《韓非子》Vol. 9

In the ninth volume of Han Feizi, the eighth chapter discusses seven techniques of statecraft that rulers should employ and six subtle situations requiring vigilance. Here we focus on explaining the seven governing methods:

The first is called "examining multiple perspectives" (端 denotes integrity—meaning thorough investigation and verification by soliciting diverse opinions). The second is "establishing authority through consistent punishment" (strict enforcement of penalties to assert authority). The third is "honoring rewards to maximize competence" (fulfilling promised rewards to ensure officials exhaust their talents). The fourth is "focused listening while holding subordinates accountable" (when concentrating on one proposal, guard against deception). The fifth is "issuing ambiguous decrees to expose deceit" (deliberately giving questionable or unconventional orders to prevent concealment of truth). The sixth is "testing with feigned ignorance" (asking questions while knowing the answers to evaluate officials). The seventh is "reverse speech and contrived actions" (intentionally saying opposites or acting anomalously to probe loyalty).

These seven methods all serve as the ruler's means to control subordinates. If a ruler listens only to one-sided accounts, truth remains unheard; if relying solely on opinions from specific channels (门户), ministers will obscure reality.

The text provides illustrative examples: A dwarf dreaming of a stove (symbolizing myopic focus while neglecting the bigger picture); Duke Ai of Lu lamenting his confusion despite lacking collective counsel (actually due to the monopolized power of the Ji Sun clan); a Qi man falsely claiming to see the River God (satirizing rulers' credulity toward individuals); Hui Shi's remark about "losing half" (showing how sycophantic echoes drown out half the truth). These cases all reveal the dangers of selective hearing.

Finally, two cautionary tales conclude: Shusun's starvation death after exclusively trusting the treacherous Jian Niu, and Jiang Yi exposing Chu State's culture of suppressing truth. These warn rulers against heeding only a handful of voices.

This passage originates from Han Feizi, primarily discussing statecraft techniques for governing a country.

It begins by describing how a ruler who wishes to govern but lacks proper methods may intentionally pit ministers against each other. However, this approach backfires as it encourages factionalism that threatens royal authority. A truly wise ruler should be like stacking iron blocks to form an arrow-proof wall—accumulating defensive awareness in the mind to root out treachery.

The text then cites the "three men make a tiger" parable to illustrate that even if everyone claims there's a tiger on the street, it shouldn't be believed, emphasizing that rulers must not readily accept rumors. It further argues that excessive benevolence makes it difficult to establish laws, while insufficient authority leads to being manipulated by subordinates. If punishments aren't strictly enforced, prohibitions become meaningless.

Several historical examples follow: Dong Anyu established strict laws in Shiyi that brought order to Zhao State; Zichan taught You Ji the necessity of harsh law enforcement; Confucius used the metaphor "severe frost doesn't kill grass" to warn about the dangers of failing to punish; Shang Dynasty law severely punished minor offenses like dumping ashes; Yue Chi left his position because he lacked authority over rewards and punishments; Shang Yang advocated heavy punishment for minor crimes to prevent major offenses.

The conclusion presents negative examples showing the harm of excessive benevolence: theft at Lishui persisted because penalties were too light; no one fought the Jize wildfires due to unenforced laws; Cheng Huan predicted Qi Kingdom's decline from the king's excessive kindness; Bu Pi foresaw Wei Kingdom's fall from its ruler's benevolence; Guan Zhong therefore advocated strict law enforcement—even suggesting punishing the dead (meaning holding even deceased accountable) to establish legal authority.

These arguments collectively embody the Legalist philosophy of "severe punishments and strict laws" in governance, maintaining that only through rigorous law enforcement and heavy penalties for minor offenses can ruling order be preserved.

