《太上感應篇》Vol. 14

This scripture uses several parables to warn against appropriating others' talents. It first recounts how the ascetic Bilongajiaposuo, while crossing a river, smelled lotus blossoms. The river deity accused him of stealing the fragrance. The ascetic argued that the scent came naturally—how could this be theft? Yet according to Buddhist dharma, such possessive desire constitutes stealing.

Next, it describes the misdeeds of Gao Ling, an official: in his later years as Sacrificial Wine (a ritual officiant), his virtue deteriorated, and he plagiarized ancient stele inscriptions, passing them off as his own. The Water Official (a water deity) recorded his transgressions, and he soon died. Another account tells how Shi Manqing, after death, appeared in a dream to his friend Guan Yong, lamenting that his most cherished poem remained unknown and requesting its dissemination. Upon waking, Guan promoted the verse widely.

Zheng Qingzhi's concluding praise states: When seeing the virtuous, aspire to emulate them; when encountering sages, seek to follow their example. If one's own abilities prove inadequate, introspection is required. Like "a sheep clad in tiger skin" (a metaphor for false pretenses), such deception ultimately brings self-inflicted disgrace.

Regarding "obscuring others' goodness," the text cites historical figures whose talents became known through others' records: Prince Teng Li Yuanying's butterfly paintings, Gongsun Daniang's sword dances, Cao Gang's pipa mastery, and Mi Jiarong's captivating songs—all preserved because literati immortalized their skills in poetry.

The core teaching is twofold: neither covet others' talents as your own, nor suppress their virtuous deeds. True cultivation means admiring excellence while honestly confronting one's limitations.

This passage recounts a cautionary tale about how obscuring others' virtuous deeds invites misfortune. When Xu Zhenjun (one of Daoism's Four Great Celestial Masters) was constructing a temple, he discovered an ancient stele with faded inscriptions. He ground away the old text to carve new content. That very day, a voice from the heavens warned him that the original author had petitioned the Water Official (one of Daoism's Three Officials who govern aquatic domains) to accuse him of erasing predecessors' merits.

Xu Zhenjun urgently retrieved the original inscription and re-engraved the stele. That night, he dreamed of a deity expressing gratitude. Later, after suppressing a rebellion in Caizhou, Emperor Xianzong of Tang ordered a grand Zhaijiao (Daoist purification ritual) at Ziji Palace—originally the converted shrine of rebel leader Wu Shaocheng. During the ritual, thunder roared because Han Yu's commemorative stele about quelling the rebellion had been carved over Wu Shaocheng's former "Virtuous Governance Stele." The inscription became corroded by sweat-like liquid. Soon, imperial envoys erased Han Yu's text and re-engraved Wu's original content.

The author reflects: If even stone inscriptions cannot be arbitrarily erased, how much more so for virtuous deeds that transcend written words? The passage employs metaphors—"Jade moistens wood, pearls glow at night"—to illustrate how true virtue, like precious jade and pearls, cannot be concealed. Those who envy others' merits and obscure good deeds, like mockers Nie Chongyi and Zhang Qiyi, ultimately bring shame upon themselves.

At its core, this exemplifies Daoism's karmic principle of "virtue begets rewards," emphasizing that obscuring others' merits invites divine retribution. The "Three Officials" (Tian Guan, Di Guan, Shui Guan) mentioned are key Daoist deities who regularly assess human conduct, overseeing celestial records of merits and faults.

The text recounts several karmic retribution stories warning against exposing others' private matters and shames.

Qi Yi, a skilled poet who enjoyed satirizing people's scandals in verse, developed a strange illness in old age and died biting off his own tongue. This demonstrates how exposing others' shames invites retribution.

When military officer Duan Gou passed Huangkeng (an ancient burial ground for paupers), his attendant found several skull fragments, one bearing the inscription "escaped slave" (referring to the ancient punishment of facial tattooing for fugitives). That night, the attendant dreamed of a face-covering figure demanding the bones back, saying they were ashamed to be seen. After reburying them, the spirit guided him to unearth over 100,000 coins as reward. This shows even exposing the dead's humiliation brings consequences.

The commentator observes: Just as the painter deliberately uglified Wang Zhaojun's portrait, verbally exposing private matters is like painting shame with pigments (danqing) - once circulated, it becomes indelible. Such "exposing faults" may appear righteous but constitutes grave malice.

The text concludes with cases like Lü Jifu and Shu Dan who, upon assuming office, deliberately compiled their predecessors' faults for impeachment, causing multiple demotions. The author asks: Did they not know Zigong's teaching - "To detest those who expose others while considering themselves upright"?

(Notes: "Huangkeng" was a paupers' graveyard; "qingzong" refers to facial tattooing punishment; "danhuo" means painting pigments; "Sinong Qing" was the ancient grain administration official title.)

This passage recounts how several ancient officials handled matters of personal privacy and property, embodying the Daoist concept of karmic retribution for good and evil deeds.

When Han Qi (Duke of Wei of Han) served as prime minister, he would personally seal any documents exposing others' private affairs to prevent their disclosure. Though Chen Guan (Chen Zhongsui) as a remonstrance official spoke frankly on all matters of governance, he never impeached colleagues over trivial matters nor involved himself in personal scandals. During Su Song's tenure as magistrate of Hangzhou, someone whose private request he had denied later became a remonstrance official and maliciously slandered him. When advised to produce evidence of the man's earlier improper request, Su Song smiled and said, "How could I ever expose another's private affairs?"

