《通玄真經(一)》Vol. 5

In the Tongxuan Zhenjing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery), Laozi expounds: When the Qi (vital energy) between heaven and earth is harmonious and stable, it nourishes all things, ensuring timely and moderate wind and rain, and natural disasters do not occur.

Regarding the Dao of governance, Laozi points out: Gaining an army of ten thousand is not as valuable as hearing a single correct word on statecraft; obtaining treasures like the Pearl of Marquis Sui (a legendary gem) is not as precious as understanding the patterns of how things develop; possessing rare jade like the He Shi Bi (a famous jade disc) is not as useful as mastering the proper methods of handling affairs. No matter how powerful a state may be, if it exhausts itself in warfare, it will eventually perish; no matter how stable a nation may be, if it is bellicose, it will court danger. Thus, even if a small state with a sparse population possesses advanced weaponry, it should not use it lightly. (Great states should cultivate De (Virtue/Power), while small states should remain content—this way, war can be avoided, and all may live in peace and prosperity.)

On the subject of achieving hegemony, Laozi holds: Those who can establish hegemony must be skilled in victory; those who can defeat their enemies must possess great strength; those who can maintain their strength must excel in employing people; those who excel in employing people must have won the hearts of the people; and those who have won the hearts of the people must understand self-cultivation. Those who understand self-cultivation often maintain a posture of softness—using softness to overcome weaker opponents is easy, but when facing equally matched adversaries, the effectiveness of this strategy becomes unpredictable. Thus, true victory does not lie in conquering numerous weaker foes but in achieving decisive, monumental triumphs. (Only by maintaining a humble and gentle demeanor, unoppressed by the masses, can one attain genuine victory.)

Regarding the pursuit of the Dao and learning, Wenzi inquired of Laozi. Laozi replied: If one’s learning is not profound, their understanding of the Dao will not be thorough. The purpose of listening to and studying the Dao is to increase wisdom, perfect conduct, and achieve merit and renown. (Just as striking a bell inevitably produces a sound, earnest inquiry will surely yield results.) Without deep comprehension, one cannot attain clarity; without profound reflection, one cannot attain mastery. Therefore, the highest method of learning is to grasp with the Shen (spirit)—comprehensively apprehending without omission. The middling method is to ponder with the heart—sometimes grasping, sometimes not. The lowest method is to listen with the ears—like wind passing by. Those who listen with the ears can only reach the surface of learning; those who ponder with the heart can penetrate to the middle layer; only those who grasp with the Shen can reach the essence of learning.

This passage expounds the fundamental principles of cultivating the Dao and conducting oneself in the world. It begins by stating that if one's understanding of the Dao remains superficial ("not hearing it deeply"), perception becomes unclear; unclear perception prevents complete mastery of its essence, and without mastering the essence, practice cannot succeed. Only when one's moral cultivation reaches profound levels can achievements be accomplished.

Regarding the secret to comprehending the Dao: maintain inner emptiness and stillness, reduce distracting thoughts, and avoid excessive mental agitation. The eyes should not gaze indiscriminately, nor the ears listen carelessly—focus the spirit (Shen) and accumulate internal energy (Qi). Once the Dao is apprehended, hold it firmly and persist steadfastly. This is the path to understanding the Great Dao through spiritual realization.

The Great Dao (referring to the fundamental laws of the universe) invariably begins from minute origins: what is soft and weak transforms into strength, what is few becomes many. Just as a giant tree requiring ten men's embrace grows from a tiny sprout, or a hundred-foot tower rises from its foundation—such is the Dao's natural principle. Sages emulate this pattern: through humility comes nobility; by yielding, one advances; through frugality comes abundance; by decreasing, one increases.

