《淮南鴻烈解》Vol. 29

An Explanatory Guide to the Essentials of the Huainan Honglie

Explanatory Notes on the Essentials of the Huainan Honglie, Volume Twenty-Eight

Recorded by Xu Shen, Minister and Libationer to the Grand Commandant

Essentials

The Honglie—the Huainanzi—comprises twenty chapters. This chapter selects their central points, identifies each chapter’s main purpose, traces their finer insights, and describes the work’s overall structure.

Writing a book and advancing its arguments are meant to set out the guiding principles of De and to order human affairs: to examine the patterns of Heaven above, assess the nature of Earth below, and understand the principles that connect all things. Though this may not penetrate the most mysterious depths, it is enough to let readers see the beginning and end of things. If one gathers the essential meaning and outlines its general features without making the language clear and distinct, the work seems simple yet scattered, and loses its guiding purpose. “Simple” refers to the original, natural state; the “great source” means the root of all things. Readers would then be left confused, unable to grasp its meaning.

For this reason, I have used many words and added extensive explanations. Yet I also fear that readers may abandon the root and pursue the branches. To speak only of the Dao and not of worldly affairs would make it impossible to move with the world; to speak only of affairs and not of the Dao would make it impossible to roam and rest alongside the transformations of nature. So I have written twenty chapters, with the following titles: “Tracing the Dao,” “The Primordial True,” “Heavenly Patterns,” “Forms of the Earth,” “Seasonal Order,” “Gazing into the Hidden,” “Spirit and Essence,” “The Fundamental Classic,” “The Ruler’s Art,” “Measured Sayings,” “Bringing Customs into Harmony,” “The Dao’s Responses,” “General Discussions,” “Clarifying Words,” “Military Strategy,” “Explaining the Mountains,” “Explaining the Forests,” “Human Affairs,” “Cultivating Endeavor,” and “The Great Clan.”

“Tracing the Dao”—It takes the Six Directions as its model, bringing the myriad forms into a single undivided whole, like the presence of the Great One, in which the qi of the North Pole is united. It probes the depths of the obscure and flies through the vast reaches of emptiness, the bounds of the Dao. By relying on the small to encompass the great and holding to the concise to govern the broad, it teaches people the sequence of fortune and misfortune and the advantages and dangers of action and stillness. If one can truly understand its intent, one may attain a vast and comprehensive vision. If one wishes to grasp the times in a single statement, one should honor Heaven and preserve one’s true nature. To understand them in a second statement, one should regard things as lesser and value oneself. To investigate them in a third, one should put desire aside and return to one’s natural feelings. Hold fast to its central teaching and let it nourish the five viscera and moisten the skin; take its principles as one’s guide and practice them throughout life. Then one can respond to the myriad circumstances and comprehend the hundred transformations, as easily as turning a ball in one’s palm, and find contentment in oneself.

“The Primordial True”—It investigates the transformations of beginning and end and traces the subtle essence of being and nonbeing as they circle and interweave…

This passage explains the problem each chapter of the Huainanzi addresses and how it helps people understand Heaven, Earth, and human affairs. In broad terms, it teaches people to step back from the ceaseless changes of the myriad things and return to themselves; to discern the proper measure between benevolence and righteousness; and to bring the principles of sameness and difference into accord. It calls on readers to contemplate the central principles of utmost De and grasp the laws of change. The chapter “Explaining the Symbols” (Shuofu) discusses symbols and the principles of names amid the mysterious, enabling people to reach the Mother of Creation—the root of primordial Qi and the Great One before differentiation.

“Celestial Patterns” (Tianwen)

This chapter discusses celestial patterns to harmonize Yin-Yang Qi, bring order to the light of the sun and moon, and understand the seasons of closure and opening. It clarifies the movements of the stars, auspicious and inauspicious signs, and the ways of following or opposing the natural course. It teaches people to avoid the calamities caused by taboos, follow the seasons, and act according to the established ways of the Five Spirits—divine principles associated with the four seasons and directions—so that they may receive the Dao of Heaven and follow it without falling into disorder.

“Forms of the Earth” (Dixing)

This chapter discusses the forms of the Earth to explore the far reaches of north and south and the breadth of east and west; understand the distribution of mountains, hills, rivers, and valleys; identify the regions associated with the myriad things; and learn the abundance of living creatures. It enumerates mountains and abysses and lays out routes over near and distant terrain, enabling people to become informed and well prepared. The order established by the Earth’s forms should not be easily shaken by external things, nor should people be unsettled by strange occurrences.

