《劉子》Vol. 4

The seventeenth chapter "On Base Names" in Book Four of the Master Liu discusses how names influence people. Names are like the materialization of fate, while words are the designations of destiny. Names can be noble or vulgar, just as words can be auspicious or ominous. Good names and words bring joy, while bad ones provoke aversion. Therefore, the ancients took great care in choosing auspicious names for cities and children.

Several examples illustrate this: Bi Wan, a minister of the Jin state during the Spring and Autumn period, bore the name "Wan" (meaning "ten thousand," symbolizing greatness), and he was later enfeoffed in Wei (whose ancient meaning also connoted "greatness"). The Jin crown prince named "Chou" (meaning "enmity") saw his son Chengshi ("Achieved Master") eventually kill him when grown. Yet the author notes that auspicious names don't always bring good fortune, nor do ominous ones guarantee misfortune—it's simply that people's psychology is easily swayed by a name's connotations.

Similar folk beliefs persist: seeing a spider (anciently called "xi zi," homophonous with "joy") by day is taken as an omen of happiness, while dreaming of sparrows suggests official promotion. Though such signs may prove unreliable, people naturally favor auspicious interpretations. Confucius refused to drink from "Thief Spring," Yan Hui wouldn't dwell in "Morning Song" city, and Zengzi (a disciple of Confucius) turned his carriage around upon hearing the place-name "Victory Over Mother Lane." Emperor Gaozu of Han narrowly escaped assassination by leaving "Cypress Man Post" (homophonous with "oppressing people") overnight—all showing how sages avoid names violating moral principles.

The conclusion observes: spider and sparrow omens bring no real benefit, yet are cherished for their lucky names; springs and settlements could shelter people, but earn sages' disdain if their names offend decency. Clearly, the moral valence of names genuinely sways human judgment.

On the Importance of Naming: There was once a poor man who named his dog "Wealth and Honor" and his son "Happiness." During a sacrificial ceremony, when the dog ran into the house, he shouted "Wealth and Honor, get out!" Later during prayers, he lamented this as "inauspicious." Eventually misfortune struck—when his son died, he wailed "Oh Happiness!" yet remained oblivious to his own tragic irony.

The Zhuangzi records a household that named their eldest son "Bandit" and the younger one "Expel." When the eldest went out wearing fine clothes, their mother cried "Bandit!" and officials promptly arrested him. When she then called for the younger son—"Expel!"—the officers misinterpreted it as "Drive him away" and nearly beat the elder son to death. This illustrates how improper naming invites calamity, demonstrating the vital importance of thoughtful naming practices.

On Discerning Character: When the divine dragon lies hidden, it lacks auspicious clouds as companions, appearing no different from ordinary fish and turtles. A thousand-li steed unrecognized by Bo Le (the legendary horse judge) must eat from the same trough as inferior horses. Similarly, worthy scholars before meeting enlightened rulers often blend into common crowds. Only those with extraordinary perception can distinguish them. Thus, truly wise judges of character observe speech and conduct before talents manifest, discerning wisdom through subtle signs.

Those who seek connections only after others achieve fame are like praising one's hearing upon hearing thunder, or lauding one's vision after seeing the sun and moon. Consider the story of Kong Fangyin, horse master for Duke Mu of Qin: Sent to find a superior steed at Shaqiu, he reported a "yellow mare," yet produced a "black stallion." The enraged duke berated Bo Le, who defended Kong, saying he grasped the essence beyond surface traits. The horse later proved capable of thousand-li journeys. Though it hadn't yet demonstrated wind-chasing speed, its potential was evident.

Likewise, when sword appraiser Xue Zhu examined blades for the King of Wu, he could identify divine weapons without seeing them cleave rhinos or behead serpents. These examples show how true experts perceive essence before full manifestation.

Fan Li (strategist of the Yue State during the Spring and Autumn period) and Wen Zhong were both natives of Yue. When Wen Zhong served as a senior official in Yue, he once passed by Fan Li's residence. Fan Li deliberately crawled through a dog hole and imitated a dog's bark. Upon hearing this, Wen Zhong remarked, "Dogs only bark at strangers. Fan Li must regard me as one of his own." He then turned his carriage around to visit Fan Li's home. Later, Fan Li recommended Wen Zhong to serve as the Left Chancellor of Yue.

