《韓非子》

Han Feizi here presents his counsel to the King of Qin, analyzing the current political landscape. He states: As a minister, knowing the truth yet remaining silent would be disloyal, but speaking inappropriately would also merit death. Nevertheless, he resolves to speak all he knows, leaving the final judgment to His Majesty.

He points out how laughable it is that the various states (Yan to the north, Wei to the south, along with Chu, Qi and Han) have formed an alliance against Qin. In this world, there are three conditions that inevitably lead to destruction, and these states now embody them: those who attack order with chaos shall perish; those who assault righteousness with wickedness shall perish.

Han Feizi contrasts Qin with other states: though these kingdoms boast million-strong armies, their soldiers flee when faced with blades and axes—this stems from their rulers' inconsistent rewards and punishments. Qin, however, maintains clear laws and impartial discipline. Its soldiers grow up in military environments, daring to charge into battle. One warrior fighting desperately can withstand ten enemies; extrapolating this, Qin could conquer all under heaven.

Currently, Qin possesses vast territory, elite troops, rigorous laws, and advantageous geography—it should be invincible. Yet in reality, its armies are exhausted, its people suffer hardship, state coffers lie empty, fields lie fallow, granaries stand bare, feudal lords refuse submission, and the hegemonic enterprise remains unfulfilled. Han Feizi suggests this stems from no other cause than flaws in governance strategy.

Han Feizi's passage analyzes historical lessons from the states of Qi and Qin, demonstrating how disloyal ministers caused missed opportunities for hegemony.

First regarding Qi: Qi once crushed Chu in the south, conquered Song in the east, subdued Qin in the west, defeated Yan in the north, and controlled Han and Wei in the Central Plains, boasting vast territory and formidable military that commanded respect throughout the realm. With the natural barriers of the Ji and Yellow Rivers and the Great Wall as its fortress, Qi was an undefeated powerhouse (the "five-victory state" refers to five major conquests). Yet a single defeat (its loss to Yue Yi west of the Ji River) led to its collapse. This proves warfare determines the survival of great states - to eliminate calamities, one must uproot them completely (take Qi as warning).

Regarding Qin: Qin once crushed Chu, capturing Yingdu, Dongting, the Five Lakes and Jiangnan regions, forcing Chu's rulers to flee to Chen. Had Qin pursued its victory, it could have annihilated Chu entirely, gaining population and territory while weakening Qi and Yan, then pressuring Han, Zhao and Wei. One campaign could have established Qin's hegemony and subjugated the feudal lords. But ministers advised withdrawing to negotiate peace, allowing Chu to recover and ultimately become Qin's greatest threat - the first missed hegemony opportunity.

Later when allied states resisted Qin at Huayang, King Zhaoxiang of Qin crushed them and advanced to besiege Wei's capital Daliang. A few more weeks could have taken the city. Capturing Wei would have severed Chu-Zhao connections, threatened Zhao, weakened Qi and Yan, and subdued the Three Jin states - achieving hegemony in one stroke. Again ministers counseled withdrawal and peace, letting Wei recover - the second missed opportunity.

Finally criticizing Marquis Rang (Qin's chancellor Wei Ran) for mobilizing Qin's entire military while pursuing both state interests and personal gains for his fiefdom Tao (mixing public and private affairs). Through concrete historical cases, this reveals how ministers' strategic failures critically impacted states' hegemonic ambitions.

This passage presents Han Feizi's critique of Qin's strategic blunders. When Marquis Rang (Wei Ran) pursued personal gain by consolidating his fiefdom, Han Feizi used this incident to satirize Qin's missed opportunity for hegemony.

He pointed out: The Qin army's prolonged campaigns abroad had exhausted its people without achieving dominance, committing three strategic errors already. Zhao's location in the Central Plains (with its capital at Handan, bordered by Yan to the south, Qi to the west, Wei to the north, and Han to the east) contained a populace too diverse to govern effectively. With chaotic laws, inconsistent rewards/punishments, and unfavorable terrain, Zhao already displayed signs of a doomed state.

