《淮南鴻烈解》Vol. 27

Huainan Honglie Jie, Volume 26, Part 3: Xiuwu Xun (Treatise on Cultivating Endeavor) (Excerpt)

Recorded and submitted by your servant Xu Shen, Libationer to the Grand Commandant

Xiuwu Xun

Explanation of the Title: “Xiu” means to exert oneself in advanced cultivation; “wu” means to devote effort to pursuit. It refers to earnestly following the sages and complying with the times—when putting on a cap, one need not turn back to look at the hat; when walking, if a shoe falls off, one need not pick it up—but one must act according to the Dao of benevolence and righteousness in order to aid the myriad people. The title “Xiuwu” comes from this.

Some say that Wuwei (non-action) means being silent and soundless, fixed and unmoving: call it and it does not come, push it and it does not go. Only in this way does one look like someone who has attained the Dao (the Way). Some believe that first practicing methods and techniques and then being wuwei is the method of attaining the Dao. I think this is not so, and I once asked a sage about this matter.

Can Shennong, Yao, Shun, Yu, and Tang be called sages? No one who engages in discussion can deny them. If we look at these five sages, “wuwei” does not hold up.

In ancient times people ate wild grass, drank raw water, gathered the fruits of trees, and ate the flesh of snails and mussels. They often fell ill and also suffered harm from the bites of poisonous insects. Therefore Shennong first taught the common people to sow the Five Grains—beans, wheat, glutinous millet, broomcorn millet, and rice—and to inspect whether the land was dry or damp, fertile or barren, high or low (“qiao” refers to high, dry, hard soil). He tasted the flavors of the hundred plants and the sweetness and bitterness of springs, so that ordinary people would know what to avoid and what to use. In those days he was poisoned seventy times in a single day—this is what Shennong did.

Yao established the virtues of filial piety, kindness, benevolence, and love, and treated the people like his own children and younger brothers (although he employed the people for labor, he always treated them with benevolence and love, as his own children and younger brothers). He went west to the land of the Wo people to spread teaching, east to the land of the Black-Teeth people, north to pacify the region of Youdu, and south to guide Jiaozhi (the Wo people were in the west and the Black-Teeth in the east; the place where Yin qi gathers is called Youdu, roughly north of present-day Yanmen; Jiaozhi is in the south. All four places were remote and did not see the sage’s transformative teaching, so Yao personally went to instruct and pacify them with benevolence and righteousness). He banished Huan Dou (or Fang Huan—the name of an ancient villain; here perhaps it means banishing the unworthy to pacify the people).

Note: This passage belongs to the opening argument of “Xiuwu Xun”: through the diligent, world-saving labors of sages such as Shennong and Yao, it refutes the view that wuwei means immobility and non-action, emphasizing that sages must “devote effort” to teaching and civil affairs. Xu Shen’s commentary mostly explains word meanings and place names, and these explanations have already been incorporated into the parentheses above. If the continuation needs to be translated, the next passage of the scripture may be sent.

Yao banished Huan Dou to Mount Chong (the mountain of the southern pole) and exiled the Sanmiao to Sanwei (the mountain of the western pole). To "banish" (fang) means to drive out or send into exile. Huan Dou was a treacherous minister of Yao's time. The Sanmiao broadly refers to the descendants of three clans: the descendants of the Huangdi Hongshi, Hundun; the descendants of the Shaohao clan, Qiongqi; and the descendants of the Jinyun clan, Taotie. This is why they are called the "Three Miao." Exiling them to Sanwei meant driving their followers to the distant far west.

He also exiled Gonggong to Youzhou and executed Gun at Yushan (the mountain of the eastern pole). Gonggong was an official post in Yao's time. Gun was the father of Yu, and because he achieved no results in flood control, Yao had him put to death. According to the account in the Hongfan, Gun was executed. From this we can see that people of the type of Hundun, Qiongqi, and Taotie were likewise driven out to the remote borders of the four directions.

Shun taught the people to build houses: to raise walls and thatch roofs, to clear wasteland and grow grain, so that the common people all left their caves and dwelt in homes of their own. Shun campaigned south against the Sanmiao and died on the way, at Cangwu. Ancient texts say that Shun, touring the four directions, ultimately died at Cangwu and was buried on Mount Jiuyi, which lies northeast of Fengcheng County in Cangwu and roughly a thousand li south of Lingling.

In managing the floods, Yu did not shrink from wind or rain: he treated prolonged rain as a bath and violent winds as a comb for his hair, a figure of speech for his extreme toil. He dredged the Yangzi, channeled the river courses, cut open the Longmen Gate, and opened up the Yique Pass. The Longmen once had a water gate through which carp (wei) swam; those that could swim upward were transformed into dragons, hence the name "Dragon Gate." Yu enlarged and cut through it. Yique is the name of a mountain; Yu cut through the mountain so that the Yi River flowed north into the Luo River, hence the name que ("pass").

He further built embankments around Lake Pengli (in Pengze County, west of Yuzhang), and used four means of transport (mountain paths by shu, waterways by boat, overland by cart, and marshland by sledge). Following the mountains, he cut trees to mark the way, pacified the land and waters, and demarcated one thousand eight hundred states. Within the four seas there were said to be ten thousand states; the one thousand eight hundred that Yu established are the measure of his achievement.

A Plain-Language Interpretation of the Huainanzi

King Tang of Shang rose early and retired late, in order to think through matters of state fully and to distinguish right from wrong. This is what is meant by "attaining acuity": by diligent thought and reflection, he reasoned through all affairs with precision. He lightened taxes and reduced miscellaneous levies so that the people had ample means ("kuan," or "broad," means making the people prosperous; "meng" was the old term for the common people of the countryside). He widely bestowed kindness, relieved the destitute, consoled the families of the dead, visited the sick, and cared for orphans and widows. A child who lost its father in youth is called "gu" (orphan), and a woman without a husband is called "shuang" (widow).

The people drew close and submitted to him, and his government's orders were carried out smoothly. He then put his army in order and attacked the Xia tyrant Jie at Mingtiao (a place name). He pressed Jie to the brink at Nanchao (in the area of present-day Lujiang, Anhui, the ancient seat of the Chao people), reproached him for his crimes, and exiled him to Lishan. Lishan was in Liyang, and tradition holds that it was where Tang banished Jie. These five sage kings were the most exalted rulers under heaven. They wore out their bodies and taxed their minds to bring benefit and remove harm for the people, and never slackened ("xie" means idleness or neglect).

If one holds a cup of wine, the face shows no sign of strain, which shows how light the burden is. If one lifts a great wine vessel holding a full dan, one will sweat from head to foot, which shows how heavy it is. How much more, then, when one bears the anxieties of the whole world and manages the great affairs within the four seas? Its weight exceeds that of the wine vessel by far ("yuan," here, means "much more").

Moreover, the sage does not feel shame at a lowly station but at the failure of the great Dao (the Way) to be practiced. He does not worry over a short life but over the poverty of the people. Thus Great Yu, while controlling the floods, offered himself as a pledge at the Yangmian River to avert calamity ("jie," read as "to remove," and "to make it the Yangmian River" means to pray and offer oneself in sacrifice at that river). When Tang met with drought, he personally prayed for rain in the mulberry grove, where rain-bringing clouds were said to rise. The sages cared for the people with such clarity, yet to describe them as practicing "wuwei" (non-action) is surely absurd ("bei" means perverse or contrary).

Furthermore, in ancient times rulers were established not to nourish private desires, and sages did not occupy their positions in order to indulge in ease ("yi" means leisurely repose). At that time, the strong oppressed the weak, the many abused the few, the cunning deceived the foolish, and the bold preyed upon the timid. Those who possessed wisdom would not teach others, and those who accumulated wealth would not share it. Therefore a Son of Heaven was established to make the world uniform ("qi" means to level or make equal). Yet no single person, however clever, can illuminate the whole realm, so the Three Ducal Ministers and Nine Ministers were established to manage the myriad affairs.

