《混元聖紀》Vol. 6

This passage records a dialogue between Laozi (venerated in Daoism as "Lord Lao") and his disciple Wenzi (original name Xin Jian, also known as Jiran, who was the teacher of Fan Li). Wenzi inquired about the meanings of "Dao, De, benevolence, righteousness, and propriety," to which Laozi offered profound explanations:

"Dao" means following nature's course through wuwei (non-action), cultivating oneself inwardly while governing others outwardly, achieving accomplishments in harmony with the heavenly Dao. "De" (Virtue/Power) nurtures all things equally, aligning with the virtue of heaven and earth. "Benevolence" means universal love without partiality, enduring steadfastly—assisting the weak when in high position, maintaining integrity when in lowly station. "Righteousness" means acting according to principle without favoritism—being dignified when prominent, humble when subordinate. "Propriety" manifests as reverence and caution, gentle stillness, and keeping to one's proper role.

Laozi emphasized: Cultivating Dao makes people willingly follow; cultivating De ensures obedience to commands; cultivating benevolence eliminates contention; cultivating righteousness brings fairness; cultivating propriety fosters respect. When all five are perfected, households and states find stability. Conversely, lacking any one leads to chaos or even ruin.

When Wenzi further asked about governing fundamentals, Laozi replied: Never has one heard of self-cultivation perfected yet the state in disorder. Through tranquil self-nurturing and frugal life-preservation, the people remain undisturbed and resentment-free. Just as heaven covers all things with Dao, earth supports beings with De, the seasons follow their orderly course, and wind-rain never become calamities.

The sun and moon move with clarity, and the five planets (the five major celestial bodies observed by the ancients: Jupiter, Mars, Saturn, Venus, and Mercury) follow their proper courses. The foundation of governing a state lies in ensuring the people's peaceful livelihood, and the basis for this peace resides in material sufficiency. The root of material sufficiency lies in not plundering the people, which in turn depends on moderation in expenditures. The essence of moderation lies in reducing forced labor, and the key to reducing labor lies in governing through Wuwei (non-action).

Here, "Wuwei" does not mean being as inert as wood or stone—unmovable, unresponsive—but rather refers to preventing selfish thoughts from interfering with the just Dao and not allowing personal desires to distort correct methods. One should act in accordance with natural laws, achieve merit by seizing opportune moments, and delegate responsibilities according to subordinates' capabilities, thereby avoiding faults in governance. When all things develop according to their inherent nature, affairs are accomplished spontaneously without forced human intervention. Like using boats on water and sleds in mountainous terrain, cultivating fields on high ground and reserving lowlands for ponds—these are all examples of following natural tendencies rather than deliberate contrivance.

In ancient times, emperors were not established for personal indulgence, nor did sages ascend the throne for their own comfort. Because the world contained the strong oppressing the weak, the many bullying the few, the clever deceiving the simple, and the bold intimidating the timid—because the talented refused to teach others and the wealthy hoarded without sharing—the institution of the Son of Heaven became necessary to unify governance. Since one person's wisdom cannot illuminate all under heaven, the system of Three Dukes and Nine Ministers (high-ranking officials) was created to assist. As remote regions with differing customs proved difficult to civilize, feudal lords were enfeoffed to pacify and administer them.

Thus, heaven never neglects the seasons, the government never wastes talent, and the state never squanders resources. The laws of ancient sage-kings decreed: do not kill pregnant animals, do not collect unhatched eggs, do not drain ponds to catch fish, and do not burn forests to hunt. Before the season when jackals begin hunting (ancients believed jackals made ritual offerings before hunting), no snares may be set in the wild; before otters commence fishing, no nets may be cast in waters; before hawks start their predation (ancients observed hawks making ritual offerings before hunting), no bird nets may be deployed.

This scripture expounds the wisdom of ancient sage-kings in governing the world, with its core philosophy being the art of rulership that follows natural laws and embraces quietude through wuwei (non-action).

First, it discusses the principles of protecting nature: One shouldn't set nets for birds before eagles swoop down, fell trees before their leaves drop, burn fields before insects hibernate, kill pregnant animals, rob bird nests, catch small fish, or eat immature pigs and dogs. Only by such measures can all things grow as naturally as rising steam. This was the method by which ancient kings mastered seasonal rhythms, stored provisions, and enriched both state and people.

The text then presents governance philosophy: When water becomes too muddy, fish gasp for breath; when decrees become too harsh, the people revolt. If rulers harbor excessive desires, their subjects will resort to deceit; if demands become too great, commoners will fight. When cunning tricks prevail, bandits multiply. Addressing symptoms rather than root causes is as futile as digging channels to block water or carrying firewood to extinguish flames.

True sages govern with simplified administration yet achieve good order, making few demands yet bringing prosperity. They manifest benevolence without deliberate favors, earn trust without many words, gain without forcing, and win the world's allegiance without contrived action. This is the realm of "governing through wuwei" — preserving primal simplicity and holding fast to the Dao (the Way), where the world follows naturally like shadow to form or echo to sound.

Through the dialogue between Wenzi (a Daoist figure) and Lao Jun (Laozi), the text further illustrates: The height of heaven and thickness of earth, the radiance of sun and moon, the brilliance of stars — none require proclamation. The yin-yang alternation of seasons nurtures all beings; dew moistens plants; divine spirits harmonize yin-yang — all occur spontaneously. The true Dao resides in internal jing (essence) and qi (vital energy), where the shen (spirit) rests peacefully, the heart-mind becomes vast and formless, silent and soundless. In such a state, government offices remain leisurely, courts free from troubles, with no hermits fleeing society or unjust conscriptions. All under heaven admire the ruler's de (virtue), and even distant tribes voluntarily submit — achieved not through door-to-door preaching, but through sincere influence.

This passage elucidates the fundamental principle that both governing a state and cultivating the self rely on "jingcheng" (pure and sincere spiritual power).

