《無能子》Vol. 2

This passage recounts the legendary meeting between Jiang Taigong (Lü Wang) and King Wen of Zhou (the Earl of the West) by the Wei River, but the Wunengzi version presents a distinctive Daoist perspective:

While Jiang Taigong was fishing in the Wei River, King Wen prepared to go hunting. A divination reading stated: "Neither bear nor panther—Heaven grants you a teacher." Indeed, upon encountering Jiang Taigong, King Wen bowed respectfully, but Taigong remained seated cross-legged and asked with a laugh: "What brings you here?" King Wen explained that the corrupt governance of the Shang dynasty was causing the people to suffer, and he sought a sage to save them. Taigong countered: "The Shang dynasty will decay of itself, the people will suffer of themselves—what concern is that of yours?"

Here we see the Daoist principle of "natural non-action (Wuwei)." Taigong continued: Humans, birds, beasts, and insects are all composed of Qi (vital energy) between heaven and earth, like houses built upon empty space. Even if all houses were demolished, the emptiness would remain; even if all living beings were killed, the Qi would persist. Yet since cities already stand and people already exist, there's no need to deliberately destroy them—one may offer appropriate aid. Thus he agreed to leave his reclusion.

King Wen's ministers Tai Dian and Hong Yao privately questioned why he showed such deference to a mere fisherman. King Wen explained: "The virtue (De) of non-action can embrace heaven and earth, while the virtue of action can accomplish great deeds. Even sage rulers like the Yellow Emperor (Xuanyuan) and Emperor Yao sought out recluses like Guang Chengzi and Xu You—how much more should I respect the Dao of non-action? Just as heaven and earth appear inactive yet make the sun and moon revolve and the seasons alternate, only through non-action can one remain unobstructed."

Hearing these words, Jiang Taigong recognized King Wen's genuine sagely virtue. Through this dialogue, the story illustrates the Daoist wisdom of "acting through non-action"—the highest form of action appears as inaction, for true governance lies in aligning with the natural order.

The Wunengzi records two significant dialogues conveying Daoist philosophy.

The first recounts the story of Bo Yi and Shu Qi. When King Wu of Zhou launched a military campaign against King Zhou of Shang immediately after his father King Wen's death, the two brothers stopped his horse and admonished him: "To wage war without first properly burying your father is unfilial; to kill your sovereign as a subject is disloyal." Though King Wu's attendants wanted to execute them, he spared the brothers, recognizing their righteousness. Bo Yi and Shu Qi later retreated to Shouyang Mountain, becoming known as the Hermits of Shouyang. The text argues that in the natural state, there were no distinctions between ruler and subject—hierarchies were imposed by the cunning to deceive the simple. King Zhou's tyranny stemmed from selfish desire, and King Wu's rebellion was equally self-serving—both sought to correct wrongs through wrong means. The true Dao (the Way) lies in governing through Wuwei (non-action), aligning with natural principles so that relationships between father and son, ruler and subject, harmonize effortlessly. The brothers' protest, the text suggests, was itself a pursuit of empty reputation, as futile as trying to catch the wind with dry bones.

The second story describes Confucius seeking Laozi's counsel. Confucius planned to establish rituals, music, and canonical texts to regulate social order and prevent rebellion. Laozi responded that governing a great state is like frying small fish—too much stirring ruins them. Since ancient times, sages had devised institutions that only distorted humanity's innate nature. By imposing elaborate rituals, Confucius would further constrain people, breeding indolence and deceit, worsening chaos. Such efforts destroy natural virtue (De) to flaunt human cleverness, inviting heaven's retribution. Terrified, Confucius withdrew.

Both stories critique Confucian ritualism, advocating a return to the natural spontaneity of Wuwei.

This passage recounts several stories illustrating Daoist philosophy:

When Confucius was traveling between states and found himself trapped in Kuang for seven days, he continued playing his zither and singing without pause. His disciple Zilu couldn't understand this behavior. Confucius explained: Right and wrong depend on others, while fortune and misfortune lie with circumstance. Just as the sun and moon experience eclipses, even sages cannot alter the arrangements of fate. A noble person can practice benevolence toward others, but cannot demand the same in return. Though my physical body is confined, my spirit has transcended form to merge with the formless Dao—thus I feel no distress.

Another story tells of Yuan Xian (a disciple of Confucius) living in a dilapidated alley. When the richly dressed Zigong came to visit, Yuan Xian appeared in tattered clothes. Asked if he was ill, Yuan Xian replied: Lacking virtue (De) is true illness—poverty merely means having no money. Zigong left ashamed. Confucius later commented: Zigong was bound by appearances with impure intentions, while Yuan Xian clung excessively to ascetic pride—both were unbalanced.