Plain-Language Interpretation

The ruler relies on assisting ministers and advisers to aid him. (Fu means to correct, and yi means to assist.) For remote regions cut off from the center, with customs very different from the capital and far from its reach, the central virtue (de) cannot cover them directly. Therefore the ruler enfeoffs lords, who instruct and govern those lands.

In this way, no land lies waste, no seasonal task goes unfulfilled, no official conceals a dereliction of duty, and no benefit to the state is left unrealized. (That is, officials do not hide their failures, and everything is done for the people's benefit, so nothing is overlooked.)

As a result, the poorly clothed are warmed, the hungry are fed, the old and weak are cared for, and the weary are given rest.

Seen from the perspective of ordinary people in cloth garments who travel on foot: Yi Yin, a worthy minister of the Shang dynasty, once carried cooking vessels on his back to seek an audience with King Tang. (He had been in the wilds of Youxin, preparing dishes with the cauldron and chopping board to offer his skill to Tang, wishing to harmonize yin and yang and carry out his Way. The Book of Odes says: "Indeed he was the Ahéng; indeed he aided and guided the Shang king.") Lü Wang, also known as Jiang Ziya, of the Jiang clan and a descendant of the Four Peaks, once made his living as a butcher with a cleaver before entering Zhou. (Afterward he lived in Yin and butchered at Chaoge, hence the phrase "beating the cleaver and entering Zhou." From Yin he went to serve King Wen as Grand Tutor, assisted King Wu in attacking Zhou, the last Shang king, and was enfeoffed in Qi by King Cheng.) Baili Xi, a worthy minister of the state of Yu, wandered and sold himself into service in Qin. (Knowing that Duke Gong of Yu could not be persuaded, he left and sold himself to Qin, where he became chief minister to Duke Mu and Qin prospered.) Guan Zhong was bound and presented to Qi. (He had served Prince Jiu, and rather than die in Jiu's downfall he fled to Lu. Bound, he was brought back, and Duke Huan of Qi employed him and became hegemon.) Confucius's chimney was never blackened, and Mozi's mat was never warm. (The word mo refers to a stove flue that never became sooty, and "warm mat" refers to a seat that never grew warm. The phrases describe how they traveled among the states, hastening to put the Way into practice.)

Therefore the sage does not rely on his status, like a lofty mountain or a broad river, and is willing to bear humiliation and bend himself to seek an audience with the rulers of his age. He does not do so out of greed for salary or position, but because he wishes to bring benefit to the world and remove the harms that afflict the myriad people. (Here "sage" likely refers to figures such as Yu and Ji, who did not limit themselves by the height of mountains or the breadth of rivers, but who necessarily faced danger to aid the world and undertook the work of governance.)

An ancient book says: Shennong had a haggard face, Yao had a thin body, Shun had dark skin, and Yu had calloused hands and feet (the result of long labor). From this we can see that the sage, or sage-king, ...

Parenthetical remarks in the text are original annotations or older interpretations, incorporated into the main text or set off as bracketed notes as appropriate.

The people already bear heavy toil and worry. Therefore, from the Son of Heaven down to the common folk, to have limbs that do not move and minds that do not exert themselves, and yet to have governance well ordered and livelihoods abundant, is something never heard of.

The lay of the land makes water flow east, and people must channel it so that floodwaters follow the valleys. Grain sprouts in spring, and people must go down into the fields to labor so that the five grains grow well. What is called "adding effort" (jia gong) means weeding, tilling, and piling earth around the roots. If one lets water run where it will and lets things grow on their own, then the achievements of Da Yu (Yu the Great) in taming the floods could not have been established, and the wisdom of Houji (Lord Millet) in teaching agriculture would have no use.

What we call "non-action" (wuwei) means that private interest cannot enter public justice, and desires cannot distort correct method. One acts according to principle, adapts expediently to circumstance, and follows the natural course of things, so that cunning schemes have no way to insert themselves into governance. One does not boast of one's merit, and even when one has merit, one does not claim the name for oneself. It does not mean that a person is numb and unfeeling, remaining unmoved when attacked.

To use fire to bake a well, or the Huai River to flood a mountain, goes against nature and forces one's own will, and so it is called "purposive action" (you wei). (Fire by its nature cannot bake a well, and the Huai's water by its nature cannot flood a mountain. Forcing them to do so runs against their Dao, and so it is called purposive action.) As for using boats for travel on water, sledges on sand, carts on mud, and litters in the mountains, or dredging in summer and building dikes in winter, or opening fields on high ground and digging ponds on low ground, these all accord with the nature of things and use each according to what is fitting. Therefore they are not the kind of "doing" we mean, but rather a following of what is fitting, and so they are called "non-action."

The sage acts in forms that differ, yet all accord with principle. The paths taken differ, yet they arrive at the same end. In securing the endangered and steadying the tottering, the sage's resolve is single, and never forgets to work for the benefit of others. How can this be shown? Once, when the state of Chu was about to attack Song, Mozi heard of it and was grieved. He set out from the state of Lu, traveling ten days and ten nights, not stopping even though the calluses on his feet were thick. He tore his clothing to wrap his feet, and when he arrived at the capital of Chu, Ying, he saw the King of Chu and said: "There are men of Chu (such as Qin Guli) who are committing injustice in Song, and yet Song has upright men (such as Zihan) defending its city." The King of Chu then withdrew his troops, and Song was preserved.

Mozi had many stratagems, but he rarely relied on the single move of "ceasing attack" (zhi gong). Therefore, the opening speaks of stopping a war among states, and the closing speaks of saving the lives of a state's people. They belong to the same category and differ only by a single character. Mozi possessed a heart of benevolence and righteousness, yet he lacked the method of "wuwu" (non-non), which restores order by reorganizing it from the root. Further on, the passage cites the Mozi and other texts to show that "universal love" (jian ai), "opposition to aggression" (fei gong), "exalting conformity" (shang tong), and "economy in expenditure" (jie yong) are all efforts applied to concrete affairs, not empty talk of stillness. In sum: the people cannot avoid toil, and a state cannot avoid acting. True "non-action" is selflessness, following principle, and accord with things, and it is not an idle governance that refuses to act.

Commentary on the Huainanzi

Have you heard that Your Majesty intends to raise an army against the state of Song? Do you mean to first make certain you can take Song before sending out the troops?

Even if you disregard the suffering of the common people, the waste of wealth and labor, the exhaustion of the soldiers, and the damage to the weapons, and are willing to bear a reputation for unrighteousness throughout the realm while gaining not a single inch of land, would you still attack? (Song had committed no offense. To attack it while bearing the name of unrighteousness would still be to attack.)

The King said: "It is plain that we will not obtain Song, yet we would commit an unrighteous act. Why should we still attack?"

Mozi said: "Your servant sees that Your Majesty will certainly harm the Way of righteousness and will not obtain Song."

The King said: "Gongshu Ban (Lu Ban) is the most skilled artisan in the realm. He built cloud ladders (very tall siege engines whose tops seemed to reach the clouds, hence the name) to attack Song. Why could he not take it?" (Gongshu, that is, Lu Ban, was then serving in the state of Chu.)

Mozi said: "Please let Gongshu Ban attack, and let your servant defend."

Gongshu Ban then set out his siege engines to attack Song, and Mozi set out his defenses against them. They attacked nine times, and Mozi repelled them nine times, so the attackers could not enter the city. ("Ru" means to enter, that is, to breach and take.)

Thereupon the army withdrew and ceased its attack on Song. ("Che" means to stop.)

