《道德真經集註(二)》Vol. 18

Nothing in the world is softer than water, yet nothing surpasses it in overcoming the hard. This is because water's nature cannot be altered.

(Imperial Commentary) Using well water as a metaphor for inherent nature illustrates its unchangeability. Laozi says water comes closest to the Dao precisely because its essence remains immutable. If it could be altered, it would drift with the current and lose itself—how then could it overcome external things? Only an unchangeable nature can maintain constancy through myriad transformations, making it invincible to all external forces.

(Wang Anshi's Explanation) Most things in the world can maintain only one form: what can be small cannot be large, what can be square cannot be round. But water is different—it expands or contracts according to terrain, becomes square or round depending on its container, yet never changes its fundamental nature. This is why it's said to be "unalterable."

(Wang Pang's Commentary) Though water's form undergoes countless transformations, its essence remains unchanged, enabling it to ultimately conquer all things. Consider jade: though hard, it may shatter when striking other objects precisely because it can be altered.

(Cao Daochong's Observation) The power of softness is actually immense. Like the sun's daily movement gradually wearing down hard objects, even the strongest things cannot withstand this persistent, gentle force.

(Chen Xianggu's Interpretation) Water's virtue lies in nourishing all things, cleansing impurities, and willingly occupying low places—is this not the embodiment of softness? Those who seek to overcome hardness through brute force often violate natural principles, thus failing where water succeeds. Water's unchangeable soft nature is determined by the Dao's constant laws.

(Liu Ji's Reflection) If water is like this, how much more so the Dao? The Dao is elusive, supremely soft and weak.

(Huang Maocai's Analysis) The chapter "Highest Goodness Resembles Water" states how water excels at nourishing without contention, content to dwell in places people despise—the principle here is fundamentally the same. Embracing filth and accepting turbidity, these are water's virtues. Even the Son of Heaven cannot defy this principle.

All under heaven know how softness overcomes hardness, yet few can truly practice it.

(Imperial Commentary) While intellectually understood, few can steadfastly embody it through virtuous action.

(Chen Jingyuan's Note) Just as water extinguishes fire and yin restrains yang, the tongue remains while teeth fall out though the former is soft and the latter hard. This truth is known throughout the world, yet...

Though people have all heard these principles, they stubbornly cling to their own views, with none truly practicing the soft and yielding way of life that Laozi taught. This is precisely why the sage sighed deeply, thus invoking the teachings of ancient sages to illuminate his point.

Master Cao Daochong (Daoist name "Renjing") observed: It's not that people fail to understand the principle—what prevents them from acting accordingly is their competitive nature and shame toward gentleness. Chen Xianggu added: Even with something as common as water, though comprehending it presents no difficulty, people still cannot practice its way, revealing insufficient faith in the Dao.

Therefore the sages declared: Only those who can bear a nation's humiliation are fit to be lords of the land; only those who shoulder a country's misfortunes may become rulers of all under heaven. Chen Jingyuan (styled "Bixuzi") explained: This "saying of the sages" may derive from the ancient Sanfen classics, or perhaps represents Laozi's own humble expression. "Defilement" here denotes disgrace—if a ruler can embrace faults, taking the people's transgressions upon himself (as when Tang of Shang declared "All offenses lie with my person alone"), the people will cherish his virtue (De), ensuring lasting stability. Similarly, when rulers humbly style themselves "the solitary one" or "the unworthy one" (ancient royal self-deprecations), the world naturally submits. As the ancients said: Mountains and marshes contain filth, just as rulers endure disgrace—this is the principle.

Sima Guang (styled "Sushui") maintained: Only by encompassing flaws and impurities can one achieve greatness. Cao Daochong extended the metaphor: A true ruler should be vast as heaven and earth, embracing all like rivers and seas. While "auspiciousness" (xiang) normally indicates good fortune, self-righteous rulers invite opposition whereas humble ones gain praise—thus they become masters of all under heaven.