Finally, the story of Fan Li: After helping King Goujian of Yue conquer Wu, he warned his colleague Wen Zhong: "Those who harm others through schemes will inevitably face retribution. The king shares hardships but not prosperity—we should withdraw after accomplishing our task." This exemplifies the Daoist wisdom of "withdrawing after success is achieved."

These narratives all demonstrate the Daoist ideals of transcending physical form, following natural rhythms, and preserving one's wisdom. They emphasize spiritual liberation from material adversity, non-attachment to external honor or disgrace, and maintaining both life and inner truth during turbulent times.

The Wunengzi records a debate between Fan Li and Wen Zhong about withdrawing after achieving merit, as well as Song Yu's attempt to dissuade Qu Yuan from remonstrating.

When Fan Li prepared to retire after his accomplishments, Minister Wen Zhong admonished him: "Heaven and Earth treat all things with spring's nurturing and winter's withering—do the myriad things retaliate against Heaven and Earth for winter's severity? I have heard that sages not only cultivate themselves but also prioritize eliminating harm for the people and achieving great deeds. Just as the Yellow Emperor executed Chi You and Emperor Shun exiled the Four Fiends, we have now quelled the chaos of Wu and secured Yue's hegemony—this too is eliminating harm and accomplishing merit. How could it bring disaster? Moreover, the King of Yue intends to reward our contributions—why rush to withdraw?"

Fan Li replied: "Heaven and Earth have no deliberate intent to govern the myriad things—all things follow their natural course. Growth in spring arises from warmth, and decay in winter comes from cold—it is not Heaven and Earth arranging things with purpose. Though sages act, they emulate this natural principle. Now, the King of Yue rewards us while harboring resentment against Wu, and we aided his destruction of Wu for our own gain—this is essentially exploiting another's hatred for personal profit. To compare ourselves to Heaven and Earth's cycles or the sages' elimination of harm—is this not self-deception?" Wen Zhong, displeased but hesitant, remained. Ultimately, Fan Li alone departed by boat to vanish among the Five Lakes. Before long, Wen Zhong was indeed executed by the King of Yue.

Another account tells of Qu Yuan serving as Minister of the Three Clans in Chu. Faced with the foolish King Xiang of Chu, who favored the corrupt official Jin Shang, leading to political chaos, Qu Yuan repeatedly remonstrated for Jin Shang's dismissal—to no avail. His disciple Song Yu cautioned him: "A noble person cultivates himself without harshly demanding perfection from others, concealing his brilliance rather than flaunting his talents. When the time comes, his abilities will naturally find use; achieving merit without claiming credit—this way, he avoids both resentment and envy. Now, the entire state revels in the benefits Jin Shang provides, yet you alone raise the banner of loyalty and integrity, remonstrating vehemently. Not only does this fail to change the situation, it further exposes others' faults—like publicly denouncing someone's errors in the marketplace. Is this not perilous?"

This dialogue records the debate between Qu Yuan and Song Yu regarding the path of loyalty and integrity. Slandered by Jin Shang, Qu Yuan was exiled to the banks of the Xiang River where he lamented in sorrow. Song Yu sought to console him using Daoist philosophy.

Song Yu began by pointing out: "When you, my lord (referring to Qu Yuan), stood alone upholding loyalty and integrity amidst a crowd of sycophants, I warned you of the danger. Why then do you still grieve? Is it regret over lost official position and homeland?" Qu Yuan replied: "I mourn that loyalty finds no acceptance, that the state of Chu cannot be well governed."

Song Yu then expounded the Daoist perspective: "A person's physical form is not truly their own possession—beauty or ugliness, tall or short, strong or weak, life or death—none of these are within our control. If even one's own body cannot be mastered, how deluded it is to imagine governing the entire state of Chu through individual effort! The true gentleman who has attained the Dao (the Way) maintains a mind of emptiness in worldly affairs, free from attachment to distinctions of crooked or upright, right or wrong, good or evil, merit or fault. When the mind is empty, even tyrants like Jie and Zhou bear no guilt; when fixated on filial piety, even sages like Yao and Shun achieve no merit. Seen this way, what difference exists between your loyalty and Jin Shang's sycophancy?"

Song Yu concluded with three levels of spiritual attainment: "The highest is the empty mind that transcends action (attaining the fundamental); the middle is maintaining distinctions of right and wrong (preserving the fundamental); the lowest is obsessing over distinctions while grieving over them (losing the fundamental)." Sadly, Qu Yuan ultimately failed to grasp this wisdom and drowned himself in the Miluo River.