After Qin's decisive victory at Changping and capture of Wu'an, Zhao became thoroughly fractured. Had Qin pressed forward to seize Handan, it could have effortlessly occupied territories east of Taihang Mountains and the Hejian region, gaining control over forty-six counties including Shangdang. Without further warfare, Zhao's eastern lands would have defected to Qi and northern territories to Yan, completely dismantling the state. With Zhao destroyed, Han, Wei and Chu would have been unable to survive independently, allowing Qin to establish hegemony in one stroke.

Yet the advisors recommended withdrawal and peace negotiations with Zhao. That such a brilliant ruler as the Qin king with such formidable military strength could be deceived by a nearly-defeated state exposed the advisors' incompetence. The subsequent failed siege of Handan further revealed Qin's limitations to all under heaven. Han Feizi considered these miscalculations as two squandered opportunities for dominance, thoroughly exposing the advisors' ineptitude.

This passage from Han Feizi's "Preserving Han" presents a strategic analysis by a Korean minister advising the Qin king. The general meaning is:

Your Majesty has repeatedly mobilized armies to attack Han but failed to achieve victory, instead revealing Qin's actual military strength to other states. Internally (referring to Qin itself), this exposes inadequate strategic planning; externally (toward other feudal states), it exhausts military resources. Continuing this way will only strengthen the anti-Qin vertical alliance among the states. Currently, domestically our weapons are depleted, the people exhausted, granaries empty, and fields fallow; while externally the states unite as one. I implore Your Majesty to carefully reconsider.

The minister then cites two historical lessons: King Zhou of Shang once commanded a million troops, yet King Wu of Zhou defeated him in a single day with just three thousand elite soldiers; Zhi Bo (a powerful Jin minister during Spring and Autumn period) allied three states to flood Jinyang city for three months, but Lord Xiang of Zhao, through divination, dispatched Zhang Mengtan to secretly sow discord, ultimately turning the tables on Zhi Bo.

Now Qin possesses vast territory spanning thousands of li, a mighty million-strong army, strict laws, and advantageous geography—conditions sufficient to conquer all under heaven. Risking death to advise, I offer a strategy to break the vertical alliance: first destroy Zhao, eliminate Han, then subjugate Chu and Wei, establish friendly relations with Qi and Yan to achieve hegemony. Should Your Majesty adopt my plan yet fail, I willingly accept execution as warning to others.

Finally, the "Preserving Han II" section notes: Han has served Qin for over thirty years, externally serving as Qin's protective barrier (hanbi), internally like a mat provided for Qin's use (xijian), implying Han's subservient posture toward Qin.

The State of Qin dispatched elite troops to seize territory from Han, only to incur the resentment of all under heaven. Though Han submitted as a vassal and paid tribute to Qin, in reality it differed little from Qin's own commanderies. I have heard that high ministers at court advocate launching a military campaign against Han, but this is no wise strategy.

Zhao is currently mustering troops and allying with other feudal lords, intent on resisting Qin. They understand clearly that unless Qin is weakened, all the feudal states will eventually be destroyed. This is no passing whim of Zhao's. If Qin abandons confronting Zhao—this mortal threat at its heart—and instead attacks the already subjugated Han, all under heaven will recognize the wisdom of Zhao's strategy. When even a compliant vassal like Han faces annihilation, the other states will naturally unite against Qin.

Though Han is a small state, having endured attacks from all sides for so long, its rulers and subjects share a common hatred and have long prepared their defenses. Launching an assault now would make it difficult to destroy Han within a year. If Qin captures a single city and then withdraws, its prestige among the feudal lords will decline. Should Han rebel, Wei would surely respond, and Zhao would ally with Qi as reinforcement. This would effectively have Han and Wei subsidizing Zhao while using Qi to cement an anti-Qin alliance—a boon for Zhao and a disaster for Qin.