When King Goujian of Yue prepared to attack the State of Wu, he adopted the strategies of Wen Zhong and Fan Li, ultimately defeating the King of Wu. Fan Li warned Wen Zhong, "The King of Yue has a long neck and a pointed mouth—such a man shares hardships but not prosperity. He will surely turn against us. I plan to leave." Wen Zhong replied, "A minister should serve his lord with complete devotion, even unto death. I would rather die without regret than bear the infamy of betrayal."

Fan Li then retreated to the Five Lakes to fish, calling himself "the Old Fisherman" and never returning to office. The King of Yue missed him so deeply that he cast a golden statue in his likeness and offered sacrifices to it seasonally. Yet Wen Zhong, who remained in service for less than a year, was indeed executed by the king, just as Fan Li had foretold.

Bao Long (a recluse of the Spring and Autumn period) once knelt on a rock reciting poetry. When Confucius heard him, he deliberately stepped down from his carriage to pay respects. Bao Long was a sage of Confucius' time.

Emperor Yao once conversed with Shun beneath a mulberry tree by Thunder Marsh. Recognizing Shun's extraordinary wisdom—so profound that even the tree's shade did not shift—Yao deemed him worthy to inherit the throne and abdicated in his favor.

Before King Wen of Zhou set out hunting, he consulted the oracle, which foretold he would meet "neither bear nor panther" but a teacher fit for an emperor. Sure enough, he encountered Jiang Ziya (Lü Wang) by the Wei River and took him into his carriage.

In ancient times, a man named Xi Yong was exceptionally skilled at identifying thieves—he could discern them just by observing their brows and eyes. Zhao Jianzi warned him, "I’ve heard that those whose vision is too sharp can even see fish beneath the earth, and such gifts invite calamity." Within a year, Xi Yong was indeed killed by thieves. This illustrates how sages perceive the course of events without needing to witness their outcomes.

When Chen Ping (a founding minister of the Han dynasty) was young and poor, he presided over village sacrificial rites, distributing meat with such fairness that the villagers praised him: "The Chen boy divides meat with perfect justice!" Later, he defected from Xiang Yu to join Liu Bang. Wei Wuzhi (Liu Bang’s strategist) immediately recognized his talent for strategy.

The text from Master Liu recounts the stories of two historical figures, illustrating how true talent often requires trials before its worth becomes evident.

First is the account of Chen Ping: Originally serving as a general under Xiang Yu, he found his abilities unrecognized by the warlord who failed to employ worthy men. After defecting to Liu Bang upon Wei Wuzhi's recommendation, Chen Ping became Protector of the Army. He devised six extraordinary strategies that helped Liu Bang defeat Xiang Yu, overthrow the Qin dynasty, and ultimately pacify the realm. This demonstrates how genuine talent, though temporarily obscured, will eventually find its proper stage to shine.

Next is Han Xin's journey: Born into poverty, he once held the minor post of Lian'ao while fleeing through Heishui. When facing execution for a legal offense, Teng Gong recognized his potential and spared him. Later, Xiao He discovered Han Xin's brilliance. Though initially assigned only as Granary Commandant—a position Han Xin deemed beneath him, prompting his flight—Xiao He pursued him through the night, urgently advising Liu Bang: "Han Xin possesses unparalleled talent. Employ him and he'll stay; reject him and he'll be lost forever." Liu Bang ultimately appointed him Supreme General. True to form, Han Xin destroyed Zhao, conquered Wei, pacified the Three Qins, and became instrumental in unifying the empire.

The author employs the metaphor of Gongshu Ban carving a phoenix to reveal how recognizing talent demands discernment: When the sculpture remained unfinished, people mocked its crude form. Only when completed—with emerald crest raised high, crimson talons gleaming, and iridescent plumage radiant as sunset clouds—did the phoenix soar for three days without landing, leaving observers awestruck. Similarly, before controlling the floods, Yu the Great appeared ordinary, yet Emperor Yao foresaw his capability, commissioning him to breach Dragon Gate, cleave Mount Jing, dredge Bear's Ear and Bird-Rat Mountains until the deluge submitted.

This passage teaches that true talent resembles an unfinished phoenix statue—ordinary eyes see only surfaces, while enlightened rulers and ministers perceive the essence. As the uncarved jade holds concealed splendor and unpolished pearls harbor hidden radiance, great worth often lies veiled before its destined hour.