“Seasonal Ordinances” (Shize)

This chapter discusses seasonal ordinances by following the seasons of Heaven and making full use of the Earth’s resources. It calls for acting according to measure and in accord with human relationships. The twelve seasonal divisions serve as its standard: one month makes one division, and the cycle begins again. At the end of the year, after twelve divisions, it starts anew with the first month. By following this boundless cycle, people can understand fortune and misfortune. Decisions to act or refrain, to open or close, each have their own “Dragon Taboos”—ancient date-based restrictions on what one might do. In the Central Plains these were called days when spirits and deities imposed taboos; among the northern Hu and southern Yue, customs of this kind were called “inviting the dragon.” On this basis, rulers issue commands and provide instruction at the proper times, learning what they ought to do. “Surveying the Obscure” (Lanming) says that the Dao of utmost subtlety reaches through the nine heavens, while what sinks to the utmost degree of subtlety vanishes into the formless; it is pure and enters the utmost clarity, and its radiant brightness reaches into the dark.

“Spirit” (Jingshen) and discussions that use things to illustrate principles

“Spirit” discusses the origins of spirit and physical substance. “Beginning to Gather Things” (Naishi Lanshu) and “Things” (Wu) gather examples from the myriad things and draw comparisons among them. Starting from images and forms that can serve as metaphors, they open blocked passages and clear away obstructions, directing the mind toward the infinite. In this way, they explain how things of the same kind respond to one another, how beings with the same Qi resonate, how Yin-Yang joins, and how traces and forms give signs. This enables people to observe widely and see far.

The final phrase, “Spirit is what traces things back to their source…”

The purpose of the chapter “Spirit” is to trace matters to their origins: how spirit arises and how physical substance depends on it. This lays the groundwork for the following discussions, which use things to convey meaning and explain resonance and correspondence among related kinds.

Plain-Language Interpretation

From birth, people gradually come to understand their bodies. The nine apertures take their form from the patterns of Heaven; their blood and Qi (vital energy) correspond to thunder, lightning, wind, and rain; and their feelings of joy and anger can be compared to day and night, cold and heat.

People gradually understand from birth that their bodies and nine apertures—the openings of the eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, among others—take their form from the patterns of Heaven. The movement of blood and Qi can be compared to thunder, lightning, wind, and rain, while feelings of joy and anger resemble day and night, cold and heat.

They also discern the difference between life and death, the traces of sameness and difference, and the points at which to regulate movement and stillness, so as to return to the root of nature and life.

They go on to discern the distinction between life and death, and the traces of sameness and difference; they regulate the moments for movement and stillness, thereby returning to the root of nature and life. Here, “nature” means one’s inborn nature, and “life” refers to one’s destiny and existence.

The purpose is to help people cherish and nourish their spirit, calm their hun and po, avoid losing themselves to external things, and firmly keep to the spiritual abode of emptiness.

The aim is to help people cherish and nourish their spirit, and soothe and quiet their hun and po—the hun governing thought and awareness, and the po governing the body’s instincts. They should not lose themselves to external things, but firmly keep to “emptiness” as their spiritual home.

The “Basic Classic” reveals the Virtue of the great sage and connects with the Way of the primordial beginning. It sketches the changes from ancient to present times and the decline of the age, praising the flourishing rule of the early sages and condemning the corrupt governance of later times.

The chapter called the “Basic Classic” serves to illuminate the Virtue of the great sage and connect with the Way of the primordial beginning. It broadly outlines the decline of the age and the changes from ancient to present times, praising the grandeur of the early sages and criticizing the misguided politics of later times.

Its purpose is to restrain the sharpness of the ears and eyes and the agitation of the spirit, curb wandering and scattered thoughts, regulate the harmony that nourishes one’s nature, distinguish the conduct of emperors and kings, and set out differences of rank and importance.

Its intent is to rein in the acuity of the senses and restless stirrings of the spirit, and to halt thoughts that drift and scatter. It also aims to regulate the harmony that nourishes one’s nature, distinguish the standards of conduct expected of emperors and kings, and lay out differences in rank and importance.