This passage from Han Feizi discusses how rulers should employ rewards and punishments to govern their subjects. Let me explain the key points in modern terms:

Regarding punishment, the text emphasizes strict enforcement of laws. For instance, if an official (胥靡) flees, a heavy bounty should be offered for his capture and execution to establish authority. Han Fei cites several examples: King Goujian of Yue burned his palace to test his subjects' loyalty in fighting the fire; Wu Qi used the trivial matter of moving chariot shafts to verify soldiers' obedience; and Li Kui resolved legal cases through archery contests—all demonstrating the uncompromising nature of legal statutes.

Concerning rewards, the text stresses that incentives must be generous and trustworthy. It states that meager or deceptive rewards won't inspire devotion, whereas substantial, reliable rewards motivate people to risk their lives. Examples include the people of Chongmen in Song wasting away from excessive mourning rites, and Goujian saluting an angry frog—both meant to exemplify the power of lavish rewards attracting talent. Even mundane acts like women gathering silkworms or fishermen catching eels illustrate how profit drives people to disregard danger.

Finally, it discusses evaluation methods: Relying solely on one-sided accounts obscures wisdom from folly—rulers must examine each official's actual competence. The "searching Zheng" anecdote warns against biased judgments, while the "filling the orchestra with poor musicians" metaphor shows how lax assessments allow incompetents to infiltrate. Shen Buhai's test of the King of Han demonstrates the need to verify true intentions before appointments.

These ideas embody the Legalist core principle of "trustworthy rewards and inevitable punishments" to ensure governance efficacy. Historical figures mentioned—Goujian, Wu Qi, Li Kui—were all Legalist models of statecraft.

This passage from Han Feizi presents historical cases illustrating how rulers employ statecraft to evaluate ministers and prevent treachery.

Regarding the "single hearing" tactic: Prince Si proposed ceding the Hedong region to the state of Han—a clearly detrimental suggestion. Similarly, Marquis Ying plotted to abandon Shangdang, another unwise strategy. Yet the King of Qin heeded both proposals, demonstrating the dangers of a ruler listening only to one-sided counsel. If a ruler frequently summons someone but never appoints them to office, just as deer naturally scatter, such individuals dare not foment rebellion. Deliberately sending envoys to probe and question reveals whether they harbor ulterior motives.

Pang Jing restored market officials to their posts by making them fear misconduct; Dai Huan inspected subordinates by having grain carts deliberately examined; the King of Zhou tested his ministers by "losing" a jade hairpin; the Grand Steward of Shang gauged his staff through discussions about ox dung. These are all examples of rulers employing statecraft to scrutinize their ministers.

Concerning the "preconceived knowledge" tactic: posing questions while already knowing the answers allows even unintelligent people to respond correctly. By thoroughly investigating one matter, other hidden truths emerge. For instance, Marquis Zhao of Han feigned losing a fingernail to test his attendants' loyalty. Rigorously examining the case of oxen trampling crops at the southern gate exposed offenders across three districts. When the King of Zhou searched for a crooked cane, his ministers grew fearful; Bu Pi sent a minor official to befriend the censor, uncovering secret apprehensions; Ximen Bao pretended to lose a linchpin to cultivate a reputation for integrity. These methods all use known information to investigate the unknown.

(Note: "Single hearing" refers to the pitfalls of one-sided counsel, while "preconceived knowledge" denotes investigative tactics based on predetermined knowledge. These cases exemplify the Legalist concept of shu—concrete methods for rulers to control subordinates.)

This passage comes from Han Feizi, discussing a ruler's methods for detecting deceitful ministers through strategic maneuvers.

When a ruler suspects someone, they may deliberately say the opposite of what they mean or act contrary to expectations to test them. For instance, Yang Shan feigned arrogance and rudeness (knowing the ruler suspected him); Nao Chi pretended to be an envoy from Qin (to test whether the ruler disliked him); and when the people of Qi planned a rebellion, they deliberately expelled those they favored (to lull the ruler into complacency).

