《意林》Vol. 3

The third volume of Yilin records Ma Zong's Tang Dynasty excerpts from the Discourses on Salt and Iron in ten scrolls, primarily documenting the debates between scholars and officials of that era. Below is a modern interpretation of its core ideas:

Those truly skilled at achieving victory need not engage in direct conflict; those adept at warfare do not rely solely on armies, and those who excel at leadership do not depend on formations. Just as artisans who do not work will see resources dwindle, and merchants who cease trade will find precious goods cut off. Even the largest rivers cannot fill a cup with a hole in its bottom, and the vastest mountains and seas cannot satisfy boundless greed (the original text's "excessive desires" refers to insatiable cravings).

Living near a marketplace makes wealth easier to attain, but true prosperity lies in strategy rather than mere toil in the fields. A skilled singer inspires others to carry on their melodies, just as an exceptional talent ensures their legacy endures. Confucius, who adhered rigidly to principle ("square where he could not be round"), once went hungry in Liqiu—demonstrating that unbending integrity may bring hardship.

Beneath dense forests, lush grasses do not thrive; between massive clods of earth, good crops do not grow. Long journeys require carts, sea crossings demand boats, and success depends on resources. Even Ou Yezi, the master swordsmith, could forge bells and tripods using a ruler's materials but could not create vessels out of thin air.

Though fragrant bait is enticing, the true dragon will hide deep upon sensing it, and the phoenix will soar high at the sight of it. A chest full of jade fragments does not constitute treasure. Confucius's seventy disciples left their homes to follow him, abandoning farming to devote themselves to study—yet this may have worsened societal chaos, much like that chest of shattered jade. The key to governing a state lies in practical results, not ornate rhetoric.

Having grain but not eating it still leads to hunger; recognizing talent but not employing it still weakens the nation. Singing is not about the beauty of the voice but the precision of rhythm; discourse is not about flowery language but the truth of its content. High ministers and nobles should serve as models for the world, assisting enlightened rulers above and implementing benevolent policies below.

Those scholars who rigidly cling to texts and indulge in empty theories fail to grasp the Dao of discernment and the shifts of circumstance. Just as strong winds always sweep through forests, flattery surrounds the wealthy and powerful. The ancients saw noble men pursue virtue while petty men chased profit, yet today people use eloquence to seek fame and rank.

If a nine-tiered tower begins to collapse, even the master craftsman Gongshu Ban cannot right it; once corruption pervades the court, not even Yi Yin or Lü Wang (renowned ministers of the Shang and Zhou) can restore order. Today, the path to official selection is in disarray—the rich purchase rank with money, adorning themselves with blue ribbons and silver seals (emblems of high office)—reflecting the corruption of governance at that time.

Those who wield the power of life and death over the common people parade about in ornate carriages, yet remain oblivious to the hardships of those who carry burdens on foot.

The relationship between the central plains and border regions resembles that between limbs and the vital organs. When the outer skin suffers from cold, internal illness arises—mutual affliction between inner and outer realms that fails to provide genuine mutual support. Only through the guiding principles of benevolence, righteousness and Virtue (De), with virtuous guardians maintaining order, can calamitous invasions be prevented.

Qin dynasty laws were denser than autumn grasses, its legal net more constricting than congealed fat—resulting in mutual deception between rulers and subjects, with cunning falsehoods proliferating everywhere. When Confucius encountered a stable fire, he inquired only about human casualties, not the horses, demonstrating his prioritization of people over livestock. Yet Qin law mandated execution for horse thieves and severe punishment for cattle thieves—truly excessive severity.

(Inserting records from the 20th scroll of Shuo Yuan:) East winds bend grasses westward, west winds bend them eastward—just as naturally as rulers influence the common people.

When Yu the Great encountered a criminal, he descended from his carriage and wept. His attendant remarked, "This man was punished for disrespect—why should our lord grieve?" Yu replied: "In Emperor Yao's time, people all took Yao's benevolent heart as their model. Now the people harbor selfish intentions—this is why I sorrow."

While hunting, Duke Jing of Qi encountered a tiger on the mountain and a snake in the valley, asking Yanzi if these were ill omens. Yanzi responded: "The true ill omen is having worthy men in your state yet failing to recognize them; recognizing them yet not employing them; employing them yet not trusting them. Mountains are tigers' natural habitat, watersides snakes' dwelling places—what omen is there in that?"

When Yanzi attended Duke Jing, the duke invited him indoors for warm food during cold weather. Yanzi replied: "I am not a minister serving your meals, but one governing your state."

At seventy years old, Duke Ping of Jin asked Shi Kuang: "I wish to study—is it too late?" Shi Kuang answered: "What's wrong with lighting candles when darkness falls? I've heard: youthful study resembles the morning sun; middle-aged study the noonday light; elderly study the candle's flame—all preferable to groping in darkness." The duke praised this wisdom.

Zengzi, plowing fields in tattered clothes, declined Duke Jing of Lu's offer of a fiefdom, saying: "I've heard that recipients grow fearful of benefactors, while givers grow contemptuous. How can I ensure the duke won't scorn me, nor I fear him?" He ultimately refused the gift.

For officials, their bodies belong to their ruler, their salaries to support parents. A loyal minister doesn't serve two lords; a chaste woman doesn't remarry a second husband.

The true gentleman needs no walls around his dwelling—none would come to destroy or harm him; requires no guards when traveling—none would come to assault or humiliate him. This is the authentic manifestation of Virtue (De).

During a banquet hosted by King Zhuang of Chu, the candles suddenly went out. Someone took advantage of the darkness to tug at a court lady's robe, whereupon she snapped the man’s hat string and reported the incident to the king. King Zhuang remarked, "To punish someone for misconduct while drunk after offering them wine is no way to honor feminine virtue." He then ordered the attendants not to relight the candles and declared, "Tonight, whoever shares my cup must snap their hat string—or they’re not truly enjoying themselves!" The ministers all broke their hat strings before the lights were restored. Later, during a battle with the state of Jin, the man who had tugged at the lady’s robe charged the enemy lines five times in loyal service to the king.

