《峴泉集》

Within the ultimate emptiness exists a boundless state of primordial chaos, from which all things in the world emerge. Though all phenomena have tangible existence, they eternally dwell within this emptiness. Throughout the vast, limitless void, primordial Qi (the fundamental substance in Daoism) permeates everything. Without this emptiness, all things would lose their capacity for transformation and flow; what appears as vacant nothingness secretly contains mysterious mechanisms, while concrete existence expands and contracts, gathers and disperses within it.

Without tangible existence, the merging and separating of primordial Qi would lack its foundation; what seems unsupported actually follows the patterns of rising and falling, waxing and waning within emptiness. The cosmos in all its immensity takes the Supreme Void as its essence, with all things flourishing ceaselessly between the two energies of Yin and Yang—nothing more than the dynamic interplay of these complementary forces.

Observe the alternation of cold and heat, the cycle of day and night. Heaven operates ceaselessly, manifesting through sun and moon, stars and constellations, demonstrating majesty through thunder, nourishing the earth through wind, rain, frost, and dew. Earth operates unceasingly, forming towering mountains and surging rivers, fostering lush vegetation and thriving creatures. Whether grand phenomena or minute lifeforms, all are contained within this supreme emptiness—its profundity and subtlety beyond measurement. This is what we call the "Dao" and its inherent principles. Were the Dao not supremely simple and its laws exquisitely subtle, how could it govern such divine mysteries? Thus the Dao embraces heaven and earth, nurtures all things, and perfectly fulfills its role in cosmic creation.

Those who truly understand the Dao do not fixate on observing external phenomena, but turn their gaze inward. For the heart-mind governs our innate nature and emotions, principles reside within the mind, and Qi permeates physical form—all being natural manifestations of heavenly decree. What we term "spiritual emptiness," "Taiji (Supreme Ultimate)," "central equilibrium," or "primordial unity" all describe the heart-mind's original state. Thus the mind itself is Taiji, and all things share this fundamental nature.

The myriad forms and colors, the cacophony of sounds in the world—these are but imbalanced states where being and non-being intermingle, while the flowing transformations of concrete phenomena are merely the dregs of Qi's movements. Humans and all creatures coexist within emptiness, yet though the human heart occupies mere inches of space, it can encompass the entire cosmos and move in harmony with heaven and earth—so long as it maintains its empty stillness to embrace all things. Why allow joy and anger, gain and loss, honor and disgrace to clog our originally clear and receptive heart-mind? Preserve emptiness and stillness, and its efficacy becomes inexhaustible. As Laozi said: "Though the Dao's substance is empty, its function is limitless."

This passage elucidates the core philosophy of Daoist cultivation, focusing on the essential concept of "emptiness and stillness" (xujing). Laozi describes the Dao (the Way) as being like an abyss—empty yet capable of encompassing all things, while Zhuangzi similarly emphasizes the importance of emptiness and stillness. When one attains this state of emptiness and stillness, the shen (spirit) becomes concentrated, the qi (vital energy) naturally transforms, and ultimately, one merges with the unity of heaven, earth, and all creation.

To reach this state, several key practices must be followed: First, one must relinquish external desires and worldly distractions, dissolve the distinction between self and object, clear the mind of scattered thoughts, and devote oneself wholeheartedly to cultivating emptiness and stillness. Like the unfathomable depth of an abyss or the clarity of a polished mirror, this practice restores one's innate nature, aligning it with the Dao. Such cultivation methods include "returning to the root of life" (fuming guigen), "deepening and stabilizing the foundation" (shengen gudi), "cleansing the mind to perceive the profound" (dichu xuanlan), and "embracing the One and maintaining centeredness" (baoyi shouzhong).

When cultivation reaches its pinnacle, one attains the state of "the valley spirit enduring eternally" (gushen changcun), where thoughts are purified, desires are diminished, and in the ultimate emptiness and stillness, one returns to the cosmic origin. At this stage, one comprehends all things without being enslaved by them and instead masters them effortlessly.

On a practical level, one must relinquish attachment to sensory perceptions, regarding essence (jing) as the subtle foundation and external phenomena as coarse, valuing profundity as the root and simplicity as the guiding principle. Only then can one trace back to the primordial chaos before the division of heaven and earth (referred to as Taichu, Taishi, and Taisu). Later, the clear qi ascended to form heaven, the turbid qi descended to form earth, the refined qi transformed into the sun, moon, and stars (the Three Luminaries), and the interplay of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) gave rise to all things—including emotions, consciousness, morality, and civilization.