If an attack on Zhao fails and a subsequent assault on Han also stalls, Qin's elite troops will exhaust themselves in open battle while supply units struggle with logistics. Sending battle-weary forces against the combined armies of two states is no strategy to destroy Zhao. Should Qin follow the counsel of those high ministers, it will become the target of concerted attacks by all under heaven. Even if Your Majesty exhausts the state's resources to recruit talent, the goal of unifying all under heaven will remain beyond reach.

I propose an alternative approach: First, send envoys bearing rich gifts to befriend Chu's key ministers and expose Zhao's deceitful schemes against Qin. Simultaneously, exchange hostages with Wei to reassure them. Then ally with Han to attack Zhao. Even if Zhao and Qi unite, they will pose little threat. Once Zhao and Qi are dealt with, a single missive will suffice to make Han submit. This is the superior strategy that achieves twice the result with half the effort.

[Note: While translating this Warring States period political-military text, I maintained key terminology like "all under heaven" (天下) and "feudal lords" (诸侯) to preserve the historical context. The argument's sophisticated rhetorical structure—alternating between strategic analysis, hypothetical scenarios, and policy recommendations—has been carefully rendered to reflect the original's persuasive power. Tactical terms like "exchange hostages" (交换人质) and "combined armies" (联军) follow standard Sinological conventions for pre-Qin texts.]

When a nation shows signs of impending collapse, the states of Chu and Wei will inevitably pledge allegiance. Thus we say warfare is a perilous instrument—one that must never be wielded lightly. While Qin and Zhao remain locked in confrontation, Qi has already entered the fray. Now, having abandoned Han yet failing to secure the allegiance of Chu and Wei, should a single battle be lost, calamities will follow in rapid succession.

Strategic planning determines matters of grave importance and must be examined with utmost care. The balance of power between Han and Qin will be decided this very year. Moreover, Zhao has long conspired in secret with the various feudal lords. To act rashly and thereby weaken Qin’s standing among the states would be an act of extreme folly. Worse still is formulating strategies that sow discord among the lords toward Qin. Recognizing these two oversights reveals why this approach cannot establish dominance among the states. Having heard this, I implore Your Majesty to reflect deeply—for when launching military campaigns, should bystanders uncover our secrets, the consequences will be irreversible.

The imperial edict cites a memorial from Han’s envoy, claiming Han is not yet ripe for conquest. Your servant Li Si considers this a grave error. Qin’s retention of Han is akin to a man afflicted with a disease of the heart and bowels: outwardly calm ("㤥然" signifies surface tranquility masking latent danger; "腹虚" metaphorically describes Qin’s hollow appeasement of Han), yet like one dwelling in dampness where miasmic qi clings unshaken. A sudden sprint would trigger an attack (symbolizing Qin’s benevolence toward Han, yet in crisis, Han’s betrayal is certain). Though Han feigns submission, it remains Qin’s hidden peril. Should unforeseen events arise, Han is utterly untrustworthy.

Presently, Qin and Zhao stand deadlocked, while Jing Su’s diplomatic mission to Qi yields uncertain results. In my judgment, Qi’s covenant with Zhao may well remain unbroken despite Jing Su’s efforts. Should it endure, Zhao would effectively command the combined strength of two ten-thousand-chariot states. Han obeys Qin not from genuine allegiance to its Dao (the Way), but through coercion by might. Should Qin focus solely on subduing Qi and Zhao, Han will inevitably fester as a mortal threat. Once Han conspires with Chu and the feudal lords respond in kind, Qin shall relive the disaster of losing the strategic pass at Mount Yao.

The emergence of such dissenting views likely stems from individuals seeking to preserve Han for personal gain. They cloak their schemes in ornate rhetoric, ostensibly advising for Qin’s benefit while covertly probing Your Majesty’s intentions ("闚陛下" denotes exploiting vulnerabilities to advance Han’s interests). These so-called arguments for Qin-Han amity...

[Note: The original text breaks off mid-sentence. The translation preserves this abrupt ending to maintain textual fidelity.]

