《韓非子》Vol. 11

Chapter 32 of "Outer Congeries of Sayings: Upper Left" in Han Feizi's eleventh volume elucidates the principles of wise governance and the discernment of counsel through three key insights:

First, enlightened rulers should handle state affairs with the same propriety exhibited by You Ruo (Confucius' disciple) in responding to Mi Zi (Mi Buqi). When listening to counsel, a wise sovereign appreciates rhetorical skill; when observing actions, he values long-term planning. Like Tian Jiu explaining to the King of Chu the allegory of Mozi's wooden hawk and the craftsmen's songs during palace construction, truly discerning rulers distinguish between pragmatic advice and empty rhetoric.

Second, a ruler must evaluate counsel based on practical utility. Without assessing real-world application, advisors might indulge in sophistry like "carving monkeys on thorn tips" or "a white horse isn't a horse." Without standards, every archer would claim Yi the Divine Archer's skill. The King of Yan's pursuit of immortality or Zheng villagers competing in age exemplify futile debates. Some theories—like those of Li Kui, Song Jian, or Mozi—appear refined yet lack practicality; others—such as Wei Zhen and Zhan Che's doctrines—resemble unverifiable ghost stories. Yu Qing's rhetorical victory over craftsmen led to collapsed houses; Fan Ju's sophistry about bow-making resulted in broken weapons—proving experience trumps empty talk.

Third, human relations thrive on mutual responsibility, not mutual expectation. As fathers and sons quarrel over unmet expectations, laborers work diligently only with proper meals. Duke Huan of Qi feigned hiding Lady Cai to provoke war; Wu Qi motivated troops through promises. Ancient kings' bronze inscriptions resemble Huashan cliff carvings—what matters are tangible benefits. Modern scholars mechanically imitate antiquity like the Zheng villager who thought finding a chariot yoke meant he could build carts, or the Wei man learning archery postures without substance, or Song scholars misinterpreting texts. Some ancient maxims were minor yet exaggerated; others profound yet overlooked—the key lies in grasping their true intent.

This passage from Han Feizi primarily discusses the importance of legal governance and how a ruler should administer the state.

Heaven’s will does not favor state affairs arbitrarily; those who emulate the governance of ancient kings must ultimately return to the rule of law. The common people follow where benefits lie, while scholars are willing to die for reputation. If rewards are not granted according to the law, the ruler loses authority; if reputation is not regulated by law, scholars will pursue empty fame and disregard the ruler.

Several examples are cited: when Zhongzhang and Xu Yi became officials, half the people of Zhongmu abandoned farming to study literature; Duke Ping of Jin, despite his lameness, never neglected court affairs; many officials in Jin resigned from their posts. These examples illustrate that speech conforming to the law becomes official documents, and actions aligned with governance make law-abiding citizens. If a ruler excessively honors those whose words defy the law and whose deeds lack practical merit, the state will decline.

Those who indulge in empty scholarly debates contribute nothing in times of peace and refuse to fight in times of crisis. Honoring them harms agriculture and military achievements, while dishonoring them violates the ruler’s legal principles. What use are such "scholars" to the state? Thus, a wise ruler must discern right from wrong, as Li Ci did when observing the state of Zhongshan.

The Book of Songs states, "If one does not lead by example, the people will not believe." Fu Yue (a wise minister of the Shang dynasty) remonstrated with the poem "No Clothes," while Duke Jian of Zheng and Duke Xiang of Song were criticized for overly valuing hollow rituals. Without clear division of responsibilities or insistence on practical results—instead micromanaging affairs—a ruler will lose authority, as when Confucius failed to recognize Duke Jing of Qi’s incognito visit or when Lord Zou did not realize he had humiliated himself first.