In statecraft, while laws and decrees are important, the true efficacy of governance lies in the ruler's sincere heart-mind. When those in power harbor genuine sincerity within, this energy naturally influences the people. The sages govern without excessive words, yet their virtue benefits all under heaven—this is the greatness of "teaching without words" (buyan zhi jiao). If a ruler maintains focused awareness, refrains from selfish desires, and implements benevolent policies with sincerity, the result will be favorable weather, abundant harvests, empty prisons, and universal peace. Auspicious omens will appear: the "Jingxing" (auspicious star) will manifest, dragons and phoenixes will descend, and sweet springs (liquan) will flow. Conversely, violating cosmic principles leads to frequent disasters and national peril.

Divine matters cannot be forced through cleverness or artifice. Only the virtue of sages can align with heaven, earth, the sun, and the moon, embracing the "heart of heaven" (cosmic origin) and maintaining the "chonghe zhi qi" (balanced and harmonious energy). Without even stepping outside, they transform the customs of the world—this is the realm of "divine transformation" (shenhua), the miraculous power of spiritual influence.

When Wenzi (a Daoist figure) inquired about the root of self-cultivation, Laozi explained: the highest level is nurturing the spirit (shen), while the next is regulating the body. Maintaining a tranquil mind, balanced emotions, and peaceful joints forms the foundation of life cultivation. Indulging in sensory pleasures and unrestrained desires, however, is merely the superficial aspect. If one cultivates the root—moderating daily habits, regulating emotions, balancing activity and stillness—internal upright qi (zhengqi) will flourish, leaving no opening for pathogenic influences.

Note: In this text, "qi" (炁) is a Daoist term referring to the refined life-energy, similar to but more subtle than ordinary "qi" (气). "Chonghe" denotes a state of yin-yang equilibrium, while "shenhua" describes the transformative effects achieved through spiritual influence.

Humans are conceived within the transformations of heaven and earth: In the first month, the embryonic form takes its initial shape (referred to as "essence paste" or gao), in the second month blood begins to circulate, by the third month the embryo takes form, the fourth month marks its transition into a fetus, the fifth month sees the emergence of sinews and vessels, the sixth month brings skeletal development, the seventh month completes the bodily structure, the eighth month initiates fetal movement, the ninth month brings heightened activity, and by the tenth month, birth occurs. At this stage, the body's structure is fully formed, with the five organs (zang) each fulfilling their roles: the liver governs the eyes, the kidneys govern the ears, the spleen governs the tongue, the lungs govern the nose, and the gallbladder governs the mouth. The round shape of the head symbolizes heaven, while the square form of the feet represents earth.

The patterns of heaven and earth correspond to human physiology: Heaven has four seasons, the Five Phases (Wuxing: Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), nine celestial resolutions (jiujie, the nine governing principles of celestial motion), and a 360-day cycle; humans have four limbs, five organs, nine orifices (two eyes, two ears, two nostrils, the mouth, and two lower orifices), and 360 joints. The winds, rains, cold, and heat of heaven mirror human emotional fluctuations—gains and losses, joy and anger—demonstrating that humans and heaven-earth form an interconnected whole.

The body’s connection to celestial phenomena: The eyes and ears correspond to the sun and moon, while blood and Qi (qi, vital energy) correspond to wind and rain. When the sun and moon deviate from their proper courses, eclipses occur, dimming their light; when wind and rain fall out of season, disasters arise; when the Five Planets (Wuxing) stray from their paths, calamity befalls the nation. If the vast operations of heaven and earth still require self-regulation—preserving their radiance and cherishing their inner energies—how much more must human eyes and ears avoid prolonged exhaustion? How can the Shen (shen, spirit) endure ceaseless depletion without weariness?

The essence of nurturing life lies in this: The sage cultivates the inner self rather than pursuing external distractions. Blood and Qi embody the refinement of human vitality, while the five organs house the essence (Jing, jing) of human energy. When blood and Qi remain concentrated within and do not dissipate outward, the chest and abdomen remain full, and desires diminish; with fewer desires, hearing and vision sharpen, the five organs harmonize under the governance of the heart-mind, and no deviant thoughts arise. When the Shen is abundant, the primordial Qi does not scatter—thus, hearing perceives all sounds, vision discerns all sights, and action achieves all purposes.

Excessive adornment of the exterior harms the inner self, while indulgence in desires depletes the spirit (Shen). Those who focus solely on superficial appearances damage their true nature, and those who constantly seek self-promotion inevitably constrain their inherent qualities. A person who checks their reflection at every step burdens their physical form. Just as birds with overly ornate feathers injure their bones, and trees with excessively lush foliage harm their roots.

Thus, only through serenity and simplicity can life be nourished; only through equanimity, joy, emptiness, and non-action (Wuwei) can virtue (De) be preserved. When external things do not disturb the heart-mind, one’s nature remains harmonious; when stillness does not interfere with action, one abides in their fundamental role. By cultivating life to engage with the world and upholding virtue to prolong one’s years, one truly comprehends the "Dao" (the Way).

The so-called "Dao" gives birth to all things yet is formless and traceless, silent and unmoving yet pervades the primordial chaos, vast and boundless yet indivisible. It appears soft yet accomplishes the firm, governs the few yet achieves the many. Just as a massive tree embraced by ten men grows from a sapling, and a towering platform rises from its foundation. Therefore, those who attain the Dao (zhenren, or "true persons") embody qualities of emptiness, equanimity, purity, and pliancy, preserving their innate simplicity without mingling with external things—only then do they align with the Dao of heaven and earth.

Emptiness is the dwelling of the Dao, simplicity its essence, purity its mirror, pliancy its function, and unadulterated clarity its substance. The absence of desire is the ultimate expression of emptiness; the absence of preference is the height of equanimity; unwavering focus is the pinnacle of purity; adaptability is the zenith of pliancy; and freedom from external disturbance is the purest state.

Thus, the sage (shengren) regards worldly power lightly, and their spirit remains unburdened; they perceive the nature of all things, and their mind is free from confusion; they see through life and death, and their will knows no fear; they flow with change, and their wisdom is never confounded. In stillness, they share virtue with yin; in motion, they ride the waves of yang. They neither distance themselves from nor draw near to anyone, walking only with the Dao and dwelling alongside De. Leaning on pillars that never collapse, treading paths that never end, possessing a treasury that never runs dry, and learning from a teacher who never dies—only then do they move unimpeded and comprehend all things without obstruction.