Duan Ganmu declined office and refused its stipend, living in seclusion at home. Marquis Wen of Wei passed through the lane where he lived (under the Zhou system, twenty-five households made up one lü). While in his carriage, the Marquis bent forward and rested his hand on the front crossbar to show respect ("shi" means bending over the crossbar to honor a man of virtue. The Record of Rites says that when riding in a carriage one should look at the horse's tail while bending over the crossbar, and that in a war chariot one does not bend over it, in order to display martial dignity.)

His attendant asked: "Why does my lord perform this salute?"

Marquis Wen said: "Duan Ganmu is inside, so I perform this salute."

The attendant said again: "Duan Ganmu is merely a scholar in plain cloth. Is it not excessive for my lord to salute his lane?"

Marquis Wen said: "Duan Ganmu does not chase after power, position, and profit. He holds the Way of the gentleman in his heart and lives hidden in a poor lane, yet his reputation travels a thousand li. ("Sheng shi" means that his fame spreads far and wide.) How could I dare not perform the salute?" ("Wu" means "do not" or "dare not.")

"Duan Ganmu is glorified by his virtue, while I am glorified by my power. Duan Ganmu takes righteousness as his wealth, while I take riches as mine. Power is not as honorable as virtue, and wealth is not as lofty as righteousness. Even if Duan Ganmu wished to exchange himself for my position, I would not agree, for I would not trade his virtue for my high station. Each day I dwell on this, and I feel ashamed even before his shadow. ("Ying" means form, or bodily shadow.) How could you think of belittling him?"

Afterward, when the state of Qin was about to raise troops to attack Wei, the Minister of War (Sima) ……

Vernacular Interpretation

Yu Jian said: Duan Ganmu was a worthy man. His ruler treated him with ritual courtesy, so no one in the realm failed to know of it, and no feudal lord failed to hear of it. If Qin were to raise an army against Wei, would it not surely harm righteousness? Thereupon Qin withdrew its troops and no longer attacked Wei.

Mozi hastened a thousand li to preserve Chu and Song. Duan Ganmu shut his gate and would not go out, yet he kept Qin and Wei at peace. One "went" and one "stayed," their methods were opposite, and yet both preserved their states. This is what is meant by "different roads, same destination."

Those who fight fire use jars and bottles, and some use basins and bowls. Their vessels differ in shape, round, square, sharp, or blunt, and they hold different amounts of water, yet their effect in extinguishing the fire is the same. So too the songs of Qin, Chu, Yan, and Wei differ in melody, yet all bring joy, and the mourning cries of the Nine Yi and Eight Di peoples differ in tone, yet all express sorrow. The principle is the same. (The Nine Yi were nine barbarian peoples of the east; the Eight Di were eight kinds of Di tribes of the north.)

Song is the outward expression of joy, and weeping is the manifestation of grief. When the heart is stirred within, there is a response without. The key lies in what moves one.

The heart of the sage is never, day or night, without the thought of benefiting others, so the reach of his grace and the effect of his work are the greater. In a declining age, many people reject learning. They often say that human nature has its strengths and weaknesses, like fish that leap and magpies that fly, that this is innate and can be neither increased nor diminished. I do not agree. The leaping of fish and the flying of magpies are like humans and horses each being of their own kind: their bones and forms are received from Heaven and cannot be changed. If this view were followed, humans and horses would not be of the same kind. (Humans are humans and horses are horses; they were never confused with one another to begin with.)

When a horse is still a colt, it leaps, kicks up its hooves, raises its tail, and runs wildly, beyond human control. (A horse under five chi in height is called a ju, and because it runs in the wild grasslands it is called a caoju, a "grass colt." Qiao means to raise, and zhi means to restrain.) It bites and chews with enough force to crush bone and muscle. This is the nature of the horse. Extending this reasoning, one should not use "fish leap and magpies fly" to deny that people can learn and can change.

Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainanzi (Hongliejie)

An unbroken horse is stiff-boned and hard-hooved. It can knock through a cart's railings and gnaw a hole through a man's chest (zhà, "to bite," and zǎn, "to gnaw through"). Only when the horse-groom (yǔrén) has tamed it (rǎo, "to tame") and a skilled driver has trained it, fitting it with yoke, halter, bit, and reins, will it advance without shirking, even across deep ditches and steep ravines.

The point is that a horse is born with the form of a horse, but it does not become a good mount on its own. Its ability to pull a cart and be driven is entirely the product of training. The horse is a dull animal, one that the text compares to a creature of ignorance (chóng), and yet it must still be trained before it can grasp human intentions. A person, then, needs it even more.

Some people are upright by nature and good at heart. Once they resolve to strive, their will is filled out, and as they accumulate effort, their conduct comes to embody righteousness (pēngpíng, describing a mind full of intent and gathered thought). Others have a nature and vital disposition that can be guided from within, so that they arrive at the Way without much formal study. Yao, Shun, and King Wen belong to this kind. The commentary explains that they had good natures that could be taught, and that sages know without learning, as in the line from the Shijing, "Unknowing, unknowing, they follow the pattern of the Lord" (bù shí bù zhī, shùn dì zhī zé).

There are also people who indulge in dissipation and excess, who cannot be persuaded by the Way and cannot be moved by Virtue (dé). A strict father cannot set them straight, and a good teacher cannot transform them. Danzhu and Shangjun, the sons of Yao and Shun, are examples. The commentary quotes the line "I teach you earnestly, yet you listen with contempt" (huì ěr zhūnzhūn, tīng wǒ miǎomiǎo). Some people have fine, smooth cheeks and white, even teeth, and are attractive without powder or rouge. Xi Shi and Yangwen are cited for this. The phrase "fine skin" refers to delicate complexion, and the words for "graceful" and "lovely" refer to bearing. Others have crooked mouths and hunched bodies, and no amount of white powder or dark paint can make them beautiful. Mo Mu and Pi Qu are examples of such ugly figures. The commentary gives the readings of these names.

Most people fall between these extremes. They are not as good as Yao or Shun, nor as bad as Shangjun. They are not as beautiful as Xi Shi, nor as ugly as Mo Mu. These ordinary people are exactly those whom moral cultivation is meant to guide. Applying fragrant oils and powder is itself a way of shaping a person.

The text then observes that there are sons who kill their fathers, yet few parents in the world abandon their children entirely because of this. Why is that? The following passage suggests that teaching, along with kinship and human relations, still operates in such cases. This section stresses the general necessity of education and does not excuse wrongdoing.

Note: Much of the original's annotation consists of Han-dynasty glosses that explain characters, give etymologies, and cite the Shijing. In this vernacular version, the glosses have been folded into parenthetical hints.

A Plain-Language Reading of the Huainan Hongliejie (Huainanzi)

Many people revere their fathers. Some Confucians went astray, yet the proper Way (Dao) of the former kings was never abolished on that account. Why not? Because many still practice it. If someone now rejects learning itself because some learners have erred, it is like giving up eating because one once ate too much, or giving up walking because one once tripped. That is confusion. (Note: Dan Zhu (Danzhu) and Shang Jun were difficult to teach. To conclude from this that "there is no need to learn" is the same confusion.)

A good horse can go forward without a whip or bit, while a poor horse cannot move even with two bits in its mouth. To conclude from this that whips and bits should never be used would be foolish. (A good horse can move on its own and does not always need tools. A poor horse cannot manage without restraint. To discard all tools on that basis is a narrow view.)

A timid person holding a sharp sword cannot cut with it and cannot pierce with it, but a brave warrior who charges with bare hands can break ribs and injure the body. (In the state of Chu, the term wu could refer to a warrior. The character pronounced zhe means to break.) To discard famous swords such as Gan Jiang and Mo Xie because of this, and to fight with bare hands alone, would be absurd.

What people say should accord with the majority and be close to common custom. To speak only of the lowest depths, the "Yellow Springs" (Huang Quan), while ignoring the highest heights, the "Nine Heavens" (Jiu Tian), is to cling to one extreme at each end. How could such a view become a fair and public judgment? (Gong, here, means fair and commonly accepted.)