The fundamental principle of governing a state and nurturing the people likewise lies in tranquility and wuwei (non-action), humility and non-contention. This embodies the Daoist ideal of "inner sagehood and outer kingship." The movement of the Dao appears formless and intangible, yet it contains the profound patterns of yin-yang waxing and waning and the generative-destructive cycles of the Five Phases. Precisely because it remains empty, it is spiritually luminous and unfathomable, with its divine function naturally manifesting within.

All phenomena in the world, despite their infinite transformations, originate from the same fundamental source. By sincerely revering the Heavenly Dao (the Way), cultivating life through harmonious practice, and treating all beings with compassion, one can resonate with the celestial order. This is neither an unattainable mystery nor some novel doctrine.

History provides many verified examples: Guangchengzi (a legendary immortal) instructed the Yellow Emperor in life-nourishing methods; Cao Shen (a Han dynasty chancellor) studied Huang-Lao techniques under Master Gai; Zhang Liang (Marquis of Liu) received teachings from the Yellow Stone Elder. The Han dynasty's effective governance through Wuwei (non-action) stands as clear evidence. Some criticize these teachings as mere tools for personal gain, but such views are misguided.

Historical deviations did occur—such as the Warring States strategists Su Qin and Zhang Yi conflating Huang-Lao philosophy with legalist tactics, or the Wei-Jin era's Liu Ling and Ruan Ji indulging in unrestrained behavior. Han Yu condemned Lao-Zhuang thought as more harmful than Yang Zhu or Mohism, blaming it for ethical decline. Yet the fault lies not with the teachings themselves but with later practitioners who distorted their essence.

The profundity of Lao-Zhuang wisdom lies in its unified view of Dao (the cosmic origin)—both mysteriously subtle and universally penetrating. As the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue) states: "Within the fathomless darkness lies essence; amid the indistinct haze appears form." Through refining the Dantian (elixir field)—the "central yellow gate"—one harmonizes internal and external energies, aligning the Five Phases' Qi (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) with cosmic rhythms.

The key rests in preserving primordial unity, nurturing Yuanqi (original vitality), and comprehending the patterns of creation and dissolution. Sima Guang observed: All things emerge from nothingness—Qi condenses into form, form embodies nature, nature defines names, names guide actions, and actions shape destiny. This generative void, the source of all existence, manifests through the cyclical dance of the Five Phases.

This passage elucidates the Daoist cultivation concept of "emptiness" (虚) and its significance, along with the fundamental principles of spiritual practice and scholarly pursuit.

Regarding the state of "emptiness": By positioning the numbers three and eight on the left, four and nine on the right (an ancient numerology arrangement), and performing calculations with fifty-five, one attains the state of "emptiness." This mystical state represents both profound mystery and a facet of numerological practice. Only by maintaining inner emptiness can one comprehend the divine mysteries, understand transformations, trace origins, and return to the ultimate truth. Practitioners who refine their physical form, harness Qi (vital energy), align with cosmic principles, and discern the six climatic influences (yin, yang, wind, rain, darkness, and brightness) can achieve spiritual travel through the eight directions. Transcending the boundaries of life and death, they perceive eternity as a fleeting moment and view mortality as natural as day turning to night—like a cicada shedding its shell or breath passing through air. This realm surpasses the beginning and end of heaven and earth, manifesting the operation of emptiness, standing in stark contrast to those attached to life and death or constrained by materiality.

Concerning cultivation stages: Understanding "emptiness" generates illumination, illumination brings clarity, clarity leads to penetration, and penetration enables communion with the divine. Upon reaching this state, one achieves swift results without haste, arrives without traveling, and responds to all things while comprehending everything. Such practitioners truly embody Laozi's teachings.

Regarding scholarly foundations: Learning must grasp the essence—the dual study of worldly governance and transcendental wisdom. One should not pursue unnecessary knowledge, but focus on the Way of sages concerning Dao (the Way), De (Virtue), nature-life cultivation, and humaneness. The Dao became manifest during the Three Sovereigns era, De prominent in the Five Emperors period, and institutions perfected under the Three Kings. Exemplary rulers like Yao, Shun, Yu, Tang, Wen, and Wu fulfilled the ruler's Dao, while sages like Gao Yao, Yi Yin, Fu Yue, the Dukes of Zhou and Shao perfected ministerial conduct. Master-teachers including Confucius, Yan Hui, Zengzi, Zisi, and Mencius completed the teacher's Way. Though these sages have passed, their Dao endures in the Six Classics: the Book of Changes reveals yin-yang transformations, the Book of Songs expresses emotional nature, and the Book of Documents records governmental evolution.