A wise ruler governs like Shu Xiang distributing game or Marquis Zhao of Han listening to advice. Small acts of trust accumulate into great credibility, so a wise ruler must build trust through consistent rewards and punishments. Examples include Duke Wen of Jin withdrawing from besieging Yuan to keep his word, Ji Zheng relieving famine, Wu Qi waiting for a friend before dining, and Marquis Wen of Wei honoring his hunting appointment. Zengzi slaughtering a pig to teach his son honesty is another model. Conversely, King Li of Zhou misusing alarm drums and Li Kui deceiving his troops serve as cautionary tales.

Finally, when Mi Zijian grew thin governing Shanfu, You Ruo asked why. Mi Zijian replied that he was overwhelmed by administrative burdens. You Ruo then alluded to Shun playing the five-stringed zither and singing the South Wind, implying that governance requires focusing on essentials rather than trivialities.

This passage from Han Feizi illustrates principles of governance and rhetoric through vivid anecdotes.

The discussion begins with statecraft: Governing even a small place like Danfu proves challenging—how much more so governing the world? The key lies in mastering method. A ruler skilled in statecraft can govern effectively while reclining in court or indulging in pleasures; one without method exhausts himself to no avail.

Three parables then demonstrate how "substance outweighs ornamentation":

1. Duke Mu of Qin's daughter's wedding: When seventy lavishly dressed maids accompanied the bride to Jin, the Jin nobles favored the maids over the princess. Excessive adornment of accessories overshadowed the main event.

2. The Chu pearl merchant: A Zheng buyer was captivated by an exquisite jewel box but returned the pearl inside. Over-embellished packaging obscured true value.

3. Mozi's rhetorical style: Though transmitting the Way of sage-kings, the Mohist founder deliberately avoided ornate phrasing—fearing people would prioritize elegance over substance.

The wooden kite anecdote then highlights practical utility: Mozi spent three years crafting a mechanical bird that flew for one day, yet declared himself less wise than a cartwright—whose small axle bears heavy loads indefinitely. Hui Shi (a Logician) observed: Mozi's greatness lay in knowing when to refine (the axle) and when to simplify (the kite).

Finally, the Song Dynasty singer story reveals efficacy-based judgment: When singer Gui performed, laborers stopped to listen; when his master Sheji sang, they worked harder. Though King Song initially deemed Sheji's singing inferior, his voice actually boosted productivity—demonstrating how surface impressions mislead.

Collectively, these stories unveil essential principles for governance and conduct: Prioritize substantive function over superficial form, and value strategic method over brute effort.

This passage recounts several stories about discerning truth from falsehood and heeding honest counsel.

The first anecdote observes that good medicine, though bitter, is willingly taken by the wise who know it cures illness, just as honest advice, though unpleasant, is welcomed by enlightened rulers who understand it leads to success.

Two deception tales follow: A Song man claimed he could carve monkeys on thorn tips, demanding the King of Yan observe three months of purification rituals before viewing his work. The royal metallurgist exposed the fraud by noting carving tools must be smaller than the carved object - thorn tips couldn't possibly accommodate engraving tools. When interrogated, the impostor confessed his lie.

A similar swindle involved a Wei man making identical claims, requiring the king to abstain from wine and women for six months. A Zheng metallurgist debunked this by pointing out the physical impossibility - engraving tools were larger than thorn tips. When pressed to show his tools, the conman fled.

Finally, the sophistic "white horse is not horse" paradox is cited: The Song debater Er Shuo could sway Qi scholars with this verbal trick, yet still had to pay the white horse tax at the border, proving empty rhetoric may fool crowds but fails practical tests.

Like randomly firing newly sharpened arrows with closed eyes - occasionally hitting a hair doesn't demonstrate true skill. These stories collectively warn rulers: beware flashy but hollow words, and value practical verification above all.