This passage from Han Feizi recounts Li Si (Chancellor of Qin) advising the King of Qin on strategies to deal with the state of Han. Here’s a modern interpretation:

Li Si argued that Han Fei, a high-ranking minister of Han, was highly regarded in both states for his silver tongue and sophistry. He feared the king might be swayed by Han Fei’s cunning rhetoric and lose sight of reality. Li Si proposed a stratagem: Qin should feign military mobilization without declaring a target, tricking Han’s rulers into believing an attack was imminent and thus coaxing them into suing for peace with Qin.

He requested an audience with the King of Han to lure him into visiting Qin, where he could be detained. With the king captive, Qin could then pressure Han’s ministers into concessions, effectively carving up Han’s territory. Meanwhile, a Qin general would lead troops from Dong Commandery to maneuver ambiguously along the border. This would intimidate Qi into compliance with the schemes of Su Dai, a master strategist. Without actual warfare, Qin could subdue Han through deterrence and win over Qi through moral posturing.

Once news spread, Zhao would be terrified, while Chu would hesitate to act. With Chu immobilized, Wei would pose no threat. Thus, the feudal states could be gradually annexed, and Zhao easily subdued.

The King of Qin adopted Li Si’s plan and sent him to Han. Upon arrival, Li Si failed to secure an audience with the King of Han and instead submitted a memorial: "In the past, Qin and Han stood united, deterring invasions for generations. When five states once allied against Han, Qin dispatched troops to rescue it. Though small, Han retained its status among the feudal lords precisely because it served Qin loyally. Yet later, when those same states turned against Qin, Han joined them as the vanguard at Hangu Pass. After their defeat, Chancellor Du Cang of Qin sought vengeance, and Han again betrayed its alliance by leading another attack. The outcome? The feudal lords collectively ceded ten Han cities to Qin in apology. A single betrayal reduced Han to ruin—its territory seized, its military crippled—all for heeding treacherous ministers..." (The text likely continues with further arguments.)

(Note: The Daoist glossary terms were not applicable here as the passage is a historical-political narrative rather than a Daoist text. The translation adheres to the requested academic yet accessible tone while preserving the original's rhetorical structure and strategic nuances.)

This passage records the admonition given by Li Si, an envoy of Qin (who later became Chancellor of Qin), to the King of Han during his diplomatic mission to Han, as documented in Han Feizi's writings. At the time, Qin was planning to attack Zhao and sought passage through Han. Li Si persuaded the Han ruler by appealing to strategic interests.

Li Si addressed the King of Han: "Empty rhetoric bears no practical value—even executing treacherous ministers cannot restore Han's former strength. Now Zhao seeks to mobilize troops against Qin and has requested passage through Han under the pretext of attacking Qin. But to strike Qin, they must first traverse Han. I have heard the saying, 'When the lips perish, the teeth grow cold.' Qin and Han share a common destiny.

When Wei sought to attack Han, Qin dispatched escorts for Han's envoys. Yet now, when the King of Qin sends me, I am denied an audience with Your Majesty. I fear advisors around you have revived the schemes of past traitors, once again endangering Han with the threat of annihilation. If I return without meeting you, relations between Qin and Han will surely rupture. My mission was meant to strengthen ties and offer sound counsel—is this how envoys should be treated?

I, Li Si, would rather present my advice face-to-face, even if it means execution after leaving court. Killing me now would bring Your Majesty no benefit. Ignoring my counsel will surely invite calamity. Once Qin mobilizes its armies, they will not halt—Han’s altars of state will be imperiled. Should my corpse lie in Han’s streets, it will be too late to heed my warnings. By the time borders are breached, cities besieged, and war drums sound from your walls, my strategies will be useless.

Han’s military strength is known to all under heaven, yet now you betray mighty Qin. If cities are abandoned and armies routed, internal rebels will surely strike. Cities lost mean armies scattered; armies scattered leave the state defenseless. If you fortify your cities, Qin will besiege them and sever key routes—then no strategy will avail. I beg Your Majesty to ponder carefully. If my words prove false, execute me after I finish speaking.