Wenzi (a Daoist figure) received these teachings with reverence. King Ping of Zhou asked Wenzi: "I have heard you studied the Dao under Lao Dan (Laozi). Yet today, though the worthy possess the Dao, they face an age of chaos. With their solitary strength, they seek to transform a long-standing disorder..."

This scripture recounts several stories related to Laozi (Lord Lao), illustrating core Daoist philosophical concepts.

Wenzi sought Laozi's counsel on statecraft. The sage replied: The Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power) can rectify wickedness and quell chaos, transforming decadent customs into simplicity. The key lies with the ruler - accumulating virtue leads to kingship, while harboring resentment brings ruin. This explains the rise of Yao and Shun, and the fall of Jie and Zhou. When King Ping of Zhou adopted these principles, the realm achieved great order. Later, Wenzi followed Laozi to learn the method of refining the divine elixir (shen dan), ultimately attaining immortality.

Shicheng Qi traveled from Chu to visit Laozi, initially criticizing him as unworthy of sainthood for wasting grain and hoarding wealth. Laozi remained silent. The next day, realizing his error, Shicheng Qi apologized. Laozi responded: A true sage cares not for others' labels - call him ox and he's ox, call him horse and he's horse. Resisting such names invites misfortune. My plain robes aren't for displaying status.

When seeking self-cultivation advice, Laozi observed Shicheng Qi's arrogant bearing, piercing gaze, protruding forehead, and gaping mouth - like a tethered horse straining to move, calculating every step with excessive cunning. Such men, Laozi said, prove untrustworthy as borderland bandits. Ashamed, Shicheng Qi withdrew.

Another tale tells of Yang Ziju meeting Laozi traveling west in Liang. Gazing heavenward, Laozi sighed: "I thought you teachable, but apparently not." Only after Yang approached on his knees with proper reverence did Laozi explain: Earlier he'd detected arrogance, but now saw sincerity worth instructing.

These stories embody the Daoist principle of "governing through wuwei (non-action)," emphasizing rulers transforming people through virtue, while self-cultivation requires eliminating pride and artifice to maintain natural authenticity. Laozi's response to criticism demonstrates the wisdom of "following nature's course."

When Yang Ziju (a disciple of Laozi) went to visit the master, Laozi asked him: "Why do you go about all day with wide, staring eyes looking east and west? Who could possibly associate with someone like this? The purest things appear as if stained, and those of truly lofty virtue seem inadequate." Hearing this, Yang Ziju's countenance changed, and he respectfully replied, "I understand."

Previously, when Yang Ziju stayed at an inn, the entire household would attend to him with reverence—the master would prepare his mat, the mistress would bring him towels and combs, other guests would vacate their seats, and even the cook would yield the hearth. But after he returned from studying the Dao, the inn's occupants dared to compete with him for seats. Later, when he visited Laozi again, the master said: "Tigers and leopards are hunted for their patterned pelts; monkeys are captured for their agility." Yang Ziju asked, "Might I inquire how a sage ruler governs the state?" Laozi replied: "His achievements cover all under heaven yet seem unrelated to himself; he transforms the myriad things without claiming virtue; he accomplishes greatness without seeking fame. He stands upon unfathomable ground and wanders in the realm of emptiness."

Another disciple of Laozi, Gengsang Chu (also known as Kangcangzi), lived in the Weilei Mountains of the north. He dismissed ministers who acted with contrived wisdom and distanced himself from concubines who displayed forced benevolence, keeping only simple, unpolished people to live with him. After three years, the Weilei region enjoyed a bountiful harvest. The local people discussed among themselves: "This Gengsangzi—if you count by days he seems to do nothing, yet counting by years brings abundant results. Is he not nearly a sage? Why don't we venerate him as a deity?" When Gengsangzi heard this, he was displeased and said: "When spring's energy stirs, the hundred grasses grow naturally; when autumn arrives, the myriad things ripen of themselves—is this due to human effort? I've heard that those who truly attain the Dao dwell in humble huts, and the people remain unaware of their presence. Now these petty folk of Weilei want to make me into a sage—this truly contradicts Laozi's teachings."

An elderly man named Nanrong Chu came seeking advice: "I'm advanced in years—how should I spend my remaining days?" Gengsangzi told him: "Preserve your body, guard your essential nature, and don't exhaust your spirit with toil."

This passage recounts the story of Nanrong Chu seeking the Dao from Laozi. It begins with metaphorical illustrations: though eyes share the same form as the body, the blind cannot see; though ears share the same form, the deaf cannot hear; though the mind shares the same form, the confused cannot attain self-realization. This demonstrates the inherent limitations of human perception.

Gengsangzi (a disciple of Laozi) tells Nanrong Chu: Just as small wasps cannot hatch bean insects, and ordinary hens cannot hatch swan eggs, each person’s innate capacity differs. He advises Nanrong Chu to journey south and seek an audience with Laozi.

Carrying provisions, Nanrong Chu travels for seven days and nights before finding Laozi. Laozi asks him, "Have you come from the state of Chu? Why have you brought so many distracting thoughts with you?" Only then does Nanrong Chu realize his mind is cluttered with distractions, and he shamefully admits he has forgotten the essence of his inquiry.

Nanrong Chu confides his confusion to Laozi: being called foolish troubles him, yet displaying intelligence also troubles him; acting without benevolence harms others, but practicing benevolence burdens himself; acting unjustly injures others, yet upholding justice torments him. Laozi points out that he is like someone waving a bamboo pole in the ocean, searching blindly for something—he has lost his original nature and true disposition.

Finally, Laozi instructs Nanrong Chu to return, cultivate stillness for ten days, and cast aside his distracting thoughts before coming again. This dialogue embodies the Daoist practice of "discarding the false and returning to the true," emphasizing the need to relinquish attachments and return to one’s innate heart-mind.

This scripture expounds the principles of self-cultivation and nurturing life. Laozi advises a man named "Chu" that the true way of nurturing life lies in returning to primordial simplicity.