“The Ruler’s Art” concerns the affairs of governing. It explains how to appoint people according to circumstances and hold them accountable, so that each minister can make full use of their abilities.

“The Ruler’s Art” deals with the ruler’s responsibilities. It explains how to appoint people in response to circumstances and supervise them, so that every minister can use their abilities to the fullest.

It teaches rulers to understand how to wield authority and control their subordinates, to state expectations and demand results, and to assess matters through comparison from several angles. In this way, rulers can hold fast to principles and essentials without giving way to arbitrary anger or delight.

The chapter teaches rulers to grasp how to wield authority and govern their subordinates, set out responsibilities and require results, and assess performance by comparing it from several angles. This enables the ruler to hold to principles and essentials without indulging in arbitrary anger or delight.

Its method is to act directly and distinguish right from wrong, set aside private interests in favor of the public good, and make the officials’ work connect in an orderly way, like spokes meeting at a wheel’s hub. Each person attends to their duties and achieves results. This is the essence of “the Ruler’s Art.”

Its method is to act directly while distinguishing right from wrong, put aside private interests and uphold the public good, and ensure that the officials’ work is orderly and connected, like spokes converging at a wheel’s hub. Each person should carry out their duties and accomplish their work. This is the essence of “the Ruler’s Art.”

The chapter “Miu Cheng” breaks discussions of Dao and De into smaller parts, arranges distinctions between benevolence and righteousness, and touches briefly on everyday affairs. It ultimately brings these subjects together under the Virtue of the divine and the numinous. It uses paired images as comparisons and condenses its points into short sections suited to particular needs, making it possible to argue indirectly and respond to circumstances without running short of material.

The chapter “Miu Cheng” takes discussions of Dao and De and presents them in fragments, lays out distinctions between benevolence and righteousness, and touches briefly on ordinary human affairs, bringing them all under the Virtue of the divine and the numinous. It uses paired images to make comparisons and condenses its points into short sections suited to specific needs. This allows it to develop arguments in varied ways and respond to circumstances without exhausting its material.

“Bringing Customs into Alignment” brings together the strengths and weaknesses of different people, aligns the customs of the Nine Yi peoples, connects discussions across ancient and present times, and integrates the principles of the myriad things. It determines what is appropriate in ritual and righteousness and maps out the beginning and end of human affairs.

“Bringing Customs into Alignment” seeks to bring together the different strengths and shortcomings of people, align the customs of the Nine Yi peoples, connect discussions of ancient and present times, and integrate the principles of the myriad things. It determines what is appropriate in ritual and righteousness, and maps out the course of human affairs from beginning to end.

“Responding to the Dao” gathers traces of events that have unfolded in the present, looks back at events of the past, examines how fortune and misfortune, benefit and harm, can reverse one another, and tests the methods of Laozi and Zhuangzi against the shifting balance of gain and loss.

“Responding to the Dao” gathers traces of events in the present and looks back at those of the past. It examines how fortune and misfortune, benefit and harm, can turn into their opposites, and tests the methods of Laozi and Zhuangzi against the changing balance of gain and loss.

“General Discussions” serves to admonish and analyze in detail…

The chapter “General Discussions” serves to offer admonitions and analyze matters in detail… The text is missing characters here; the intended sense seems to involve admonition and close analysis, but the passage that follows is incomplete.

Note: This passage is an overview of the aims of various chapters of the Huainanzi, rather than an account of specific cultivation practices. Its emphasis on “nourishing the spirit,” “calming the hun and po,” and “keeping to the abode of emptiness” accords with Daoist values of attending to the spirit, holding external things lightly, and maintaining emptiness and stillness.

“Interstices” refers to gaps and intervals. “Blocking” means creating an obstruction, “stuffing” means plugging something up, and “jumbled” refers to things crossing and mixing chaotically. “Joining” means connecting.

“Direct words” are writings that speak plainly about putting the ways of right and wrong into practice. They investigate the simple basis of things and reveal changes in gain and loss, along with benefits and harms. “Words of this kind” are meant to keep people from being blinded by power and profit or enticed by the many vicissitudes of worldly affairs.

“Patterns” means comparing signs with the sun, moon, stars, and other celestial phenomena, examining changes in the times, and moving along with those changes.