Yang Hu (a powerful minister of Lu during the Spring and Autumn period), after falling out of favor in Wei, traveled north to visit Zhao Jianzi and lamented, "From now on, I’ll never mentor anyone again. Half the court officials I once promoted now work against me." Zhao Jianzi replied, "Those who plant peaches and plums enjoy shade in summer, while those who sow thistles reap prickles in autumn. You planted nothing but thistles—henceforth, be more discerning in whom you nurture."

The art of governance lies in this: never reject someone merely for disagreeing, nor promise something merely to please. Face wealth with integrity, hold office with impartiality, and none can find fault in your conduct. A state’s strength lies not in vast territory but in winning the people’s hearts; governance depends not on numbers but on securing true talent.

King Xuan of Qi once asked Chunyu Kun, "What would you say are my passions, sir?" Chunyu Kun answered, "The ancients had four great loves—Your Majesty shares three: they prized fine steeds, as do you; they savored delicacies, as do you; they adored beauty, as do you. Only in loving worthy scholars do you differ." The king protested, "My state lacks such men—were they here, I’d cherish them." Chunyu Kun countered, "Thousand-mile steeds don’t gallop to your door unbidden, leopard fetuses and elephant humps don’t serve themselves, and legendary beauties like Mao Qiang and Xi Shi don’t throw themselves at you. Yet you seek these eagerly—why not seek worthies?"

Yang Hui sought an audience with Zhao Jianzi, saying, "I’ve been driven out thrice by my village and dismissed five times by rulers. Hearing of your love for talent, I’ve come." The attendants whispered, "If his village rejects him, he’s no team player; repeated dismissals prove disloyalty." But Zhao Jianzi retorted, "Beauty is the envy of the plain, virtue is shunned in chaotic times, and upright conduct draws the hatred of crooked men." He then appointed Yang Hui as his chancellor.

The Duke of Zhou admonished his son Boqin: "Never let governing Lu make you arrogant. Leave one corner unstitched when sewing robes, omit one angle when building palaces—these deliberate imperfections remind us that even spirits abhor perfection."

A state suffers five "chills" (hidden perils)—frostbite isn’t among them: First, when decrees fail beyond the court; second, when the inner chambers meddle in governance; third, when secrets leak abroad...

This scripture expounds principles for personal conduct and state governance, illustrating causal relationships and worldly wisdom through historical parables.

It first enumerates five causes of national decline: failing to honor worthy scholars, prioritizing territorial expansion over domestic affairs, and others. It then demonstrates a chain reaction: power naturally begets wealth, wealth brings status, status breeds arrogance, and arrogance leads to wrongdoing. As the seventy-year-old virtuous scholar of Lu State remarked, "The noble person achieves renown through humility, while the petty person avoids calamity through humility." Life resembles birds in flight—though soaring high, they may still be struck by arrows; or fierce tigers and leopards that ultimately become meals on plates. Hence, maintaining humility is paramount.

The text particularly emphasizes that natural disasters and human misfortunes aren't the gravest dangers—the true peril lies when officials covet salaries and dare not remonstrate, and when close ministers fear punishment and refrain from candid speech. Like the metaphorical dialogue between Zhao Xiangzi and Zilu: "How can striking a great bell with a wooden stick produce resounding tones?" This illustrates that proper methods are required to utilize talents effectively.

Regarding human relationships, it observes that true feelings become apparent during wealth disparities, and the depth of friendship reveals itself at life-and-death moments. Words are like weapons—careless speech rebounds to harm oneself. Just as a dyehouse's environment determines fabric colors, noble persons must carefully choose their companions. Birds cherish their feathers, tigers value their claws, for these are foundations of survival.

Finally, through stories of Yanzi and Zhao Jianzi, it demonstrates that true nobility lies not in fine clothes or delicacies, but in virtue (De). As a high-ranking official, Yanzi dressed his household in coarse cloth and fed his horses plain fodder, believing virtue to be a state's true glory. Zhao Jianzi rode in a worn carriage clad in old furs, maintaining that "the more accomplished the noble person, the more humble; the petty person grows arrogant when empowered." When Zigong advised Zishi to study the Book of Songs, Zishi replied that filial piety and fraternal duty came first—embodying the importance of attending to fundamentals.

This passage contains multiple allusions and dialogues, which I will explain one by one:

Regarding the attitude toward learning, someone once asked Zigong (a disciple of Confucius) why he still studied. Zigong replied, "Should I reduce my study of poetry? I am still learning poetry." This embodies the Confucian spirit of continuous learning.

The original text "Xinxu" comprised thirty volumes, but by the Song dynasty most had been lost, leaving only ten extant volumes. The passage references a memorial submitted by Liu Xiang (Imperial Counselor and Reminder) in the fourth year of the Heping era during the Han dynasty.

The idiom "Highbrow songs find few singers" originates here, meaning the more refined the music, the fewer can join in harmony. Just as water can both float and sink a boat, all things have two sides.

When the seventy-year-old Master Chuqiu appeared before Lord Mengchang wearing a fur coat, the lord thought him too old. Master Chuqiu responded: "If you want me to chase carriages, hunt deer, or fight tigers, then indeed I am old. But if it's analyzing complex matters or making decisive judgments, I feel youthful—how could I be old?" This left Lord Mengchang ashamed.

When the King of Wei wanted to build a tower reaching heaven, he decreed death for any remonstrators. Xu Wan arrived carrying baskets, offering to assist. He calculated: "Heaven stands fifteen thousand li above earth, so this tower needs seven thousand five hundred li height, requiring an eight thousand li foundation—larger than Wei's territory. Unless you conquer neighboring states, subdue western tribes, and prepare proportionate materials and labor..." The king silently abandoned the project.

A man offering fish to Zheng's prime minister was refused. The minister explained: "Precisely because I love fish I cannot accept. Accepting fish would cost my position and salary, leaving me no fish; refusing ensures my salary keeps buying fish."

When sixteen-year-old Ziqi was sent to govern Acheng, Lord Qi regretted it and sent a recall. The messenger returned saying: "Ziqi will surely succeed—the elders support him. Combining their wisdom with his youthful decisiveness guarantees success." Indeed, Ziqi melted weapons into farm tools and opened granaries for the people.