Laozi explains that external constraints are difficult to control, and internal attachments are equally hard to relinquish. Those bound by both internal and external fetters struggle even to maintain basic virtue (De), let alone pursue the Dao. It is like a sick person who can still describe their symptoms—this means the illness is not yet severe. But if hearing profound teachings only worsens their condition, like taking medicine that aggravates the disease, the situation becomes even worse.

The true way of nurturing life requires the following: maintaining unity of body and mind without losing one's original nature; knowing fortune and misfortune without divination; understanding when to stop; seeking within rather than relying on others; preserving a detached and carefree state of mind; and being as pure and natural as an infant. An infant can cry all day without losing its voice because of natural harmony; it can gaze all day without tiring its eyes because the spirit (Shen) does not wander outward; it can clench its fists all day without stiffness because it follows nature effortlessly. To act without knowing where one is going, to dwell without knowing what one is doing, to go with the flow without forcing anything—this is the true essence of nurturing life.

Laozi further states that those of supreme virtue (De) differ from ordinary people. They eat from the earth but take joy from heaven, untroubled by worldly gains and losses, uninvolved in strange or unnatural affairs, free from scheming and competition, coming and going at will. But to reach the highest state, one must become like an infant: acting without purpose, the body like withered wood, the mind like dead ashes. In this way, neither fortune nor misfortune can disturb, and calamity naturally stays far away.

The final passage records King Ding asking Laozi about the immortals of their time. Laozi replies: In the Eastern Peak, there is Master Zhanqin; in the Southern Peak, Master Kuangxu (styled Zixiao, a disciple of Laozi who cultivated the Dao on Mount Lu); in the Western Peak, Yin Xi; in the Northern Peak, Huangren; and the Ancient Master of the Central Peak is none other than Laozi himself.

During the reign of King Lie of Zhou (around 375 BCE), a Daoist cultivator ascended to immortality in broad daylight. When King Zhou heard of his reputation, he sent envoys to summon him. Upon arriving at the practitioner's quiet retreat (a Daoist hermitage called Jinglu), the envoys found only an empty dwelling.

The envoys then petitioned to designate Nanzhang Mountain as his cultivation site. This mountain later became known as "Kuangfu" ("fu" meaning earthen mound according to the Erya dictionary) after the cultivator's surname. Originally called Nanzhang, the mountain derived its name from its three-tiered heavenly ridges. In ancient sacrificial rites, Qianshan served as the Southern Sacred Peak (Nanyue), while Nanzhang Mountain functioned as a reservoir for blessings, hence its alternative designation as Nanyue.

In 106 BCE (the fifth year of Emperor Wu of Han's Yuanfeng era), during his imperial tour to worship famous mountains and rivers, the emperor shot a flood dragon in the Xunyang River and inquired which deity governed this mountain. Minister Liu Xin reported: "Master Kuang Xu attained the Dao here." Emperor Wu then ordered the establishment of an official shrine at the old retreat by Tiger Stream, incorporating it into state sacrifices.

By the Eastern Jin dynasty, the governor of Jiujiang, Huan Yi—a Buddhist devotee—relocated Master Kuang Xu's shrine to the mountain pass at the request of the Yanmen monk Huiyuan. The original site was converted into a Buddhist monastery, now known as Donglin Temple.

After Master Kuang Xu's ascension, the Supreme Elder Lord (Taishang Laojun) conferred upon him the title of Zhenren (Perfected Being, one of Daoism's highest attainments), appointing him to govern floods and droughts in the Wu-Chu region. He was also granted a seal commanding plague deities and authority over eight divisions of epidemic spirits. Among the people, he became known as "Plague-Pacifying Master Kuangfu of the Mound."

In September 1101 (the first year of Emperor Huizong of Song's Jianzhong Jingguo era), the court officially recognized him as "Perfected Being of Serene Illumination (Jingming Zhenren)," mandating the use of imperial sacrificial tablets during plague-suppression rituals, with local officials conducting ceremonies at Daoist temples.

Another record from the seventeenth year of King Jing of Zhou (503 BCE) describes Confucius telling Nangong Jingshu: "I hear Lao Dan (Laozi) comprehends ancient and modern wisdom, masters the roots of ritual and music, and understands the truth of Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue). He could be my teacher—I intend to visit him." Jingshu replied: "I shall follow your instruction," and subsequently reported this to the Duke of Lu.

This account describes Confucius's journey to the Zhou capital to study under Laozi (honored in Daoism as Lord Lao, the Supreme Venerable Sovereign). A certain ruler once told his minister: "Confucius is descended from sages. His ancestor Fu Fuhe yielded the state of Song to his younger brother Duke Li, while Zheng Kaofu served three generations of dukes - Dai, Wu, and Xuan - with increasing humility, as recorded on bronze vessels. Zang Sunhe once said: 'If descendants of sages cannot govern, they will surely produce enlightened ones.' Confucius shows great reverence for rites in his youth and will surely achieve greatness. You should take him as your teacher."

The ruler then provided Confucius with a chariot, two horses, and a page boy, sending Nangong Jingshu to accompany him to the Zhou capital. The following year when Confucius met Laozi, the sage greeted him: "So you've come. I've heard you're a worthy man from the north - have you attained the Dao?" When Confucius replied negatively, Laozi asked about his methods. Confucius explained he had studied ritual systems for five years without success, then pursued the principles of Yin-Yang for twelve more years without comprehension.

Laozi responded: "If the Dao could be presented as tribute, men would have offered it to their rulers long ago. If it could be taught, people would have passed it to their children. The reason it cannot be transmitted is this: without inner awakening, the Dao cannot take root; without proper external conditions, the Dao cannot be practiced. The Dao realized from within requires no external seeking; the Dao learned from without cannot be retained without inner realization."

Later, Confucius visited Laozi again to inquire about the Great Dao. Laozi advised: "When circumstances favor him, the noble man acts; when they don't, he remains content. A skilled merchant keeps his treasures hidden, while a noble man's great wisdom appears simple. Rid yourself of arrogance, desire, affected expressions, and excessive ambition - these all harm you. This is what I have to tell you." Subsequently, Confucius further consulted Laozi about the principle of humaneness.