The Great Dao is the source of Virtue (De), the foundation of heaven and earth, the gateway to blessings. All things depend on it for growth, fulfillment, and tranquility. The Dao itself acts without deliberate action (Wuwei) and has no fixed form—it serves equally for self-cultivation and governing states. When accomplishments are achieved, one unites with the celestial Dao. Though the Dao's true nature remains ultimately unfathomable, it undeniably contains trustworthy patterns.

The text concludes by mentioning that if the Son of Heaven (the ruler) could follow the Great Dao...

The Tongxuan Zhenjing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery) explains the universal importance of the Dao across all social strata. Regardless of status, those who follow the Dao's principles receive corresponding blessings: When emperors and feudal lords abide by the Dao, their nations enjoy peace and harmony; when commoners follow the Dao, they protect themselves and their families. Powerful states adhering to the Dao achieve victory without warfare, while weaker ones following the Dao gain without contention.

Specifically: When rulers and ministers embody the Dao, they manifest loyalty and benevolence; when fathers and sons practice the Dao, they demonstrate kindness and filial piety; when ordinary people live by the Dao, they cultivate mutual affection. Thus we see that with the Dao comes harmony, while without it arises harshness. The Dao applies to all human affairs, great and small—partial practice brings limited blessings, extensive practice yields greater rewards, and complete embodiment leads to universal allegiance.

A true sovereign (referring to an enlightened ruler embodying the Dao) becomes the heart's desire of all under heaven. Without the people's allegiance, even one seated on the throne cannot endure. No ruler can accomplish great deeds without worthy advisors, yet even with talented ministers, the loss of the Dao means the loss of the realm. Those who deviate from the Dao often indulge in extravagance, arrogance, self-display, and aggressive competition—when petty men behave thus, they invite personal calamity; when great men do so, they bring about national ruin. No transgression exceeds abandoning the Dao; no resentment runs deeper than lacking De (Virtue)—this is the natural law of heaven.

Laozi states: Those who truly embody the Dao cannot be harmed by the most courageous assassin nor struck by the most skillful attacker. Yet this describes only passive defense—superior is making the courageous dare not strike and the skillful dare not attack. This illustrates the intangible protective power and deterrent effect of the Dao's principles.

This scripture elucidates the Daoist understanding of core concepts such as De (Virtue/Power), humaneness, righteousness, and ritual propriety.

It first discusses the state of "having no intention" — meaning those who have truly attained the Dao harbor no selfish thoughts of love, hatred, gain or loss. Even when facing attacks, they remain unharmed. While this seems miraculous to ordinary people, to those embodying supreme Dao it appears as child's play. The ideal state is when no one in the world harbors aggressive intentions, and one remains free from calculations of personal gain, thus achieving perfect harmony with the great Dao. Like the sages Gengsang Chu and Confucius who, though lacking royal status, naturally attracted followers. The scripture illustrates this with the saying: "Those courageously daring meet death; those courageously yielding preserve life" — showing how forceful action invites disaster while gentle restraint safeguards existence.

Next, Wenzi inquires about the meaning of "De" from Laozi. The sage explains that De resembles heaven and earth nurturing all things without discrimination, impartially benefiting all beings in harmony with natural principles. This constitutes supreme De.

Regarding "humaneness," Laozi clarifies: Those in high positions don't boast of achievements, while those in low positions aren't ashamed of poverty; neither arrogant about great matters nor negligent of small ones; showing universal love without partiality, sustained without decline. Like the Son of Heaven remaining humble and commoners staying unworried, distributing kindness equitably — this constitutes humaneness.

"Righteousness" means: When in authority, supporting the weak; when subordinate, maintaining integrity; when successful, avoiding indulgence; when impoverished, preserving moral character; always following principle without bending the law. This righteousness rescues the endangered and comforts the poor while delighting in the Dao.

"Ritual propriety" manifests as: Those above maintaining dignity, those below showing respect; yielding and gentle in all situations, willingly occupying the humblest position; acting prudently without self-importance. This constitutes ritual propriety that maintains humility completely free from arrogance.

