book has in fact been made quite clear. Those who study it need only read it over and over, a thousand or ten thousand times, and understanding will naturally come, as if a spirit had revealed it to them. Dong Yu said, “Read a book a thousand times, and its principles will naturally become clear.” He also said, “Think it through, then think it through a few more times; if you still cannot understand, it will seem as though spirits have come to teach you.” This is not the power of spirits, but the result of the human mind concentrating to its utmost. These words are no exaggeration.

Five Correspondences

【This section consists of five chapters, in order: “Joining the Threads,” “Great Change,” “Taking the Image from That,” “The State of Kuai,” and “Following the Seasons.”】

The Cantong qi originally only outlined the main ideas. Its arguments were not entirely consistent, some details were missing, and its expression was at times obscure. It has now been transcribed anew, with omissions filled in, abstruse passages clarified, and related ideas linked together so that the meaning of each part accords with the others and does not contradict them. For this reason, this section was also written and titled “Five Correspondences.” In this way, the nature and disposition of Great Change—the fundamental principle of the cosmos before differentiation, when all things remain in a state of chaos—can be fully revealed.

Great Change has its own inherent laws. The teachings transmitted by the Yellow Emperor and Laozi, when examined and compared, can indeed guide the work of the furnace, that is, alchemical methods such as refining and smelting. They have a sound basis. The three paths arise from one source and unfold in layers, like roads, trunks, branches, leaves, and fruit. Yet their foundation remains in the roots of the tree; its original nature must not be lost. What is said here is offered sincerely and grounded in careful examination, so that it will not lead one astray.

One should take the middle of winter as a model. At that time, bamboo and trees wither, Yang Qi is suppressed, and people too should remain hidden and still. Follow the seasons, and do not speak recklessly about the Dao of Heaven. The Dao of Heaven is vast and boundless; the Great Mystery, profound and unfathomable, has no form. It is empty and still, without shape or visibility, its outlines having vanished. If an argument is mistaken or loses its thread, its words will eventually undo one another. These four images—the symbols and principles described earlier—are set out separately so that later students may understand their meaning.

This describes the state between the dark moon and the new moon, when Heaven and Earth are undifferentiated and all things lie concealed and withdrawn. The Great Mystery has no form, as suggested by “the highest goodness is like water.” The True One, the fundamental true origin in Daoism, is likewise difficult to depict. The “Four Images” are not explained in detail here.

The Humble Man of Kuai, the Withered Life of the Hidden Valley

【Zhu Xi’s annotation says: Lord Wei was actually from Shangyu, so the text should have said “Kuaiji.” It is also possible that “Kuai” was a cryptic name deliberately used by Lord Wei.】

Embrace simplicity and authenticity without pursuing power or splendor. Live in a remote, humble place and care little for fame. Hold fast to quiet contentment, seeking peace and calm at every moment. While living as a guest in quiet retreat, I therefore composed this text, praising the teachings passed down by the Great Changes (Zhouyi) and the three sages Fuxi, King Wen, and Confucius. I examined their subtle import and brought them together into a single, shared principle. The whole work aims to follow the nature of things, clarify the spirit, let wondrous transformations move freely in all directions, and bring peace to the world.

I set these principles out as a calendar, so that generations to come may follow them; they can also be applied to the conduct of affairs without difficulty. Further, they can serve inner cultivation, bringing one’s nature and temperament into accord with the natural way of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi. Those of profound De (Virtue/Power) can return to the root and restore their original state. The key lies within one’s own heart and never outside oneself. Hold fast to the Dao (the Way), the root, and do not abandon it; then life can endure.

Combine these principles with methods of ingesting substances, and distinguish the male and female qualities. Exclude the eight mineral medicines produced in Wudu and use the remaining ingredients with care; only then can the method succeed. Though the things valued by the world are divided into three kinds, their branches and connections are intertwined: their names differ, but their roots come from the same source. These words are not merely a pile of phrases arranged for rhyme; they likely contain genuine principles. Even if the account is rough, it deserves close attention. Were I to elaborate carelessly, I would only invite needless errors.

I have titled this book The Token of Joining the Three (Cantong qi), so that readers may glimpse its outlines. Its words are concise and its meaning far-reaching; later generations should follow it. One should act in accord with the right moment, remove misfortune, rely on high mountains, and roam the boundless realm, dwelling alongside spirits and ghosts. Through bodily transformation, one becomes an immortal and returns to silent stillness; one may also pass through a hundred generations, come and go among humankind, spread one’s wings, and fly to the four directions.

King Tang once endured hardship as floods and droughts came in turn, while the plants’ branches and leaves withered and lost their color. Later, a man of good fortune rose with the times, found secure circumstances, and was thereby able to live long.