The text cites seven classic cases: Zi Zhi used a white horse to test his ministers' loyalty (intentionally saying something false to verify their honesty); Zi Chan separated disputing parties (to better understand the truth of their claims); and Duke Si of Wei inspected customs taxes (observing payment records to judge officials' integrity).

Later, there is a story about Duke Ling of Wei: A dwarf audience with the duke said, "I dreamed of a stove, which foretells meeting the ruler." The duke angrily replied, "Others dream of the sun when they see me—why do you dream of a stove?" The dwarf explained, "The sun shines on all under heaven, and nothing can block its light; but a stove allows only one person to warm themselves, while those behind see no fire. Is there someone in your court now who obscures your wisdom like a stove blocking its flame? That’s why my dream of a stove makes sense." This was actually a veiled critique of Mi Zixia, the favored minister monopolizing power.

Finally, Duke Ai of Lu asked Confucius, "The saying goes, 'Not consulting the many leads to confusion,' yet I discuss everything with my ministers, and the state only grows more chaotic—why?" Confucius replied, "When a wise ruler questions his ministers, some say they know, others say they don’t (so the truth can be cross-examined). But now your ministers all speak in unison—that is the problem." This reveals how, under autocratic rule, ministers dare not speak the truth.

This passage illustrates through several stories how decision-making should not rely solely on the opinions of a few.

The first story recounts how the Ji Sun clan monopolized power in the State of Lu, with the entire country following one man's directives. Yanzi pointed out that the ancients said, "Deliberating with fewer than three leads to confusion," meaning one person may err, two can correct each other, but only three constitute sufficient counsel. Though Lu had many ministers, they merely echoed Ji Sun's views, failing to meet the standard of "three-person deliberation."

The second story describes how a Qi state official advised the King of Qi to worship the River Deity (Huanghe water god), mistaking a large fish's movement for divine manifestation. This shows how relying on a single opinion can lead to deception.

The third story involves the debate between Zhang Yi and Hui Shi over attacking Qi and Chu. All ministers supported Zhang Yi's pro-war stance, leaving Hui Shi isolated. Hui Shi admonished the King of Wei: "If attacking Qi and Chu were truly beneficial and the whole state agrees, how numerous the wise would be; if actually harmful yet unanimously approved, how numerous the fools would be." Deliberation exists precisely because doubts should arise—when everyone blindly concurs, it warrants suspicion instead.

These stories collectively demonstrate that major decisions require diverse perspectives to avoid being misled by singular voices. True wisdom lies in accommodating differing views rather than blindly following the majority.

This narrative illustrates the perils of allowing power to be manipulated by those in one's inner circle.

When Shusun served as prime minister of Lu, he wielded great authority but placed blind trust in a man named Jianniu. Exploiting this favor, Jianniu grew arrogant and domineering. He first schemed to eliminate Shusun’s son Ren—tricking him into wearing a jade ring bestowed by the ruler (which was forbidden without permission) and then falsely accusing Ren of presumptuously donning the royal gift. Without verification, Shusun condemned his own son to death.

Jianniu then used the same tactics against Ren’s elder brother Bing: he deceived Bing into striking a ceremonial bell (which required prior approval) and reported him for acting without authorization. When Shusun regretted his decision and sought to recall Bing, Jianniu lied about having summoned him while secretly obstructing the order, ultimately leading to Bing’s execution.

As Shusun lay gravely ill, Jianniu falsely declared, "The master refuses to see anyone," cutting off all food and drink until Shusun starved to death. Jianniu then plundered the treasury and fled to Qi. This tragedy underscores how uncritical reliance on a favored subordinate’s words—without investigation—can poison even the bond between father and son.

The subsequent account of Jiang Qi’s diplomatic mission to Chu offers a contrasting lesson: a true noble conceals neither others’ merits nor publicizes their faults. Taken together, these stories warn leaders to heed diverse counsel and remain vigilant against deception by petty men.

This passage from Han Feizi recounts several stories about statecraft and preventing deception.