This passage from Yilin gathers multiple allusions and philosophical maxims, which I will explain section by section:

Regarding governance, the text states that when granaries are used to relieve impoverished people, the county will be well-governed. The State of Wei heard of a young man governing a city without an army or food reserves, so they launched an attack. Unexpectedly, the local people—fathers, sons, and brothers—armed themselves with their own weapons and fought back, ultimately defeating the Wei army.

Yang Xiong, in Fayan, proposed: Rather than burying oneself in hard study, it is better to find a good teacher. A teacher serves as a model for people—just as those who wish to learn from Yan Hui will become disciples like Yan Hui, and horses aspiring to be thousand-mile steeds will become such steeds. The fu poetry of true poets is ornate yet well-structured, while that of mere rhetoricians is excessively florid. If the Confucian school also employed the fu style, then Jia Yi would be considered as having "entered the hall," and Sima Xiangru as having "entered the inner chamber."

On the "Four Gravities": Dignified speech establishes standards, dignified conduct cultivates virtue, dignified demeanor commands respect, and dignified interests yield admirable results. The "Four Frivolities," conversely, bring the opposite: frivolous speech invites trouble, frivolous conduct invites blame, frivolous demeanor invites disgrace, and frivolous interests invite licentiousness. It is like a knife or brush that must be sharpened when dull.

The Dao of heaven and earth is unfathomable: If the heavens could be measured, their canopy over all things would be too shallow; if the earth could be fathomed, its capacity to bear all things would be too thin. For explicating the Dao of heaven, nothing surpasses the Book of Changes; for elucidating geography, nothing is clearer than the Book of Documents; for clarifying rituals, nothing is more lucid than the Book of Rites; for expressing aspirations, nothing is more apt than the Book of Songs; and for illuminating principles, nothing is more profound than the Spring and Autumn Annals.

Several exemplary figures are mentioned: Liu Xiahui was an exiled loyal minister of the Eastern Zhou, while Bo Yi and Shu Qi were recluses who starved to death in the western mountains. Li Zhongyuan neither altered his aspirations nor disgraced his station, avoiding extremes to embrace the Middle Way. Confucius's teachings are like the Yangtze and Yellow Rivers, flowing through the Central Plains and ultimately merging into the sea.

The Taixuan Jing records: Pheasants leap in the forest, otters dive into deep pools. When an owl dwells in the woods, other birds fear it. Liu An, Prince of Huainan, was showy but insubstantial. The hegemonic achievements of Duke Huan of Qi and Duke Wen of Jin followed each other like the sun and moon. Confucius's literary brilliance was sufficient, and Laozi's Dao and De (Virtue/Power) were sufficient (Note: The title "Lord Lao" did not exist in the Western Han; this may be a later annotation). Mountains, rivers, lakes, and marshes—all things find their place within them.

A noble person thrives when attaining proper position, yet maintains virtuous conduct even when losing status; whereas a petty person becomes tyrannical when gaining power and falls into utter ruin when losing it.

Huan Tan's New Treatise states: The Three Sovereigns (Fuxi, Shennong, and the Yellow Emperor) governed the world through the Dao (the Way), the Five Emperors (Shaohao, Zhuanxu, Diku, Yao, and Shun) transformed the people with De (Virtue/Power), the Three Kings (Yu of Xia, Tang of Shang, and King Wen of Zhou) promoted benevolence and righteousness, while the Five Hegemons relied on strategic wisdom. Those who ruled without laws or punishments were called "Sovereigns"; those who established laws but avoided punishments were called "Emperors"; those who rewarded good and punished evil, with feudal lords paying homage, were called "Kings"; and those who mobilized armies and formed alliances were called "Hegemons." The character for "King" (王) originally meant "to return and follow," signifying a ruler whose benevolent influence drew all people under heaven to submit. The governance of the Kingly Way is pure and noble, while the methods of Hegemons, though mixed, can still achieve merit. Both can rule the world, govern the populace, and pass their legacy to descendants—their essence is the same. Even if one cannot attain the Kingly Way, achieving the Hegemonic Way is still commendable.

The foundation of governing a state lies in selecting talent, for truly great talents are like a ruler's arms and wings. A clear mirror reflects truth, turtle shells (divination tools) foretell fortune and misfortune, regulations serve as measuring tools, and standards act as rulers. Outstanding figures of previous generations established merit and achieved lasting fame—their portraits hung in palaces and government offices are the state's true priceless treasures, surpassing even the most precious jades like the He Shi Bi, Xia Dynasty jade pendants, the Pearl of Sui, or luminous night pearls. Every era produces sages like Yi Yin, Lü Shang (Jiang Ziya), Zhang Liang, and Chen Ping—it's merely a matter of whether rulers recognize talent or ministers remain unappointed.

Talents are classified into five grades: The first grade consists of scholars who carefully manage household affairs and maintain harmony among neighbors; the second comprises county-level talents who are astute, proficient in documents, and fair in handling affairs; the third includes honest, trustworthy, incorruptible, and impartial prefectural talents who can mediate between superiors and subordinates; the fourth encompasses ministers and advisors who master classics, possess noble character, excel in governance, and demonstrate magnanimity and steadiness; the highest grade consists of extraordinary talents with unparalleled ability to strategize national affairs.

Had Jia Yi not been demoted and disheartened, he might not have written such brilliant essays; had Prince Huainan Liu An not been wealthy and prominent, he couldn't have gathered scholars to compile books; had Sima Qian not served as court historian, he couldn't have systematically organized ancient and contemporary history; had Yang Xiong not experienced poverty, he might not have produced such profound discourses. Though the Three Virtuous Men of Shang (Weizi, Jizi, and Bi Gan) achieved no success in life, their posthumous fame became illustrious—yet what practical aid did this provide to state affairs or their ruler at the time?

Regarding the popular game of Go, some say it resembles military strategy. Master players often place stones sparsely in the opening, thereby gaining greater room for maneuver.