This passage elucidates the core principles of Confucian classics and the way of the noble person (junzi). The Spring and Autumn Annals reveals the principle of clear rewards and punishments through historical events, establishing a governance order that honors the kingly way while restraining hegemonic power. Ritual systems regulate conduct, clarifying hierarchical relationships and labor distribution. Music serves to harmonize Qi (vital energy) and connect with the harmony of heaven, earth, and all things. All the essential teachings transmitted by sages about mental cultivation and the Dao (the Way) are contained within these classics.

The author maintains that the profound mysteries of the Six Classics (Book of Songs, Book of Documents, Book of Rites, Book of Changes, Book of Music, and Spring and Autumn Annals) actually reside within our hearts, requiring only enlightened awareness to comprehend. The fundamental principle passed down from the eras of Yao and Shun is "holding to the mean and maintaining reverence." Confucius called this "ren" (humaneness), Zisi termed it "cheng" (sincerity), the Great Learning referred to it as "jing" (reverence), Mencius named it "xin" (heart-mind), and the Doctrine of the Mean described it as "zhong" (the mean) — these concepts are intrinsically interconnected.

Achieving the state of unity between heaven and humanity enables realization of the harmonious mean, maintaining sincere clarity, exhausting the principles of things, and penetrating the nature of human existence. Thus one can stand with heaven and earth, transform and nurture all things, and assist in the operations of the cosmos. The way of the noble person takes the self as foundation, verifies it among the people, examines the governance principles of the Three Sage Kings (Yu of Xia, Tang of Shang, and Wen of Zhou), aligns with the movements of heaven and earth, and seeks confirmation from spiritual beings. This orthodox transmission remains unquestioned by sages across generations, establishing cosmic principles, giving meaning to human life, maintaining social order, and supporting worldly education.

Whether manifested in ritual and musical systems or concealed in spiritual matters, this orthodox transmission cannot be neglected for even a moment. One must maintain vigilance in solitude and exercise discernment in choices, thereby achieving both substance and function. The cultivation process proceeds as: first stopping wandering thoughts to attain stability, then entering stillness through stability, achieving tranquility through stillness, attaining deep contemplation through tranquility, and finally gaining insight through contemplation. Persistent practice leads to ultimate sincerity, which manifests outwardly, becomes prominent, radiates brilliance, transforms others, facilitates change, and ultimately accomplishes education. All begins with perfecting one's nature and comprehending heavenly mandate, following the way of humaneness and righteousness. Withdrawn, it retreats into profound secrecy; expressed, it can govern families and states in minor application, or bring peace to the world in major application.

Finally, the passage notes that writings from Xunzi, Yang Xiong, Dong Zhongshu, Han Yu to Zhou Dunyi, the Cheng brothers, Shao Yong, Zhang Zai, Zhu Xi, and Lü Zuqian all carry the great Dao, assisting in transmitting the classics. Works by Zuo Qiuming, Qu Yuan, Jia Yi, Ban Gu, Sima Qian, Li Bai, Liu Zongyuan, Ouyang Xiu, Su Shi, Zeng Gong, and Wang Anshi were all composed to elucidate moral principles.

This speaks of how the true Dao (referring to the core truth of Daoist thought) does not lie in superficial practices. Those who embody the Dao through virtuous conduct (De) or express it through writings have grasped its true essence. However, since the Qin and Han dynasties, learning has fragmented into rote memorization, literary embellishment, and manipulative stratagems—all deviations from the original nature of sage-like learning.

Authentic sage-learning establishes truths that benefit all generations, enduring eternally without fading. It explores the vastness of heaven and earth yet never reaches its limits, harmonizes Yin-Yang yet never fully comprehends it, probes the mysteries of spirits (Shen) and ghosts yet never unveils their secrets. How can this be compared to scholarship that relies on ornate rhetoric and polished phrases to court popularity? Without pursuing true knowledge and practice, how can one's words and deeds align with the Dao's principles?

Consider how Confucius and Mencius traveled between states to propagate their Dao. When the Dao could not be implemented, they withdrew to cultivate themselves and maintain their integrity. Those with lofty aspirations seeking transcendence from worldly turmoil must seek the path beyond the mundane (methods of cultivation that surpass ordinary life)—this is the truth spoken by Laozi and Zhuangzi.