The first story tells how Lord Si of Wei, though he heavily relied on Ru Er and favored Shi Ji, feared they might exploit his trust to deceive him. To counter this, he deliberately promoted Bo Yi to check Ru Er's influence and honored Wei Ji to balance Shi Ji's power, attempting mutual restraint to prevent being misled. However, Han Feizi points out this approach is flawed—allowing equals to counterbalance one another only cultivates more entrenched ministers who monopolize authority, leading to greater deception.

The second story uses an analogy to illustrate defensive strategy: If you know the direction an arrow will come from, you can focus protection there; if you don’t know, you must armor your entire body. Similarly, a ruler’s vigilance against ministers must be comprehensive, leaving no vulnerabilities.

The third is the famous "three men make a tiger" anecdote. Before accompanying the crown prince as a hostage to Handan, Pang Gong warned the King of Wei: "If one person claims there’s a tiger in the marketplace, you wouldn’t believe it; if two say so, you might doubt; but if three insist, you’d believe—even though no tiger exists. Handan is far more distant from Wei than the marketplace, and those who slander me will surely number more than three. I beg Your Majesty to discern the truth." Yet upon Pang Gong’s return from Handan, the king, swayed by slander, refused to see him.

Lastly, the passage mentions Dong Eyu serving as the governor of Shangdi in Zhao, inspecting the steep cliffs of Shiyi. Though seemingly abrupt, this sets up the subsequent discussion (in the original text) on the necessity of harsh laws and severe punishments.

(Note: While this text is from the Legalist tradition, its inclusion in a Daoist context may serve comparative or cautionary purposes regarding governance and human nature.)

This passage recounts several stories about governance, with the core idea emphasizing the importance of strict legal standards.

The first story tells of Dong Yan's approach to local administration. He asked the locals whether people, the mentally ill, or livestock had ever fallen into a deep ravine. Upon learning that none had, he remarked: "If my laws were as unforgiving as this ravine—making it clear that violation means certain death—no one would dare break them, and governance would become effortless."

The second story involves the dying words of Zichan, a prime minister of the Zheng state. On his deathbed, Zichan warned his successor You Ji that governing required severity, just as few touch fire because it burns fiercely, while many drown in water because it seems gentle. Unable to bear imposing harsh punishments, You Ji soon faced rampant banditry among Zheng's youth, who gathered in marshlands as outlaws. Only after expending great effort to suppress them did You Ji regret ignoring Zichan's advice.

The third story features Confucius explaining to Duke Ai of Lu why the Spring and Autumn Annals recorded "winter frost failing to kill beans." He interpreted this as a warning: when punishments are withheld where due—like winter frost that should form but doesn't—plum and apricot trees may bear fruit out of season. If rulers stray from the Dao (the Way), even plants defy natural cycles, let alone subjects.

Finally, the discussion turns to Shang dynasty law imposing severe penalties for dumping ashes in streets. Zigong considered this excessive, but Confucius saw it as enlightened governance. Though a minor offense, ashes could spark disputes escalating into clan warfare. By harshly punishing easily committed small faults, people would avoid graver crimes—sound statecraft indeed. Another version states the Shang amputated hands for street ash-dumping, which Zigong questioned as too brutal, yet ancient thinkers deemed such severity necessary.

These narratives collectively illustrate that governance demands clear, rigorous laws: unaddressed minor faults breed major disasters, while measured severity maintains social order.

This passage presents several core Legalist perspectives on governance through law:

When Yue Chi (Prime Minister of Zhongshan) dispatched a talented retainer to lead a hundred chariots on a diplomatic mission to Zhao, the procession fell into disarray midway. The retainer explained that effective governance requires authority and material incentives—being of low status himself, he lacked the means to properly manage the group. Had he possessed the power to reward and punish, he could have maintained order. This illustrates that management must hold actual authority over incentives and penalties.