Ye Mengde noted: Bearing misfortunes proves harder than enduring disgrace, hence yields greater rewards. Cheng Dachang cited the Book of Documents and Zhuangzi to explain: When people err, the ruler takes responsibility upon himself (as Tang said "If the people commit offenses, the blame rests with me alone")—this is "receiving defilement." When rulers deliberately use inauspicious titles like "solitary" or "unworthy," this constitutes "receiving inauspiciousness"—both exemplify humility and yielding.

Finally, the Imperial Commentary concludes: Truth often appears paradoxical (zheng yan ruo fan), yet precisely these counterintuitive statements that accord with the great Dao (Da Dao) contain the world's most correct principles. Chen Jingyuan added: Those who can practice this way of yielding will ultimately become true kings.

This passage explains how rulers who exalt strength and force will invite calamity, while sages (those who have attained the Dao) can endure humiliation and reproach, thereby maintaining lasting auspiciousness. Ordinary people pursue beauty and glory, yet ultimately bring misfortune upon themselves. These upright principles may seem contrary to worldly views, but in truth, they perfectly align with the great Dao (the Way).

Su Zhe (Master Yingbin) clarifies that words in accord with the Dao often contradict worldly opinions, for the world considers disgrace a misfortune and inauspiciousness a disaster. Wang Anshi (styled Yuanze) observes that such principles can only be spoken to the wise, because upright truths appear to defy conventional cleverness while actually conforming to the highest standards of the Dao.

Cao Daochong (Master Daozhen Renjing) points out that these principles all oppose worldly views, hence they seem like paradoxes. Chen Xianggu remarks that actions seemingly contrary to common sense—such as willingly enduring disgrace to become the ruler of a state, or bearing inauspiciousness to become king of the world—appear wrong on the surface but are in fact the most correct when examined through the lens of the Dao.

Ye Mengde notes that precisely because these upright statements contradict ordinary understanding, people perceive them as paradoxes. Huang Maocun concludes that what accords with the Dao must inevitably oppose worldly conventions. Cheng Dachang emphasizes that these seemingly contradictory principles are not actually contradictory.

In Chapter 79 of the Daodejing, "Resolving Great Enmity," it is said: "To forcibly mediate deep-seated hatred will inevitably leave residual resentment—how can this be considered proper resolution?" The commentary explains that those seeking vengeance will not break their swords, and even if they bear resentment, they will not blame tiles blown down by the wind—thus no residual enmity remains. Superficial love may become the root of harm, and ceasing military action may instead become the beginning of conflict—how can this be considered proper?

Chen Jingyuan (Master Bixu) elaborates: "Enmity" refers to hatred, aversion, and mutual hostility. "Great enmity" denotes life-and-death grudges. If a ruler fails to govern with wuwei (non-action), humility, and gentleness, the people will become consumed by desire, engage in endless strife, and foster deceitful tendencies, breeding resentment. When hearts are unsettled, there will be those who fight to the death in the streets. At this point, the ruler establishes laws to restrain them—executing murderers and punishing assailants—in an attempt to quell the enmity. Yet using forceful mediation only deepens the resentment. Rather than mediating after the fact, it is better to prevent enmity from arising in the first place.

To focus only on resolving great enmity without considering its root causes means that even the fairest mediation will leave lingering resentment. Only the sage, who treats all matters—great or small—with selfless impartiality and resolves them through supreme De (Virtue/Power), comes close to embodying the way of creation.

This passage examines the limitations of using forceful means to resolve resentment and conflict, drawing upon various Daoist perspectives.

Su Zhe (Yingbin) observes that resentment arises from illusion (虚妄), which in turn stems from human nature. Those who truly understand their intrinsic nature do not fall into illusion and consequently avoid resentment. Superficial reconciliation that fails to address root causes may create surface harmony while leaving underlying grievances unresolved.

Liu Ji (Qingyuanzi) maintains that rulers should govern through Wuwei (non-action). Attempting mediation only after major grievances have formed inevitably leaves residual resentment, which cannot be considered proper resolution.

Huang Maocun employs metaphorical reasoning: people don't become angry at passing empty boats or falling roof tiles because these lack intention. Deliberate attempts at reconciliation appear calculated and intentional—how can such approaches truly eliminate resentment?