Laozi originally served as the Archivist of Zhou before composing the two-part Daode Jing, which expounds the unity of inner sagehood and outer kingship (neisheng waiwang). Those who shared Laozi's Dao include: Master Yu who instructed King Wen, Master Guan Yin who guarded the pass, Master Kangcang who reclused in Mount Weilui, Zhuangzi who dwelled in the Lacquer Garden, and Liezi who lived in Zheng's orchards. They were as noble as the hermits Chao Fu and Xu You, as pure-hearted as Bo Yi and Shu Qi, and as reclusive as the Four Elders of Mount Shang—maintaining their integrity without compromise. To them, fame was but an appendage to reality; they preferred humble obscurity over becoming gilded sacrifices.

Daily, they found joy carrying earthen pots and bamboo baskets, undisturbed by wealth or poverty, joy or anger, gain or loss, honor or disgrace. This is the consummate state achieved through single-minded concentration and mental purification (xinzhai, "fasting of the heart"), enabling them to respond to infinite transformations. They could command heaven and earth, embrace all things, viewing the cosmos as a great furnace and creation as the master smith. The universe could not describe their vastness, wind and thunder their divinity, rivers and oceans their depth, mountains their loftiness, nor spirits their mystery.

They saw through worldly notions of benevolence, righteousness, and ritual, perceiving life and death, self and other as one. Whether in adversity or prosperity, they stood independently without altering their original intent.

All things in heaven and earth follow the same fundamental principle. This principle allows all beings to coexist harmoniously, maintains the orderly operation of natural laws, and ensures all forms find their proper place. Governing the world should be as simple as handling wild grass—by following the natural way of Wuwei (non-action), one can effortlessly master the world's affairs. Forced interference, however, only exhausts the ruler in worldly burdens.

Thus, those who truly attain the Dao regard life as mere excess flesh on the body and view death as the natural bursting of an abscess. Transcending life and death, rising above material desires, they may seem to speak in exaggerated metaphors and unrestrained words, yet their minds are vast as the cosmos. In stillness, they unite with the yielding virtue of Yin; in action, they resonate with the vigorous Qi (vital energy) of Yang—moving with celestial dynamism, resting with earthly stability. While adapting to the transformations of all things, they remain rooted in the fundamental, undisturbed by any form or breath.

Such individuals dwell in harmony with nature, treating heaven and earth as their playground while preserving the integrity of their innate nature. They do not deliberately pursue the infinite, yet effortlessly walk the path of the celestial Dao. What concern have they for worldly strife or the entanglements of fame and gain? This is no pretense of aloofness to mystify others, but the original face of the great Dao.

Yet lamentably, later seekers of the Way abandon the roots of Dao and De (Virtue/Power) and the essence of life, instead attempting to fathom the mysteries of primordial chaos with shallow and absurd habits. How could they possibly succeed? Observe genuine cultivators: eating wild herbs, dwelling in thatched huts, their faces gaunt and robes ragged, living among woodcutters and shepherd boys, keeping company with misty clouds, fish and birds. Their hearts resemble cooled ashes, their forms like withered trees, yet they regard themselves as pure and noble, their aspirations vast and lofty. The splendid carriages and glittering jade of the mundane world cannot sway them—even if forcibly approached, they come and go like the untraceable breeze. They stay when aligned with the Dao, depart when separated from it, simply abiding in their original truth. How could ornate offerings, carved-beam mansions, or positions of power ever bind them? This is the authentic realm of nobility.

Are the so-called scholars of this world truly like the ancient recluses Jieyu (the Chu State hermit) or the bamboo basket-carriers? They merely use the name of reclusion to fish for fame. Genuine hermits are not like this—these people withdraw without sincerity and emerge too eagerly, seeking only empty reputation and fortuitous acclaim.

When they suddenly rise from obscurity, they immediately abandon their principles and indulge their habits: dressing in fine silks, indulging in delicacies, wearing arrogant expressions, and spouting grandiose words. Their processions are attended by crowds, their residences extravagantly luxurious, their associates all powerful elites, forming cliques through obsequious networking. They flatter each other, proclaiming before the masses: "This one has attained the Dao! His Virtue (De) is profound! His learning is erudite! His arts are miraculous!" Who wouldn't revere such claims? Yet examine the essence of their scrambling—it's all for power and profit. Where is the Dao or Virtue (De) in this?