This dialogue embodies the Daoist concepts of "equalizing all things" and "no-mind," suggesting that attachment to worldly standards of judgment leads one astray from original truth. Song Yu attempted to resolve Qu Yuan's fixation with this transcendent wisdom, but Qu Yuan ultimately chose the Confucian path of martyrdom for his principles.

Emperor Gaozu of Han, Liu Bang, favored Lady Qi and wished to depose Crown Prince Liu Ying (born to Empress Lü) in favor of Prince Ruyi of Zhao. When his ministers failed to dissuade him, Empress Lü grew deeply concerned and sought counsel from Zhang Liang (Marquis of Liu). Zhang Liang said, "To achieve extraordinary feats, one must rely on extraordinary individuals. I have heard that four recluses dwell in the Shangluo Mountains: Master Xia Huang, Master Luli, Master Dongyuan, and Master Qili. The emperor has repeatedly summoned them, yet they refuse to serve. If the crown prince humbles himself and sincerely invites them, these four sages might agree to assist—this would be the greatest support."

Following Zhang Liang's advice, Empress Lü sent Lü Ze to extend the invitation. At first, the four recluses felt insulted, but after deliberation, they concluded: "Though Liu Bang has grand ambitions, his summons are merely for show. That woman Lü Zhi is ruthless—if her son fails to secure the throne, we will surely face calamity. Better to comply temporarily and avoid disaster." Thus, they emerged from seclusion to assist the crown prince.

One day, the four sages accompanied the prince to the palace. Startled, Liu Bang asked, "I summoned you many times without success—why are you willing to follow my son?" They replied, "Your Majesty treats others with arrogance; we could not bear such humiliation. The crown prince treats scholars with respect—naturally, we chose to serve him." Hearing this, Liu Bang sighed to Lady Qi, "The prince's wings have grown; he can no longer be moved." Empress Lü sought to reward the four, but they declined: "We emerged only to escape misfortune, not to serve sincerely. By helping Liu Ying ascend, we harm Ruyi; by empowering Empress Lü, Lady Qi will surely perish. What kind of noble scholars would profit at others' expense? Should we shamelessly accept a woman's rewards, like thieves flaunting stolen goods?" So they returned to the Shang Mountains in seclusion. Empress Lü could not retain them, and Zhang Liang, enlightened, withdrew from court life to cultivate in solitude.

(Yanling's Discourses, Section 9)

Before Emperor Guangwu of Han, Liu Xiu, rose to power, he and Yan Ling (Yan Guang) were commoner friends. By the time Liu Xiu became emperor, Yan Ling was still fishing by the Fuchun River. Remembering their bond and admiring his talent, the emperor personally sought him out. When Yan Ling refused, Emperor Guangwu said, "We are old friends, and now I reign as the Son of Heaven..."

This dialogue depicts a powerful noble attempting to seduce a recluse with worldly riches and honors, only to receive a profound rebuttal. The noble boasts: "I can grant you official titles to make you distinguished, heap gold and silver upon you to make you wealthy, and place you above millions. Your slightest gesture could move mountains and drain seas—a single command from you could summon wind and rain. You'll bring glory to your clan, rub shoulders with princes, dwell in vermilion palaces, ride in ornate carriages, wear fine silks and feast on delicacies, listening to bells and drums while watching song and dance. Enjoy a lifetime of pleasures and leave your name for ten thousand generations! Why waste your days fishing in obscurity? Compare the gains and losses of honor versus disgrace—come with me!"

The recluse smiles and replies: "When we first met, you seemed admirable in your contentment with poverty and devotion to the Dao (the Way). Now you prattle like a deluded fool, intoxicated by your own illusions. Since ancient times, the Four Seas have been vast—mountains and rivers occupy half the land, barbarian regions another three-tenths, leaving the Central Plains barely one or two parts. In this cramped corner of existence, what you call the Son of Heaven's nobility merely means issuing commands within this sliver of territory, deciding life and death by whim. It means building palaces from earth and timber, decorating carriages with hoarded treasures, slaughtering livestock and planting grain for feasts, lining up beauties and musicians for amusement. Before desires are sated, men grow old and die—their fat flesh feeds ants, their rotting bones return to yellow earth, no different from commoners. Where then lies the emperor's nobility?"