Cheng Dachang illustrates with historical examples of national enmity: superficial reconciliations through alliances and oaths, like the story of King Goujian of Yue who endured hardships to nurse vengeance, show how deep hatred often simmers for years. The resentment from killing relatives or seizing cities persists—even if rulers temporarily refrain from action, the people will seek retribution, as this reflects fundamental human tendencies.

The discussion culminates with insights from the Daode Jing: the sage holds the left tally (ancient contract's left portion) without demanding repayment. Chen Jingyuan explains that in ancient contracts, rulers kept the left half while subjects held the right as pledge. Su Zhe elaborates that the sage-people relationship resembles these matching tallies—naturally aligned without coercion, creating harmony without resentment. By manifesting true nature, sages help people dispel illusions and return to their essence. When illusions vanish completely, clarity emerges spontaneously.

This passage explores the connection between ancient contractual systems and Daoist principles of conduct. In ancient contracts, the document was divided into left and right portions—the left tally (held by the creditor) and the right tally (held by the debtor) used for verification. However, Daoism teaches that truly virtuous individuals resemble sages holding the left tally; they never demand repayment but wait for natural alignment.

Wang Pang explains that the left tally symbolizes non-coercive receptivity, while the right tally represents the power to claim. The sage holds the left tally, never forcing external matters, yet all things naturally align with them. This mirrors Emperor Tang's declaration: "If the myriad regions commit offenses, the fault lies with me alone." The sage assumes responsibility for the world's burdens without blaming others, thus avoiding resentment.

Cao Daochong interprets the left tally as representing the Dao (the natural order of Heaven). The Dao is impartial—human virtue and vice naturally correspond with fortune and misfortune. The sage merely oversees this principle without imposing personal preferences, neither granting favors nor incurring grievances.

Master Dazhen states that "left" symbolizes heart-mind cultivation—the sage refines their inner nature to harmonize with the Dao without harshly demanding from others. Liu Ji further notes that ancient verification systems used knotted ropes and wooden tallies, with rulers holding the left portion and ministers the right, embodying relationships of trust.

Huang Maocun observes that the Dao never forcibly seeks worldly engagement, only naturally uniting with those in alignment. Cheng Dachang cites the Han dynasty's "split tally" system where the right tally remained in the capital while the left was given to local officials, demonstrating the same underlying principle.

In essence, this contractual metaphor illustrates that virtuous individuals, like holders of the left tally, follow natural flow, while the unvirtuous exhaust themselves through forceful striving. This embodies the core Daoist concept of "governing through non-action" (Wuwei).

This passage presents annotations by several Daoist scholars on the phrase "Those with De (Virtue/Power) manage tallies, those without De manage thorough understanding" from the Daode Jing, discussing different realms of virtuous conduct.

Ancient rulers manifested two distinct realms: virtuous rulers of the middle antiquity period required no complex laws—simple tokens of agreement sufficed to elicit natural compliance from the people. The truly De-less rulers were the sage-kings of high antiquity, whose Virtue was so vast it needed no titles. All beings harmonized naturally—people dwelling in nests and caves remained content in their stations. These rulers perceived essence without conscious thought, aligned with the Dao yet requiring no contractual bonds, maintaining only inner clarity.

Wang Anshi observed that excessive pursuit of understanding leads to harsh judgment of others and invites resentment—this constitutes absence of De. Cao Daochong noted that using heavenly principles to discern right from wrong constitutes "managing tallies," while attempting to comprehend all popular sentiments through intellect constitutes "managing thorough understanding." Yet human affairs are too complex for complete comprehension, and mishandling inevitably breeds grievances.

Liu Ji explained that virtuous individuals possess inherently clear nature, like matching tally halves needing no external validation. Those lacking De, with unillumined nature, pursue exhaustive knowledge through erudition without self-reflection. Huang Maocun cited Zhuangzi: "Those obsessed with external comprehension are not sages." Lin Dong added that sages resemble the left half of a contract—they don't actively conform to external things, yet things naturally align with them. The De-less who force comprehension of every individual labor in vain.

The passage concludes with "The Dao of Heaven shows no favoritism, yet constantly supports good people." Chen Jingyuan of Bixu Temple described the heavenly Dao as an infinitely vast net—seemingly sparse yet missing nothing. Truly good people naturally align with the Dao of Heaven, requiring no contracts to constrain others.