“Explanatory words” use analogy to convey the meaning of human affairs, helping people understand the principles of order and disorder. “Selecting distinctions” means choosing subtle and refined statements. “Subtle words” are profound and finely detailed discussions. “Explanation” refers to writing that clarifies principles and makes up for faults and omissions.

“Military strategy” clarifies plans for defeating the enemy, capturing cities, and seizing territory. It analyzes the conditions of war, tactical changes and stratagems, as well as the principles of adapting to circumstances and maintaining the initiative. “Holding back” means refraining from taking the lead and remaining in the position of a guest. Military strategy teaches that without understanding the art of war, one cannot win in battle; without virtue, it is difficult to attack, seize, and defend effectively. Once its principles are truly understood, one can advance, retreat, and move in any direction while avoiding danger. Rather than striking directly at the enemy’s strength, one uses circumstances and makes stillness one’s constant state. One avoids what is solid and attacks what is empty, proceeding as smoothly as a shepherd driving a flock of sheep. This is what it means to discuss the art of war.

“Speaking of mountains” and “speaking of forests” use ingenious and penetrating methods to clear the obstructions that hinder all manner of affairs and to open what is blocked among the myriad things. Through metaphor and imagery, they use things of different kinds and forms to explain principles and help people understand situations. They also organize intricate, elaborate accounts in order to clarify how things work. “Round” means circular; “storehouse” refers to a place where plants and trees gather. “Boundary” suggests a sign or first indication.

“Human relations” means observing changes in fortune and misfortune through examples from the world, examining how benefit and harm transform into one another, tracing the course of gain and loss, and marking the beginning and end of events. “Tip” means the end, and “altar” means a place. This approach analyzes the details of all manner of affairs and lays out the crucial points on which life and death, survival and ruin depend. It teaches that misfortune may turn into good fortune, loss may become gain, success may turn into failure, and benefit may become harm. Those who truly grasp its deeper meaning can respond flexibly to worldly human affairs without being harmed by slander, injury, or poison.

“Cultivating one’s efforts” addresses those who have not yet gained a deep understanding of principles or a thorough grasp of teachings. It urges them to return to stillness and make quiet simplicity their foundation. If they neglect learning, indulge their desires, seek only to satisfy their inclinations, and crave ease through mere expedience, they will block the path leading to the Great Dao.

An Interpretation in Plain Language of Huainan Honglie Jie

The madman has no worries, and the sage has no worries as well. But the sage is free of worry because he sustains himself through harmony and De (Virtue/Power); the madman is free of worry because he does not know good from ill fortune. Thus, “being open and free of action” and “being closed off and free of action” may both appear to be Wuwei (non-action), yet the intent behind Wuwei when one is open and receptive is not the same as when one is closed off. Therefore, books employ ornate language and flowing arguments to make their meaning easier to take in, so that students may pursue it diligently and seek for themselves something close to the Dao (the Way). (“Close” means nearly, or approaching.)

The chapter “Taizu” speaks of a Way that extends across the farthest reaches in all eight directions, rises to the heights above and illuminates the Three Lights—the sun, moon, and stars—and descends to harmonize with water and earth. It runs through past and present, sets human relationships in proper order, gathers the guiding principles of all directions, and returns them to a single foundation. It weaves the way of governance and establishes the order of affairs of state. It also traces its roots to the workings of the heart-mind, brings one’s nature and feelings into order, and settles the clear, tranquil spirit. It clarifies the essence of Shen (spirit)—distinguishing clear from turbid and making it pure—while embracing and entwining with the harmony of Heaven’s Way. From this vantage, one can survey the Five Emperors and Three Kings, harbor the Qi (vital energy) of Heaven and Earth, and embrace the heart of Heaven. By holding to the Middle Way and containing harmony and De within, one gives De form on the inside. Only then can one gather Heaven and Earth together and set Yin-Yang in motion, bringing the four seasons into proper order and peace to the eight directions; extend this influence, and it will take effect. In this way, all things are shaped and all living beings nurtured. One voice calls and a hundred respond; one movement stirs and a hundred follow. Within the Four Seas, all hearts return to the same source. Then the auspicious star appears (the star that stands beside the moon and adds to its brightness), the propitious wind arrives (a wind that does not rustle the branches), a yellow dragon descends, phoenixes nest in rows of trees, and a qilin comes to rest in the countryside.