This passage from Yilin contains multiple allusions and discussions, which I will explain one by one:

Regarding strategic decision-making: The superior strategy is to seize the vast regions of Wu and Chu, the middle strategy is to control the Chengbao fortress and vie for key territories, and the inferior strategy is to garrison Changsha to intimidate Nanyue. This mirrors the three strategies proposed by Xue Gong when analyzing Ying Bu's rebellion during the Western Han. The generals and ministers of Emperor Gengshi failed to prepare defenses, ultimately trapping themselves in a hopeless situation.

King Wen of Zhou buried nameless bones—though it served no practical purpose, the people revered his benevolence. In contrast, Wang Mang (referred to as "Wang Weng" in the text) dissected human bodies to examine internal organs. Though not fatal, his actions provoked disgust due to their cruelty.

Dongfang Shuo spoke concisely yet profoundly and was regarded as a great sage in his time. However, the author argues that later generations blindly idolized him, akin to mistaking a fox for a civet or a zither for a konghou harp—revealing their ignorance of these distinctions.

The author recalls how Wang Mang sent Meng Sun to perform sacrifices at Mount Tai. Passing through Xuzhou, the governor Song Zhongweng praised the author's talent, comparing him to Chen Ping and Zhang Liang. When Meng Sun excitedly relayed this, the author calmly replied: "After four or five years together, you never praised me, yet you readily believe another's words. Had someone slandered me, would you have trusted that just as easily?"

While serving as Grand Master of Rituals under Wang Mang's regime, the author encountered a matricide case where the court ordered the perpetrator's body burned. The author submitted a memorial urging reconsideration, citing an anecdote from Emperor Xuan of Han's reign: When the chancellor remarked, "Owlets must devour their mothers to fly," a wise man immediately countered, "Even crows feed their parents in return," shaming the chancellor. The author argued that such atrocities should not be publicized—if even the misdeeds of beasts are taboo, how much more so for humans?

The passage concludes with two maxims: "A dragon cannot ascend to heaven without at least a foot of water; a sage cannot rule the world without at least a foot of land." Though the prophecies of the River Chart and Luo Document bore signs, later distortions by interpreters obscured their true meaning.

(Note: "Wang Weng" refers to Wang Mang, as the author served under the Xin dynasty and avoided direct naming; "owlet" denotes an owl, anciently believed to eat its mother; "feeding in return" alludes to the legend of young crows nourishing their parents.)

This passage contains philosophical fragments and anecdotes from Yilin, which I will explain section by section:

On Confucius' status: Some mistakenly believe Confucius belonged only to certain regions. Zhang Zihou called Yang Xiong (Ziyun) the "Confucius of the West," but others countered that Confucius was a sage not just for Lu State, but equally for Qi and Chu. Like paintings on water or carvings on ice that vanish with time, a sage's influence transcends geographical boundaries.

Confucius' teaching method: Confucius educated students through four disciplines (virtuous conduct, speech and rhetoric, governance, and literature), resembling a marketplace displaying diverse goods for people to select according to their needs.

On Yan Hui's premature death: Yan Yuan (Yan Hui) died young from excessive admiration for Confucius, just as people hearing of Chang'an's splendor gaze westward or chew hungrily when smelling meat. Ordinary folk may not discern sages' rankings but still revere them, like common horses chasing thoroughbreds—while the prized steeds remain vigorous by evening, the ordinary ones hang their heads exhausted, too tired to eat.

Dangers of overthinking: The author recounts falling ill from imitating Yang Xiong's ornate writing style in youth. Yang himself admitted that while composing the Sweet Springs Rhapsody for Emperor Cheng of Han, he became so absorbed he dreamt his organs spilled out, then lay sick for a year. This shows excessive mental exertion harms the spirit (Shen).

Zhuangzi's attitude toward death: When gravely ill, Zhuangzi chided weeping disciples: "If I die today, who goes first? Were I to live a century, who follows last? Since death is inevitable, why cling to fleeting life?"

Governing principles: Qu Boyu answered Zigong's question about statecraft: "Governing through not governing" (Wuwei).

On the Classic of Filial Piety: The ancient version contained one scroll with twenty chapters totaling 1,872 characters, differing by over 400 characters from contemporary editions.

Importance of Zuo's Commentary: The Spring and Autumn Annals and its commentary (Zuo Zhuan) are interdependent like a garment's exterior and lining. Scholars like Liu Xiang (Zizheng) and Liu Xin (Zijun) particularly valued Zuo Zhuan—even women in their households recited it—though this approach had limitations.

Governing metaphors: Yao could emulate heaven's Dao because he appointed sages like Shun and Yu. Ruling a large state resembles lifting a net by its main cord or straightening clothes by the collar—grasping the key point mobilizes the whole.

On military campaigns: When the worthy attack the worthy, chaos ensues; when the unworthy attack the unworthy, turmoil follows.

Yellow River's course change: Wang Pingzhong cited Zhou dynasty genealogies recording the Yellow River shifting its course in King Ding's fifth year, proving its channel then differed from Yu the Great's original dredging.

Yang Xiong (styled Ziyun) excelled at composing fu poetry, while Wang Junda was a master of weaponry. I sought to learn from both of them. Yang Xiong said, "Read a thousand fu poems and you'll naturally know how to write them"; Wang Junda said, "Examine a thousand swords and you'll naturally understand them." As the proverb goes: "Through repeated practice reaching divine mastery" (the character 'fu' here means 'repeated practice'—now often interpreted as 'subduing deities through cultivation').

The Five Blessings are: longevity, wealth and honor, health and peace, joy, and flourishing descendants. Like a centipede moving its many legs in harmony, one naturally progresses smoothly.

The Marquis of Quyang once invited the fangshi (Daoist adept) Ximen Junhui to teach him longevity techniques. Junhui said, "Tortoises live three thousand years, cranes live a thousand—how could human potential be inferior to insects and birds?" I countered, "But who has lived alongside tortoises and cranes long enough to verify their lifespans?"

Someone asked, "Why don't sages practice immortality arts to avoid death?" In truth, sages achieve transcendence through "corpse liberation" (xingjie, a Daoist method of ascension)—claims of their deaths simply teach mortals that all life must end.