This passage illustrates the difficulty of recognizing true talent through several historical anecdotes.

It begins with a metaphor of combing hair - just as a comb straightens tangled locks and storms test physical endurance. The narrative then recounts Yu the Great's flood control: when torrential rains fell, Yu worked tirelessly to channel rivers to the sea without pausing to straighten his robes or enter his home, saving people from disaster. Only then did the masses praise his virtue. Like carpenter Wang Er who could discern Lu Ban's (Gongshu's) unfinished craftsmanship while ordinary people needed to see the completed phoenix carving, or Emperor Yao who recognized Yu's ability before his achievements while commoners understood only after the flood control succeeded.

Two key stories about recognizing talent follow:

The first concerns Hou Ying (Master Hou), the lowly gatekeeper of Wei's eastern gate discovered by Lord Xinling (Prince Wuji of Wei). When hosting a banquet, the prince personally drove his carriage to fetch Hou, who deliberately tested him by stopping at the marketplace for prolonged conversation with butcher Zhu Hai. Seeing the prince's unwavering respect, Hou confirmed his sincerity in honoring worthies. Only then did the assembled guests realize this gatekeeper was truly virtuous.

The second story tells of Yu Rang (Yu Zi), originally a retainer of the Fan clan who later served Earl Zhi. When Zhi was killed by Viscount Xiang of Zhao, Yu disguised himself as a slave and hid in a latrine attempting assassination. Though discovered, Zhao released him for his loyalty.

These stories demonstrate: recognizing ability before achievements manifest - like Yao discerning Yu or Wang Er recognizing Lu Ban's skill - requires rare insight. Ordinary people often realize talent only after accomplishments appear. True worthy rulers can spot greatness in obscurity, as Lord Xinling recognized Hou Ying and Earl Zhi perceived Yu Rang's worth.

Yu Rang, a renowned assassin of the Spring and Autumn period, was a man of unwavering loyalty. To avenge his lord, he went to extraordinary lengths to alter his appearance - coating his body with lacquer to change his complexion and swallowing charcoal to alter his voice. His transformation was so complete that even his own wife failed to recognize him. Only a friend identified him and advised: "If you wish to kill Lord Xiang of Zhao, why not first enter his service to await your opportunity? By harming yourself needlessly like this, how can you possibly get close to him?" Yu Rang replied: "How could I accept another's patronage while harboring murderous intent? Such duplicity is beyond me."

Later, Yu Rang lay in ambush beneath a bridge frequented by Lord Xiang. When the lord's horses suddenly reared in alarm during the crossing, he immediately suspected Yu Rang's presence. Guards searched and captured the assassin. Lord Xiang confronted him: "I spared you once before in the privy, yet you return to kill me. By law you deserve death. You previously served the Fan and Zhonghang clans - when Earl Zhi destroyed them, why didn't you avenge them by killing Zhi? Why target me instead?" Yu Rang answered: "The Fans treated me as an ordinary man, so I repaid them as such. But Earl Zhi honored me as a guoshi (pillar of the state), and so I must repay him with corresponding loyalty, even unto death without regret."

Yu Rang requested permission to symbolically stab Lord Xiang's outer garment to fulfill his vow of vengeance. When granted, he glared fiercely and thrust three times at the robe before taking his own life. Though Lord Xiang outwardly complied, unease settled in his heart, and he died of illness not long after.

This account illustrates how true martyrs seek not worldly riches but the profound recognition of being treated as "reserved seating for an honored guest" or being "received as a pillar of the state." Like the blind who yearn to see or the lame who long to walk yet cannot, many loyal retainers throughout history have willingly given their lives for those who recognized their worth, often leaving only regret behind.

The section on "recommending worthies" employs vivid metaphors to emphasize a state's need for talented officials: as chariots depend on wheels and boats require oars, a kingdom without capable ministers cannot be governed. With an abundance of worthy talents, governing becomes as smooth as riding in a chariot driven by Zaofu (the legendary charioteer of King Mu of Zhou) or sailing in the swift boats of Yue boatmen.

There was a man from Yue who excelled in sailing, living by the sea with extraordinary skill in navigating boats. Without exertion, he could travel thousands of miles; without walking, he could reach the immortal isle of Penglai. Penglai, the celestial mountain in the sea, is said to be the dwelling place of immortals in legends.