(Note: "Lord Lao" refers to Laozi, revered in Daoism as the Supreme Venerable Sovereign; "chariot" denotes the ancient four-horse carriage; "ritual systems" refer to codes of propriety; "Yin-Yang" indicates the cosmic principles of transformation.)

Laozi (also known as Lord Lao, the supreme deity of Daoism) once said: When chaff gets in your eyes, you can't distinguish the directions of heaven and earth; when mosquitoes bite your skin, you'll stay awake all night. If you can keep all people in the world in their original authentic state, then heaven and earth will naturally operate in order, the sun and moon will naturally shine brightly, the stars will naturally align properly, birds and beasts will naturally gather in flocks, and all things will naturally find their proper places. Simply by acting in accordance with the natural Dao (the Way), you've already reached the highest state—why frantically promote benevolence and righteousness like beating drums to search for a lost child? Such actions would likely disrupt people's innate nature instead.

The swan doesn't need daily washing to stay white, nor does the crow need daily dyeing to remain black—these natural colors require no deliberate distinction. External things like fame and honor cannot truly expand the breadth of life. When the spring dries up, fish stranded on land moisten each other with spit—it may seem touching, but it's far less comfortable than forgetting each other while swimming freely in rivers and lakes.

After Confucius met Laozi, he remained silent for three full days. His disciple Zigong found this strange and asked, "Master, did you receive any teachings when you met Lao Dan (Laozi)?" Confucius replied, "I know birds can fly, fish can swim, and beasts can run. Those that fly can be shot with arrows, those that swim can be hooked, and those that run can be caught in nets. But the dragon—this creature can unite as one yet transform into clouds, riding the Qi (vital energy) straight up to the nine heavens—I truly cannot comprehend it. The Lao Dan I met today was just like a dragon! My mouth hung open yet no words came out, my spirit wandered dazedly without knowing where it was—how could I possibly offer him any advice?"

Yang Jie recorded in The Records of Laozi: Laozi existed before heaven and earth took form—no one knows his origins; he will endure even after heaven and earth grow old, and we might reluctantly call him the source of "the primordial Qi." He was born with white hair, his lifespan immeasurably long; he could speak as an infant, having learned nothing through later study; in his prime he maintained the purity of a baby, devoted to the Dao of ultimate softness. He entered the womb of Lady Yin and was born in a land of benevolence, his descendants continuing endlessly—no different from ordinary people in this regard. He took the surname Li because he was born beneath a plum tree, yet in truth he transcended all constraints. His earlobes were long, his gaze far-reaching; his forehead resembled the sun, his chin the moon; his head bore two prominences, his forehead three creases; the lines on his hands and feet formed crosses and the character for "five"—all these were marks of a divine being. He once studied under Rongcheng Gong and sought the Dao from Chang Zong, yet had no fixed teacher. His incarnations through the ages included: Yuhuazi during the era of Fuxi, Dachengzi during Shennong's time, Guangshouzi during Zhurong's reign, Chijingzi during Gaoyang's rule, Lutuzi during Emperor Ku's era, Wuchengzi during Emperor Yao's reign, and Zhenxingzi during Yu the Great's time.

This passage records the various incarnations of Laozi (Lord Lao) throughout different dynasties, along with the legendary encounters between Confucius and Laozi.

During the Shang dynasty, Laozi manifested as Xizezi; by King Wen of Zhou's era, he reappeared as Xieyizi, also known as Grand Historian Dan (court archivist of the Zhou). In celestial realms, he was venerated as Golden Tower Emperor, Lord of Supreme Radiance, and Divine Treasure Sage—all titles referring to the same supreme being. Laozi bore no fixed name, having served as Zhou dynasty archivist and pillar historian, yet remained indifferent to official rank. When the Zhou declined, he withdrew at the appointed time.

Laozi mastered cosmic principles—commanding heaven and earth, harmonizing yin-yang, and discerning celestial patterns. Skilled in alchemical arts (neidan/waidan), he could summon spirits, ride clouds, vanish at will, and transcend mortality while aiding the virtuous to overcome calamities. Ordinary people knew him only as a recluse. Confucius marveled that Laozi resembled a dragon—indivisible yet scattering into splendor, mounting wind and clouds to the ninth heaven—a realm beyond ordinary comprehension.

When Zigong (Confucius' disciple) asked whether one could perceive such profound sages, Confucius replied it was like expecting sunshine but encountering thunderstorms—each person glimpsed only fragments. How could Zigong comprehend entirely? Later when Zigong met Laozi, the sage declared his advanced age and instructed the disciple to study three more years with Confucius before returning. Zigong withdrew in trepidation.

During Confucius' visit with disciples, Laozi assessed them: Zilu's courage, Zeng Shen's filial piety, Yan Hui's benevolence, and Diansun Shi's martial prowess. He remarked that southern phoenixes, though embodying sagely virtue, humaneness, and bravery across their plumage, distributed these qualities unevenly—proof they hadn't attained supreme perfection.

The text concludes with Laozi presiding over a funeral in Daxiang village during a solar eclipse, instructing Confucius (whose given name was Qiu) to halt the coffin. Through these vignettes, the passage reveals Laozi's transcendent sagehood and unfathomable wisdom.

This dialogue records Confucius seeking Laozi's (Lord Lao) guidance on ancient funeral rites and sacrificial systems.

Regarding funeral customs, Laozi explained: According to ritual propriety, a coffin procession should neither depart before dawn nor continue after dusk—only criminals or those urgently handling their parents' funerals would travel by starlight. When Confucius asked whether children who died young should be buried in coffins, Laozi cited the example of Historian Yi: When Yi's child died prematurely and the burial ground was too distant, the Duke of Zhou exceptionally permitted the coffin to be placed within the palace, thus establishing the precedent for using coffins in childhood burials.

Discussing mourning rites during wartime, Laozi mentioned how Duke Boqin of Lu broke the three-year mourning period during the Xu Rong rebellion. As for why ancestral tablets were carried into battle, Laozi clarified this was part of the ritual protocol—when rulers left the capital, the Grand Steward would accompany them bearing the tablets from various ancestral temples.