Song on the Vessel and Cauldron

The cauldron vessel is round, with a diameter of three chi, five cun, and one fen. Its mouth is four cun and eight fen across, with a rim two cun wide. The body is two chi long and of even thickness. The belly has three level points; when setting it in place, these should face downward as the cauldron is gently warmed.

Another version of the text reads “two chi” as “one chi and two,” which Peng Xiao explains as “two chi and three.” Some versions also have “three” instead of “level”; here, “level” should mean “navel.”

Yin is above; Yang moves below.

These two lines are the essential rule.

The phrase “martial at the beginning and end, civil in the middle” refers to the successive changes in the fire timing of alchemical practice, with “martial fire” and “civil fire” indicating fiercer and gentler heat. “Yin fire, white and yellow sprouts of lead” concerns the fire timing and substances used in alchemy; “lead” and “yellow sprouts” are technical terms in the alchemical arts. Practitioners must calm the mind and spirit, regulate body and mind, and maintain balance within. As energy circulates and transforms without escaping outward, they can gradually cultivate a pure disposition and return to their original nature. This process is exceedingly difficult and requires close vigilance over the mind; one must not lose one’s way. By deeply grasping its subtle principles, one can comprehend the transformations of Heaven and Earth. Those who cultivate the Dao should investigate the roots, distinguish the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) and their proportions, and reflect carefully without needing to say much. They should conceal and guard this knowledge, not pass it on lightly. In the end, they ride a white crane and drive a dragon, roaming through the Great Void, paying their respects to the Immortal Lord, recording a diagram of the Way of Heaven, and taking the title “Perfected One.”

The principles presented in the Cantong qi (Token for Joining the Three) may seem shallow in their wording, yet their meaning is vast; the language is concise, yet the intent is profound. The text sets out the achievements of the Five Emperors alongside the governance of the Three Sovereigns. It also discusses the distinctions and order between ruler and minister, and between those above and below. Some have argued that its discussion of politics is insufficient to bring peace to the world; that its methods of ingesting substances cannot thereby grant long life; and that its teachings on cultivating the mind and nature cannot extend one’s years. Yet its analysis of Yin-Yang, the harmonizing of proportions among substances, its comparisons with the waxing and waning of the sun and moon, its use of the Eight Trigrams (Bagua) as symbols, its comparison of the union of Yin and Yang to relations between men and women, and its distinctions between firmness and yielding, movement and stillness, and the proportions of alchemical substances—all are supported by reference to the classics, and their intent is profound. For this reason, some established rules for the text and transmitted them to later generations. Only by grasping its great images—the overall symbols and principles—can one seek long life and strengthen oneself. Those who practice this Dao should give it particular care.

This passage appears to be a preface to a commentary written by a later author. The commentary itself is now lost, leaving only the preface. The phrase “established rules” may originally have read “wrote a commentary,” with the character corrupted during transmission.

Zhu Xi said: Some believe this piece is an afterword; others regard it as a panegyric to Lord Wei. Judging from its meaning, it should be a preface written after the commentary. Peng Xiao’s preface says that Lord Wei secretly entrusted the scripture to Xu Congshi of Qingzhou and asked him to write a commentary; Xu concealed his name when writing it. Zhu Xi conjectured that this preface may have been written by Xu Congshi, and that his commentary has since been lost.

The passage above is the preface to A Critical Examination of the Variants in the Zhouyi Cantongqi. The Zhouyi Cantongqi was written by Wei Boyang, a man of the Eastern Han. Its title was probably modeled on the titles of books on apocryphal and prophetic lore. The language and verse are archaic and profound, and difficult to understand. Readers with limited learning often make rash alterations, so this book contains more textual errors than other works. I have now gathered various editions and collated them against one another, correcting the text where possible. Many difficult and obscure passages remain unresolved. For the time being, I have arranged a definitive text based on what I know, while preserving the variant readings in the different editions for readers to consult and examine. It is signed “Daoist Zou Fang of Kongtong.”

A note adds: “The two characters ‘Zou Fang’ were borrowed by Zhu Xi as a pseudonym. ‘Zou’ was originally the name of the state of Zhu during the Spring and Autumn period. The Book of Rites, in the chapter ‘Record of Music,’ contains the phrase ‘Heaven and Earth join in harmony.’ Zheng Xuan’s commentary says that ‘Fang’ should be written ‘Xi.’”