If De does not take shape within, and one merely applies methods and relies on institutions, the spirits will not respond, blessings and auspicious signs will not arrive, the Four Seas will not pay allegiance, and the people will not be transformed. Thus, giving De form within is the great foundation of governing the world. This is what the chapter “Taizu” in the Honglie seeks to explain. (Hong means “great”; lie means “achievement.” The complete work comprises twenty chapters and is collectively called Honglie.)

The purpose of writing a book is to glimpse the Great Dao and open what is blocked for later students, enabling people in future generations to understand what to undertake and what to relinquish. It helps one engage with things externally without being confused, while inwardly finding a way to settle the spirit, nourish Qi, refine the utmost harmony, and take joy in oneself. This is what one receives from Heaven and Earth. Therefore, if one speaks of the Dao without clarifying beginning and end, one will not know what to model oneself on or rely upon. If one speaks of beginning and end without clarifying Heaven and Earth and the four seasons, one will not know what to avoid. If one speaks of Heaven and Earth and the four seasons without drawing comparisons and using examples, one will not recognize what is subtle. If one speaks of the utmost subtlety without tracing it back to spirit and essence, one will not understand its principles.

Plain-Language Interpretation

If a person’s spirit and vital energy are not guided by the fundamental principles of nourishing life; if one observes human affairs but does not explain them; speaks of the great sage’s De (Virtue) but does not understand how the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) generate and overcome one another; speaks of the way of rulers but does not distinguish what is great or small, weighty or light; or discusses governing a state without clarifying the matter through analogy, then one does not know when stillness or activity is appropriate.

To use analogies without discussing changes in the customs of the age is to miss the great meaning that brings things together. To discuss changing customs without tracing past events is to fail to understand how De responds to its time. To understand De but not the twists and turns of the world is to be unable to accord with the myriad things. To speak in generalities without mastering precise expression is to be unable to respond with ease. To be well versed in documents but ignorant of military strategy is to be unable to handle sudden events. To know only the broad outline without making good use of analogy is to be unable to explain a principle fully. To understand what is just but not the ways of human relations is to be unable to deal with fortune and misfortune. To understand human relations without valuing practical cultivation is to be unable to urge students to strive forward.

If one wishes to make one’s words concise and gather their essential meaning, yet does not take the winding path and probe deeply, one cannot fully grasp the true meaning of De. Therefore, twenty chapters were written, exhausting the principles of Heaven and Earth, bringing the affairs of human life into connection, and setting forth the way of rulers in full. Some passages are detailed, others brief; some are subtle, others broad. Their aims differ, and each has its own subject, yet the Dao (the Way) is contained in them all. Perhaps only a sage can grasp the root and thereby know its branches. If today’s students lack the talent of sages and receive no detailed explanation, they will remain confused all their lives, unable to awaken to the clear and illuminating teaching.

In the Yi Jing (Classic of Changes), Qian and Kun—the Heaven and Earth trigrams—are sufficient to exhaust the meaning of the Dao. The Bagua (Eight Trigrams) can reveal good and ill fortune, and make known calamity and blessing. Yet Fuxi, the legendary sage king who created the trigrams, set forth their sixty-four transformations, while the Zhou royal house—here, King Wen of Zhou—added the six lines to each hexagram. These were used to investigate the clear and illuminating Dao and trace the origin of the myriad things. The notes of the five tones are no more than gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu, yet a five-stringed zither cannot be played with them alone: only when high and low, thick and thin sounds harmonize can a melody take shape. If one draws only a dragon’s head, viewers will not know what kind of creature it is; draw the whole form, and there is no doubt. To speak only of the Dao is too insubstantial; to speak only of things is too concrete.

Plain-Language Interpretation

When discussing the Dao (the Way), learning should be broad; when discussing particular affairs, it can easily seem shallow. If one presses the inquiry without end, one may eventually have nothing more to say.

The purpose of study is to understand the principles; there is no need to say too much. The Dao is mysterious and profound, so words are often elaborated to express its true meaning. The myriad things are numerous, so they are explained at length to make their meaning clear. Though the writing is abundant and interwoven, intricate and varied, and draws on distant sources, its purpose is to sift and cleanse the deepest meaning—washing it clear so it neither stagnates nor runs dry, and can be gathered up without scattering.