A skilled archer does not rely on fixed targets. They may set up a five-inch mark and shoot from ten paces away. But unless they possess the legendary prowess of Houyi or Fengmeng, hitting the mark every time becomes impossible. With fixed targets, masters like Houyi and Fengmeng could demonstrate their skill by consistently hitting small marks; without standards, even random shots that accidentally strike minute objects remain acts of clumsiness. Therefore, when no criteria exist for judgment, glib talkers can ramble endlessly, but when clear standards are established, even the wise worry about mistakes and dare not speak carelessly. Nowadays, when rulers listen to advice without applying standards, they end up admiring empty rhetoric. Praising actions without examining actual results, failing to verify claims—this is why rulers are often deceived while smooth-talkers secure long-term livelihoods.

A Daoist adept once taught the King of Yan techniques for immortality (changsheng busi zhi shu). The king sent someone to learn, but before the training was complete, the adept died. Enraged, the king executed the student. He failed to realize the adept had deceived him, instead blaming the student for learning too slowly. Believing in the impossible while punishing innocent officials—this is the calamity of failing to discern truth from falsehood. Moreover, nothing matters more to a person than their own life (xingming). If even the adept couldn't achieve immortality, how could he guarantee it for the king?

In Zheng, two men argued about who was older. One declared: "I'm the same age as the Yellow Emperor's elder brother." Such disputes have no means of verification, ultimately resolving only when one party stops talking in defeat.

A craftsman spent three years carving a ritual vessel (dou) for the Duke of Zhou. When finished, the duke found it indistinguishable from ordinary lacquered vessels and grew furious. The artisan explained: "Build a ten-foot wall with an eight-foot window. Place the vessel there at sunrise to view it." Following these instructions, the duke saw the vessel's surface come alive with dragons, snakes, beasts, chariots, and countless marvels. Though exquisitely crafted, the vessel's practical function remained identical to common lacquerware.

When the King of Qi asked a painter what was most difficult to depict, the artist replied: "Dogs and horses—because everyone sees them daily, any inaccuracy is immediately noticed." Asked what was easiest, he said: "Demons and spirits (guiguai)—having no fixed form and being unseen, they require no fidelity to reality."

The Qi recluse Tian Zhong once met a Song man named Qu Gu, who said: "I hear you advocate self-reliance. Now I possess a method for growing gourds hard as stone..."

This passage reveals the dangers of empty rhetoric divorced from practical reality through several illustrative stories.

The first tale tells of Tian Zhong (a recluse from the Spring and Autumn period) receiving a solid gourd. Though hard as stone, this gourd couldn't hold anything and proved utterly useless—much like those who affect lofty airs while contributing nothing productive to society, offering no benefit to the state.

The second story concerns Yu Qing (a Warring States debater) building a house. Ignoring craftsmen's warnings that "green wood warps when wet" and "fresh clay is too heavy," he insisted "the materials will naturally improve as they dry." The house collapsed shortly after completion. An alternate version describes craftsmen explicitly warning of inevitable collapse, only for Yu Qing to refute them with clever sophistry—until the predicted disaster struck.

The third anecdote features Fan Ju (a Warring States strategist) critiquing bow-making: If initially over-corrected (pressed in molds for thirty days before stringing), the bow would snap at slight pressure; conversely, under-corrected (pressed just one day), it would break under sustained use. This demonstrates the importance of balanced moderation in all endeavors.

The conclusion observes that while eloquent speakers like Fan Ju and Yu Qing might dazzle with rhetoric, their arguments violate natural principles. Rulers who privilege such hollow talk over practical wisdom—trusting those who build collapsing houses and snapping bows—invite national decline. The proliferation of such empty rhetoricians in society today, the text asserts, lies at the root of the country's disorder.

This passage primarily discusses principles of governance and the fundamental nature of human character, employing vivid analogies to illustrate its points.

If a ruler only enjoys listening to flattery, it is like a craftsman being unable to practice his skills—resulting in a collapsing house or a broken bow. Similarly, the state will fall into chaos, and the ruler will face peril. When children play pretend games, using dirt as rice, mud as soup, and wooden blocks as meat, they still return home at dusk to eat real food—such games can be played, but they should not be taken seriously. In the same way, empty talk about ancient legends and praise for the benevolence and righteousness of past kings, without truly governing effectively, is no different from a child’s make-believe.