Finally, it notes that when rulers cultivate De, the people obey; when they cultivate humaneness, the people...

This scripture expounds the fundamental principles of governing a state and cultivating one's character. Laozi asserts that when rulers cultivate the four essential virtues of "righteousness, propriety, Dao (the Way), and De (Virtue/Power)," the nation will achieve stability. Should these four foundations be neglected, governance will fail and self-cultivation will lead to ruin.

The root of all living things lies in the Dao (the Way), their growth is nurtured by De (Virtue/Power), their care is sustained by benevolence, their conduct is rectified by righteousness, and their respect is expressed through propriety. When these five are fully cultivated, one becomes invincible under heaven. Just as things cannot grow without nourishment, they cannot flourish without kindness, endure without rectitude, or be valued without reverence.

De (Virtue/Power) is what the people cherish, benevolence is what they long for, righteousness is what they revere, and propriety is what they honor. These four are the fundamental laws for governing the world, and it is through them that sages rule over all things. If a ruler lacks De (Virtue/Power), the people will resent them; without benevolence, they will contend; without righteousness, they will become violent; without propriety, they will descend into chaos. When these four foundations are not established, it is called "being without the Dao," and nothing that is without the Dao has ever avoided destruction.

Laozi describes an ideal society thus: In an era where Dao and De (Virtue/Power) flourish, merchants conduct business peacefully, farmers till the land joyfully, officials fulfill their duties faithfully, recluses cultivate virtue, and the common people live in contentment. During such times, even wind and rain are harmonious, plants thrive, auspicious patterns appear in the Yellow River, and mysterious writings emerge in the Luo River. But in times of decline, rulers impose heavy taxes, slaughter the innocent, and execute those who remonstrate, leading to mountains collapsing, rivers drying up, pestilence spreading, and fields lying barren. This serves as a warning to rulers: governing without the Dao inevitably provokes the wrath of heaven and the resentment of the people, plunging all things into disorder.

In times of great peace, ignorant people cannot single-handedly disrupt social order (because upright Qi naturally rejects corrupt influences); yet in chaotic eras, even the virtuous cannot govern alone (the few cannot prevail against the many). The reason sages can live with serene joy and tranquil clarity is that they embody the highest De (Virtue), acting in harmony with the Dao (the Way).

Human destiny is predetermined—only by aligning with fate can one achieve meaningful action; only when the proper moment arrives can one’s abilities manifest. Specific eras give rise to specific talents (just as towering phoenix trees naturally attract phoenixes, while small ditches cannot harbor great fish).

Wenzi inquired about the difference between sages and the merely wise. Laozi replied: Those who comprehend through hearing alone are sages; those who require visual proof to understand are the wise. Thus, sages often perceive the roots of fortune and misfortune through listening, thereby choosing the correct path. The wise, however, act only after observing established outcomes (they proceed when they see feasibility and halt when recognizing difficulty).

Sages understand the auspicious and inauspicious patterns of heaven’s Dao, thus foreseeing the origins of fortune and calamity. The wise first notice manifested signs, thereby discerning their causes (sages recognize the interdependence of fortune and misfortune, detecting shifts before events take form—thus governing chaos before it arises. The wise observe the transformation between fortune and misfortune through visible omens, thereby avoiding the gates of disaster). Those who can hear of things yet unborn are sages; those who foresee fully formed trends are the wise. Those who can neither hear nor foresee remain foolish and confused.

Laozi further said: If a ruler excessively exalts personal righteousness, they will trust momentary judgments and act autocratically, abandoning the laws of the great Dao to rely on petty favors (prioritizing transient righteousness without considering future calamity, neglecting cosmic principles while flaunting trivial cleverness—this is no enlightened ruler). Facing vast complexities with shallow wisdom, attempting to address the profound with the superficial, is doomed to fail (like using a finger as a cup to hold the ocean or drawing from a deep well with a short rope—how could it succeed?). Relying solely on personal intellect invites frequent errors (arbitrary decisions lead easily to failure; consulting the collective ensures stability).