On the worship of the Five Emperors, Laozi elaborated in detail: These deities embody the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), each governing a season. The Green Emperor Wei Lingyang presides over spring; the Red Emperor Chi Biaonu over summer; the White Emperor Bai Zhaoju over autumn; the Black Emperor Ye Guangji over winter; while the Yellow Emperor Han Shuniu at the center oversees all seasons. Ancient kings establishing new dynasties followed the cyclical generation of the Five Phases—Taihao corresponding to Wood, the Flame Emperor to Fire, the Yellow Emperor to Earth, Shaohao to Metal, and Zhuanxu to Water. These enlightened rulers were posthumously honored with sacrifices matching their respective Phase virtues.

Confucius lamented: "How difficult it is to propagate the great Dao! I, Kong Qiu, have served contemporary rulers with Daoist principles, yet none would accept them. Why is the Dao so hard to implement?"

Laozi (Laojun) replied: "Preachers become intoxicated with clever rhetoric, while listeners are beguiled by ornate words. Understanding these two points reveals that the Dao cannot be transmitted through external forms. Those ancient sages you speak of—their bones have long decayed, leaving only words behind. The Classics of Poetry, Documents, Rites and Music are but stale traces left by former kings—how could they be the source that produced these traces? Footprints are made by shoes, yet the prints themselves are not the shoes."

Using natural phenomena as metaphors, Laozi continued: "White egrets conceive merely by gazing at each other (feng-hua refers to conception through resonance). When male insects sing upwind, females respond downwind to reproduce. All creatures possess this innate capacity for gendered resonance. Heavenly nature cannot be altered, destiny cannot be forced, circumstances cannot be obstructed, and the Dao cannot be blocked. Those who truly embody the Dao never stray from its path in any action."

After three months of secluded contemplation, Confucius returned to Laozi saying: "I understand now! Crows and magpies brood their young, fish communicate affection through foam, and slender-waisted wasps transform to produce offspring. It's like how an elder brother cries when his younger sibling is born (referring to natural response). Unless I first merge with the Dao, how could I hope to transform others?" Laozi responded: "Well said—you've attained realization."

During a later visit, Confucius found Laozi drying his freshly-washed hair, his loose locks cascading as he stood in trance-like detachment from worldly appearances. After waiting respectfully, Confucius ventured: "Was it my vision that faltered, or reality? Moments ago, your form resembled withered wood—utterly transcending all things and human company, existing in solitary perfection."

Laozi explained: "I was wandering in the primordial realm of creation's beginning." When Confucius asked its meaning, Laozi responded: "The mind grows perplexed yet cannot comprehend; the mouth opens yet cannot speak. I once attempted description: The ultimate Yin-qi rises solemnly from heaven, the ultimate Yang-qi descends radiantly from earth—their harmonious union generates the myriad beings. The principles governing this generation leave no visible form. Growth and decay, fullness and emptiness, light and darkness—daily transformations occur unseen. Life has its sprouting place, death its returning abode, cycling endlessly without terminus. Who then is the master orchestrating this?" Confucius said: "Let me too learn this realm."

This scripture records a dialogue between Confucius and Laozi (Lord Lao), primarily exploring the realm of the "Perfected Person" (至人) and the true essence of cultivating the Dao.

Laozi tells Confucius: One who attains the state of supreme beauty and joy, and can wander freely within it, is called the "Perfected Person" (the highest realized being who has attained the Dao). Just as grazing animals do not resent changing pastures, and aquatic insects do not dislike shifting waters—experiencing minor changes without losing their fundamental nature—the true Perfected Person remains undisturbed by emotions like joy or anger, understanding that all things under heaven are fundamentally one. Recognizing this unity, one realizes that limbs and bones will eventually return to dust, and the cycles of life and death are as natural as the alternation of day and night. Why then cling to trivial concerns like gain and loss, fortune and misfortune?

Laozi uses a metaphor: Casting off the status of a servant is as effortless as discarding a clod of earth, for one's true self is far more noble than such roles. True nobility lies in preserving one's innate authenticity without being altered by external things. Understanding that the transformations of all things are endless, what is there left to worry about? This is the principle Dao cultivators must comprehend.

Confucius sighs in admiration: The virtue of sages matches heaven and earth, yet they still rely on profound teachings to refine their minds. Who among the ancient noble ones could surpass this? But Laozi responds: Just as water flows forth naturally without effort, the virtue of the Perfected Person requires no deliberate cultivation—it harmonizes effortlessly with all things. Heaven is naturally high, earth naturally thick, and the sun and moon naturally bright. Why impose artificial adornment?

After leaving, Confucius tells Yan Hui: My understanding of the great Dao was as narrow as a bug trapped in a vinegar jar. Were it not for Laozi's guidance, I would never have known the vast completeness of heaven and earth. Later, when Confucius prepares to return to Lu, Laozi offers parting words: The wealthy give money as farewell gifts; the benevolent offer wise counsel. Though not wealthy, I shall borrow the name of benevolence to share a few words with you—those in our time who are clever and observant yet court disaster often delight in mocking and criticizing others; the learned and eloquent who endanger themselves frequently expose others' flaws. As a son, do not always think of yourself; as a minister, do not constantly consider your own interests. Confucius receives this teaching reverently. Upon returning to Lu, his influence grows, eventually attracting three thousand disciples from distant lands.

The passage concludes by noting that Tang Dynasty hymns for Confucian temple ceremonies included lines like "comprehending the way of sages by consulting Laozi," demonstrating the profound historical impact of this dialogue.

This passage explores the similarities and differences between Confucius's and Laozi's philosophies, along with later evaluations of these two sages.

The text notes that Laozi considered "Wuwei" (non-action, following nature without interference) as fundamental, viewing "emptiness" (the transcendent void) as the source of reality. Maintaining a serene and detached demeanor, Laozi conveyed profound meaning through few words. Though he became Confucius's teacher, he adhered to the practice of "guarding the One" (focusing on the essential) and thus endured. Lu Ji's (styled Shih-heng) eulogy praised Confucius's extraordinary wisdom as matching the Dao of Heaven, spreading teachings like a refreshing breeze. His thought was as profound as divine treasure—while cherishing Zhou rituals, he emulated Laozi, proving these descriptions no empty words.