The author cites historical examples: The Three Jin (Han, Zhao, and Wei) weakened and fell into chaos because they revered benevolence and righteousness, while Qin, which did not uphold such ideals, grew strong and prosperous. Yet, despite its strength, Qin failed to establish an imperial dynasty, indicating that its governance was still incomplete.

The text uses parent-child and employer-employee relationships to explain human nature: If parents raise their children with minimal effort, the children will grow resentful in adulthood; if grown children provide only meager support, their parents will rebuke them. This is because people naturally expect better treatment from others. An employer who provides good food and drink to laborers does so not out of kindness but to encourage diligent farming; the laborers work hard not out of love for their master but to earn good meals and wages. This reveals that human relationships are fundamentally rooted in self-interest.

Finally, two military examples are given: Duke Wen of Jin’s invasion of Song and Yue’s attack on Wu. In both cases, the aggressors first publicized the tyranny of the opposing ruler, claiming they were acting on behalf of Heaven’s will. There is also the story of the Cai woman who married Duke Huan of Qi—she was divorced for startling him by rocking the boat but was later summoned back, illustrating the conflicts and reconciliations in human relationships.

The core argument is this: Governance cannot rely on empty talk of benevolence and righteousness. One must understand the self-interested nature of humanity and use practical benefits to mediate relationships. Whether in statecraft or personal interactions, the key lies in grasping the principle of "benefit" (利).

Duke Huan of Qi was enraged when Lady Cai remarried and prepared to attack the state of Cai. Guan Zhong (styled Zhongfu) remonstrated: "Launching a military campaign against another state over a marital spat is no proper way to establish merit. I beg you not to use such pretext for war." The duke refused to listen. Guan Zhong continued: "If you insist on this campaign, consider that Chu has failed to present sacred mao grass to the Zhou Son of Heaven for three years. You could first attack Chu in the emperor's name. After Chu submits, turn suddenly to strike Cai, declaring 'I came to punish Chu for the emperor, yet Cai refused to send troops in support.' Thus you may righteously destroy Cai - gaining reputation for upholding imperial authority while achieving personal vengeance."

When Wu Qi served as Wei's general during the campaign against Zhongshan, a soldier developed a festering sore. Wu Qi knelt and personally sucked out the pus. Hearing this, the soldier's mother wept bitterly. When asked why she cried despite the general's kindness, she replied: "Years ago, Wu Qi did this for my husband too - who then died in battle. Now history repeats with my son. I weep knowing his fate."

Lord Father of Zhao (King Wuling) ordered craftsmen to build hook-ladders to scale Mount Panwu, where they carved three-chi-wide, five-chi-long footprints inscribed: "Lord Father visited here." King Zhao of Qin similarly scaled Mount Hua to place eight-chi arrows and eight-cun chess pieces made of pine-heartwood, inscribed: "King Zhao played celestial chess here."

When Duke Wen of Jin (Chong'er) returned from exile, he ordered bamboo utensils and straw mats discarded at the Yellow River, relegating his calloused, sunburnt retainers to the rear. Minister Jiu Fan wept all night upon hearing this. The duke asked: "After twenty years in exile, you mourn rather than celebrate my return? Do you oppose my restoration?" Jiu Fan replied: "You discard vessels that fed you and mats that sheltered you; you push back those who toiled for you. Now I too am consigned to the rear. Moreover, I employed so much deceit to restore you that even I loathe my methods - how much more must you?!" He kowtowed to depart, but the duke restrained him: "The proverb says - those who build altars should carry earth and don ritual robes. You helped win this state - will you not now help govern it?"

These anecdotes from Han Feizi illustrate the foolish and laughable behaviors of people at that time, satirizing those who lacked flexibility and rigidly adhered to dogma.