Excessive pursuit of cunning exhausts one’s methods; overvaluing bravery is a path to peril (flaunting one’s insight inevitably brings stagnation, while reckless courage without strategy courts ruin). Extreme generosity lacks fixed standards: when those above distribute without clarity, those below crave without limit. Over-taxation breeds public enmity, while giving much while taking little is unsustainable—thus, excessive generosity creates problems.

The root of resentment lies in this: one must always take before giving, yet taking has its limits and giving will eventually exhaust itself. Using finite resources to satisfy infinite desires naturally cannot last. Giving and taking are like transactions—what one gains, another must lose. Moreover, when acquisition is unjust or giving ill-timed, the recipient may feel no gratitude while the deprived nurse grievances. Thus, the truly wise sever all calculations of taking and giving, abiding in peaceful authenticity—how could resentment arise from this?

From this we see material wealth alone cannot truly resolve problems; only by following the principles of the Dao (the Way) can conflicts be fundamentally resolved. (Here "Dao" refers to natural law and cosmic order.) Observe the dynamic of taking and giving, and you'll find precisely the source of enmity. When material means cannot save the age, only the Dao can aid all beings.

Wenzi (a Daoist figure) asked: "When ancient sage-kings governed the world through the Dao, how exactly did they proceed?" (This rhetorically contrasts ancient wisdom with contemporary misrule.) Laozi replied: "By holding to the One (the origin of Dao) and following spontaneity, conforming to celestial patterns while transforming alongside all creatures. The world is like a precious vessel (symbolizing state power)—it cannot be forcibly controlled nor deliberately manipulated. Forced control leads to loss; deliberate action brings ruin."

"To hold the One" means perceiving the subtle to comprehend the profound. Only by seeing the minute can great affairs be accomplished. "Wuwei (non-action)" means maintaining serene emptiness—this emptiness becomes the world's compass. (Here "non-action" means unforced action, not inactivity.) Full yet not overflowing, exalted yet not arrogant; in extreme abundance without excess, one preserves lasting wealth; in high position without pride, one preserves lasting nobility. When wealth and honor never leave one's person, blessings extend to descendants. This was the essence of ancient sage-kings' governance.

(This passage explains how enlightened rulers of antiquity followed this principle: their inner being aligned with wuwei, their actions conformed to supreme law. At the zenith without complacency, in exalted position without peril, their grace nourished all things, their virtue benefited posterity—thus they taught the world through this Dao.)

This scripture primarily discusses the art of governance, emphasizing that rulers should adhere to the principle of "One" (the unified, constant law of the Dao) in administering the state.

The text observes that when social customs deteriorate and people become shallow—outwardly feigning benevolence and righteousness for reputation while actually abusing power—a ruler must be established to unify governance. A ruler who maintains the principle of "One" can govern effectively, whereas frequent changes to laws will lead to chaos. True governance does not rely on deliberate action but follows the natural principle of Wuwei (non-action). The wise do not flaunt virtue, the courageous do not misuse force, and the benevolent do not exploit their position to dispense favors—only then can the state of "One" be achieved.

"One" is the fundamental Dao that permeates all things, the origin of all existence. If a ruler frequently alters decrees, the state will frequently change rulers. Without constant laws, the people will suffer hardship, and the world will lack peace. If a ruler rewards and punishes based on personal whims, subordinates will live in fear, leading to the abuse of punishments.

The scripture particularly stresses: when a ruler loses the principle of "One," the resulting chaos is worse than having no ruler at all. Only by steadfastly upholding "One" can a ruler truly lead the masses. When Wenzi (a Daoist figure) asked Laozi how many ways of kingly governance existed, Laozi replied there was only "One," illustrating that while ancient and modern rulers bore different titles, the fundamental principle of governance remained the same.