Zhu Xi said: According to the Book of Wei, the text begins by discussing the four hexagrams Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li, which are like the bellows that fan the fire in a furnace. It then discusses sixty hexagrams, including Tun and Meng, to explain the times for practice within a single day. Next it discusses the six hexagrams of Najia—a method that pairs the Heavenly Stems and lunar phases with hexagram images—to explain the advance and retreat of practice over the course of a day. Finally, it discusses the twelve sovereign hexagrams, which represent the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang over the twelve months of the year, treating the six Najia hexagrams separately. In this way, the inner account elaborates the months and seasonal nodes, while the outer account also takes in the practice of the entire year. This is roughly what Lord Wei explained through the Changes; he did not discuss the 384 lines.

The method of regulating the firing process that circulates today, however, treats the 384 lines as the number of a complete cycle, with each line corresponding to one day. Since there are more lines than days, it must omit four hexagrams, or twenty-four lines, and then gradually add them as the twenty-four solar terms arrive. This is no longer an arrangement that arises naturally and fits exactly. Moreover, the line used for practice on any given day may belong to Yin or to Yang, with no fixed order. It is unclear, then, what difference this arrangement makes to the work of cultivation. Since a single day already completes the number 360, adding only one line at each solar term does not match the scale of the numbers. And these twenty-four lines are gradually added and then suddenly removed, with no rule of cyclical return at all. This, too, was likely devised by later people according to their own ideas, and may not reflect Lord Wei’s original meaning.

I suspect that the key to this book lies in the two words “Kan and Li.” If one grasps this guiding principle, the stages of practice that Lord Wei did not spell out can naturally be understood through reason. As long as one keeps to the right times for practice and the proper rhythm of advance and retreat, one can cultivate without being bound at every point by older interpretations.

I have therefore worked out a method of calculation based on “ce numbers,” the numbers used in the Changes to represent the transformations of Yin and Yang. It seems somewhat more orderly. Like the method based on the number of lines, this is not something Lord Wei explicitly stated, but it has some rationale: divide the year into twelve sovereign hexagrams, allotting two and a half days to each, and let each hexagram run through its ce numbers according to the number of lines in that hexagram. From the eighth month’s Guan hexagram to the first month’s Tai hexagram, Yang lines use the lesser number, twenty-eight, and Yin lines use the greater number, twenty-four. From the fourth month’s Dazhuang hexagram to the seventh month’s Pi hexagram, Yang lines use the greater number, thirty-six, and Yin lines use the lesser number, twenty-two. Yang represents the activity of the mind and spirit in its ongoing movement; Yin represents letting go and returning to stillness. Completing the work of one line is equivalent to one opening and closing transformation of the Qi dynamic. When the twelve hexagrams of rest have run their course, the work of one day is complete; when the twelve hexagrams have made one full circuit, the cycle of a year is complete. In this way, the cycle repeats without any excess or deficiency in the numbers.

I had already drawn this method as a diagram and intended to discuss it with Jitong. Before I had a chance to write and send it to him, Jitong passed away.

The appended note says that Zhu Xi had always placed great importance on textual verification and the reliable transmission of texts. In his earlier writings, he never followed others carelessly in attributing works to sages. For example, he held that the Book of Changes of the Hemp-Clad Man was written by Dai Shiyu, and that the Book of Changes by Guan Ziming was a forgery by Ruan Yi. Yet he raised no similar doubts about the Cantong qi.

Zhu Xi’s learning in the Book of Changes came largely from Shao Yong. He said that Shao Yong’s teachings originated with Chen Tuan, whose courtesy name was Xiyi, and that Chen Tuan’s learning in turn traced back to the Cantong qi. Zhu Xi therefore regarded this text as having a deep lineage of transmission. He once said, “I can see it clearly right before me; I simply haven’t yet found where to begin the practice.” He also said, “Only now have I recognized some of the outlines; I still haven’t understood its materials and techniques.” Here, “where to begin” and “apertures” refer to the entry methods and key points in the practice.

In the Ding-si year of the Qingyuan era, Cai Yuanding, whose courtesy name was Jitong, was banished to Daozhou. Zhu Xi saw him off and put him up at Hanquan. The two worked together to collate the Cantong qi, staying awake all night. The author remarks that the teacher and student could remain so absorbed despite their troubled circumstances, and that Zhu Xi held the Cantong qi in such high regard—evidence of his resolve to transcend the mundane world. Cai Yuanding died the following year. Zhu Xi later acquired what was called “the method for deriving calendrical calculations,” and regretted that he could no longer discuss it with Cai. Two years after that, Zhu Xi also died.

It appears, then, that the Cantong qi and the Yinfu jing first came to be valued through Zhu Xi and his student. The author holds that their contents do not conflict with the Way of the sages and are therefore worthy of trust. It was on this basis that the Critical Textual Study of the Zhouyi Cantong qi placed them after the Explanation of the Taiji Diagram and the Diagram of the Former Heaven.