The King of Qin now finds no flavor in food nor joy in leisure—his sole focus is Zhao. He sent me to discuss strategy with you personally. If envoys cannot communicate, Han’s sincerity becomes doubtful. Qin will surely divert its threat from Zhao to Han. I implore Your Majesty to reconsider and give me a clear reply."

(This passage exemplifies the intricate diplomacy of the Warring States period. Li Si employs the metaphor of "lips and teeth" alongside calculated threats, showcasing the persuasive craft of a strategist while delivering quintessential diplomatic rhetoric.)

This passage comes from Han Feizi's chapter "The Difficulty of Persuasion," which discusses the challenges of offering counsel to rulers. Han Feizi enumerates twelve modes of persuasion and their potential misinterpretations, illustrating how even perfectly sound advice may lead to misfortune due to the ruler's subjective judgment.

When a minister speaks to his ruler with eloquent and ornate language, he is deemed flashy without substance. If he adopts a reverent and sincere tone, he is considered awkward and inappropriate. Should he cite classics and provide extensive reasoning, he is dismissed as pedantic and impractical. Yet if he speaks concisely and directly, he is accused of being blunt and lacking rhetorical skill.

If a minister urgently points out flaws in the ruler’s close associates, he is labeled a slanderer. Discussing profound and far-reaching principles makes him seem pompous, while focusing on mundane details and concrete figures renders him shallow. Conforming to popular opinion brands him as a flatterer, whereas speaking in unconventional terms marks him as absurd.

History offers many examples: Wu Zixu was skilled in strategy but was executed by the King of Wu; Confucius excelled in argumentation yet was besieged in Kuang; Guan Zhong was truly virtuous but was imprisoned in Lu. The misfortunes of these worthy ministers all stemmed from rulers lacking wisdom. Even Yi Yin, a man of great intellect, had to persuade the sage-king Tang of Shang seventy times before being accepted—first by serving as a cook to gain proximity.

This teaches us that even the wisest persuading the most enlightened ruler may not succeed, much less the wise trying to counsel the foolish. King Wen of Zhou remonstrated with King Zhou of Shang only to be imprisoned; Marquis Yi was roasted alive; Marquis Gui was made into dried meat; Bi Gan had his heart cut out; Mei Bo was minced into paste; Guan Zhong was bound in ropes; and Cao Ji was forced into exile.

Through these historical lessons, Han Feizi demonstrates that persuaders must not only possess genuine insight but also consider the listener’s capacity for understanding. Even if the reasoning is entirely correct, an unwise ruler may respond with slander at best and execution at worst. This reflects the Legalist perspective on the complex dynamics between ruler and minister, as well as the perilous reality of remonstrance in ancient times.

This passage from Han Feizi exposes the perils of ruler-minister relations and the principles of statecraft through historical examples and incisive analysis.

The text recounts the tragic fates of over a dozen virtuous and capable individuals—including Chen Boli Zi, Fu Yue, Sunzi, Wu Qi, Gongshu Cuo, Gongsun Yang, Guan Longpang, Chang Hong, Yin Zi, Sima Ziqi, Tian Ming, Mi Zijian, Ximen Bao, Dong Anyu, Zai Yu, and Fan Ju. These morally exemplary, loyal, and politically astute talents all met gruesome ends due to encountering foolish and muddle-headed rulers. This demonstrates that even sages cannot escape death and humiliation when serving ignorant sovereigns who resist remonstration. Truly profound counsel often grates against the ears and contradicts the ruler's desires—only sagely monarchs can tolerate such admonitions.