As prefect of Dongzhou, Hu Su encountered a situation where his predecessor Teng had invested heavily in establishing schools but left office before completion. Petty men seized this opportunity to slander Teng's accounts, with even deputy officials refusing to certify their validity. Hu Su confronted them: "Having assisted Teng for so long, why didn't you voice concerns earlier? Only after his departure do you make accusations—is this righteous conduct?" The ashamed officials then signed the certification.

The narrative concludes with the cautionary tale of Wen Qi, who exploited alchemical pretenses to swindle the wealthy merchant Li Shiwulang out of his entire fortune in Sichuan. Later in Jianzhou, Wen Qi's rented premises for alchemical experiments caught fire; while fleeing, he was chased by wild beasts and ultimately captured and executed. The author illustrates how harming others' property—far from being trivial—inevitably brings retribution.

The commentary observes: Those who expose private matters appear righteous but harbor malice—all smiles and handshakes until conflicts arise. As for those who impoverish families and bring calamity upon descendants by appropriating wealth, is their offense not grave? Wen Qi's fate stands as clear testament.

Concerning wealth and possessions, one should never squander them carelessly, whether they belong to others or oneself. Here is another story to serve as a warning to the young.

During the Shaoxing era of the Southern Song Dynasty, a man named Wang Zude died in Qinzhou. One evening, his wife and son were sitting in the main hall when they suddenly saw Wang Zude’s spirit return from outside. He scolded them, saying, "I heard the family plans to sell the ancestral home? This house is the foundation passed down by our ancestors—how can you casually dispose of it?" He also said, "I’ve heard that the ten paintings I treasured in life—landscapes by Huang Quan (a Five Dynasties painter) and Guo Xi (a Northern Song painter), as well as Li Cheng’s (a Northern Song painter) wintry forest scenes—are also being appraised for sale. I have only just passed away, and the family is not yet in such dire straits that we must resort to this. Why act so hastily? I miss home terribly and could only return briefly during the Zhongyuan Festival (the Daoist Day of Pardon by the Earth Official). If you do not correct this quickly, I will bring misfortune upon you!" Terrified, his wife never dared mention selling anything again. This shows that one must not waste possessions, whether they belong to others or oneself.

Here is another story about Zhang Xiaoji. He became the son-in-law of a wealthy man from his hometown. The rich man had only one son, who was driven out of the family for a minor fault. On his deathbed, the wealthy man entrusted all his property to Zhang Xiaoji. Years later, Zhang encountered the man’s son, now reduced to begging on the streets. Zhang first put him in charge of the vegetable garden, and when he proved diligent, promoted him to oversee the warehouse. Eventually, Zhang thought, "After all, they are father and son by blood—how can I covet this wealth and keep them apart?" So he returned all the property to the son. People at the time praised this as an act of righteousness unparalleled in history.

After Zhang Xiaoji’s death, several friends traveling on Mount Song saw a grand procession of officials. Upon closer inspection, they realized it was Zhang Xiaoji—he had become a deity due to his accumulated virtue. This story teaches us: disrupting family bonds invites divine retribution, while upholding human relationships brings blessings. Just as the ancient Duke Liu (ancestor of the Zhou clan) cherished the people’s wealth and thus won their devotion, family ties are the most sacred bonds—how can they be carelessly severed?

This passage recounts two contrasting stories about sons-in-law, illustrating the Daoist principle of karmic retribution from the Taishang Ganying Pian (Treatise of the Exalted One on Response and Retribution).

The first tells of Xiaoji, a paragon of filial virtue. When someone bowed and asked how he maintained such moral excellence, Xiaoji began explaining his act of returning inherited property—only to vanish mid-sentence. Alas, how rare are sons-in-law of such virtue! Could others act likewise in similar circumstances?

The second story concerns a Hangzhou scholar who married into wealth. On his deathbed, the father—mindful of his three-year-old son—bequeathed 70% of the estate to the son-in-law and 30% to the child. When disputes arose years later, Magistrate Zhang Yong (a famed Song official) poured libations and declared: "Your father-in-law was wise! By giving you more, he ensured you'd nurture the boy. Had he divided it equally, the child would have perished by your hand." The court reversed the shares to 70% for the son and 30% for the son-in-law, leaving both in tears of gratitude.

The contrast is striking: Xiaoji's virtue towers like sacred Mount Song, worthy of immortality (xian), while the Hangzhou scholar—though better than outright villains—pales in comparison like earth beneath heaven.

The conclusion cites historical parallels: Emperor Taizong of Tang compiled clan genealogies, and the Duke of Zhou established kinship rites. Yet even this sage suffered slander from his brothers Guan and Cai—a venomous sting reminding us that while slander may temporarily harm the virtuous, cosmic justice (tianli) ultimately prevails.

(Through these paired narratives, the text expounds the Taishang Ganying Pian's core tenet: celestial retribution for good and evil deeds. It extols Xiaoji's righteousness over profit while acknowledging that even sages face calumny—yet Heaven's justice shines forth in the end.)