Rivers hold more rotting flesh than can be counted, yet a sacrifice takes only a single cupful: that is the great. A white fly drowned in a cup of wine makes an ordinary man unwilling to taste it: that is the small. If one truly understands the arguments of the twenty chapters, sees the ordinary and grasps the essential, one can encompass the Nine Fields—the eight directions and the center—and pass through the Ten Gates—the eight directions, above, and below. Beyond Heaven and Earth, setting mountains and rivers aside, one can govern the forms of all things while roaming freely through the world; that is already a state of ease.

In this state, one can hold the sun and moon without dimming their light, and nourish the myriad things without being depleted. Its vastness and clarity are enough to survey all things; its boundless expanse is enough for free roaming.

In King Wen’s time, Zhou was Son of Heaven. He imposed levies without restraint and killed without end. Those who indulged in pleasure sank into drink and lust, and the palace was packed with people like a marketplace. Zhou also devised the punishment of the heated bronze pillar, disemboweled those who remonstrated, and cut open pregnant women. All under Heaven suffered from him with one heart. For four generations, King Wen’s house had accumulated good deeds: the Great King, King Ji, King Wen, and King Wu cultivated virtue and practiced righteousness. Based in Qi and Zhou, with a territory of no more than a hundred li, they won the allegiance of the two farthest reaches of the realm. King Wen sought to overcome strength and violence through humility and weakness, rid the realm of cruelty and oppression, and establish the Kingly Way. Thus the strategies of the Grand Duke—Jiang Shang, who set out military plans based on the Hidden Tally—came into being. King Wen began this undertaking but did not complete it. King Wu carried it forward, put the Grand Duke’s strategies into practice, gathered what little had been levied in taxes and military service, donned armor and helmet himself, and marched against the ruler who lacked the Dao and punished the unjust, swearing the army in at Muye.

Note: This chapter uses broad diction to convey a connected meaning, and examples of the great and the small, to express the purpose of the twenty chapters of the Huainanzi. It then invokes the history of Zhou’s tyranny, Kings Wen and Wu, and Muye, continuing the thread of the arguments on the Dao and the Kingly Way that runs through the surrounding chapters. When reading alongside the chapter sequence, one may note the structural place of “twenty chapters” and “the Nine Fields and Ten Gates” in the work as a whole.

When King Wu ascended the throne as Son of Heaven, the realm was not yet settled and the lands within the four seas were not yet at peace. He wished to make King Wen’s virtuous rule shine forth and have the Yi and Di peoples come to court bearing tribute. The distant regions could not arrive at once, so he observed the three-year mourning period and laid King Wen’s coffin between the two pillars of the main hall (the coffin was the outer coffin used for the grand burial; the space between the pillars was where host and guests sat facing one another), awaiting the feudal lords from afar. Three years after taking the throne, King Wu died. King Cheng was still an infant in swaddling clothes and could not govern in person. Cai Shu and Guan Shu assisted Prince Lufu (Lufu was the son of Zhou’s elder brother, King Zhou; the Zhou granted him a fief so he could continue the Yin sacrifices and sent Guan and Cai to supervise him) and planned a rebellion. The Duke of Zhou carried forward King Wen’s work and took charge of the government of the Son of Heaven, serving the royal house with the strength of its arms and legs and protecting King Cheng. Fearing that strife over power would continue and that ministers might endanger their ruler, he turned the horses out on Mount Hua and released the cattle in the Peach Forest, destroyed the war drums and broke their drumsticks, and presented himself at court holding his tablet. In this way he brought stability to the royal house and pacified the feudal lords. When King Cheng grew up and could govern in person, the Duke of Zhou was enfeoffed in Lu, where he used these measures to transform local customs. Confucius perfected the ways of Kings Cheng and Kang, transmitted the Duke of Zhou’s teachings, and instructed seventy disciples, who wore the robes of the Ru scholars and studied the classical texts. Thus the learning of the Ru tradition arose. Mozi studied the Ru scholars’ profession and received Confucius’s teachings, but considered their rites cumbersome and difficult to practice (yue means simple and easy). He held that elaborate burials squandered wealth and impoverished the people, while mourning that harmed one’s health damaged the proper conduct of affairs. So he turned away from the Zhou way and adopted the government of the Xia.