This passage discusses the return to the simple and natural social state of ancient times. Several Daoist scholars interpret Chapter 80 of the Daode Jing ("Small State with Few People") from different perspectives.

Su Zhe (Master Yingbin) believed that Laozi lived during the decline of the Zhou dynasty and witnessed how the excessive development of ritual and music systems led to social maladies. Thus, he advocated using wuwei (non-action) as a remedy. At the end of the text, Laozi proposed the ideal of "small state with few people," though unfortunately, it could not be realized.

Cao Daochong (Master Daozhen Renjing) explained that in a small state with a sparse population, affairs remain simple—just as a household of a few members finds contentment when basic needs are met. Treating small matters as grand affairs leads to exhaustion, while treating grand affairs as small matters brings ease.

Chen Jingyuan (Master Bixu) pointed out that a small territory is easier to protect, and a sparse population is easier to sustain, allowing a return to the simplicity of antiquity. The golden age under the twelve rulers from the Yellow Emperor to Shennong exemplified this ideal of "small state with few people."

Ye Mengde further analyzed that governing becomes difficult when fixated on "grandeur," and pacifying the people becomes troublesome when obsessed with "abundance." The sage's method of governance has no secret beyond "small state with few people." Though the world may be vast, treating it with "smallness" and "fewness" paradoxically brings peace.

These commentaries all emphasize that excessive expansion leads to the decline of virtuous governance and the rise of harsh punishments. Observing the chaos of the late Zhou period, Laozi proposed a return to simplicity in his text, hoping to reform the extravagant social customs of his time.

This scripture elucidates the fundamental principles of governing a state. Master Liu Ji of Qingyuan observes that ruling a nation resembles tending a tree—its roots remain above while branches extend below, with the essential point being the ruler's grasp of core principles. Though the world may be vast, its foundation is small, hence the reference to "small states"; though the people may be numerous, their essential needs are few, thus the mention of "sparse populations."

Su Zhe explains that when people remain content within their proper stations, those of talent will not deliberately seek fame or position. The so-called "instruments of tens and hundreds" (referring to exceptional individuals capable of leading small groups) denotes those who might otherwise serve as minor officials.

Emperor Huizong of Song notes in his imperial commentary that when people can dwell securely in life and be properly buried in death, they will not recklessly venture far. Confucius said, "When rulers lose the Dao (the Way), the people become scattered"—precisely describing this situation. Sima Guang interprets this as "cherishing life and remaining content with one's homeland." Wang Pang adds that in times of peace, people value life and stay within their proper bounds, whereas in chaotic eras, poverty drives desperate actions that disregard life and death.

Cao Daochong points out that substantial rewards inevitably produce daring men, demonstrating how people may risk death for profit. Small states with sparse populations paradoxically enable people to live securely. Chen Xianggu observes that when self-sufficient, people cherish life; with fewer desires, they need not travel far seeking gain.

Regarding the passage "though boats and carriages exist, none ride them; though armor and weapons exist, none deploy them," Emperor Huizong explains this resembles mountains needing no carved paths or marshes requiring no constructed bridges—maintaining natural conditions eliminates dangers, making vessels unnecessary; without threats of war, weapons need not be employed. Wang Anshi contends that people content in their stations avoid distant travels and warfare. Cao Daochong adds that when people dwell securely, distant journeys become unnecessary; when states coexist peacefully, weapons remain unused.

Chen Xianggu explains that with fewer desires, people are easily content, and the common folk will not contend with one another. Thus boats and chariots can be left unused, and weapons and armor can be stored away.

Liu Ji of Qingyuanzi adds that when people live with quiet detachment and refrain from interaction, even if boats and chariots exist, no one will ride them. With inner tranquility and self-sufficiency, free from strife, even if weapons and armor are present, there will be no occasion to display them.

Cheng Dachang argues that when people no longer risk their lives lightly, they will inevitably cherish life, and thus there will be no thieves—rendering weapons mere ornaments. When people dwell peacefully in their homeland without seeking outward desires, they will naturally not migrate, making boats and chariots superfluous.