In Zheng County, a man named Yizi asked his wife to make him a new pair of trousers. When she asked what style he wanted, he told her to copy his old pair. The wife took this literally—she cut up the new trousers to make them as tattered as the old ones. Another man from Zheng found a horse collar (a crossbar at the front of a carriage) but didn’t recognize it. When someone told him it was called a "horse collar," he later found another one and asked again. Hearing the same answer, he flew into a rage, convinced the other person was mocking him, and ended up in a fight.

In the state of Wei, a hunter saw a bird approaching and first waved his headscarf to shoo it away—only after the bird had fled did he remember he was supposed to shoot it. Another man from Zheng bought a turtle for his wife, but while crossing the Ying River, he worried it might be thirsty and released it to drink—only for the turtle to swim away.

Even drinking etiquette led to absurdities: A young man drinking with his elders would drink every time they did. In Lu, there was a man who loved to imitate others. Seeing an old man unable to finish his wine and spitting it out, he did the same. In Song, a young man eager to impress noticed an elder leaving no wine in his cup—unaware that the elder had stopped because he couldn’t drink more—and insisted on draining his own cup completely.

When the classics advised "restraining oneself," a man from Song took this to heart—literally—and bound himself tightly with multiple belts. A man from Liang went so far as to mimic the flowery language of books in both speech and action, losing all naturalness in the process.

The most famous mix-up involves the phrase "raise the candle." A man from Ying was writing a letter to the chancellor of Yan at night. The candlelight was dim, so he absentmindedly told the servant, "Raise it higher"—but accidentally wrote "raise the candle" in the letter. The chancellor of Yan overanalyzed this, interpreting it as a metaphor for "promoting enlightenment," and proceeded to recommend virtuous talents to govern the state. Though the state flourished, this was never the writer’s intention. Han Feizi remarked that many scholars of his time similarly misinterpreted texts.

Finally, there’s the well-known joke about the man from Zheng who went to buy shoes: He measured his feet beforehand but forgot to bring the measurements to the market. After picking out a pair, he remembered, rushed home to fetch the measurements, and returned only to find the market closed. When asked why he didn’t just try the shoes on, the rigid-minded man replied, "I’d rather trust the measurements than my own feet."

This passage from Han Feizi illustrates through several anecdotes how a ruler's words and actions influence the people, as well as principles for governing and employing talent.

The first story tells how Wang Deng recommended two virtuous scholars from Zhongmu, Zhong Zhang and Xu Yi, to Lord Xiang of Zhao, praising their moral character and broad learning. Lord Xiang wanted to appoint them directly as high-ranking officials (zhong dafu), but his steward objected, arguing this violated tradition since the state of Jin had always valued military merit. Lord Xiang insisted, saying that since he trusted Wang Deng’s judgment, he would trust those Wang recommended. As a result, half the people in Zhongmu abandoned farming to pursue scholarship and official positions.

The second story describes how Shu Xiang, a minister of Jin, maintained perfect etiquette even when his legs cramped while attending Lord Ping of Jin. This led scholars across the state to emulate his refined manners.

The third anecdote mocks a man from Zheng named Qu Gong, who would faint upon hearing of enemy attacks and revive only after they left—a satire on those who panic in crises.

The fourth account relates how King Wuling of Zhao sent Li Ci to scout the state of Zhongshan. Li Ci observed that the ruler of Zhongshan honored recluses, concluding this would demoralize soldiers and make farmers lazy, inevitably weakening the state. He advised attacking Zhongshan while it was vulnerable. King Wuling followed his advice and successfully conquered Zhongshan.

Finally, there is the story of Duke Huan of Qi, whose fondness for purple robes sparked nationwide imitation, driving up the price of purple fabric. When the duke asked Guan Zhong for a solution, Guan suggested he simply change his attire, and the trend would fade. This shows how a ruler’s preferences directly shape social customs.