Su Zhe (styled Ziyou) observed in Ancient History that Confucius educated people through benevolence and righteousness, governing society with ritual and music. Though the forms of these virtues varied endlessly, Confucius claimed "my Way is threaded by one principle." Without this unifying thread, endless variations would lead to fragmentation. The Book of Changes states: "What transcends form is called Dao; what takes form is called Qi (concrete phenomena)." Confucius described himself as "studying the ordinary to comprehend the sublime"—from daily tasks like sweeping and polite responses to mastering classics and rituals. Noble minds used these to reach the Dao, while ordinary people employed them as practical skills.

Being comprehensive in approach, Confucius demonstrated concrete methods (Qi) while concealing deeper principles, making his teachings accessible to beginners without confusing the uninitiated. Laozi emphasized profound principles (Dao) while omitting practical details, aiding comprehension for the enlightened but neglecting beginners. Essentially both sought the Dao, differing only in their sequence of instruction.

Finally, Su Shi's (styled Zizhan) perspective is cited: Sima Qian claimed Zhuangzi wrote chapters like "The Fisherman," "Robber Zhi," and "Breaking Open Chests" to attack Confucianism and promote Laozi's teachings—seeing only Zhuangzi's surface critique. In truth, Zhuangzi outwardly challenged Confucius while secretly supporting him, with his criticisms often containing hidden profundity.

This scripture recounts several stories that primarily explore the criteria for being a "sage" and the realms of Daoist cultivation.

First, it mentions Legalist figures like Shen Buhai and Han Fei, who, despite drawing from Laozi's philosophy, ultimately deviated from the true meaning of Daoism. They advocated governing through harsh laws (fa) and manipulative tactics (shu), showing no mercy even to close relatives—a stark contrast to Laozi's principle of natural Wuwei (non-action).

Next, it tells the story of a Chen state minister visiting Lu, where he discussed sages with Shusun Shi. Shusun Shi believed Confucius was a sage because he could "transcend the mind and employ the form" (surpassing the limitations of thought). The Chen minister, however, introduced the Daoist sage Kangcangzi (a disciple of Laozi), who had cultivated to the point of "seeing with his ears and hearing with his eyes." When invited to Lu, Kangcangzi explained that this was actually the result of reaching a state where "the body merges with the mind, the mind merges with Qi (vital energy), Qi merges with Shen (spirit), and Shen merges with nothingness"—a heightened perception allowing awareness of things both far and near, though not a literal swapping of sensory functions.

Finally, there is a dialogue between Confucius and the prime minister of Shang. When asked if he was a sage, Confucius modestly replied that he was merely well-learned. The minister then inquired whether the Three Kings (founders of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties) qualified as sages. Confucius deemed them wise rulers skilled in strategy and courage but not true sages. This exchange hints that the genuine standard of sagehood may transcend worldly understanding.

This passage records a dialogue between Confucius and the Grand Minister regarding the criteria for a "sage," along with later interpretations of Confucius's reverence for Laozi.

The Grand Minister asked Confucius: "Are the Five Emperors considered sages?" Confucius replied: "The Five Emperors excelled in practicing benevolence and righteousness, but whether they were true sages, I dare not confirm." When asked about the Three Sovereigns, Confucius said: "The Three Sovereigns were adept at adapting to the times, but whether they were sages, I also dare not confirm." The Grand Minister was greatly astonished.

With solemn expression, Confucius said: "In the west, there is a sage who governs without deliberate action yet there is no disorder, who persuades without words yet inspires trust, who teaches without force yet the people follow naturally. His virtue is so vast that the people cannot describe it in words." Confucius expressed uncertainty about whether this western sage was truly a sage, but the Grand Minister believed Confucius was deceiving him.

The commentary explains: Laozi advocated "harmonizing with the light and blending with the dust" (living in harmony with all things), "governing through wuwei (non-action)," and "teaching without words," which is why Confucius admired his sage-like virtue and journeyed to study under him. Just as even Kangcangzi (a disciple of Laozi) was widely regarded as a sage, how much more so his master?

At that time, Laozi resided in the Zhou dynasty (west of the state of Lu), while Confucius was in Lu. Thus, Confucius's reference to the "sage of the west" clearly pointed to Laozi. Later generations mistakenly believed this referred to the Buddha, which is incorrect. The Buddha had already passed away by then, and India and China shared neither language nor culture. Confucius consistently revered Chinese civilization and disapproved of barbarian customs (such as wearing hair loose and folding garments left-over-right). In the Spring and Autumn Annals, he criticized the use of foreign rituals—how could he possibly abandon a Chinese sage to venerate a foreign Buddha?

The passage concludes with the example of King Wen of Zhou: King Wen lived in Mount Qi (located in the west) and was called the "Earl of the West." Though the Zhou dynasty was in the Central Plains, it traced its foundation to the west and thus called itself the "Western Land." Similarly, when the recluses Boyi and Shuqi (remnants of the Shang dynasty) heard of a benevolent man in the west (referring to King Wen), they sought him out. This shows that when the ancients spoke of the "west," they did not necessarily mean the Western Regions but could also refer to the western part of the Central Plains.

This passage primarily discusses two aspects: the meaning of "the West" in ancient texts, and the dialogue between Laozi (Lord Lao) and Duke Xian of Qin along with subsequent events.

On the interpretation of "the West": In classical literature, references to "the West" typically denoted the Zhou dynasty rather than distant lands beyond the deserts. For instance, the phrase "a noble figure from the West" in the Book of Songs actually expressed longing for the Zhou royal house. When the Jiang clan of Qi mentioned "the books of the West" to Duke Wen of Jin, they were referring to Zhou dynasty texts. Similarly, when Yin-Yang practitioners spoke of "certain deities residing in the West," they meant the western wall of a dwelling, not some faraway place. By the same token, Confucius calling Laozi "the sage of the North" didn’t imply the northern barbarian regions.