Oranges and pomelos keep growing in winter, yet people call winter a season of death, though many people die in summer. Shepherd's purse and wheat wither in summer, yet people call summer a season of life, though many people live through it. Rivers sometimes bend and flow north or south, yet people always say rivers flow east. The planet Jupiter (Suixing) at the position Yin is called Shetí, and the central planet Saturn, which guards the four directions, is called Zhenxing. The sun and moon naturally move east, yet people often say the stars and sun and moon shift west, because they take the larger reference as the basis. (Jupiter at Yin is called Shetí. Saturn, guarding the four directions from the center, is called Zhenxing. The other celestial bodies appear to shift west relative to it, so the text says the greater standard (dadi) is taken as the basis.)

Among the Hu peoples there are those who understand reason and benefit, yet people generalize that they are all zhì, meaning headstrong, perverse, unreasonable, and unable to comprehend. The Hu are often like this, so the many are taken to represent the whole. (The character is pronounced close to zhi, with a slow breath, the sound held at the tip of the tongue.) Among the Yue peoples there are some slow-witted individuals, yet people generalize that they are all yan, meaning frivolous, sharp-tempered, and hasty. Again, the many are taken to represent the whole. (The character is pronounced close to yan.)

On "Chao"

People call someone who is hasty and eager to get ahead chao (a variant character meaning quick-tempered and fond of contending). The phrase "name them by their many" means the passage will now give many such sage-kings as examples. Yao is one of them: his eyebrows had eight colors.

Yao: Eight-Colored Brows, Nine Openings Clear, Impartial

Yao had eight colors in his eyebrows, and his nine openings (the eyes, ears, mouth, nose, and other orifices) were clear and unobstructed. He governed with fairness and no private favor.

Yao's mother, Qingdu: Tradition says she was a daughter of the Heavenly Emperor. She lived in the household of Yi Changru and was about twenty, not yet married. While going out to watch by a river, she saw a red dragon arrive carrying a chart. The red dragon received the heavenly mandate and bore a chart of the world. In the chart appeared a man in red robes with a shining face, eight-colored eyebrows, and long whiskers and temples, an image of the Red Emperor. Qingdu was stirred and became pregnant. Suddenly dark clouds gathered, the red dragon united with her, and she bore Yao. Yao was born as the auspicious chart had shown, so his brows had eight colors and his nine openings were clear, enabling him to penetrate the sagely Dao. "Without private favor" means he had no partiality in his likes or dislikes.

One word and the myriad people were united: When Yao issued a single word of benevolent government, the myriad people gathered in harmony and submitted to him. "United" means they all followed together without weariness.

Shun: Double Pupils, Knowing People, Setting Standards

Shun was born with double pupils (two pupils in each eye), called Chongming, meaning he could see clearly and knew people. He promoted the sixteen ministers (sixteen virtuous officials).

His deeds could serve as models for later generations, and his words could serve as a model of writing. The Analects says that when Shun held the realm, "how resplendent were his accomplishments and his refinements," and "how lofty," which describes this kind of virtuous achievement.

Yu: Triple Ear Passages, Great Penetration, Benefit and Relief

Yu had three passages in his ears, like channels through which everything flowed, and he was called Great Penetration. He could see through the advantages and dangers of the whole realm, clear away what blocked and stagnated, and make government reach everywhere.

Promoting benefit and removing harm, dredging rivers and draining floods: He channeled rivers and removed floods to benefit the common people. Tradition says that Master Liu, observing at the Luorui confluence, saw clouds and said: "Were it not for Yu, we would perhaps have become fish." That is, without Great Yu controlling the waters, we would have become fish, so Yu is taken as the model of promoting benefit and removing harm.

Yu was born from stone: His mother, Xiuji, conceived after encountering a stone, and at his birth he came out by splitting open her chest.

King Wen: Four Nipples, Great Benevolence, Those the Realm Turns To

King Wen had four nipples and was called Great Benevolence. The breast nourishes people, symbolizing the nurture of the realm.

The realm turned to him and the common people felt close to him. As Earl of the West, he suffered under the cruel rule of Zhou, yet already held two of every three parts of the realm. Having received the heavenly mandate, he governed the west, so the common people drew near to him.

Gaoyao: Horse Mouth, Utmost Trustworthiness, Deciding Cases

Gaoyao had a horse-like mouth and was called Utmost Trustworthiness. His words were never empty, and his sincerity was complete.

Deciding cases clearly and understanding human feeling: He judged legal cases with clarity and could perceive human emotion. ("Perceive" here means to know and to examine.)

Xie: Born from an Egg

Xie was born from an egg. His mother, Jiandi, a daughter of the Youxin clan (a walled-city clan), swallowed a swallow's egg and conceived; when she gave birth to Xie, he emerged from her back. The Book of Odes says, "Heaven's mandate came to the dark bird, descended and gave birth to Shang," which refers to this story.

Shihuang: Born Able to Write

Shihuang (said by some to be Cangjie) could write from birth. Cangjie saw the patterns of bird tracks and realized they could be used for writing, so he was called Shihuang. Others hold that Shihuang and Cangjie were the same person or were linked in legend.

Yi

The scripture breaks off at the word "Yi." The later text should contain an account of Yi, and this passage only names him. His specific examples must be found elsewhere in the book.

Note: Most of the above are the birth-mandate myths and extraordinary-sign legends of early sage-kings and worthy ministers (colored brows, double pupils, ear passages, four nipples, horse mouth, birth from stone, birth from an egg). Ancient readers used them to symbolize virtue, spiritual power, or heavenly mandate. They are not factual biographies in the modern sense. It is best to read them as a symbolic lineage of sage-kings, connected to the Huainanzi's discussions of Heaven and humanity and of the virtue (De) of the sage.

Yi (the legendary archer who was once ruler of the state of Youqiong) had a long left arm and was skilled at archery. Worthies such as these nine, even if one appeared only once in a thousand years, would still be born in succession. Now, since one lacks both the heavenly mandate and assistance of the five sages—Yao, Shun, Yu, Tang, and King Wen of Zhou—and rarely obtains the abilities of the four outstanding talents—Gao Yao, Hou Ji, Xie, and Shihuang—to wish to abandon learning and act only according to one’s natural disposition is like throwing away a boat yet wanting to walk on water.

When the Yuchang sword (a precious sword famous for its sharpness) has just been cast, if it has not been ground and whetted, striking with it cannot cut things, and thrusting with it cannot penetrate. Once its edge is carefully polished bright on a whetstone, it can sever a large boat like a dragon boat in the water and pierce rhinoceros-hide armor on land—showing its incomparable sharpness. When a bright mirror has just been cast, it is blurred and cannot reflect a person’s face; once it is wiped with powdered dark tin and polished with white felt, even sideburns and eyebrows can be seen clearly. For people, learning is like a whetstone and polishing material. To hold that learning is without benefit is to misjudge its function.

The shortcomings of the wise fall short of the strengths that the foolish possess; the deficiencies of the worthy fall short of the surplus that ordinary people possess. Why is this? When the people of Song paint and the people of Wu craft vessels and do carving—engraving ornamental patterns and chiseling out forms and standards—they can produce intricate, exquisite, and unexpected variations; even sages like Yao and Shun would find it hard to surpass them. The young women of Cai and the young women of Wei weave colored ribbons and interweave extraordinary colors, using black as the ground and setting off red patterns; the ingenuity in their craft is beyond even the wisdom of Yu and Tang.

Could not keep up means one could not match the skilled craftsmanship of the women of those two states.