Shang Yang (Gongsun Yang) advocated a legal philosophy of imposing severe punishments for minor offenses. His reasoning was that people find it easy to avoid small transgressions but difficult to commit major crimes. By harshly punishing minor faults, people would refrain from small violations and consequently never progress to serious crimes. This embodies the principle of "using punishment to eliminate punishment" (yi xing qu xing)—employing penalties to eradicate crime altogether.

The text further cites the example of gold mining in Jingnan: despite the punishment of dismemberment for illegal mining, people still took the risk because not all offenders were caught. Just as an ordinary person would reject an offer of "the entire world in exchange for your life"—since life is more precious than possessing all under heaven—this demonstrates that when criminals believe they might escape punishment, even the most severe penalties cannot completely deter crime.

These viewpoints reflect the Legalist doctrine of "severe punishments for minor offenses" (qing zui zhong fa), maintaining that only when the deterrent effect of punishment outweighs the potential gains from crime can wrongdoing be truly prevented. They simultaneously emphasize that law enforcement must be rigorous—if there exists any possibility of evading punishment, even the harshest penalties will prove ineffective.

These two anecdotes from Han Feizi illustrate the Legalist doctrine of clear rewards and punishments in statecraft through concrete examples.

The first story recounts how Duke Ai of Lu responded when a fire broke out in his state. The people of Lu had been burning marshland during a north wind, and the flames threatened to spread southward toward the capital. The duke personally led a team to fight the fire, only to find his officials preoccupied with hunting wild animals instead of assisting. Confucius (Zhongni) pointed out the reason: hunting was enjoyable and carried no penalty, while firefighting was laborious and unrewarded. He advised the duke to immediately enforce punitive measures—treating those who neglected firefighting as deserters in battle and punishing hunters as trespassers in forbidden zones. Before the order could even spread throughout the state, the fire was extinguished. This demonstrates that clear legal consequences are more effective than moral persuasion in regulating behavior.

The second story, through a dialogue between Cheng Huan and the King of Qi, exposes the dangers of excessive benevolence. Cheng Huan criticized the king for being overly lenient toward Lord Xue (Tian Wen) and indulgent toward the Tian clan. Such "excessive kindness" weakened the authority of ministers and emboldened the nobility to flout the law, resulting in military decline abroad and political chaos at home—precisely the root of a state’s downfall. Later, King Hui of Wei’s conversation with Bu Pi drives the point home: excessive compassion leads to unpunished faults, and indiscriminate generosity rewards the undeserving. This kind of "misguided benevolence" hastens a state’s ruin.

Together, these stories articulate the Legalist core principle: governance cannot rely solely on moral influence but must establish a clear system of rewards and punishments. Excessive leniency from rulers erodes the rule of law; only balanced incentives and penalties can maintain social order. Terms like "the crime of desertion in battle" (jiangbei zhi zui) and "the crime of trespassing" (rujin zhi zui) reflect the Legalist emphasis on strict laws to regulate conduct.

This passage illustrates how ancient rulers employed the principles of reward and punishment in state governance, using several stories to demonstrate the importance of clear and consistent enforcement.

The first story describes how extravagant funerals became prevalent in Qi, with commoners using all their cloth for burial garments and timber for coffins. Duke Huan of Qi grew concerned and consulted Guan Zhong. Guan Zhong observed that people act either for fame or profit, so he decreed: corpses would be mutilated for oversized coffins, and mourners would be punished. With neither posthumous honor nor living gain to be had, who would still indulge in lavish burials?

The second tale tells of a fugitive from Wei who fled to the state of Wei. Lord Si of Wei offered fifty pieces of gold for his return, but the King of Wei refused. When Lord Si then proposed exchanging the entire city of Zuoshi, his ministers protested the cost. The ruler explained: "In governance, no matter is trivial. Without strict laws, ten Zuoshis would be worthless; with firm justice, losing ten such cities matters not." Hearing this, the King of Wei, impressed by such principled governance, returned the fugitive without compensation.