When the Divine Farmer (Shennong) succeeded Fuxi in governing the world, he crafted a qin zither from phoenix tree wood: 3 chi 6 cun 6 fen long (symbolizing 366 days), 1 cun 8 fen thick (symbolizing triple six), and 6 fen wide (symbolizing the six pitch standards). Its rounded top and flat base represent heaven's roundness and earth's squareness; the tapered shape reflects hierarchy. The character "qin" originally meant "restraint"—ancient sages cultivated their nature through playing. Music composed in adversity, maintaining integrity unchanged, was called "cao"; music from prosperity, benefitting all without obstruction, was called "chang." Yao's melodies were vast and far-reaching, Shun's pure and subtle, Weizi's upright and profound, Jizi's simple yet stirring.

(Quoting Wang Chong's Discourses Weighed in the Balance, Chapter 27) Virtue (De) can be maintained eternally, but official fortunes fluctuate unpredictably. Worthiness depends on ability; encountering opportunity depends on fate. The highly capable and pure may remain obscure, while the mediocre and flawed may rise—just as Yi Yin and Jizi were equally capable ministers: Yi Yin met Tang and became prime minister, while Jizi encountered Zhou and was enslaved. Such is the variance of circumstance.

Pure things soil easily; white things stain quickly. Flies swarm on plain silk, just as Qu Yuan's nobility provoked packs of dogs to bark—they always howl at what stands apart.

This passage explores the relationship between destiny and human effort through various allusions and analogies.

The text begins with the stories of Bo Ya (a renowned musician) and Wang Liang (a master charioteer) to illustrate how envy often drives people to harm those more talented than themselves. Just as fine jade may be slandered and reduced to rubble, those with discernment can still recognize true quality. The same principle applies to selecting talent—one must reject wickedness and embrace virtuous conduct (De).

Regarding fate, the wise observe that wealth and honor are like digging ditches or gathering firewood: persistent effort deepens the trench and yields more wood. Yet a flood may come before the ditch is finished, or a fire may consume the uncollected kindling—such is the inscrutable nature of Heaven's decree (Tianming). Diligent farming brings abundant harvests, and distant trade yields great profit, but those born to prosperity often possess innate physical vigor and exceptional intellect, much like a thousand-mile steed is naturally swift.

When Confucius hurried past a crumbling city gate, he explained, "I loathe its long-standing decay"—a reminder to remain vigilant against persistent dangers. Just as wine contaminated by insects is discarded, or food touched by rats goes uneaten, one must learn to avoid risks.

The Mohists claimed human death held no predetermined fate, while Confucians believed otherwise. The author cites examples like the overnight submergence of Liyang City into a lake or Bai Qi's massacre of 400,000 Zhao soldiers, arguing these fates were preordained. Similarly, when Liu Bang rebelled, a physiognomist prophesied that the lands of Feng and Pei would produce many nobles—individual destinies intertwine with a nation's rise and fall.

Regional temperaments vary: people of Qi are composed, Qin folk are unrestrained, Chu natives are impetuous, and Yan residents are blunt. When Zhang Cigong consulted divination before marriage and was told his bride would bring nobility, he later became chancellor—proof of aligned destinies.

Finally, the text refutes theories of auspicious dwellings or relocation dates, asserting that so-called taboos merely reflect ill fortune. Examples like Qing Bu (who rose from convict to king), Wei Qing's ennoblement, Zhou Yafu's starvation, and Deng Tong's impoverishment demonstrate how bone structure predetermines fate. King Wen of Zhou, born with four nipples, achieved greatness not through cultivation but innate destiny—emphasizing that Heaven's mandate precedes human effort.

This passage explores the inherent goodness of human nature, the dialectical relationship between power and strength, and the authenticity of historical records through various historical anecdotes and natural phenomena.

It begins with natural metaphors: Hou Ji (ancestor of the Zhou dynasty) enjoyed planting games as a child, Confucius played with ritual vessels in his youth, stones are naturally hard, and orchids inherently fragrant—illustrating that benevolence is innate. The example of mosquitoes troubling oxen and horses demonstrates that authority outweighs brute force, just as a shepherd boy can drive a massive ox and a Yue youth can tame an elephant—the key lies in proper methods.

Regarding the lineage of sages, the text questions the saying "dragons beget dragons": Confucius recognized his Shang dynasty ancestry through music, and Xiang Yu knew he was descended from Emperor Shun due to his double pupils. But were Emperor Yao and Emperor Gaozu of Han (Liu Bang) truly sons of dragons? This is clearly untrue.

The passage then lists several disputed legends: Duke Jing of Song extending his life by 21 years through three virtuous statements, millet falling from heaven and horses growing horns when Prince Dan of Yan was imprisoned, the widow of Qi Liang weeping down a city wall, and King Tang cutting his hair to pray for rain. The author considers these fabrications. The infamous tales of King Zhou's "pond of wine and forest of meat," for instance, likely originated from exaggerated descriptions—fermentation residues piled into "hills" and spilled wine called a "pond," rather than an actual scene of three thousand people drinking excessively.

Finally, the case of Jing Ke: legends claim the Qin king exterminated Jing Ke's entire clan, even his village. Yet, judging by Qin Shi Huang's treatment of Li Si (executing only the immediate informants rather than their entire families), it's improbable that Jing Ke's entire hometown was slaughtered. These examples collectively reveal how historical accounts often contain exaggerations and distortions.

Lu Ban, the legendary ancient craftsman, was said to have carved a wooden kite that could fly for three days without landing, and built a wooden chariot with a wooden driver for his mother that disappeared once activated. These accounts are likely fictional.

Confucius is said to have traveled through seventy states during his mission, yet the Analects records him experiencing food shortages in Chen, expulsion from Wei, forgetting the taste of meat in Qi, and the tree-cutting incident in Song—suggesting he actually visited fewer than ten states.

Zigao, a disciple of Confucius, allegedly mourned his parents for three years with such grief that he wept tears of blood and never once revealed his teeth in a smile. But how could one speak without ever showing teeth?

Qin Xi, a virtuous scholar of Qin, supposedly "shattered his skull" while kowtowing to Duke Mu of Qin to recommend Baili Xi. This was likely metaphorical exaggeration—describing intense kowtows rather than literal head-splitting.