The meeting between Laozi and Duke Xian of Qin: In the second year of King Lie of Zhou, Laozi journeyed westward and passed through Qin. Duke Xian of Qin received him with great ceremony and sought his counsel on the state of the world. Laozi prophesied: "Qin initially united with Zhou before separating; after five hundred years they shall reunite, and seventy years later a hegemon will emerge." The duke wished to become Laozi’s disciple, but the sage departed without farewell the next day, leaving through the San Pass.

Later, during Duke Xiao of Qin’s reign, Laozi returned eastward, wandering with immortals like Master Yin at places such as Chicheng in Shangyu and Mount Meng. He revisited the gathering place where the Fusang Emperor had once summoned celestial beings, eventually retiring to Jingshi Mountain near Luoyang. During this period, five golden-haired immortals—some riding cranes, others clad in feathered robes and carrying green bamboo staffs—discussed cosmic mysteries with Laozi. Here the sage composed approximately one hundred thousand characters of scripture, assisted by two divine attendants who held golden inkpots containing lacquer-thick ink. When sprinkled on wood or stone, this ink spontaneously formed ancient seal script characters.

According to the Records of Omissions, Laozi (revered in Daoism as "Lord Lao") once discussed the mysteries of heaven and earth with five elders at Jingshi Mountain (part of present-day Songshan Mountain). These five elders were actually manifestations of the Five Directional Deities. Together they compiled scriptures exceeding one hundred thousand characters. At that time, two divine beings from the floating land of Futiguo produced ink from a golden pot—a thick, lacquer-like substance that could form seal script characters when sprinkled on wood or stone. When the ink ran out, the divine beings even considered cutting open their hearts to use blood as ink.

During the reign of King Zhao of Qin, Laozi traveled with the perfected being Yin Xi to various sacred mountains including Nüji Mountain, Difei Mountain, and Tianzhu Mountain. Later, Laozi passed through San Pass westward, crossed the deserts, ascended Kunlun Mountain to return to the Purple Tenuity Upper Palace, and ultimately went back to the Great Mystery celestial realm. When King Zhao heard of this, he deeply regretted missing the opportunity to meet Laozi and built a memorial city at the western mountain's base where Laozi had passed. To this day, remnants like Lord Lao Pavilion, relay stations, and Yin Xi City remain.

When King Xiaowen of Qin hunted between Yao Mountain and Hangu Pass, he personally offered sacrifices to Laozi at Louguan Terrace. In the tenth year of King Nan of Zhou (305 BCE), Laozi dispatched envoys to guide the hermit Shen Xi to celestial ascension. Originally from Wu Commandery, Shen Xi had studied the Dao in Western Shu and excelled in healing. One day while traveling by oxcart with his wife to visit their daughter-in-law, they encountered three celestial vehicles: a dragon chariot, tiger chariot, and white deer chariot. Immortals in red robes holding tally staffs confirmed Shen Xi's identity, saying: "Your lifelong accumulation of virtuous deeds and flawless practice of the Huang-Lao Dao has prompted us to escort you." The white deer chariot carried Vice Minister Bo Yan, the azure dragon chariot bore World-Transcending Lord Sima Sheng, and the white tiger chariot carried Escort Envoy Xu Fu. The three immortals, dressed in feathered robes and holding tally staffs, conferred celestial office upon Shen Xi using white jade tablets, blue jade boundaries, and cinnabar jade characters before ascending with him. Farmers working nearby witnessed the event—a sudden dense fog arose, and when it dissipated, only Shen Xi's oxcart remained grazing in the field. Those who recognized the ox reported to Shen's family. His son, suspecting his father had been abducted by demons, led hundreds in a hundred-li search through valleys without success. By the first year of Emperor Shang of Eastern Han (106 CE), over four hundred years had passed since this occurrence.

This passage recounts two stories about the manifestation of Lord Lao (Taishang Laojun, one of the highest deities in Daoism).

The first story tells of the immortal Zhang Xi (a legendary Daoist transcendent) returning to his hometown and finding his tenth-generation descendant Zhang Huaixi. Zhang Xi stayed in the mortal world for several dozen days, sharing his celestial experiences: When he ascended to heaven, he did not see the Heavenly Emperor but visited Lord Lao's palace instead. The palace was enveloped in auspicious clouds and radiant colors beyond description. Hundreds of attendants, mostly youthful attendants, served there. The courtyard contained jeweled trees and clusters of lingzhi mushrooms, with divine creatures like dragons and tigers frolicking among them. The sound of clear metallic chimes could be heard, and the walls shimmered with inscribed characters. Lord Lao stood over ten feet tall, his body emitting such brilliant light that it was impossible to look directly at him. He instructed jade maidens (celestial maidens) to present Zhang Xi with an elixir of immortality in a golden plate and jade cup, saying this divine elixir could grant eternal life. Zhang Xi and his wife each drank a small spoonful (a "daogui," an ancient medicinal measure), and Lord Lao instructed them to simply kneel in reverence afterward without offering thanks. He also gave them two date-like fruits the size of eggs, a talisman (fulu), and an immortal prescription. Lord Lao told Zhang Xi to first return to the mortal world to heal the people—if he wished to ascend again, he should hang the talisman atop a bamboo pole, and celestial envoys would come for him. After speaking, Zhang Xi fell into a sleep-like state and awoke back in the human realm. Later, Empress Dowager Dou of the Han dynasty summoned Zhang Xi to treat her illness, and he remained in the mortal world until Emperor An's reign before finally ascending.

The second story describes how the First Emperor of Qin built a shrine to Lord Lao south of Louguan Terrace (a sacred Daoist site) and personally composed a prayer: "The great Dao is omnipresent; Lord Lao journeys west and returns east. I seek the path of immortality and humbly request your guidance." During the emperor's personal offering, Lord Lao suddenly manifested upon the altar seat. Overjoyed, the emperor bowed reverently and begged for instruction. Lord Lao only smiled without answering, ordering attendants to present him with the Scripture of Ghostly Forests (Guilin Jing) and talismans for commanding spirits. When the emperor persisted in his pleas, Lord Lao vanished abruptly, leaving him to return in disappointment. The ink of the emperor's prayer inscription reportedly remained preserved at the time of this account.