In the third account, the King of Qi asked Wenzi about statecraft. Wenzi compared rewards and punishments to sharp weapons—they must be firmly grasped, never casually displayed. Ministers resemble deer herds that follow only the lushest pastures, so the power of judgment must never be lightly revealed.

Finally, when King Goujian of Yue consulted Wen Zhong about attacking Wu, Wen Zhong advised first testing their penal system's effectiveness. The king set his palace ablaze, yet no one came to extinguish it—proving their reward-punishment mechanisms remained inadequate. This demonstrates that only when people truly believe in the system's fairness can laws be effectively enforced.

These narratives collectively emphasize: governance requires unambiguous rewards and punishments, strictly implemented laws, and timely dispensation of justice. Only through such consistency can rulers earn the people's trust and effectively administer the state.

This passage recounts several historical examples of rulers employing reward and punishment systems to motivate their people, illustrating how proper incentive structures can effectively guide public behavior.

The first story concerns firefighting regulations: Those who died fighting fires were honored as battlefield martyrs; survivors received victor's spoils; while those who avoided duty faced desertion charges. Consequently, citizens wrapped themselves in wet cloth and charged into blazes—three thousand people mobilized on each flank, creating an unstoppable force.

Next is the tale of Wu Qi (renowned Warring States general) governing Xihe region. A Qin border outpost harassed farmlands, yet seemed too insignificant to warrant military action. Wu first placed a carriage shaft at the north gate, promising fertile lands and mansions to whoever moved it south. Initially met with skepticism, the promise was fulfilled when someone dared attempt it. He repeated the test with a bushel of red beans from east to west gate. Having established credibility, Wu announced official titles and lands for the first soldier to storm the outpost—resulting in such fervor that the garrison fell within a day.

Li Kui, a Legalist scholar governing Shangdi, elevated archery skills by decreeing legal disputes be settled through target contests. Citizens practiced day and night until their marksmanship crushed Qin forces in subsequent battles.

The Chongmen Alley episode in Song reveals even emotional conduct responds to incentives. When the ruler ennobled a citizen who wasted away mourning his parents (hailing this extreme grief as filial piety), over ten copycat deaths followed the next year—proving even Confucian virtues could be manipulated through reward systems.

Finally, King Goujian of Yue, preparing to attack Wu, famously saluted an angry frog—explaining he revered its fighting spirit. Within a year, dozens volunteered for suicide missions. These cases uniformly demonstrate how calibrated reward-punishment mechanisms shape collective behavior with remarkable precision.

King Goujian of Yue once saw an enraged frog and bowed to it from his chariot. When his charioteer asked why he would honor a frog, the king replied, "Such courage in this creature deserves respect." When warriors heard that even a frog's bravery earned the king's salute, they were deeply moved—that same year, a soldier cut off his own head to present it to Goujian.

Later, when preparing to take revenge on Wu, Goujian tested the effectiveness of his leadership. He lit a blazing platform and beat war drums, commanding people to charge through the flames where rewards awaited. By the river, he drummed again, ordering men to plunge into the water where prizes lay. On the battlefield, soldiers would rather be decapitated or gutted than retreat, knowing glory was there for the taking. How much greater, then, was the motivation when promoting talent by merit alone!

Marquis Zhao of Han once ordered a pair of torn trousers preserved. His attendant protested, "My lord lacks compassion—why store rags instead of gifting them to your servants?" The marquis replied, "You misunderstand. A wise ruler weighs even his frowns and smiles (a frown must have just cause, a smile proper reason). Are torn trousers not more consequential than mere expressions? I save them to reward future achievements."

Eels resemble snakes; silkworms look like caterpillars. People recoil from snakes and shudder at caterpillars. Yet silk-gathering women handle silkworms fearlessly, and eel-catchers grasp their quarry boldly—where profit lies, men conquer fear and rival the bravery of warriors like Meng Ben.