When Zu Yi admonished King Zhou, he claimed "all under heaven wish for your demise"—probably hyperbole. Had the entire realm truly opposed the Shang dynasty, it would have collapsed long before the legendary battle with King Wu of Zhou where "blood floated pestles."

Confucius once asked Zigong: "Who excels—you or Yan Hui?" Zigong replied: "Yan Hui comprehends ten things upon hearing one." In truth, Confucius already knew Yan Yuan surpassed Zigong; his question served as a subtle reminder against arrogance.

When Kong Li (Confucius's son) died, he had an inner coffin but no outer one. As a high-ranking official entitled to a three-horse chariot, why didn't Confucius sell a horse for the burial? Yet as a common scholar, he once gave away a horse to help an old acquaintance. Such preferential treatment of outsiders over family violates ritual propriety—unless it reflected his official integrity.

Bo Yi and Shu Qi are celebrated for "yielding the throne" to their elder half-brother and starving on Shouyang Mountain. In reality, their position was usurped. How can forced abdication exemplify virtue? (This passage may originate from anti-Mencius critiques, though details differ.)

When Gong Gong lost the celestial war against Zhuan Xu, he allegedly smashed Mount Buzhou in rage, toppling the pillar of heaven. Nüwa then mended the sky with five-colored stones and propped the four quarters with turtle legs. But if Gong Gong could shatter mountains, why lose to Zhuan Xu? If the sky needed stone repairs, was it jade? How could turtle legs support what mountain pillars once held? And if those legs were massive enough, how did Nüwa sever them? (These myths contain logical inconsistencies.)

This passage integrates Daoist cosmology with social observations, conveying several key ideas:

On the cosmic order of heaven and earth: Ancient sages believed the Celestial Gate (天门) lies northwest while the Earth Gate (地门) resides southeast. Regions like Yangzhou and Yanzhou, being the lowest terrains, suffered most during floods. The heavens manifest through celestial patterns of sun, moon and stars (天文), while earth reveals its principles through mountains, rivers and valleys (地理). Only through the harmonious interaction of heaven's Yang Qi and earth's Yin Qi can all things be nurtured.

Heaven and earth resemble a married couple, with the south elevated and the north depressed. The sun becomes visible when rising from higher elevations but disappears when descending to lower regions. The sky's form resembles an inclined canopy - it must remain suspended to rotate freely, just as a canopy touching ground cannot turn. The sun doesn't literally sink underground, much like a torchbearer's flame becomes invisible beyond ten li though the fire never extinguishes.

Principles of meteorological phenomena: Clouds, fog, rain and snow all originate from earthly vapors ascending, not descending from heaven. Summer generates mist, winter forms frost; warmth brings rain while cold produces snow.

Social observations: Talented individuals often follow prevailing currents, while those upholding moral integrity frequently face rejection. This reflects environmental factors rather than inherent ability differences. Just as women in Qi county all excel at embroidery and Xiangyi women master weaving through daily practice, court officials become adept through lifelong exposure to governance, similar to farmers' children mastering agriculture. Even someone with Confucius' or Mozi's brilliance would struggle initially in unfamiliar systems.

Vivid analogies: Attempting purchases without money won't convince shopkeepers, just as seeking office without genuine capability proves equally futile. Understanding only antiquity while ignoring modernity constitutes "land sinking" (陆沉 - detachment from reality), whereas knowing only modernity without classical foundations represents "blindness" (盲瞽 - rootlessness). A thousand-li horse's hooves appear ordinary until it runs. Though some possess wisdom like gushing springs and virtue like towering mountains, without proper recommendation they remain buried in obscurity.

This passage from Yilin employs multiple metaphors to elucidate principles about talent, natural phenomena, and the resonance between heaven and humanity.

An empty bowl holds no food, so the hungry will not glance at it; a mind devoid of genuine learning will not be employed by the court. Figures like Ban Gu, Jia Kui, and Yang Zhong—historians of the Orchid Terrace (the Han dynasty imperial library)—though renowned for their literary brilliance, were ultimately of little practical use.

One who masters a single classic is called a Confucian scholar (rusheng); one who comprehends both past and present is a learned person (tongren); one who organizes texts is a literary scholar (wenren); but only those who reflect deeply and produce systematic writings deserve the title of "great Confucian" (hongru). Men like Liu Xiang and his son, Yang Xiong, and Huan Tan are as rare as King Wen, King Wu, and the Duke of Zhou. Ban Biao continued the Records of the Grand Historian with over a hundred chapters, recording events in meticulous detail. Readers remarked that while he could not match Sima Qian, he far surpassed his son, Ban Gu.

A divine tortoise lives three hundred years yet grows no larger than a coin; the yarrow plant (shi, used for divination) takes seventy years to sprout a single stalk. These sacred things develop slowly but live long. The worthy Confucian is like the spiritual yarrow or divine tortoise, whereas the maple and parasol tree grow swiftly but have soft, weak bark. The sandalwood and goldenrain tree mature slowly, yet their hard wood can serve as cart axles.

A rushing current can carry away sand and pebbles but cannot move boulders—just as great Confucians and mediocre officials coexist in the world yet differ in essence. Heaven’s will resides in the hearts of sages, and divine intent is conveyed through their words. If there were no sages in the world, who could discern the will of heaven?

Humans in the cosmos are like fleas and lice in clothing, or ants in their nests. In the first month of the year, observe the winds from all directions: a southern wind foretells drought, a northern wind floods, an eastern wind pestilence, and a western wind war.

Before the fall of the Qin dynasty, the capital’s city gates collapsed; before Huo Guang (a Western Han regent) lost power, the walls of his mansion crumbled; and when Qi Liang’s (a Spring and Autumn period figure) wife wept, the city walls toppled—all were omens. A hunting dog lost in the mountains will respond when its name is called, for it knows its master.

When the east wind rises, wine overflows (ancient people associated the sour taste of wine with the Wood phase of the east)—this is an omen of impending amnesty. Prison keys rattling on their own are another such sign. When silkworms spin their threads, merchants renew their goods; when new grain arrives, the old grain runs short—just as parents’ vitality wanes when children are born.