The core teaching of this passage is: governance must follow the unchanging natural law ("One"). Rulers should govern through Wuwei (non-action), avoid arbitrary changes to laws, and refrain from acting on personal biases—only then can the world achieve stability.

Master Wenzi (a prominent Daoist figure) once posed a question: Ancient rulers governed the world either through moral transformation or military conquest—are these two approaches essentially the same? (For example, Yao and Shun practiced abdication, while Tang of Shang and Wu of Zhou achieved power through conquest—their methods clearly differed.)

Laozi replied: Governing through moral instruction is virtuous governance (De), and ruling through military force likewise manifests virtue. (Because the Dao itself makes no distinction between high and low—only eras have cycles of prosperity and decline. The key lies in flexible adaptation, not rigid dogma. Acting in accordance with circumstances and solving problems based on actual conditions—this is the highest wisdom. In ancient times when knots recorded events, moral influence was virtuous governance; during rebellions, using force to restore order was equally virtuous governance. Action that doesn't deviate from the right path, stillness that doesn't violate heavenly principles—though weapons are instruments of violence, when used appropriately they become the highest virtue.)

Military action divides into five types: armies of righteousness, self-defense, vengeance, plunder, and display. (Warfare concerns life and death—it must be carefully considered.) Punishing tyrants to save the weak is righteous warfare (yi bing); responding to invasion is defensive warfare (ying bing); fighting over petty disputes is wrathful warfare (fen bing); coveting others' lands and wealth is greedy warfare (tan bing); flaunting power to intimidate is arrogant warfare (jiao bing). Righteous armies can win the world, defensive armies can achieve victory, wrathful armies will face defeat, greedy armies invite destruction, and arrogant armies ultimately perish—this is the Dao's immutable law. (States possess these five types of military force—misuse brings ruin; individuals harbor five destructive impulses—indulgence invites calamity. Heaven's Dao rewards good and punishes evil without error—the virtuous must be cautious.)

Laozi said: Abandoning the Dao to rely solely on cleverness is perilous; discarding natural laws to depend only on talent brings trouble. (Forsaking the broad path for petty schemes; ignoring fortune's cycles to show off sophistry—this is prioritizing branches over roots—how could it not be dangerous?) Therefore, those who abide by their true nature and follow heavenly principles neither grieve at loss nor rejoice at gain. (Because they understand) success isn't attained through forced pursuit, nor gains through desperate striving. (With inner stillness, joy and sorrow naturally fade.) Receiving gifts without greed, giving aid without pride—like spring nurturing all things without claiming merit, or autumn withering life without incurring resentment—this approaches the Dao. (The seasons operate by fixed principles; rulers too must govern in harmony with heaven's Dao, dispensing impartial rewards and punishments while avoiding actions that violate natural order.)

Master Wenzi further asked: How can rulers truly win their people's heartfelt support? Laozi answered: (The subsequent text is missing, but following the pattern, this would expound on governing through wuwei (non-action) and policies that let the people rest.)

Rivers and seas appear insipid and tasteless, yet their resources are inexhaustible. They always begin from small origins, yet ultimately achieve vastness. (The virtue [De] of enlightened rulers resembles rivers and seas—they reject nothing and exhaust nothing. Though appearing plain, they harmonize all flavors; though giving endlessly, all things depend on them. Thus they win the people's affection and their descendants flourish.)

To stand above others, one's words must remain humble; to lead others, one's actions must willingly follow. In this way, people will naturally delight in emulating their humaneness and practicing their righteousness, without harboring resentment. When such rulers occupy high positions, the people feel no burden; when they walk ahead, none are harmed. All under heaven gladly support them without weariness. Even distant lands with alien customs, down to the smallest creatures, all draw near with affection. Wherever they go, passage is unobstructed; whatever they undertake proceeds smoothly—thus they become the most revered under heaven.