The King of Wei once proposed to the King of Zheng: "Our lands were once united under Zheng and Liang before their division. Let us reunite Zheng." Troubled, the Zheng ruler summoned his ministers. A Zheng prince reassured him: "This matter is easily resolved."

This passage from Han Feizi records several historical anecdotes primarily illustrating the strategic wisdom between rulers and ministers.

The first story recounts Wei State's attempt to ally with Zheng. A Wei minister advised his king: "If we treat Zheng as an old ally, we could also draw Liang State into our coalition." Hearing this, the King of Wei abandoned the plan.

The second presents the famous parable of "the unskilled yu player among the ensemble." King Xuan of Qi enjoyed listening to three hundred musicians play the yu (an ancient instrument) together, allowing Mr. Nanguo to blend in without skill. After King Xuan's death, his successor King Min preferred solo performances, forcing Nanguo to flee. Similarly, when Marquis Zhao of Han faced this situation, minister Tian Yan suggested testing musicians individually to distinguish competence.

The third episode describes Zhao State's attempt to borrow troops from Han via minister Shenzi to attack Wei. Caught between fearing his king's suspicion of foreign collusion and offending Zhao, Shenzi first sent Zhao Shao and Han Ta to sound out the Han ruler's disposition—a maneuver allowing him to gauge his sovereign's mind while appeasing Zhao.

The final case shows King of Han seeking counsel from ministers Lou Huan and Prince Si when facing invasion by three allied states. Prince Si analyzed: "Ceding Hedong for peace would bring regret, as the allies would have withdrawn anyway; yet refusing peace also brings regret, as deeper enemy penetration causes greater losses." This reveals the perennial dilemma confronting decision-makers.

Collectively, these stories embody Legalist emphasis on statecraft, using historical cases to demonstrate proper ruler-minister dynamics and diplomatic strategies between states.

Han Feizi's passage records several political stratagems that reveal the wisdom and statecraft of ancient rulers in decision-making and personnel management.

The first story concerns a ruler facing the dilemma of whether to negotiate peace. The monarch declares: "Making peace will bring regret, but not making peace will also bring regret. Rather than regretting a peace agreement, I'd prefer to lose three cities without regret. Waiting until true danger arises to feel remorse would be too late—I've resolved to terminate negotiations." This demonstrates a ruler's decisiveness in critical decision-making.

The second episode features Ying Hou (Fan Ju, a Qin statesman) advising the King of Qin: "Your Majesty has already acquired Wan, Ye, Lantian and Yangxia, secured control over Henei region, and besieged Liang and Zheng. The only reason you haven't proclaimed kingship is because Zhao remains unsubdued. Simply abandon Shangdang commandery and redeploy its garrison to Dongyang—then Zhao's capital Handan will become as vulnerable as a louse in one's mouth." Ying Hou worried the Qin king might hesitate to relocate troops from prosperous Shangdang, but the ruler decisively ordered: "The redeployment must proceed—my decision is final."

The third account illustrates County Magistrate Pang Jing's personnel strategy. He first dispatched a market supervisor on an errand, then summoned another official only to immediately dismiss him without uttering a word. The market supervisor, assuming secret instructions had been given, dared not engage in corruption—a classic example of "creating deliberate confusion" as a control tactic.

The fourth narrative describes how Dai Huan, the Grand Steward of Song, sent night watchmen to spy on Official Li Shi. Intending to monitor carriage movements, they instead discovered Li accepting bamboo chest gifts—revealing the mutual surveillance among ancient officials.

The final anecdote tells how the Zhou ruler tested his officials. He first pretended to lose a jade hairpin, letting officials search fruitlessly for three days before having it "discovered" easily. This warned subordinates against incompetence, making all officials tremble with the belief their ruler saw everything—a quintessential "power demonstration" technique.