Alas! These charlatans who deceive the world to steal fame—how can they avoid being rejected? They intend to fool contemporaries and pander to trends, unaware that even if they momentarily delude people, they cannot escape posterity's discernment—is this the way of true Dao cultivation? I fear this decadent trend worsens precisely because people neglect fundamentals. When gentlemen deviate from righteousness in their comings and goings, their words and deeds, what grave errors result! Shouldn't we be cautious? Only by understanding the root can one unite with the Dao. Abandon this root, and what remains of cultivation or learning?

[On the Meaning of "Mystery" (Xuan)]

Someone asked: "What does Daoism mean by 'Mystery' (Xuan)?" Reply: "Mystery is Heaven, the source of the Dao, originating from the celestial." Question: "Is this from Laozi's 'the Mystery of mysteries'?" Reply: "Precisely. Historical records show Daoism concentrates the spirit (Shen), aligns action with natural patterns, and finds contentment in simplicity. Its method lies in following the movements of Yin-Yang, absorbing the essence of Confucianism and Mohism, adopting key points from the Logicians and Legalists, adjusting with the times, and responding to circumstances—whether establishing norms or handling affairs, all is done appropriately. The essentials are simple to practice, requiring little effort for great effect. As for the root of cultivation, it lies in eliminating desires and abandoning cunning—abandon these fundamentals to focus solely on techniques, and nothing worthwhile remains. Thus it's said: Daoism appears as non-action (Wuwei), yet nothing is left undone. The Dao is easy to practice, but its profundity is hard to convey."

The Daoist cultivation method takes "emptiness and nothingness" (a state of transcendent clarity free from attachments) as its foundation, with conformity to natural laws as its practical principle. This approach has no fixed form nor adheres to external formalities, thus enabling profound comprehension of the essence of all things. Neither rushing ahead nor lagging behind the natural course of events, it paradoxically becomes the sovereign ruler of all creation.

This passage explains why Sima Qian in the Records of the Grand Historian placed the teachings of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi before the Confucian Six Classics. Laozi lived during the decline of the Zhou dynasty, having served as the imperial archivist (Keeper of the Pillars). Witnessing the dynasty's collapse, he composed the Daode Jing before retreating into seclusion. His disciples included Master Guan Yin, Master Kang Cang, Zhuangzi, and Liezi. The core of their teaching lies in cultivating Dao-De (the Way and its Virtue) and preserving one's essential nature and life force.

Inward cultivation requires focused centeredness (maintaining inner equilibrium) - this is the method for preserving life. Outward practice embodies non-contention and wuwei (non-action) - this is the way to benefit all beings.

True Dao practitioners dwell in the state of "great conformity" (perfect alignment with the Heavenly Dao), their actions in complete harmony with natural principles. They maintain vigilant inner awareness, shutting out external disturbances to preserve purity without distraction, stillness without fluctuation, and utmost simplicity. When acting, they follow the movement of the Heavenly Dao, thus embodying celestial virtue. Even when engaging in worldly affairs, they adhere only to principles of compassion, frugality, and humility, maintaining a retiring and hidden attitude toward life, undisturbed by external matters, returning to their original nature of emptiness, simplicity, tranquility, wuwei, softness, and plainness.

Therefore, in governing the world: taking humility as fundamental prevents burdens, embracing emptiness removes obstructions, practicing simplicity avoids difficulties, and responding with adaptability eliminates blockages. Thus the people become naturally transformed, naturally sincere, and naturally upright. This preserves the original state of all things and returns them to primal authenticity. Hence Daoism doesn't rigidly adhere to Confucian virtues of humaneness, righteousness, loyalty, and faithfulness, nor cling to complicated political and social regulations - not because these are useless for governance.

Especially during the Zhou dynasty's decline when customs became shallow, Daoist thought was particularly needed to remedy contemporary ills and restore ancient simplicity. Laozi also incorporated strengths from Confucianism and Mohism - Confucius once consulted him about rituals. Laozi admonished Confucius: "Those who are clever and profoundly discerning yet court death do so by delighting in judging others. Those who are erudite and eloquent yet endanger themselves do so by exposing others' faults." This was the wisdom of living Confucius learned from Laozi.