In Yu’s time, the world was flooded. Yu himself led the people, with his hair tied back and hanging down, and dredged the Yellow River, dividing it into nine channels that flowed to the sea (ti means to clear a passage and drain; the nine branches were the river’s nine channels, which split near Mount Qi and flowed into the sea). He opened a course through the Yangtze so its waters could flow in nine channels (once the river flowed freely, it divided into nine routes), and opened up the Five Lakes so people could move to higher ground as the waters receded (to open the Five Lakes meant to let the waters flow away from human settlements, while people moved to higher land). He brought the Eastern Sea under control. At the time, people had no time to tend the fire while cooking (hui means to rake the fire aside), nor to wipe themselves dry when soaked (ge means to wipe). Those who died on a mountain were buried on the mountain; those who died in a marsh were buried in the marsh. Thus the practice of conserving resources through simple burials and wearing plain mourning clothes arose.

In the time of Duke Huan of Qi, the Son of Heaven was weak and the feudal lords fought for power. The southern Yi and northern Di peoples attacked the Central States in turn, and the states of the Central States were nearly extinguished, hanging by a thread (the thread refers to a fine strand). Qi bordered the sea to the east and was protected by the Yellow River to the north; its territory was narrow, its farmland scarce, and its population large. Duke Huan used hegemonic power to support the Zhou royal house.

This passage examines the challenges faced by various states during different historical periods and their corresponding governance strategies, illustrating the origins of political philosophies through the works of renowned statesmen.

Duke Huan of Qi was deeply concerned about the plight of the Central States' feudal lords and the invasions by border tribes. Seeking to revitalize the Zhou emperor's authority and continue the legacy of King Wen and King Wu of Zhou, Guan Zhong's political writings emerged to address these needs. In contrast, Duke Jing of Qi indulged in sensual pleasures—building extravagant palaces, casting massive bells whose resounding tones made pheasants cry out, and lavishing rewards on his ministers. With advisors like Liangqiu Ju and Zijia Hui constantly remonstrating by his side, Yanzi's admonitions were compiled into written works.

During the late Warring States period, the six states operated independently without unified leadership, each vying for hegemony where victory determined supremacy. Relying on allied states through treaties and mutual military support for national defense gave rise to the Vertical and Horizontal Alliance strategists' theories of political maneuvering.

When Shen Buhai served as chancellor to Marquis Zhao of Han, the state occupied precarious terrain between powerful neighbors. With remnants of Jin's old systems still lingering while Han's new decrees continuously emerged, contradictory laws left officials in confusion—thus giving birth to Shen Buhai's School of Names (Legalist philosophy).

The Qin people's temperament was fierce and profit-driven—responsive to punishment's deterrence but resistant to moral persuasion, motivated by tangible rewards yet indifferent to empty fame. Blessed with naturally fortified terrain and abundant resources, Duke Xiao of Qin sought to dominate neighboring states through sheer might, making Shang Yang's reformist doctrines perfectly suited to emerge.

As for the Huainanzi (whose author Liu An described his own work), it observes the patterns of heaven and earth, synthesizes historical transformations, evaluates contemporary circumstances to establish systems, and adapts measures to actual conditions. Delving into the essence of the Dao while harmonizing the governance principles of Xia, Shang, and Zhou's sage-kings, its content is encyclopedic yet systematically integrated.

In the profound and mysterious realm, where things are difficult to grasp, the sage examines every subtle detail with an earnest, diligent mind. He casts aside boundaries as narrow and polluted as muddy water—“zhenqie,” a local Chu term for a filthy marsh—and carefully chooses what is clear and tranquil. In this way, he gathers the world under his care and governs the myriad things, responding to change and bringing different kinds of things into connection.

This does not mean following a single fixed course, nor clinging rigidly to the concerns of one corner, becoming entangled and constrained by the many affairs of the world and unable to adapt as circumstances shift.

Thus, when applied to the ordinary business of daily life, it encounters no obstruction. When extended across the vastness of the world, it does not become lax or diffuse. Here, “yao” means “slack” or “loose”: though spread across the world’s breadth, it does not lose its focus or proper measure.

The interlinear notes—such as “chuyu you sheye,” “huye guangda,” “Chu people call diligence jingjin,” and “Chu people call a muddy marsh zhenqie”—record ancient glosses and regional usages. Their meanings have been incorporated into the translation rather than listed separately.