A fisherman carves a wooden fish, paints it red, and floats it on the water; real fish gather, mistaking it for one of their own. Why then do clay dragons (tulong, used in rain rituals) fail to bring rain? Liu Xin (styled Zixun) and Dong Zhongshu (a Han dynasty Confucian scholar) both explained this principle.

This passage explores the limitations of human cognition and moral choices through various historical anecdotes. The image of the dragon cannot be fully described, hence Wang Chong's Lunheng concludes with "Disordered Dragons," signifying that discussions about dragons can be interpreted in multiple ways.

When Confucius taught in Lu, the number of his disciples fluctuated, yet only Yan Hui remained steadfast—this shows Yan Hui truly understood the sage's greatness. Legend says the Quyi grass in Emperor Shun's courtyard could point out treacherous individuals, but if such magical grass truly existed, why would Shun need Gaoyao to discern loyalty? This implies that recognizing people's character shouldn't rely on external objects.

Even during the reigns of sage-kings like Yao and Shun, floods and droughts occurred, just as a kind father cannot guarantee filial piety from all descendants—this illustrates the natural patterns of cosmic order. Er Ming of Langya and Xu Junsheng of Linhuai sacrificed their own children to save their brothers' offspring; such extreme choices reveal the moral radiance within human nature.

Common cognitive biases include praising distant swans while belittling domestic chickens, or painters favoring ancient subjects over contemporary ones. Yang Xiong's Taixuan and Fayan were dismissed by Zhang Bosong simply because they were contemporaries—these examples demonstrate humanity's tendency toward "valuing the distant while disparaging the near."

When King Wu attacked King Zhou, Jiang Ziya dyed children red with cinnabar to make the Shang people believe it was a heavenly omen foretelling their dynasty's fall. After this ruse succeeded, the Zhou court avoided mentioning it—hinting at the artifice of political propaganda. Truly great rulers need historians with powerful brushes to record their virtues, just as dragons require clouds and rain to ascend to heaven.

The value of writing lies in recording good deeds and spreading virtue, never in empty rhetoric. Human life depends on vital essence (Jing) and Qi, which originate from blood vessels. After death, when blood vessels dry up and Qi dissipates, flesh and bones turn to dust—they cannot become ghosts. Sages avoid declaring the dead insensate to preserve filial piety, though in reality, the deceased indeed lose consciousness.

Finally, several taboos illustrate the power of psychological suggestion: avoiding childbirth in the fifth month stems from the story of Tian Wen (Lord Mengchang), while sharpening knives by a well risks falling in or execution—these superstitions arise from character associations and mental imagery. Sleeping face-up resembles a corpse, and sticking chopsticks upright in food symbolizes instability—such taboos reflect the ancients' sensitivity to symbolic meaning.

The text presents several key arguments:

Regarding superstitious beliefs about bathing on auspicious days, the author employs rhetorical questions: If the notoriously ugly woman Mó Mǔ bathes on a "zi day," would she suddenly become attractive? If a fifteen-year-old youth bathes on a "mao day," would his hair immediately turn white? This demonstrates that personal traits like affection, aversion, or physical appearance have no connection with bathing schedules.

When Zilu inquired about divination, Confucius explained that the yarrow stalks (divination tools) were called "shi" because they symbolized the wisdom of elders. For difficult matters, one should consult experienced seniors - the stalks themselves hold no magic power, only symbolic meaning. The text cites how Duke Zhou's divination showed extreme misfortune when King Wu planned to attack Zhou, but Jiang Taigong cast aside the stalks, declaring "How can dried bones and dead grass predict fortune?"

Concerning residential geomancy (Feng Shui), the author questions: If merchants' gates shouldn't face south and the Zhǐ family's gates shouldn't face north, why do all main halls universally face south? This clearly defies common sense.

Several instances of Confucius' foresight are recorded: predicting Qin Shi Huang would die at Shaqiu; foreseeing Dong Zhongshu would compile his works; anticipating the Qin dynasty's collapse under Hu Hai's rule. It also mentions Confucius deducing circumstances about Shang dynasty descendants through musical tones.

The meanings behind dynasty names are explained: Tang signifies vastness, Yu represents peace and joy, Xia denotes grandeur, Yin means uprightness, and Zhou indicates thoroughness.

True insight often comes from grassroots levels: Attempting to view Mount Tai in its entirety actually obscures it; those who know a roof leaks live beneath its eaves; common people recognize flawed policies; scholars detect textual errors in classics.

Finally, the text introduces Wang Chong (style name Zhongren) and his work Discourses Weighed in the Balance (Lunheng). This book prioritizes distinguishing truth from falsehood over literary embellishment. Wang Chong states: "Though my writings are numerous, they resemble precious jade within stone or divine dragons among fish - rarity confers value." During the Zhanghe era's second year, he relocated to avoid persecution. Approaching seventy with white hair and lost teeth, despite poverty he persisted in writing, completing sixty chapters of his Nourishing Life Treatise.

Cui Yuanshi wrote in the five-volume Zheng Lun: Those ministers trusted by rulers often prioritize self-preservation and maintaining their emoluments, while loyal officials kept at a distance see their admonitions ignored due to low status. This leads to lax governance among the elite while talented individuals languish in obscurity.

Governing a state is like driving a broken carriage—if skilled craftsmen repair it promptly by mending fractures and reinforcing loose parts, it can be restored like new. Yet history shows that while rulers across dynasties longed for sages like Confucius (Ni Ke) as advisors, they seldom treasured them upon obtaining them.

True worthies never distort the Dao (the Way) to conform to vulgar trends, nor seek fame through deceit. They consider the false reputation of hypocrites shameful and reject factionalism. But encountering sages as distinctly marked as "Kong Zhongni of Lu" or "Meng Ke of Zou" proves exceedingly rare. Transcendent talents often face suppression in their era yet are revered by posterity. How can we measure the future by past standards?

Those who aspire to kingship but fail may still retreat to hegemony; failing even at hegemony brings dire consequences. When peasants toil yet gain little while artisans and merchants prosper effortlessly, farmers abandon plows for carving and weavers discard shuttles for embroidery.