When the imperial court lacks worthy talents, it is like a phoenix with broken wings—though it may desire to soar through the blue heavens and pierce the clouds, it ultimately cannot. Towering mountains are not built from a single stone; cloud-piercing towers are not raised from a single beam; and precious white fox furs are not made from a single underarm hair. Governing the world is an even greater task—it cannot be accomplished by a single worthy person alone.

Thus, wise rulers of antiquity sought out recluses, and ministers recommended capable individuals. For example, Emperor Yao employed the "Eight Virtuous Ones" and "Eight Harmonious Ones"—sixteen worthy ministers—to create an era of peace and prosperity. The Zhou dynasty relied on ten capable ministers to govern, leaving behind the praise of "gathering many talents."

When Confucius was in the state of Wei, Zhao Yang (a powerful minister of Jin) planned to attack Wei but abandoned the plan upon hearing Confucius was there. The worthy Duan Ganmu of Wei lived in seclusion, yet Marquis Wen of Wei frequently visited him for counsel on state affairs. When Qin intended to attack Wei, its ministers dissuaded the king, saying, "Wei has Duan Ganmu, whom Marquis Wen consults daily. This is not the right time to attack." The Qin king thus canceled the campaign.

Another example is Gong Zhiqi of Yu. While he remained in Yu, Duke Xian of Jin dared not act rashly. Later, Jin bribed the ruler of Yu with fine horses and jade. Gong Zhiqi admonished, "The state of Guo is Yu's shield—just as lips gone leave teeth exposed to the cold." Sadly, the ruler of Yu, coveting the treasures, ignored the advice. After Gong Zhiqi left, Jin first conquered Guo and then, on its return, easily annexed Yu.

After Duke Wen of Jin defeated the Chu general Ziyu, though victorious, he remained uneasy, fearing the capable man might have another strategy. These examples all demonstrate that governing a state and resolving crises hinge on employing worthy talents. Just as the priceless He's Jade (a famed jade of Zhao) was once buried in the mountains of Jing.

This passage expounds on the wisdom of ancient rulers in selecting talent and the virtue of worthy individuals recommending others.

Pearls hidden in deep pools do not shine on their own; jade has no wings yet can be carried far, and precious gems have no legs yet spread their fame across the land. Just as treasures are praised on the Zhanghua Terrace or displayed before the halls of fine silks, it is ultimately due to the recognition and promotion of rulers. Many capable individuals retreat to mountain forests, unwilling to serve, their talents buried in humble dwellings—often because no one recommends them.

The sage rulers of antiquity selected talent without rigid standards: King Wen of Zhou employed Jiang Ziya, who once slaughtered oxen in Zhaoge; Emperor Gaozu of Han appointed Fan Kuai, who came from a butcher’s background; Lord Wuji of Wei valued the butcher Zhu Hai; and Guan Ying, originally a silk merchant, was also elevated by Liu Bang. These examples prove that those of humble origins can still become pillars of the state.

Recommending talent should be impartial. During the Spring and Autumn period, the Jin minister Qi Xi recommended his own son to his ruler and his own enemy to another, truly embodying the principle of "not avoiding kin in internal recommendations, nor avoiding foes in external ones." Those who recommend the worthy earn lasting renown—like Bao Shuya, who recommended Guan Zhong, or Zipi, who recommended Zichan—their virtuous reputations even surpassing those they recommended.

The text also records moving stories: Beiguo Sao lived in poverty, and Yan Ying often aided him. Later, when Yan Ying was exiled by the Qi ruler, Beiguo Sao risked his life to plead for justice, even committing suicide to prove Yan Ying’s innocence, ultimately restoring him to office. Such selfless dedication to recommending the worthy and sacrificing life for righteousness represents the highest form of loyalty and virtue.

In contrast, figures like Zang Wenzhong, who suppressed talent (as seen in his neglect of Zhan Qin’s abilities), were criticized by Confucius as "stealing official positions." Zhan Qin (also known as Liuxia Hui) neither showed pride when appointed three times nor resentment when dismissed three times. Confucius praised his noble character and even arranged for his niece to marry him.

Through these contrasting examples, the text illustrates that true worthiness lies not only in personal talent but also in the willingness to recognize and recommend others. Wise rulers should open broad paths for talent, regardless of origin. This philosophy of "advancing the worthy as true worthiness" remains deeply thought-provoking even today.