In the fourth chapter "On Cherishing Ministers," Han Feizi issues warnings: excessive favoritism toward close ministers endangers the ruler; overweening ministerial power threatens the throne; failure to distinguish ranks among consorts jeopardizes the heir; and fraternal discord shakes the state's foundations. He particularly notes: a ruler of a thousand-chariot state who lacks vigilance will find hundred-chariot ministers rising beside him; a ruler of ten-thousand-chariot domains without precautions will face thousand-chariot magnates emerging. When treacherous ministers expand their influence, the ruler's authority inevitably declines. Thus, overly powerful feudal lords become the Son of Heaven's calamity, while excessively wealthy ministers signify the ruler's failure. Chancellors who monopolize court affairs and augment their factions must be guarded against.

The passage concludes by emphasizing: nothing in this world is more precious than the ruler's own person. True statecraft need not be sought externally—it should be attained through careful contemplation. If a ruler cannot properly wield his wealth and power, they will ultimately be usurped by his ministers.

This passage comes from Han Feizi: The Way of the Sovereign, discussing how a ruler should govern officials and administer the state.

The downfall of King Zhou of Shang and the decline of the Zhou dynasty were both due to the excessive power of feudal lords (such as King Wen during the Shang and Duke Xiang of Qin during the Zhou). The division of Jin (split into Zhao, Wei, and Han) and the usurpation of Qi’s throne (when Chen Heng assassinated Duke Jian of Qi) occurred because ministers became too wealthy. Similarly, the regicides in Yan and Song also stemmed from analogous causes. Thus, whether looking back to Shang and Zhou or examining the cases of Yan and Song, the reasons for a state’s collapse follow the same pattern. A wise ruler controls officials by strictly adhering to laws (treating all ministers equally, regardless of rank) and limiting rewards (keeping officials poor makes them easier to govern). Therefore, capital crimes must never be pardoned, and punishments must never be waived—otherwise, the ruler’s authority will dissipate, the state will be endangered, and power will be seized by ministers.

Hence, no matter how high a minister’s salary, they must never control a city (lest they incite rebellion among the people), and no matter how many followers they have, they must never command private armies. Officials must not establish personal courts within the government, forge private alliances in the military, or lend state treasury funds to their clans (to prevent them from consolidating power). These are the methods a wise ruler employs to thwart treachery. Ministers must not engage in private dealings with neighboring states, nor may they secretly store weapons in their carriages—any unauthorized possession of arms or armor, unless for urgent official business, is punishable by death without exception. These are the precautions a wise ruler takes against unforeseen dangers.

The essence of "The Way of the Sovereign" lies in grasping the Dao (the Way, the origin of all things and the standard of right and wrong). By holding to this source, a wise ruler understands the root of all affairs; by mastering its principles, they discern the key to success or failure. Therefore, the ruler must maintain a mind of emptiness and stillness: only through emptiness can one perceive reality, and only through stillness can one distinguish truth from falsehood. Let those who propose ideas articulate their positions, and let those who act reveal their results—then compare claims with outcomes, and the ruler may govern through wuwei (non-action). This is the method of returning to the true nature of things.

The ruler must not reveal his desires. If the ruler displays his preferences, his ministers will meticulously craft their words and actions to pander to him (ministers will refine themselves according to the ruler's tastes). The ruler must not expose his intentions. If the ruler makes his thoughts known, his ministers will adopt artificial postures (ministers will perform according to the ruler's inclinations). Therefore, only when the ruler discards personal likes and dislikes will his ministers reveal their true nature; only when the ruler abandons preconceptions and cunning will his ministers exercise self-restraint (if the ruler does not display preferences, ministers will have nothing to imitate and will remain cautious and self-disciplined).

Thus, though the ruler possesses wisdom, he does not rely on his own deliberations, allowing all things to find their proper place. Though he acts, he does not flaunt his ability, instead observing the basis of his ministers' actions. Though he has courage, he does not give vent to anger, enabling his ministers to fully deploy their martial prowess. In this way, by relinquishing cleverness, the ruler gains true discernment (without the ruler's contrivances, the wisdom of ministers naturally emerges); by abandoning claims to worthiness, he achieves real merit (without the ruler's display of ability, ministers accomplish deeds through actual achievements); by forgoing personal displays of valor, he attains true strength (without the ruler's show of might, the martial power of ministers naturally grows). When each minister attends to his duties and all officials follow established norms, employing them according to their talents—this is walking the path of constancy.