He continues exposing the truth: "As for the so-called honor of titles and ranks—I've seen through it long ago. Since antiquity, the designations of emperors, generals, and ministers were all arbitrary hierarchies invented by sages to fool the masses. You who now call yourself emperor—weren't you once a commoner? What difference is there between today's imperial offspring and their former selves? You're merely dangling empty titles to tempt me while preening in self-satisfaction. Now you'd deceive me again with hollow names like dukes, marquises, and ministers—do you take me for a fool? Anyone can bestow such titles upon themselves. If I fancied them, I could proclaim myself a duke or minister—why would I need you?"

Through the recluse's words, this dialogue thoroughly deconstructs the illusory nature of worldly power. It reveals that so-called nobility is merely self-congratulation within small circles, ultimately subject to the natural law of birth and death. The concept of "qiangming" (强行命名, forcibly imposed names)—referring to artificially constructed value systems—lies at the heart of Daoist critiques of secular authority, resonating with the philosophical thread in the Daode Jing (道德经) that "the named is not the eternal name" (名可名非常名).

The Wunengzi passage expounds a transcendent attitude toward worldly fame and wealth. The author contends that official titles, ranks, and material luxuries are merely artificial labels imposed by human convention. Those high-ranking officials with their tall hats, jade pendants clinking, surrounded by entourages, dwelling in mansions and clad in finery, growing weary of music and satiated with delicacies—these are but illusory temptations devoid of true substance.

In reality, carriages and horses are merely means of transportation, with no essential difference between fine steeds and inferior nags; houses serve only to shelter from wind and rain, where vermilion mansions and thatched huts fulfill the same function; clothing exists merely to cover the body, with brocade and coarse hemp being equally adequate; food is but sustenance, where delicacies and simple fare are fundamentally alike. The author, having long merged with the Great Void (the cosmic origin), savors the Great Harmony (the unity of heaven and earth), maintaining constancy in both movement and stillness, balancing yin and yang, even forgetting his own name. Acting with spontaneous ease, drifting freely like duckweed—how could such a one be bound by these empty honors?

The text cites the example of Wang Mang's usurpation of the Han dynasty, pointing out that contending for the empire was merely to become an object of public veneration, never truly for the welfare of the people. It criticizes those who wage wars and slaughter to satisfy personal desires—acts so reprehensible that even benevolent persons cannot bear to speak of them.

In the subsequent dialogue between Sun Deng and Ji Kang, the hermit Sun Deng enlightens Ji Kang with Daoist wisdom: Within the profound and mysterious realm exists an ineffable subtle essence (referring to the Dao). This spiritual essence is real yet elusive, neither to be forcibly separated nor deliberately retained. What is called "guarding one's nature and life" or "cultivating the self," the distinctions between finite and infinite—all dissolve into mutual continuity within emptiness, leaving no trace. This embodies the arcane Daoist principle that "the Great Dao has no form."

The fundamental truth of heaven, earth and all things can only be perceived clearly by those who truly understand it, and those who master it naturally attain nobility. Your earlier arguments haven't even touched the threshold of true understanding. I recall Laozi (Lao Dan) saying: A truly skilled merchant keeps his treasures well concealed; a noble person of virtue (De) appears outwardly dull. Just as the clam is split open for its pearl, the elephant hunted for its tusks, the orchid pressed for its fragrance, and the kingfisher plucked for its feathers—these are truths known even to ordinary people. Though you possess literary brilliance, you lack that chaotic, non-contentious wisdom. It's like brandishing a blazing torch through the marketplace, its radiance shooting straight to the heavens—precisely what the Dao of heaven abhors.

I once read your severance letter to Shan Tao (Shan Juyuan), listing "two major impossibilities" and "seven intolerables"—all boasting of yourself while belittling others. This attitude is what the world finds most offensive. Those truly empty and tranquil within feel no disturbance even in bustling markets; those entangled in desires find no peace even in mountain seclusion. When serving as an official, you couldn't maintain your authentic self; when retiring from public life, you failed to achieve equanimity. Since official duties felt burdensome, you could have simply withdrawn without severing friendships, let alone adding those self-aggrandizing, disparaging remarks. Making such clamor in the mundane world while seeking the path to longevity? It's as laughable as hating one's shadow yet running desperately at high noon. Someone like you hardly deserves to hear my teachings. Ji Kang (referring to the criticized person here) seemed enlightened upon hearing this, yet ultimately met his end by violating the law.

(This passage from the middle scroll of The Book of the Inept critiques Wei-Jin period scholar Ji Kang's arrogant display of talent and unconventional behavior through a Daoist lens, pointing out how it violated the Daoist wisdom of "harmonizing radiance and blending with the dust" in worldly conduct.)