Everything that heaven covers and earth carries is contained within the six directions (the combined term for up, down, and the four cardinal directions, referring to cosmic space), and is entrusted to the space between heaven and earth. Living beings with flesh and blood, born from the transformations of yin and yang qi, include some with horns and tusks, some with forward claws and rear spurs, and some that beat their wings and seize prey. There are also wriggling worms, which gather together when pleased and fight one another when angry. (Jiebo means to pounce and tear; si means to the utmost degree; qi is read as in che qi; rao is read as in rao duo.)

They move toward what benefits them and flee what harms them, and this instinct is no different from that of humans. Humans also avoid harm and seek benefit, though not in every case, which is why the earlier text says "although." Yet however sharp their claws and teeth, or however strong their sinews and bones, they cannot escape being subdued by people, because they cannot communicate their intentions to one another and their strength cannot be combined into one force. Each has only the innate momentum of its own nature (shi here means its inherent power), and none receives transformation from outside (it does not rely on learning or strategy to add to its thinking from without). Thus, when their strength is spent, their undertakings fail. (Jie means to exhaust, and ju means to fail.)

Geese fly with the wind to conserve their strength, and they carry reeds in their beaks to evade zeng yi (a corded arrow and a cord-tethered bolt; zeng is an arrow with a cord attached, and yi is a cord attached to a bolt). Carrying the reed keeps the cord from catching their wings. Ants know to build mounds (die, ant hills), badgers dig winding burrows, tigers hide in dense grass, and wild boars lie concealed among jie mao (two kinds of wild grass). They lash together and cut branches to build shelters, dig connected burrows, imitate human dwellings, use the shade of trees to shield themselves from rain (fang means to cover and protect), and use tree shade to block the sun (bi means to shelter). This too is the way birds and beasts know to gather where it benefits them.

Suppose a person were born in a remote and backward country (pi means remote, and lou means crude and backward), grew up beneath a broken roof and leaking walls, had no brothers as a child and no parents as a youth, had never seen the rites with their eyes, and had never heard of the xian gu (the way of the sages of old) with their ears, and lived alone in a small room without going out (zhuan shi means a small room). Even if such a person were not foolish by nature, the things they understood would surely be very few.

In antiquity, Cang Jie created writing, Rong Cheng (a minister of the Yellow Emperor who devised the calendar and calculated the movements and measures of the sun, moon, and stars) made the calendar, Hu Cao (also a minister of the Yellow Emperor) made clothing, as the Book of Changes says that the Yellow Emperor "hung down robes and garments," and Hou Ji taught agriculture. Without these things, people would be much like those confined to the crude room described above.

Huainanzi Vernacular Interpretation

Jia (sowing the hundred grains, as the Odes say, "sow the hundred grains"), Yidi brewing wine (see Shiben), and Xi Zhong building carts (legend holds that Xi Zhong served as the Chief Carter under the Xia dynasty and was enfeoffed at Xue). Each of these six possessed a divine understanding of the Way and left traces of sagely wisdom.

Thus, when earlier people accomplished something and left it to later generations, they did not monopolize every ability as a single individual. Each did what they knew and valued what they wished to pass on (da, to understand and transmit), and so they prepared tools for all under heaven (bei, ready for use).

If these six were made to swap their trades today, even the most discerning person would be unable to explain why it could not be done. (Jian, the same as zhi, "to know," shows that each person has things they cannot do.) The myriad things are too numerous for one person's knowledge to cover (yan, to cover).

After the Zhou house, there were no worthies like the six masters, yet people still kept to their own trades. Those living now may not individually possess the talents of any one of them, yet they understand the way of the six worthies. Why? Because teaching was passed down in sequence and continued without interruption, so knowledge could circulate (shi she xu, to impart and to continue). From this we see that learning must not cease (yi, to stop), and the principle is clear.

The blind cannot tell day from night or distinguish black from white, yet they can play the zither: pressing the strings, plucking in combination and repeating the hui marks, grasping, striking, and brushing, with fingers as quick as a mengmeng insect, never missing a note. (Can shen bing xian fu hui refers to using both hands together; jue yuan biao fu refers to quick plucking and striking techniques; mo meng describes extreme agility, as fluent as one who has mastered the hui positions, read the che sui (carriage ornaments), bent wood into a square, or marked with a blade.) Yet let someone who has never played the se zither try, and even with the keen sight of Li Zhu (a figure of the Yellow Emperor's time whose eyes could see a hair at a hundred paces) or the nimbleness of Jue Duo (another swift figure of that era), their fingers would not bend and stretch. Why? Because of habit and sustained practice, as noted above regarding "never missing a string." Thus a bow must wait for the straightening material (jiao, pronounced close to jing) before it can be tuned, and a sword must wait for the whetstone (di) before it can be sharpened.

Jade is extremely hard, yet it can be carved into animal forms, with head and tail fully shaped, by a tool (lin) used for working stone. The Odes say, "Stones from other hills can serve to polish jade." Some read the character as lian, and one account identifies it with lan. This is the achievement of the craftsman Lin Zhu.

Wood is straight enough to follow the ink line, yet people bend it by carving. Metal and tin are soft, yet they are cast into weapons. Earth is soft, yet it is fired into pottery. Each is worked according to its nature. Thus Yao had Yi shoot down the nine suns, and Shun had Yu level the waters and soil. This was not because one person could do everything, but because each person used their particular strength.

Key point: skills are divided among many people and transmitted through teaching. The blind can play the zither, and bows and swords are perfected through practice. All of this shows that learning must not cease. One should not expect a single person to combine the abilities of the six worthies, nor attempt to master the six arts without study.

Huainanzi Vernacular Interpretation

A crooked piece of wood, once corrected, can be shaped into a wheel as true as one drawn with a compass, because the force that straightens the bend makes it possible. Even a hard stone such as Tangbi, as firm as fine jade, can be carved and polished into a vessel. The mind and spirit work the same way. They are fine and smooth, subtle and hard to perceive, and they change in an instant. They shift with the things they meet, rising like clouds and drifting like wind. Everything depends on how they are used.

If a gentleman carefully weighs his abilities and repeatedly whets his talents, using spirit-like wisdom (shenming) to survey the myriad things and penetrate the principles of affairs, tracing each matter from beginning to end and glimpsing the realm beyond all exteriors, he can wander freely beyond the mundane world, standing apart and rising above the crowd. This is the state of the sage, whose mind roams across the world.

Yet even with such lofty aspirations, one cannot sit idle in quiet contemplation all day. One must still play the qin and read books, reflecting on the learning of the worthy high officials of antiquity and amusing oneself through discussion and debate. One must also manage worldly affairs, distinguish right from wrong and gain from harm, and weigh profit and loss to foresee fortune and misfortune. One must establish standards of conduct that can serve as models, exhaust the roots and branches of principles, clarify the true nature of events, cultivate what is good, discard what is evil, and display these lessons for later generations. Leaving an enduring legacy after death and enjoying lasting fame in life are achievements that talented people can aspire to. Yet almost no one attains them, because people are careless and lazy and have no leisure in their days. (Those who are frivolous and changeable neglect the pursuit of the Dao (the Way), and because they talk much but have no time for study, they end up this way.)

People on barren, thin land often have a devotion to righteousness, because they toil. People on rich, fertile land are often without talent, because they live in ease. Viewed in this light, one need not strive for cleverness. It is better to keep to plainness and love learning. From rulers and ministers down to common folk, no one under heaven has achieved success without self-exertion.

Note: Tangbi is the name of a hard stone. Yinkuo refers to the force used to straighten bent timber. Chenai (dust) here serves as a metaphor for the profound and subtle realm. Suyuan means to seek out and discern. Touman refers to frivolous and careless neglect. The passage as a whole addresses talent and learning: talent is not fixed by heaven, and idleness makes accomplishment difficult. Hardship sparks ambition, while ease dulls ability, so self-strengthening and a love of learning are essential.