(To stand above others isn't about true dominance, but wishing others needn't remain below; to lead isn't about seizing precedence, but being placed ahead without harming others. Such virtue [De] can move heaven and earth—how much more so humans?)

Laozi says: Clinging rigidly to one era's laws to negate inherited customs is like tuning a zither by gluing its tuning pegs (metaphor for obstinate inflexibility). The sage adapts flexibly to circumstances, observing reality to take appropriate measures. When times differ, actions must change; when situations shift, customs must transform—establish laws according to the age's needs, act in harmony with prevailing trends.

(Sage-kings rectify contemporary ills and aid all creatures; people gaze up at them as the starving await food, the thirsty yearn for drink—who wouldn't aspire to this?) The laws of ancient kings differed not because they sought novelty, but because circumstances changed.

This passage expounds on principles of governance and self-cultivation, with the core philosophy of following nature's course and governing through Wuwei (non-action).

In governing a state, one should not rigidly adhere to established laws but emulate the fundamental principles behind their creation, adjusting according to changing circumstances. Just as the Five Emperors (legendary sage rulers of antiquity) and Three Sovereigns (virtuous kings of Xia, Shang and Zhou dynasties) employed different governance methods—not for novelty's sake but to meet their era's needs—sages observe effective governance models while the profound rationale behind these methods remains elusive. Their words may be heeded as guidance, yet their true intent can never be fully grasped.

The Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors regarded imperial power lightly, maintained detachment toward all things, viewed life and death as equal, and merged with nature's transformations. This wasn't because they disdained the world, but because they were free from desire—what they didn't forcibly pursue came to them naturally. Holding fast to the great Dao, they perceived all things' true nature with sincere hearts. Above, they befriended the Dao; below, they moved with change.

Those today who wish to learn this art of governance yet fail to maintain inner clarity—who rigidly cling to texts and mechanically enforce laws—will never govern effectively.

Wenzi (a Daoist figure) inquired about governance from Laozi, who replied: "Govern through the Dao, nurture people with De (Virtue). Flaunt no talents nor abuse authority. Reduce desires and preserve singular focus—thus avoiding temptation and preventing greed. Be upright without harming others, incorruptible without being harsh. Neither arrogant nor boastful. Govern through Dao and people will follow; nurture through De and people will submit; refrain from flaunting talents and people will be content; abstain from power abuse and people will remain pure. Not flaunting talents is frugality; not abusing authority is prudence. Only thus can you unite hearts and win people's support."

This scripture primarily expounds on the wisdom of governance and personal conduct, with its core principle being mastery of the "art of situational adaptation" (quanbian).

It first addresses four critical aspects of statecraft: Excessive frugality leads to alienation of the people, neglecting their welfare invites rebellion, flaunting one's worthiness provokes contention, and reckless use of military force breeds resentment. When these four conditions arise, the state will decline. Conversely, one should practice frugality without being harsh, nurture the people to unite their hearts, possess worthiness without ostentation, and maintain dignity without cruelty—only then can the proper Dao (the Way) be preserved.

The text then distinguishes between "higher discourse" (shangyan) and "lower discourse" (xiayan). The former refers to the eternal and unchanging Dao, the foundation of governance; the latter denotes expedient and adaptable methods. Only sages can properly employ situational adaptation, remaining true to the Dao while flexibly responding to circumstances. Ordinary people who misuse such adaptation ultimately harm themselves.

Two examples illustrate this: a son testifying against his father, and a woman dying to keep a promise. While these may appear righteous and trustworthy on the surface, they violate the innate genuineness of human nature and are not true virtues (De). Sages handle matters with flexible adaptation according to specific situations, without fixed patterns. For instance, it may be permissible to address a ruler by name during rituals, or to grab one's father's hair when rescuing him from drowning—these are exceptions allowed under extraordinary circumstances.