These stories collectively demonstrate that a leader’s standards for appointing officials and personal conduct profoundly influence a nation’s character. Overvaluing literary refinement while neglecting practical governance, or indulging in luxury, leads to decline. Effective rule requires prioritizing tangible results over empty prestige.

Guan Zhong said to Duke Huan of Qi: "If you wish to change the people's obsession with purple garments, why not try refraining from wearing them yourself?" Thereupon, the Duke told his attendants: "I detest the smell of purple clothing." When a minister wearing purple came to court that day, the Duke said: "Stand back—I loathe the stench of purple." The minister replied: "As you command." By that evening, no palace guards wore purple; within two days, none in the capital wore it; within three, the entire state had abandoned purple.

An alternate account records: The King of Qi favored purple robes, causing nationwide imitation until five bolts of plain white silk couldn't purchase one of purple. Troubled by the extravagance, his minister advised: "The Book of Songs says 'Without personal example, the people won't obey.' To stop this trend, remove your own purple robe before court." When purple-clad officials approached thereafter, the King would say: "Keep your distance—I abhor that odor." Guards discarded purple by sundown, the capital within a month, the whole realm within a year.

Duke Jian of Zheng told his prime minister Zichan: "Our small state, caught between Chu and Jin, lacks strong walls or adequate arms—how can we meet emergencies?" Zichan replied: "I've fortified borders and stabilized governance. Though small, we're secure—set your mind at ease." Indeed, the Duke's reign saw no crises. Later he complained: "Our feasts lack joy, sacrifices solemnity, music harmony; my eddies go unheeded, people are restless, farming and defense disordered—all your failures! You have your duties, I mine—let each fulfill them." Zichan redoubled his efforts, and within five years: lost items lay untouched on roads, fruit hung unplucked, a dropped knife was returned in three days. Three consecutive harvests banished hunger.

At the Battle of Zhuogu against Chu, Duke Xiang of Song had his troops arrayed while the enemy still crossed the river. Marshal Gou Qiang urged: "They outnumber us—attack mid-crossing before they form ranks!" But the Duke refused: "A true ruler wounds not the injured, captures no elders, drives none to desperation, assaults no unformed troops. Striking now would violate righteousness." He waited until Chu completed their formations before sounding the advance.

Here are several allegorical tales about the principles of rulership:

The first recounts how Duke Xiang of Song's excessive adherence to ritual benevolence led to military defeat. When the Chu army was crossing the river, he refused to attack, insisting on waiting until they had properly arrayed their formations. This resulted in catastrophic defeat and his fatal injury. This illustrates how rulers who obsess over the formalities of virtue may bring disaster upon themselves. If a ruler must personally oversee every task to secure the people's obedience—as if personally tilling fields or leading charges—it creates perilous imbalance where the sovereign toils while ministers grow complacent.

The second tale features Duke Jing of Qi. Upon hearing his minister Yan Ying was critically ill, the duke rushed back in such agitation that he first grabbed the reins from his driver, then abandoned the chariot altogether to run on foot. This demonstrates that even with fine horses and skilled charioteers, inner turmoil can make one feel slower than running barefoot.

In the third story, King Zhao of Wei wished to participate in governance, but Minister Mengchang advised him to first study legal statutes. The king fell asleep after reading barely a dozen provisions. This shows that when rulers fail to wield authority properly yet meddle in ministerial affairs, drowsiness becomes inevitable. Confucius illustrated the ruler-subject relationship using the metaphor of a vessel and water: as the vessel tilts, so flows the water.

The fourth anecdote tells of the Zou ruler's fondness for long hat ribbons, which sparked nationwide imitation and inflated prices. Only when the ruler himself cut his ribbons short did the fashion cease. This proves exemplary conduct surpasses coercive decrees.

The fifth account describes Shu Xiang distributing game according to each hunter's contribution, embodying principles of equitable meritocracy.