(Above, on learning) Such a thing has never happened. The Shijing (Book of Odes) says: "Day by day and month by month, learning gleams with ever greater light." (From the ode "Jing" (Reverence) in the Song section. It means that one who does good accomplishes something each day and practices something each month, and so should study diligently to reach brilliance. This is the principle of encouraging learning.)

Fame can be established, and merit can be achieved through effort ("wu" means to devote oneself to a task, and "qiang" means to exert oneself). Therefore the gentleman gathers his aspirations and rectifies his body and mind in order to seek out an enlightened teacher (a teacher being the standard for others to emulate). He stirs his integrity and conduct to lofty heights, so as to rise above the mundane world and not go along with the crowd.

How can this be shown? Long ago there was Nan Cechou. He regarded it as a shame that the sage Way alone was lost to himself. He bathed in frost and dew, wore straw sandals, and trudged over mountains and rivers, brushing through brambles. ("Cui" means to bathe, "xi" means to wear, "jiao" is a straw sandal, and "jue" means to hurry without following the proper path. Hence "trudging," and hence "brushing through brambles." Nan is a surname, and Cechou is a given name; his courtesy name was Gai, and he was a native of Lu.)

A hundred she of travel left heavy calluses, yet he dared not rest (a hundred li make one she, and his feet grew thick calluses). Nan met Laozi and received a single word of instruction. (Laozi, also called Lao Dan, courtesy name Boyang, was a native of Quli in Ku County of Chu. A shrine to him still stands in the present-day state of Chen, which lies south of Lu, hence "Nan met Laozi." The "single word" means that the Way was in full accord.)

His spirit grew clear and bright, and his dull hearing became open and unobstructed. ("Xiao" means clear and bright, and "ling" means thoroughly transparent. "Wen" is like "chun" (pure, sincere), meaning utterly devoted.) Joyfully, he went seven days without eating, as though feasting on a grand banquet. (A man who goes seven days without food will die, so seven days is the limit. A taolao, or grand banquet, is one with all three sacrificial animals present.)

Thus his brilliance illuminated the four seas, and his name was passed down to later generations. ("Shi" means to extend.) His understanding penetrated heaven and earth. ("Da" means to comprehend, and "lüe" means to measure.) He discerned the finest details down to a hair's breadth. ("Cha" means clarity.) His praise was spoken by many, passed on from one generation to the next, and has not ceased to this day. ("Ye" refers to the world. This means that Cechou was praised, and his reputation was passed along by word of mouth through the world, and continues without end to the present.) This is what is meant by a name that can be established through effort.

When Wu and Chu went to war (King Helü of Wu fought King Zhao of Chu at Baiju), Mo Xiao Daxin gripped the hand of his charioteer and said, "Today we face a powerful enemy, we face sharp blades, and we are exposed to arrows and stones." ("Mo" means great, and "xiao" means many, referring to an official in charge of the masses. Daxin was a minister of Chu, grandson of Chengde Ziyu. "Qiang" refers to Wu. "Meng" means to face, and "shi" here means arrows, while "stone" refers to crossbow stones.)

This passage recounts the story of Shen Baoxu, a high-ranking official of the Chu state, who sought military aid from Qin to save his homeland. At that time, the Wu state was devouring the Central Plains states like a greedy wild boar or a giant serpent, with Chu bearing the brunt of the invasion. Shen Baoxu reasoned that instead of dying on the battlefield like an ordinary soldier, it would be more effective to humble himself and seek help from other feudal lords.

Carrying dry provisions and barefoot, he traversed mountains and rivers, crossed treacherous peaks and deep valleys, and forded countless streams. Layers of calluses formed on his feet during the arduous journey. For seven days and nights without rest, he pressed onward until reaching the Qin court. There he stood like a crane—neither eating nor sleeping—weeping day and night until his face turned ashen and gaunt. With tears streaming down his face, he prostrated himself before Duke Ai of Qin.

Shen Baoxu warned the Qin ruler: "Wu is like a ferocious beast consuming the Central Plains states. After Chu falls victim, Qin will be next. My sovereign has lost his ancestral altars (sheji, symbolizing state power), and I have come specifically to beg for assistance." Through contrasting ordinary military sacrifice with the efficacy of diplomatic appeals, this narrative highlights Shen Baoxu's wisdom and perseverance in serving his country.

Xi Yue, a minister of Chu, said: "Our lord, King Zhao, has traveled far away to Sui. The common people are scattered and displaced, and husbands, wives, and their families have no leisure to live in peace. ('Huang' means leisure, 'qi' refers to kneeling, and 'chu' means to dwell in peace.) This minister has been sent to report the emergency." The King of Qin then dispatched a thousand chariots and seventy thousand foot soldiers under the command of Zi Hu (a Qin grandee of the Ziju clan, personally named Yue Hu). (The Zuo Zhuan says each chariot carried five hundred men, for a total of 37,500. Here the text gives a thousand chariots and seventy thousand foot soldiers, and the numbers do not agree.) They crossed the Hangu Pass (some say the Wu Pass) and marched east, attacking Wu on the Zhuo River. They did not in fact win, but they preserved Chu. (The Zhuo is probably the Jiang River. The Zuo Zhuan says Wu was defeated at the Gongxu Stream, which lay in Chu territory.) The achievement was stored in the ancestral temple and recorded in the statutes. ('Lie' means merit, and 'xianfa' means law and decree.) This was an enterprise that could barely be accomplished.

The seven-chi body (that is, the human body) is filled with worry in its heart, wearies its skin and flesh, and knows pain and sickness. Cold, heat, and human feeling are all the same. ('Yi' means identical.) The sage knows that opportunities are hard to come by and must seize what can be done. Therefore he toils his body and labors his form, his heart anxious and wary. ('Pu gan' is equivalent to jiejü, "to be wary and fearful.") He does not avoid difficulty or trouble, and he does not shun danger.

I have heard of the battles of Zi Fa (a general under King Wei of Chu). His army advanced like a shot arrow, joined like thunder and lightning, and scattered like wind and rain. Its round formations matched the compass and its square formations matched the carpenter's square. It broke enemy lines and stormed their positions, and nothing could stop it. It was sure to win naval battles and sure to take cities under siege. The soldiers did not treat their own lives lightly or seek death for its own sake. They strove to lead from the front and left the benefit to later generations, so their fame was established and never abandoned. ('Ming' refers to martial fame, the name of "pacifying the state." 'Duo' means to abandon.) This is ceaseless self-strengthening that leads to success. ('Cheng' is like 'li,' to establish.) Thus, if farmers do not exert themselves, the granaries will not be full. ('Qiang' means to exert effort.) If officials are not stern, their purpose will not be focused. ('Jing' means concentrated attention.) If generals and ministers are not strong, their achievements will not be realized. ('Lie' means enterprise.) If the sovereign and the lords are slack, later generations will have no name. ('Shi' is like 'shen,' the person.) The Odes say: "My horses are dark and strong, and the six reins are as smooth as silk." (The ode is "Huang Huang Zhe Hua" in the Lesser Odes, where the phrase describes the even, well-controlled handling of the team.) "Riding on and driving on, seeking counsel everywhere": galloping across the four directions and consulting wise minds throughout the land.

What people cling to and pursue is often precisely what is difficult to achieve. The Book of Songs says one should press forward and meet difficulties with loyalty and trustworthiness—not for one’s own gain, but with the utmost care. This is what the sages devote themselves to.

Those who understand the myriad things are not troubled by strange events. Those who grasp how things work are not frightened by monsters. Those who understand the Great Dao cannot be shaken by bizarre claims. Those skilled at distinguishing words cannot be dazzled by empty reputations. Those who examine appearances closely cannot be deceived by false images.