The conduct of superiors inevitably shapes their subordinates—this constitutes true moral transformation. Displaying weapons in peaceful times resembles force-feeding medicine to the healthy. A man who gave land to his younger brother to cultivate generosity later impoverished himself and violently demanded loans—this reverses proper order.

Like casting heaven-covering nets to gather talents, men flock like moths to flame while strategists furrow brows yet submit. When factions form below, the ruler becomes isolated. Horses untrained in peacetime won't gallop in emergencies; talents unprepared beforehand won't serve when urgently needed.

Lord Ye's method of exposing sheep thieves to display righteousness—though exposing wickedness—earns no admiration from noble men. States without trust and craftsmen without standards court imminent ruin. Rulers attempting governance without reward-punishment systems resemble expecting tidy hair without combs—sheer impossibility.

Fangshi (esoteric practitioners) observe: "Plants flourishing in winter must wither by spring." The folk saying goes: "Local edicts thunder in the ears, while imperial decrees merely hang on walls." We must cleanse people's hearts and purge superficial customs.

Wang Fu (style Jiexin) notes in his ten-volume Qianfu Lun: "Humaneness and righteousness don't wax like the moon, yet wealth craves daily growth—this I detest most." One dog's bark triggering a hundred echoes—this social malady has persisted too long.

(Note: Missing characters in the original marked with ⬤ have been reasonably supplemented; proper names like "Ni Ke" and "Lord Ye" retain original forms with contextual explanations; cultivation-related content absent hence unannotated)

This passage expounds on the wisdom of governance and personal conduct.

The reason enlightened rulers can perceive the finest details lies in their practice of broad consultation, while foolish rulers become muddled through partiality and bias. In governing a state, nothing surpasses the importance of recognizing worthy talent, and examining officials' administrative achievements provides the most direct method for such discernment. Just as warped wood resents the straightening ink-line, so do wrongdoers fear irrefutable evidence.

Several vivid analogies illustrate these principles: When illness approaches, one loses appetite; when a state nears collapse, its ruler neglects worthy talents. It's like treating disease with turnips when genuine ginseng is needed—the worsening condition stems not from ineffective medicine but from misapplication.

The text then enumerates common problems: Infants often fall ill from overfeeding, the powerful court disaster through excessive favor, parents err in spoiling children, and rulers mistake in indulging arrogant ministers. Yet worthy talents exist everywhere—just as fragrant grasses grow within ten paces, so do exceptional individuals emerge even in small communities of ten households.

Statecraft requires understanding complementary methods: Jade is polished with stone, metal treated with salt, brocade cleansed with fish blood, and cloth washed with ash—seemingly unrelated things often achieve mutual enhancement. Ancient wise rulers would dispatch envoys to hear public opinion in alleys before declaring amnesty, thus aligning with heaven's will. Emperor Ming of Han even deliberately received public petitions on "counter-branch days" (considered inauspicious) to demonstrate care for his people.

Sagely rulers administer with impartiality, showing no favoritism, sharing weal and woe with the populace. Merely hanging curtains to block wind or holding sand to dam rivers proves futile and self-defeating. Like the renowned physician Bian Que treating illness—dredging blockages, supplementing deficiencies, and draining excesses—governance follows similar principles. Prolonged emptiness at borders inevitably invites foreign invasion.

The conclusion observes: Those sharing the same ancestral home experience different fortunes; officials of the same lineage encounter varied circumstances. The prosperity under Kings Cheng and Kang of Zhou contrasts with the decline under Kings You and Li—demonstrating that fortune depends on people, not dwellings. The master musician Shi Kuang noted that red symbolizes brief longevity because fire's nature is easily extinguished. Fraternal bonds may weaken over time, while friendships grow stronger—such is human nature.

This passage primarily addresses the fickleness of human relationships and social realities, while also touching upon the origins of ancient imperial surnames.

Regarding worldly affairs, the author observes the widespread phenomenon of people currying favor with the powerful. Those with wealth and influence find everyone scrambling to ingratiate themselves, while the poor and lowly are hastily avoided. Aligning with the powerful brings dual benefits: reputational gains among peers and material advantages from superiors. Conversely, associating with the poor carries costs—either providing them relief or suffering their burdens. The author laments that even if an official possessed the wickedness of Jie of Xia or the bandit Zhi, his arrival in an ornate carriage would still be deemed honorable. Yet should a poor scholar—even one as virtuous as Yan Hui or Min Ziqian—appear in tattered clothes, he would be considered shameful.

The text then describes the social dilemmas of impoverished scholars: wearing fine clothes invites accusations of extravagance, while worn garments prompt scorn for shabbiness; walking slowly suggests starvation, while brisk steps imply fleeing creditors; infrequent visits are interpreted as arrogance, while regular calls mark one as a freeloader; arriving empty-handed shows insincerity, yet bringing gifts hints at ulterior motives; humility appears spineless, while confidence seems ill-bred. Such are the harsh realities routinely faced by scholars of meager means.

The author further criticizes contemporary hypocrisy—flowery words masking crooked intentions. Proper governance, he argues, must first address root causes by cultivating inner virtue before regulating outward conduct.

Concerning ancient rulers, various accounts exist regarding the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors. Some identify Fuxi and Shennong as two sovereigns, while others name Suiren, Zhurong, or Nüwa. Even earlier figures—the Heavenly Sovereign, Earthly Sovereign, and Human Sovereign—are mentioned, though their historicity remains obscure.

Surname origins derive from multiple sources: official titles (e.g., Sima, Situ, Zhongxing, Xiajun), geographic locations (e.g., Dongmen, Xidu, Nan Gong, Beiguo), or fiefdoms (e.g., Sanwu, Wulu, Qingniu, Baima).

The passage concludes with a historical anecdote: During King Mu of Zhou's reign, a master charioteer named Zaofu proved invaluable. When the king's western travels delayed his return and the Xu state rebelled, Zaofu drove a thousand li daily to facilitate the king's triumphant return. For this service, he was enfeoffed at Zhao, becoming progenitor of the Zhao lineage.