Wenzi asks why some rulers lacking the Dao can still maintain peaceful rule. Laozi replies that from the Son of Heaven to commoners, all exist in a relationship of mutual dependence. This implies that even rulers without the Dao may temporarily sustain their rule by understanding certain principles of adaptation, but in the long run, adherence to the great Dao remains essential.

Ordinary people go about their lives, yet their circumstances vary between fortune and misfortune. When states collapse and families are torn apart in this world, it is always due to a lack of De (Virtue) (not because of other calamities—the root lies in straying from the Dao). Those who embody De remain diligent day and night, ever vigilant, fearing they might fall into peril; those without De indulge their desires, grow lax and idle, and destruction may come at any moment (living in peace yet behaving like those in a doomed kingdom, complacent and oblivious to danger—death arrives unannounced).

Had the tyrants Jie of Xia or Zhou of Shang acted in accordance with De, even the virtuous Tang of Shang and Wu of Zhou could not have accomplished their feats of overthrowing tyranny (following the Dao leads to kingship; abandoning it brings ruin. Thus, good and evil alone do not determine dynastic rise and fall—what matters is human action. Heaven naturally protects those with De—is this principle not clear?). The function of De is this: it fosters the growth and nourishment of all things, helps them accumulate and flourish, and brings people closer in affection, mutual respect, and reverence. Even creatures as dull as the "deaf turtle" (referring to slow-witted reptiles) do not harm what they cherish. If all under heaven embraced benevolence, how could calamities arise? (The Dao is vast and inclusive, nurturing all things equally with care. If one extends this principle universally, even the deaf turtle would respond to kindness—why fear disaster?)

Those who stray from the Dao yet avoid immediate misfortune do so only because remnants of benevolence linger and righteousness has not fully perished. But already, feudal lords grow insolent toward their sovereign, the court loses its reverence, and governance falters (a ruler without Dao temporarily retains his throne due to the lingering De of past generations. Yet signs of doom appear—disrespect takes root, as when King Yi of Zhou was forced to descend his throne to greet his vassals, or Duke Wen of Jin coerced the Zhou king into an alliance—these are omens of decline). When benevolence is exhausted and righteousness extinguished, lords rebel, the people glorify violence (resolving matters by force), the strong oppress the weak, great states swallow small ones, and the masses take warfare as their trade. Calamity and chaos erupt, ruin looms near—how can one expect to escape disaster? (With the Dao forsaken and De vanished, hierarchy crumbles: ruler and subject lose their roles, the noble and lowly are overturned, the powerful prey on the helpless. Like the eras of Qin Er Shi or the last Han emperors, these are the harbingers of a state's demise.)

Laozi said: When laws are excessive and punishments severe, the people learn deceit (overly complex laws are hard to obey; when they cannot be followed, harsh penalties enforce them).

This scripture primarily discusses the principles of state governance and the discernment of right and wrong.

It first points out that unjust punishments will harm the innocent, leading the people to disregard life, violate prohibitions, and defy the law even at the cost of death—this is the root of chaos in the world. If a ruler issues excessive decrees, the people will devise countless ways to circumvent them; the more prohibitions there are, the fewer can truly be enforced. It is as futile as constantly stirring a fire to prevent it from burning or agitating water to make it clear.

Laozi says that if a ruler is overly fond of benevolence, they will reward the undeserving and pardon the guilty; if they favor harsh punishments, they will dismiss the meritorious and punish the innocent. The ideal ruler should be free of personal biases, ensuring that rewards and punishments are just—those rewarded will not evade, and those punished will not resent. The ruler should be as impartial as heaven and earth, embracing all things without partiality.

Regarding the discernment of right and wrong, the scripture observes that there is no absolute standard in the world. People affirm what they favor and reject what they dislike. What is called "seeking truth" often merely means finding arguments that align with one's own views, and "eliminating falsehood" simply means dismissing what contradicts one's preferences. Thus, the truly wise do not cling to worldly distinctions of right and wrong, good and evil.