Most people in the world esteem antiquity and look down on the present. So those who speak of the Dao must attribute their teachings to Shennong and the Yellow Emperor before people will accept them. In other words, the teachings must be presented as the work of these two sages for people to believe them; only then will people put them into practice. In chaotic times, foolish rulers often elevate and honor things said to have distant, exalted origins. Students are misled by public opinion: they revere what they have heard, sit upright as they praise it, and straighten their collars as they recite it. This is like a shadow following a body or an echo answering a sound. They merely imitate what is said without understanding its principles. That is why they cannot distinguish right from wrong.

Without a compass and square, even Xi Zhong could not determine what is round or square; without a straightedge and line, even Lu Ban could not determine what is crooked or straight. When Zhong Ziqi died, Bo Ya snapped his strings and smashed his zither, knowing that no one in the world remained who could appreciate his music. Zhong was his clan name, Zi a customary form of address, and Qi his personal name; he was skilled in music. Bo Ya was a man of Chu. Seeing that no one in the world could understand his music as Ziqi had, he snapped the strings and destroyed his zither.

After Hui Shi died, Zhuangzi stopped writing, for he saw that there was no one left in the world with whom he could discuss matters deeply. Hui Shi was a man of Song and served as minister to King Hui of Liang. Zhuangzi, whose personal name was Zhou, came from Meng County in the state of Song. He wrote thirty-three chapters of Daoist teachings.

Xiang Tuo was seven years old when he became Confucius’s teacher. Confucius could listen to him because of his young age. But if a young person tried to lecture village elders, they would knock him on the head just to defend themselves—what principle could he possibly explain? “Village” means the local community; “knock” means to strike from the side; and “elder” means a senior person. The image is of a young person speaking to elders, who knock him on the head to protect themselves. The point is that if age alone is the measure, the Dao cannot be made clear.

A Plain-Language Interpretation of Huainan Honglie Jie

Long ago, Xie Zi (a debater surnamed Xie, here referring generally to debaters from the eastern states) went to visit King Hui of Qin (ruler of Qin and son of Duke Xiao of Qin). The king greatly admired what he had to say.

King Hui asked Tang Guliang (an official of Qin) about Xie Zi. Tang Guliang replied, “Xie Zi is a debater from the eastern states. He is skilled at adapting his arguments and using clever words to win the trust of his young ruler.”

After hearing this, King Hui held back his anger and waited for Xie Zi. When Xie Zi later returned, the king refused to listen to him. It was not that Xie Zi’s arguments had changed; the listener’s state of mind had changed. That is what “change” means here.

If you mistake the gong and zhi notes for the yu mode, you cannot blame the strings. If you taste sweetness as bitterness, you cannot blame the flavor itself. The error lies with the listener or taster. A man from Chu once cooked monkey meat and served it to his neighbors. Thinking it was dog stew, they ate it with relish. Later, when they learned it was monkey meat, they stamped the ground and vomited up everything they had eaten. In truth, this man had never really known how to distinguish flavors.

A musician in Handan composed a new tune and falsely claimed that Li Qi (a famous singer of ancient times) had written it. Everyone eagerly learned it. Later, when they found out it was not Li Qi’s work, they all abandoned the tune. In truth, these people had never really understood music.

A villager came upon a piece of unworked jade (raw jade) and treasured it for its appearance, keeping it safe. He took it out to show others, but everyone thought it was just a stone, so he threw it away. In truth, this man had never really recognized jade.

Thus, someone with clear inner discernment, able to distinguish the genuine from the false, will value what is truly so; the standard is the same in ancient and modern times. Without such inward discernment, one merely hears a reputation from afar and blindly admires it.

Plain-Language Interpretation

When people hear what others say, they often treasure something simply because it is “ancient.” Yet things from recent times may be precious, or they may not be.

The He Shi Jade: Recognition Bought with Tears of Blood

This is the story of He Shi, who wept tears of blood at the foot of Mount Jing.

He Shi, a man of Jing, found a fine unworked jade—a block of jade not yet cut open—beneath Mount Jing. He offered it to King Wu of Chu, who took it for an ordinary stone and had He Shi’s right toes cut off. After King Wen came to the throne, He Shi offered it again. He wept until his tears ran with blood, showing that the jade was genuine. King Wen said: “The former king wrongly judged the matter and punished him lightly by cutting off his foot. Now let us cut open the stone more deeply.” When it was opened, it proved just as He Shi had said. It was therefore called the He Shi Jade Disc.

Swords: A Famous Name Counts for More Than a Sharp Edge

Some swords were broken at the blade, chipped along the sides, curled at the edge, and rusty, yet they were said to be King Qingxiang’s swords—the swords used by King Qingxiang of Chu—and everyone rushed to wear them.

Other swords had no chips along the sides and no decoration, yet their edges were curled, they were dull and worn, and they had no cutting edge at all. Even when someone falsely claimed they had belonged to King Qingxiang of Chu, nobles still admired them and competed to wear them.

One account says that King Qingxiang was skilled at casting swords, and that the craftsman’s name was Ren, pronounced like “ren” in “renmin.”

Zithers: A Famous Attribution Brings a Crowd; An Unknown One Brings Contempt

Some zithers were uneven to pluck, bent and warped, damaged, and so loose in tone that their sounds scattered. Yet when they were called King Zhuang of Chu’s zithers, his favored concubines competed to play them.

(Some versions read “ancestral hall” instead of “favored concubines.”)

Miaoshan Ingots and Goat-Head Blades: Sharp, Yet No One Wears Them

The ingots from Mount Miaoshan, a mountain in Chu that produced fine metal, and the goat-head blades, a kind of knife made by Bai Yangzi, could cut through a dragon boat in the water and pierce rhinoceros-hide armor on land. Yet without anyone promoting them by attaching a famous name, no one wore them.

Mountain Paulownia Zithers and Streamside Catalpa Soundboards: Clear Music, No Acclaim

Zithers made from mountain paulownia, with soundboards of streamside catalpa, produced clear, cool, and harmonious tones. They were admired by Tang Ya, a skilled musician like Shi Kuang. Yet unless they were included among the recognized “famous instruments,” even knowledgeable people paid them no mind.

The Discerning Person: Practical Value, Not Empty Fame

Those who wear swords seek sharpness; they do not seek merely the names Moyang and Moye, famous swords.

Those who ride horses seek a thousand-mile range; they do not seek merely a famous breed.

A discerning person understands how things work. Without that understanding, one is no better than ordinary people, who prize what is distant and admire reputation without seeking practical worth. The discerning person does the opposite: a sword should be sharp, a horse should travel far, jade should be genuine, and an instrument should be useful. However famous their names, a dull sword, a poor horse, a rough stone, and a broken zither are not what one truly seeks.

Main idea: People often prize the ancient and scorn the present, admiring reputation while disregarding substance. He Shi’s tears, King Qingxiang’s swords, and King Zhuang’s zithers all show how something becomes prized when it bears a famous name. The Miaoshan ingots and mountain paulownia zithers were useful, yet without renown no one wore or played them. A discerning person seeks a sharp sword and a far-ranging horse, not the names Moyang and Moye. This contrasts with the habit of treating anything said to come from ancient times as precious: neither antiquity nor fame can replace a sharp edge, a thousand-mile journey, genuine jade, or clear music.

A Plain-Language Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

Those who play the qin seek instruments with beautiful tones, like Minglian and Xiuying. They would not expect to find such music in instruments like Lanxie or Haozhong, whose pitches are off and whose sound is deafening.

Those who read poetry and the classics seek to understand their principles and grasp how things work. They do not fixate on memorizing a few celebrated works, such as the “Great Plan” and the “Hymns of Shang,” from the Book of Documents and the Book of Odes.

When sages distinguish right from wrong, their clarity is like the eye distinguishing black from white, or the ear distinguishing clear tones from muddy ones—the clear tones, for instance, like the Shang pitch, and the muddy ones like the Gong pitch. Ordinary people cannot do this.