This passage illustrates the vital importance of recognizing and recommending worthy talents through several historical anecdotes.

During the Western Han dynasty, Gongsun Hong knew Dong Zhongshu (a great Confucian scholar of the Han) was a worthy talent yet refused to recommend him. Ji An (a famous Han minister) considered this an act of jealousy toward capable individuals. In the state of Chu, Prime Minister Yu Qiu held office for ten years but only recommended his own relatives, despite knowing the abilities of Sunshu Ao (Chu's renowned chancellor). Lady Fan Ji, King Zhuang of Chu's wife, directly pointed out that Yu's behavior was unworthy of a virtuous man, prompting Yu to admit his fault and finally recommend Sunshu Ao. Under Sunshu Ao's governance, Chu flourished.

Master Donglü once served as prime minister of Qi but later fell from grace. When asked why he met such misfortune, he reflected: "While in high position, I never recommended a single worthy talent, and though accumulating vast wealth, I never aided a single scholar. My current fate is self-inflicted."

The text concludes that searching for national treasures pales in comparison to recommending worthy talents. Rewarding those who promote capable individuals and punishing those who suppress them represents invaluable wisdom from our ancestors. Just as fire needs fanning to burn brightly and mirrors require polishing to reflect clearly, talents need reputation to shine forth. Even with the wisdom of Chuli Ji (renowned strategist and brother of King Hui of Qin) or the brilliance of Jia Yi (Western Han political theorist), without recommendation, their abilities would remain unrealized.

These stories collectively demonstrate that those in power must possess both the discernment to recognize talent and the virtue to recommend them—this constitutes the foundation of good governance.

The passage recounts several historical anecdotes illustrating how talented individuals require discerning patrons to recognize their worth.

Chuli Zi, a renowned strategist of the Warring States period, was celebrated as the "Wise Counselor" for his wit and humor. Jia Yi, the eminent Western Han political essayist, was praised by the people of Luoyang as the "Luoyang Genius," while Zhong Jun, the distinguished Han general, was hailed as a prodigy of Shandong. Yet without recognition, even the most virtuous remain obscure—just as Liu Xiahui, the virtuous sage of the Spring and Autumn period, might have languished in obscurity had he not encountered Confucius, his moral integrity unsung and his career marked by repeated demotions. Similarly, without the advocacy of Cao Qiu, the famed general Ji Bu would never have earned his reputation for "keeping promises worth a thousand gold."

Two analogies further emphasize the importance of a discerning eye: A horse trader struggled for three days to sell his steed, but the moment Bole—the legendary judge of horses—glanced at it, its value soared a hundredfold. Likewise, camphorwood, initially dismissed for its gnarled appearance, was transformed by a skilled craftsman into a magnificent pillar admired by all. This demonstrates that an object’s worth often hinges on encountering someone who truly appreciates it.

Finally, the parable of the luminous pearl warns that presenting treasures indiscriminately may invite suspicion or even mortal danger. When Marquis Sui received the legendary pearl offered by a serpent, his first instinct was to draw his sword in alarm. True value requires the right moment and the right audience—just as a fine steed needs an expert horse trader (zanghui) to realize its potential.

This passage speaks of the predicament of unrecognized talent. Just as fine timber rots away in remote mountains and precious pearls are carelessly discarded in sword cases, even genuine ability and learning remain unappreciated without proper recognition and recommendation. A thousand-mile steed requires a discerning eye like Bole's to prove its worth, camphor wood must be placed in the Purple Palace to reveal its nobility, and fine jade needs a jeweled casket to manifest its value.

In our present world, though people may possess wisdom and talent, they often remain confined to obscure alleys and humble dwellings, unknown to others—all because they lack proper advocates. Without someone to spread their reputation, it becomes as futile as trying to grasp the wind with bare hands ("捫虚縛风" refers to the vain attempt to clutch at empty air) or boiling water in search of snow. How could such efforts ever succeed?

The text employs a series of contrasts: fine timber versus rotten wood, precious pearls versus sword cases, the Purple Palace versus impoverished alleys—all illustrating how environment determines the perceived worth of talent. "吹莹" (blowing dust off jade to make it shine) symbolizes how mentorship and recommendation are needed to reveal one's brilliance. The entire passage exposes the universal phenomenon of unrecognized talent in ancient society, emphasizing how opportunity and proper introduction are crucial for personal development.