Regarding "making the people return to the use of knotted cords" (a primitive method of record-keeping), Chen Jingyuan of Bixuzi states that this is meant to help people forget selfish desires and return to the simple purity of ancient times. Su Zhe of Yingbin believes that when affairs are simple and customs are pure, knotted cords suffice for record-keeping.

Liu Ji of Qingyuanzi depicts an ideal society: the people abide by their innate nature, tilling the land for food and weaving cloth for clothing. They play with food in their mouths and wander about with full bellies, walking steadily with focused and innocent gazes—returning to an era of utmost moral purity. Thus, the people are satisfied with their own food, take pleasure in their own garments, find peace in their own customs, and delight in their own occupations. Though neighboring states are within sight and the sounds of chickens and dogs can be heard, the people grow old and die without ever visiting one another.

Cheng Dachang cites the Zhuangzi, saying that nowadays, people crane their necks and stand on tiptoes upon hearing of a virtuous person in some distant place, packing their provisions to follow them. Their footprints spread across the borders of feudal states, and their chariot tracks stretch for thousands of miles—all due to the rulers’ glorification of cleverness. To restore the use of knotted cords, one must first eliminate the people’s outward-seeking minds, and the root of eliminating such desires lies in preserving simplicity and removing greed.

Regarding "finding their food sweet, their clothes beautiful, their customs peaceful, and their occupations joyful," the Imperial Commentary explains: by abiding in their proper place, they find their food delicious; by rejecting extravagance, they find their garments lovely; by being undisturbed, they find their lives peaceful; and by preserving their vitality, they find joy. Chen Jingyuan of Bixuzi says that when rulers are free from selfish desires, the people naturally remain pure. Without indulging in cravings, the people understand contentment—even coarse tea and plain rice taste sweet, and though their clothing may be simple hemp or deerskin, it keeps them warm and comfortable.

This passage discusses the idealized simple life in Daoist philosophy. Several commentators have interpreted the "small state with few people" concept from the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue) from different perspectives.

Sima Guang remarks that even living in a humble thatched hut can feel sweet and peaceful when one's heart is content. Su Zhe suggests that those with inner fulfillment don't envy external possessions—being satisfied with what one has eliminates further desires. Chen Xianggu succinctly summarizes this as "easy contentment."

Regarding the classic description where "neighboring states are within sight, their chickens and dogs heard, yet people grow old and die without visiting each other," scholars offer various interpretations: The Imperial Commentary sees this as the natural state of having no desires or external pursuits—the highest manifestation of De (Virtue). Chen Jingyuan (Master Bixu) uses the analogy of modern counties bordering each other with prosperous citizens, describing it as fish swimming freely in rivers and lakes, where people forget each other in the Dao's techniques—akin to the simple customs of the ancient Hexu and Zunlu eras.

Su Zhe observes that when resources are abundant, people don't seek from others because all are satisfied. Wang Anshi states that supreme De (Virtue) makes people focus on farming and weaving without questioning why. Cao Daochong (Master Daozhen Renjing) notes self-sufficiency eliminates needs for clothing and food, making interaction unnecessary. Liu Ji (Master Qingyuan) cites ancient neighbors who lived side-by-side for twenty years without visiting.

Huang Maocun references the eras of legendary tribal leaders like Rongchengshi and Datingshi, when people recorded events with knotted ropes and were content with basic necessities—neighboring tribes lived peacefully without interference. He suggests Laozi wanted people to return to this primordial simplicity.

The passage concludes by mentioning Chapter 81's "truthful words aren't ornamental," implying these plain-spoken teachings about simple living, though unadorned, contain fundamental truths. The overarching theme emphasizes the Daoist ideal of finding joy in sufficiency and returning to simplicity—where material minimalism coexists with spiritual abundance.

Genuine words are often not ornate, while flowery rhetoric is often untrustworthy. Just as plain water may lack flavor yet nourishes enduringly, sweet wine may delight the palate but easily intoxicates. Several Daoist scholars illuminate this principle from different perspectives:

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (Imperial Commentary) observes that authentic expressions of the Dao appear plain and unremarkable, whereas superficially elegant words prove unreliable. Chen Jingyuan (Master Bixu) employs the metaphor: water's simplicity enables its endurance, while fine wine's sweetness leads to quick depletion.