Finally, the dialogue between Marquis Zhao of Han and Shenzi reveals a crucial governance insight: laws must reward merit and appoint by ability, yet become unenforceable when rulers allow personal petitions to override established statutes. The marquis acknowledged this wisdom and vowed reform.

Collectively, these parables demonstrate that effective rulership requires balanced methods—neither empty formalism nor micromanagement, but rather institutional structures coupled with personal exemplarity.

The passage recounts several historical anecdotes about "xin" (integrity), each illustrating the paramount importance of keeping one's word.

The first story tells how Shenzi (Shen Buhai) recommended his cousin for an official post to Marquis Zhao of Han. The Marquis responded: "This contradicts the governing principles you taught me. Granting your request would violate the very doctrines you espoused." Shenzi immediately withdrew and apologized.

In the second tale, Duke Wen of Jin besieged the city of Yuan. He set a ten-day deadline with his troops, vowing to withdraw regardless of outcome. When Yuan still held after ten days, the Duke honored his pledge. Upon hearing this, Yuan's citizens surrendered in admiration, and even the people of Wei subsequently pledged allegiance. Confucius remarked: "Conquering Yuan and gaining Wei—this was achieved through integrity."

When Duke Wen asked Ji Zheng how to relieve famine, Ji Zheng answered with three aspects of integrity: Keeping faith in titles ensures officials fulfill their duties; honoring commitments to affairs maintains agricultural cycles; upholding moral trust attracts distant peoples.

The third episode describes Wu Qi inviting an old friend to dine. The friend said "I'll return to eat," but failed to appear by nightfall. Wu Qi waited hungry until dawn, then sent messengers to fetch his friend before sharing the meal.

In the fourth account, Marquis Wen of Wei scheduled a hunt with his gamekeeper. When strong winds came next morning, attendants urged cancellation. The Marquis declared: "I cannot break faith because of wind," and kept the appointment despite the storm.

The final story involves Zengzi's wife going to market while their child cried. She promised: "Go home—I'll slaughter a pig for you when I return." Upon her return, Zengzi prepared to kill the pig. His wife protested it was just child's talk. Zengzi replied: "Children learn from parents. To deceive him now teaches deception." They ultimately slaughtered the pig.

These narratives collectively demonstrate integrity as life's foundation—whether in governance, military affairs, or daily life. Rulers gain popular trust through kept promises; commoners build relationships through reliability; parents model virtue through truthful words.

King Li of Chu once established an alarm drum to summon the people for city defense. Once, while drunk, he mistakenly struck the drum. The terrified citizens rushed to respond, only for the king to send messengers explaining, "I was drunk and playing with my attendants when I accidentally hit the drum." The people dispersed. Months later, when an actual enemy attack occurred and the drum was sounded, the citizens refused to come. King Li had to reestablish his decrees before the people trusted him again.

Li Kui (a Legalist figure of the Warring States period), while serving as a general, repeatedly warned his left and right flanks: "Stay vigilant—the enemy could attack at any moment!" After multiple false alarms with no enemy appearing, the troops grew lax and stopped believing him. Months later, when the Qin army truly attacked, Li Kui’s forces were nearly annihilated—a disaster born of broken trust. Another account states that during a battle with Qin, Li Kui told his left flank, "The right flank has already charged!" and then told the right flank, "The left flank has already charged!" Hearing this, both flanks rushed forward in competition. The following year, when Qin launched a surprise attack, they nearly captured his entire army—again, a consequence of lost credibility.

Zichan (a statesman of Zheng during the Spring and Autumn period) handled legal disputes by separating the parties to prevent collusion, discerning the truth through their independent testimonies. Duke Si of Wei once sent an agent disguised as a merchant to pass through a checkpoint, where the border official harassed him until he paid a bribe. Later, Duke Si confronted the official: "On a certain day, didn’t a traveler give you money?" He then punished the official, who was terrified, believing the duke possessed supernatural insight.