The Grand Steward of the Shang Dynasty sent a young attendant to the marketplace. Upon his return, the Steward asked, "What did you observe at the market?" The attendant replied, "Nothing noteworthy." The Steward pressed, "Even so, surely you noticed something?" Only then did the attendant mention, "The southern gate was clogged with ox carts—so crowded one could barely pass." The Steward immediately warned the attendant to keep this conversation secret. He then summoned the market officials and demanded, "Why is the area outside the southern gate littered with ox dung?" The officials were stunned by the Steward’s omniscience and thereafter governed with fearful diligence.

Han Zhaohou once clenched his fist and pretended to have lost a fingernail, urgently ordering his attendants to search for it. The attendants promptly cut off their own nails to present to him. Through this ruse, Zhaohou exposed who among them was deceitful. On another occasion, he dispatched an envoy to inspect the counties. When the envoy reported seeing "nothing unusual," Zhaohou pressed further until the envoy admitted, "Outside the southern gate, a yellow ox was grazing on crops in the left field." After swearing the envoy to secrecy, Zhaohou immediately banned livestock from trampling farmland and ordered officials to enforce strict inspections. When violations persisted, the officials realized their ruler’s keen discernment and thereafter governed with meticulous caution.

The ruler of Zhou once ordered his officials to find a crooked walking stick. After days of fruitless searching, the ruler secretly sent his own men, who located it within a day. He rebuked the officials: "Such a simple task, yet you failed—my men found it instantly. Is this your loyalty?" Terrified, the officials began treating their ruler as a deity.

As magistrate of his county, Bu Pi discovered his carriage driver was embezzling yet doting on a concubine. He sent a young attendant to feign courtship with the concubine, thereby uncovering the driver’s crimes. When Ximen Bao served as magistrate of Ye County, he deliberately claimed to have lost a linchpin and ordered subordinates to search for it. When they failed, he had it "discovered" in a commoner’s home.

Yang Shanjun, chancellor of Wei, grew suspicious of his sovereign’s distrust. To test whether Jiu Jian was informing on him, he deliberately slandered the ruler in Jiu’s presence.

This passage records several stories of ancient rulers and ministers employing wisdom to uncover the truth:

In Chu State, Jiu Jian deliberately had others slander him before the king. Knowing the king favored him, he understood this would provoke the ruler's anger and reveal his true suspicions. This demonstrates testing a ruler's genuine thoughts through reverse psychology.

Nao Chi, hearing that King Wen of Qi disliked him, disguised himself as a Qin envoy to gather information. Since the Qi king wouldn't suspect a Qin messenger, he would inevitably speak frankly. This shows the wisdom of using identity concealment to obtain intelligence.

In Qi State, certain conspirators feared their rebellion might be detected by the king. They pretended to banish their favored subordinates, sending them to defect to the king. After performing this "banishment" charade three times, they successfully eliminated the king's suspicions about their plot.

Yan's prime minister Zi Zhi tested his subordinates' integrity by deliberately announcing in court: "A white horse just ran out the gate!" When all attendants claimed they saw nothing, only one man ran out to chase it and reported seeing the horse. Zi Zhi thus identified this man as untrustworthy.

Zichan of Zheng State handled lawsuits by separating litigants to prevent collusion, then deliberately transposing their statements when relaying them to each other, thereby uncovering the truth. This exemplifies ancient judicial wisdom.

Duke Si of Wei sent an agent disguised as a merchant through a border checkpoint. When the customs officer deliberately obstructed him, the agent bribed his way through. Later, the Duke confronted the officer: "On such-and-such date, a merchant gave you gold to pass through." The shocked officer thereafter believed the Duke possessed supernatural discernment—a method for secretly examining officials' integrity.

These stories collectively illustrate how ancient rulers employed clever methods to investigate subordinates and ascertain truths, embodying the Legalist emphasis on practical results and strategic maneuvering.