Su Zhe (Yingbin) maintains that truth requires no adornment, and pursuing external beauty causes loss of original authenticity. Wang Anshi (Linchuan) further explains that genuine speech remains close to human nature and thus needs no embellishment, whereas deliberately beautified words drift from this fundamental nature.

Liu Ji (Master Qingyuan) and Huang Maocun both emphasize that speech aligned with the Great Dao values authenticity, while pleasing rhetoric often distorts truth. Cheng Dachang clarifies that sincere words need no ornamentation, just as the Dao itself is plain and flavorless; elaborate language resembles sumptuous feasts and beautiful scenery - attractive yet distant from essence.

Regarding "the virtuous do not debate": Sima Guang (Master Sushui) notes good people speak sparingly, while deceivers employ glib tongues. Su Zhe contends that truly virtuous people require no debate, and those who prevail through argument may lack genuine virtue. Cao Daochong (Master Daozhen Renjing) points out that truly good people need no justification - only those with guilty consciences resort to clever rhetoric. Huang Maocai explains the Great Dao fundamentally needs no debate, so why would truly virtuous people engage in excessive speech?

Concerning "the wise are not erudite": Emperor Xuanzong's commentary explains that those who comprehend the Dao's subtleties focus on grasping fundamentals - broad knowledge matters less than seizing essential principles. Chen Jingyuan elucidates that true understanding of the Dao requires only comprehension of fundamental truths, not pursuit of encyclopedic knowledge. As Zhuangzi observed: extensive learning doesn't guarantee true knowledge, nor does skilled debate necessarily indicate wisdom.

This passage compiles interpretations from multiple Daoist scholars on the core principle "Less brings attainment, more breeds confusion." The Xisheng Jing (Scripture of Western Ascension, a Daoist classic) states that comprehending the fundamental "One" (the Dao) grants mastery over all things. Those who dabble extensively in myriad affairs and chase fragmented knowledge often lose their way, failing to grasp ultimate truth.

Sima Guang (Northern Song statesman) observes that truly wise individuals never greedily seek completeness but instead grasp essential principles. Su Zhe (Song dynasty literatus) adds that once one masters the root Dao, broad knowledge becomes unnecessary—those who learn more aren’t necessarily closer to understanding the Great Way. Cao Daochong (Daoist scholar) argues that once the essence is grasped, breadth is superfluous; without comprehending the core principle, all accumulated knowledge remains futile.

Ye Mengde (Song dynasty scholar) analyzes the Daode Jing's characteristics: this text invites acceptance and contemplation, approaching perfection; exhausts the principles of all things, approaching eloquence; and encompasses the transformations of all affairs, approaching breadth. Yet it embodies qualities that are credible without ornamentation, complete without verbosity, and wise without expansiveness.

Huang Maocai (Song dynasty scholar) remarks that understanding the fundamental "One" enables the completion of all things. Since the root is known, why chase breadth?

On the statement "The sage accumulates nothing": Imperial commentaries cite Zhuangzi to illustrate how the sage’s Dao operates ceaselessly without hoarding. Sima Guang explains that sages neither store possessions nor harbor selfishness—the more they aid others, the richer they become; the more they give, the more they possess. Su Zhe contends that sages hold only the fundamental "One," accumulating nothing else, yet when using this root to help others, it becomes inexhaustible. Wang Pang (Song dynasty scholar) elaborates: the sage’s Dao flows without fixed direction yet never stagnates, thus using "nothingness" to fulfill all needs. Clinging to accumulation yields little. Assisting others in governing the world, acting in harmony with circumstances, their Dao remains undiminished while their influence expands. Transmitting the Dao to others is like nature nurturing all things—they are never depleted, yet all beings flourish. Precisely because they accumulate nothing, they satisfy all needs.