Their hearts have no guiding center and cannot receive what is true. They are like a posthumous child who performs the proper mourning rites on Long Mountain without ever having known what his father looked like. In his heart, he has no real connection to the deceased, and so cannot truly grieve.

Twins may look exactly alike, yet only their mother can tell them apart. Jade and stone may look alike, yet only a skilled craftsman, such as Bian He, can tell the genuine from the false. And only a sage can explain the subtle points in the classics.

If someone today were to pass off the writings of a newly acclaimed sage as the work of Confucius or Mozi, disciples would study them line by line, and there would be no shortage of followers. People are often dazzled by the names “Confucius” and “Mozi”; they may not know whether the ideas really came from them or whether they wrote the works at all.

A beautiful woman need not be another Xishi, and a person of understanding need not belong to the school of Confucius or Mozi. When someone truly understands how things work, they can write a book and use comparisons to make their meaning clear. That is what it means to know.

If a truly upright and clear-minded person holds the “Dark Mirror” in their heart—where “dark” is like clear water and “mirror” like a polished surface, reflecting things plainly without letting the heart shift with changing times—and then opens a book and lays out its essential points for others to see, they could enter the coffin that very day without regret. As the saying goes, “If one hears the Dao in the morning, one may die content in the evening.” What would there be to lament?

Long ago, Duke Ping of Jin, son of Duke Dao, ordered a bell to be cast. When it was finished, he showed it to Shi Kuang, who was skilled in music. Shi Kuang said, “This bell is out of tune.”

This passage expounds profound truths about beauty and ugliness, true appreciation and misunderstanding.

When people present their creative works, everyone may praise them, yet the works remain imperfect. Why is this? As the ancient master musician Shi Kuang observed: If future generations lack true music connoisseurs, so be it; but should knowledgeable listeners emerge, they would inevitably detect the bells' imperfect tuning. Thus Shi Kuang meticulously tuned his bells precisely to await future generations of true appreciators.

The sages of the Three Dynasties (Xia, Shang, Zhou) and the Five Hegemons of the Spring and Autumn period possessed the same innate wisdom as we do. Why then did they achieve enduring reputations as sages while we ordinary people remain obscure? Because they cultivated rigorous self-discipline and established moral principles, whereas we indulge in frivolity and squander our days.

The text then employs the metaphor of beauty: Were peerless beauties like Mao Qiang and Xi Shi to appear with dead rats in their mouths, draped in hedgehog skins, clad in leopard pelts, and girded with dead snakes, even common passersby would cover their noses and look askance. This demonstrates that even the most beautiful become repulsive when outwardly defiled.

Conversely, when properly adorned—with cosmetics enhancing their features, wearing exquisite Axi silk and Qi gauze garments, adorned with jade pendants, moving with graceful steps, perfumed with aromatic herbs, their eyes sparkling with mirth, smiling to reveal pearly teeth and charming dimples—then even princes and nobles would be utterly captivated.

Plain-Language Interpretation

Source: Huainan Honglie Jie (a work in the Huainanzi commentary tradition)

If someone carries themself with great dignity and an air of pride, others often feel intimidated, irritated, and restless in their presence, yet are still drawn to that person’s bearing and find themselves admiring them. (“Dantuo” refers to greed and desire; “anxious heart” means feeling troubled and unable to sit still.)

But suppose someone has only ordinary talent, is muddled and unable to tell things apart, bears a bad reputation and has acted without integrity, has no respectable occupation to pursue, and does not study skills such as the arts of divination and cultivation. How could they blame others for frowning at them, covering their noses, and looking at them with disgust?

Consider, too, performers who beat drums and dance. (“Drumming and dancing” may refer to the dances of Zheng; Zheng Xiu, a favored consort of King Huai of Chu, was skilled in song and dance, so the term may refer to Zheng-style dancing. Another interpretation takes “Zheng” to mean solemn and “performing the dance” to mean dancing with force.) Their bodies turn like wheels—or, according to another reading, like wheels spinning backward. They bend until they nearly touch the ground, then lean and sway with graceful, sinuous movements, changing their expressions and twisting their bodies. (They bend low as if laying a drum cart flat and taking it apart; they turn and circle, deepening the curves of the dance.) Their allure seems almost divine, as though they were imitating the gods. Their bodies are like fragrant angelica stirred by the autumn wind: angelica is a fragrant herb, and the wind suggests a supple figure. Their hair streams out like a fluttering banner, folding and then unfurling. They race about like fine horses, swift and vigorous.

In the performance known as “Muxi,” the dancers raise great trees such as paulownia and catalpa, gripping their crooked branches. (“Xi” means to perform or lift; paulownia and catalpa are both large trees; “crooked branches” may also be written as “broken branches.”) They leap like monkeys, delighting in climbing among lush leaves. (The dancers move like monkeys, never setting their feet firmly on the ground, and favor high, leafy branches.) They soar skyward like dragons, then curl themselves around branches like swallows. (They evoke dragons coiling around clouds and swallows perching on branches.) Holding thick, leafy boughs, they dance among the spreading trees. (They grasp the great branches and use the trees as part of the dance; “spreading” describes abundant branches and foliage.) They move like dragons riding clouds and birds gathering on mountains, grappling, reaching, and seizing with consummate agility and skill; “dense and leaping” describes their light, nimble flips and turns.

Every spectator is moved to the heart and left with aching feet. (The dance is so exquisite and daring that it stirs the heart and makes the feet ache, conveying the audience’s absorbed attention and tension.) Only then does the dancer proceed slowly, smile faintly, arrange their robe, and bring the performance to a composed close. (They walk slowly again, smile, put on their dance robe, and settle their posture for the final movements.)

Understand this: the drum dancers are not naturally weak or given to submissive bending, and the Muxi performance is not mere play. (Muxi is a kind of martial dance involving lifting trees and climbing branches, not casual amusement.)

Note: This passage relies mainly on analogy. It compares the beauty and danger of physical arts such as Zheng-style dancing and Muxi with the earlier image of a person of ordinary talent and disreputable conduct, whom others recoil from. The audience’s aching hearts and feet, and the dancer’s slow steps and smile, point to the difference between skill and moral character; the passage is not simply describing song and dance. Here, “arts and methods” broadly refers to disciplines and practices such as divination, daoyin exercises, and cultivation.

This passage illustrates how all things require time and gradual accumulation to develop. Just as we cannot see a tree growing taller each day, yet over time its growth becomes evident ("生木之长莫见其益有时而修" - the growth of trees shows no visible increase yet becomes substantial in time). Similarly, a whetstone shows no apparent wear with daily use, but over years it gradually wears thin ("砥砺䃺监莫见其损有时而薄" - the grinding stone reveals no visible loss yet becomes thinner over time).

The text contrasts two types of plants: wild greens like goosefoot and pulse may grow several inches daily, yet never become timber strong enough for roof beams ("不可以为櫨栋" - unfit to serve as pillars or ridgepoles). Whereas precious woods like catalpa and camphor require seven years to mature, but ultimately yield materials for coffins or ships - objects of enduring value ("可以为棺舟" - suitable for crafting coffins and vessels).

From this natural observation, the author derives profound lessons for human cultivation: easily achieved things tend to bear small rewards ("易成者名小" - easily accomplished deeds bring minor renown), while endeavors requiring sustained effort yield greater merit ("难成者功大" - hard-won achievements bring substantial merit). When noble persons cultivate virtue ("修美" - refining excellence), though results may not appear immediately, blessings inevitably follow ("福将在后至" - fortune shall arrive in due course). The passage concludes with a quote from the Book of Songs celebrating gradual progress: through daily accumulation and monthly advancement ("日就月将" - daily diligence, monthly progress), persistent learning ultimately leads to radiant enlightenment ("学有缉熙于光明" - through study one attains increasing brilliance reaching illumination).