Finally, the analogy "governing a large state is like cooking a small fish" illustrates that ruling a great nation requires minimal interference—just as frying small fish demands little turning. Forcing uniformity of opinion (quhe) will only backfire; maintaining natural harmony is the true Dao (the Way).

This scripture conveys three main teachings:

The first section discusses the Dao (the Way) of human conduct. While one may wish to rectify oneself to interact with others, it's impossible to know what standards the world will use to judge us. If we simply follow the crowd, it's like running through the rain trying to avoid getting wet—we'll end up soaked regardless. True emptiness and stillness (referring to a state of mental clarity without desire) cannot be achieved through forced pursuit. Only those who attain stillness naturally without striving for it can fulfill all aspirations. Those who attain the Dao are like an axle—remaining motionless themselves yet enabling the wheel to travel thousands of miles, operating within boundless realms. The sages (enlightened beings who have realized the Dao) embody the great Dao, returning to their original nature. They respond to infinite changes with constancy, their actions appearing as wuwei (non-action).

The second section addresses governance. A state that wages frequent wars, even with consistent victories, will inevitably perish. Constant warfare exhausts the people, while repeated victories inflate the ruler's arrogance. An arrogant ruler driving exhausted subjects—few states survive such conditions. An arrogant ruler becomes indulgent, and indulgence drains the people's vitality; exhausted people grow resentful, and resentment breeds extreme thoughts. When both ruler and subjects reach their limits, destruction is inevitable. Therefore, withdrawing after accomplishing one's task aligns with the heavenly Dao.

The third section presents a dialogue between King Ping of Zhou and Master Wenzi. The king asks: "I've heard you learned the great Dao from Lao Dan (Laozi). But even if a worthy person possesses Daoist arts, when facing chaotic times, can one person's authority truly transform long-corrupted people?" Here, King Ping refers to himself as "one person," expressing his confusion about the difficulties of governance.

Wenzi (a Daoist master) replied to King Ping (the virtuous ruler of Zhou dynasty): Though all power now resides in the sovereign alone, if you cannot transform the people through moral influence, what means can you employ to govern the state properly?

The power of Dao and De (Virtue) manifests thus: it rectifies deviant thoughts and returns them to the right path, pacifies chaos to restore order, transforms corruption into pristine simplicity. When the ruler cultivates genuine De within himself, the world naturally attains peace. The crux lies with the sovereign alone - for both depravity and rectitude originate from the heart, order and disorder depend entirely on the ruler. Prosperity and decline are not heaven's decree; success or failure depends on one's own actions, unrelated to external factors.

The ruler serves as the people's teacher, those above become models for those below. When superiors honor virtuous conduct, inferiors will emulate; when the sovereign upholds Dao and De, the people will practice benevolence and righteousness; when all people embrace these virtues, social disorder cannot arise. The multitudes look up to their ruler as mountain streams inevitably flow down thousand-foot cliffs.

Accumulating good deeds builds the foundation for kingship, while amassing resentment leads to ruin. Just as piled stones form mountains and gathered droplets create oceans, nothing is achieved without gradual accumulation. Those who accumulate De receive heaven and earth's protection, with spirits and deities lending aid - auspicious signs appear: phoenixes soar in courtyards, qilin roam the suburbs, dragons dwell in marshes.

To govern the world through Dao and De is to bestow blessings upon it; to rule without them brings calamity. One who makes enemies of the world cannot maintain lasting rule. Yao and Shun prospered through De, while Jie and Zhou fell through its loss.

King Ping responded: I reverently receive your instruction. (King Ping, the virtuous Zhou ruler who lamented the world's decline, sought Wenzi's counsel on governance. Wenzi revealed that the key lay in the ruler's self-cultivation. Subsequently implementing benevolent policies, King Ping restored Zhou's prosperity and was later honored by posterity as "Ping the Peacemaker.")