Cao Daochong (Daoist name "Master Zhenren Jing") held that the Dao, though fundamentally empty and tranquil, naturally responds to the myriad transformations of existence. Liu Ji (Daoist name "Qingyuanzi") explained: The sage comprehends the profound mystery of the Dao and can accord with the needs of all things. When assisting others through De (Virtue), what appears as giving actually enriches oneself all the more; the more one bestows upon others, the greater one's own harvest becomes. This is because the Dao nourishes all things without ever being exhausted, precisely because it never hoards for itself.

Huang Maocun pointed out: The Dao belongs collectively to all under heaven, not being the private possession of sages. Though sages employ the Dao, they never claim it as their own. When helping others, their De never diminishes—hence the saying "the more one has"; when giving to others, their reserves never decrease—hence "the more one gains." This exemplifies how the Dao perfectly nourishes all things without omission.

Cheng Dachang elucidated the principle: The sage serves as the pivot of the Dao. Existing in absolute emptiness, the Dao nevertheless stands as the source of all things, thus requiring no deliberate accumulation. Though seemingly formless and soundless, its function remains inexhaustible. As Zhuangzi said: "Add to it and it won't increase, take from it and it won't diminish." The Dao preserved by sages resembles the vast ocean—majestic, eternal, and ceaselessly circulating.

Regarding "The Dao of heaven benefits without harming; the Dao of sages acts without contending":

Emperor Huizong of Song's imperial commentary states: By emulating heaven's Dao, contention naturally becomes unnecessary. Su Zhe (sobriquet Yingbin) analyzed: Holding power can both benefit and harm people; possessing strength enables both action and contention. Yet heaven's Dao and the sages benefit all things without harming, act without contending—this constitutes the fundamental reason they transcend ordinary beings and become revered by all existence.

Ye Mengde reviewed historical evaluations: From Master Gai's transmission of Huang-Lao techniques to Cao Can that brought order to Qi during Han dynasty, to Empress Dowager Dou's advocacy that ushered in the prosperous reigns of Wen and Jing, we see the benefits of Laozi's teachings. However, the Jin dynasty's excessive emphasis on pure emptiness while neglecting practical governance led to its downfall, revealing the potential pitfalls. Confucius once said "I transmit rather than create, believing in and loving antiquity," comparing himself to Lao Dan (Laozi) and Pengzu, demonstrating that even Confucius did not negate Laozi. Yet some criticize Laozi for belittling benevolence and righteousness while abandoning ritual studies—this reflects superficial understanding without grasping the essential meaning.

This passage comprises annotations and preface sections from the Collected Commentaries on the True Scripture of Dao and De, presenting interpretations of the Dao De Jing's core concepts by several scholars along with the editor's remarks.

The commentators observe that Laozi foresaw how rulers who fail to understand the people's condition would face rebellion—this could hardly be called "non-contention" (Wuwei). The sage's conduct aligns with the Dao of heaven: just as heaven benefits all things without harm, the sage acts without contention—both share the same essence. Though titled Scripture of Dao and De, the entire text expounds the fundamental principles of the Dao.

Cheng Dachang argues that the Dao De Jing consistently advocates overcoming hardness with softness, a philosophy rooted in the Dao of heaven. Su Zhe (Master Yingbin) concludes that these discussions encapsulate Laozi’s purpose in writing and the essence of the Dao he promoted, hence their reiteration at the end of the text.

In the preface, the editor Peng Si laments how ancient texts inevitably develop variant versions and interpretations over time, much like the Analects exists in differing editions. For this commentary, he primarily relied on the official edition issued during Emperor Huizong of Song’s Zhenghe era, supplementing Lu Deming’s Tang-dynasty annotations with insights from scholars like Li Yue and Lin Xiyi. Peng emphasizes that Laozi’s teachings, grounded in clarity, stillness, and non-action (Wuwei), differ from Confucian classics; excessive focus on textual minutiae is unnecessary, yet comprehension of the meaning remains essential to grasp their wisdom. He encourages readers to compare interpretations for deeper understanding.

(Note: The "Zhenghe imperial edition" refers to the official Dao De Jing version published during Emperor Huizong’s Zhenghe reign; Lu Deming was a renowned Tang-dynasty classicist, author of Interpretations of Classics.)