Therefore, the enlightened ruler remains still as though without position, profound and unfathomable, leaving no trace to be found. The wise ruler governs through non-action (Wuwei) from above, while his ministers remain reverently cautious below. The method of the enlightened ruler is this: let the wise exhaust their strategies, and the ruler will make decisions accordingly, so his wisdom never runs dry (by borrowing the wisdom of ministers, it becomes inexhaustible); let the worthy employ their talents, and the ruler will assign them fitting roles, so his capabilities never fall short. Credit for achievements reverts to the ruler, while blame for failures rests with the ministers, ensuring the ruler's reputation remains untarnished. Thus, even an unworthy ruler may become the teacher of worthy ministers (though the ruler lacks worthiness, he can still guide the worthy); even an unwise ruler may serve as the standard for the wise (becoming the measure for his ministers). The ministers labor, while the ruler enjoys the fruits of success (the ruler takes the achievements of ministers as his own)—this is the constant method of enlightened governance.

The art of ruling lies in deep concealment (the ruler's methods must remain beyond the ministers' scrutiny), and its application must be hidden and unknowable. The ruler maintains emptiness and stillness, practicing non-action (Wuwei), while secretly discerning his ministers' faults. He sees yet pretends not to see, hears yet pretends not to hear, knows yet pretends not to know. After learning of a minister's past words and deeds, he does not hastily alter his attitude but verifies them through multiple examinations. Each office is held by a single individual, preventing collusion—thus all matters come to light (by keeping officials in their separate roles without communication, mutual suspicion will compel them to confess voluntarily). The ruler obscures his tracks and erases all traces left behind.

This passage discusses the ruler's techniques for maintaining authority and preventing ministerial overreach. The core principles are:

A ruler must firmly grasp the reins of power, much like holding fast to a door bolt to keep tigers at bay. Without vigilant control over the channels of authority, treacherous ministers will crouch like tigers at one's side and multiply like bandits sowing chaos. Specifically, five types of power-usurping ministers can blind a ruler: those who control the ruler's access to information, those who monopolize fiscal resources, those who issue commands without authorization, those who claim exclusive interpretation of moral principles, and those who cultivate private factions. Each of these erodes the foundations of the ruler's power.

The enlightened ruler maintains a stance of "stillness and withdrawal" (jing tui) – remaining calmly detached while clearly discerning right from wrong without personally handling affairs, and foreseeing auspicious or ominous outcomes without direct involvement. The key lies in using "tally contracts" (fu qi, verification standards) to examine ministers' words and deeds: when a minister proposes a course of action, the ruler assigns its execution, then verifies the results. Those whose words match their deeds receive rewards; those who fail to deliver face punishment.

Rewards and punishments should strike with the precision of timely rain and thunderbolts: bestow rewards without stinginess where due, and administer punishments without leniency when warranted. Random rewards will demoralize loyal ministers, while indiscriminate pardons embolden treacherous ones. Therefore, the enlightened ruler's system of rewards and punishments must operate with the impartial rigor of celestial mechanics – so absolute that not even divine intervention could sway its course.

If a person renders meritorious service, even if they are of low status or distant relation, they must be rewarded; if someone has truly committed wrongdoing, even if they are close and beloved, they must be punished. The result of this approach is that those who are distant in relation or low in status will not become negligent or lazy, while those who are close and beloved will not dare to become arrogant or complacent.

This passage comes from the first volume of Han Feizi, discussing essential principles for governing and employing people. Han Feizi emphasizes that leaders must be fair and strict, clearly distinguishing rewards from punishments without showing favoritism based on closeness or distance. Only in this way can everyone fulfill their responsibilities diligently, without succumbing to negligence or arrogance. This philosophy embodies the core Legalist idea of "making no distinction between close and distant relations, nor between noble and humble status—all are judged equally by the law."