Yang Zhu advocated "universal love," but after meeting Laozi abandoned his contentious ambitions. Mozi's doctrines of "exalting unity" and "illuminating spirits" similarly resemble Daoist thought. The works of Zhuangzi and Liezi synthesized these teachings. The Logicians' (Mingjia) approaches to statecraft and military strategy, with their emphasis on valuing worthies and caring for people, approximate Daoist methods, as do the Diplomat School's (Zonghengjia) tactics of balancing power. Yet what has endured longest and most truly represents Daoist essence remains the essential practice of concentrated spirit, detached engagement with all phenomena, eliminating rigidity and desires, and abandoning cleverness and cunning. This is the true meaning of the Dao of emptiness and nothingness.

This passage elucidates the core principles of Daoist cultivation, emphasizing harmony with nature and returning to primordial simplicity.

The foundation of practice lies in maintaining a state of desireless purity, where one convinces others without words. One should restrain sharp edges, resolve conflicts, and harmonize with all things like light—present yet unobtrusive. Seemingly yielding allows one to lead; standing apart preserves wholeness. To bend is to remain intact; to know fullness is to embrace the low; to recognize novelty is to hold fast to simplicity—this is true wisdom. What appears foolish is profound; what seems like retreat is progress; eloquence manifests as reticence, skill as clumsiness, and strength through yielding. Without severing innate integrity, without tarnishing purity, upright yet restrained, luminous yet not glaring—only thus can one preserve the function of the great Dao (the Way).

Cultivation requires sincerity in practice, simplicity in action, generosity in relationships, and stillness in response. Concrete phenomena are seen as coarse appearances, while emptiness reveals subtle function. Confucians dismiss Daoist parables as absurd, yet these teachings align with the patterns of heaven, earth, and humanity, attuning to the nature of all things, transcending life and death, and surpassing superficial forms. Through cultivation, one perceives: before heaven and earth formed, the cosmos condensed into a single breath—and from this breath, the myriad things emerged. This state is called "frozen stillness" (concentrated spirit and quiet Qi), "profound depth" (mysterious subtlety), "crystalline clarity," "empty unity," and "obscure darkness"—truly merging with the primordial origin (Taichu).

In the workings of heaven and earth, the light and clear ascends to form the sky; the turbid and heavy descends to form the earth. These energies (Qi) and substances cycle through the six directions (up, down, and the four cardinal directions), manifesting contraction and expansion, hardness and softness, through day and night, the four seasons. Wind, rain, thunder, and lightning take shape; the myriad things grow and transform spontaneously, assuming their own forms and colors, flourishing and fading naturally. In the undifferentiated chaos, the Qi, form, and substance of all things were contained within the essence of heaven and earth, continuously transforming—thus the ceaseless cycle of life, the unbroken alternation of light and dark.

Therefore, one must transcend the limitations of heaven, earth, and the myriad things, free oneself from the constraints of principle (Li) and Qi (vital energy), and return to the formless, traceless state before creation. This realm cannot be perceived through sound or scent, nor calculated through form or number. Vague and indistinct, it surpasses all things yet is their root—the most mysterious and subtle existence. Yang Xiong's "Mystery" (Xuan) correlates numbers with the Yijing (Book of Changes), establishing divinatory methods—this is but one aspect of prognostication, not the profound mystery of Daoism. Sima Qian observed that those who study Laozi disparage Confucianism, and Confucians belittle Laozi—why must it be so?

People engage in fierce mutual criticism and ridicule, yet they completely overlook the fundamental meaning of profound mystery (referring to the arcane principles of Daoism). Later students of Daoist teachings often veer toward extreme absurdity and bias—can this truly be blamed on Laozi and Zhuangzi? Those genuinely skilled in learning must seek the essence of emptiness (a core Daoist concept), for this is the true mystery.

Someone once asked me: The "mystery" you speak of, when traced to its root, is actually grounded in reality. The principles recorded in the classics existed before heaven and earth came into being. They regard the cosmos lightly, disdain brute force and barbarism, while honoring the kingly way. What Daoism values most is turning inward to cultivate oneself, nourishing life through self-refinement, transcending physical form to escape illusion, and ultimately attaining unfathomable spiritual states. How does this differ from the words of Laozi and Zhuangzi?

I replied: The Dao (cosmic origin) is one—how can there be any distinction between emptiness and substance? Upon examining various texts, I find this to be true. However, Laozi's transmission takes the two sections of the Daode Jing as its foundation, yet later interpreters either become overly fragmented or excessively fantastical. The theory of "inner sagehood and outer kingship" (unifying internal cultivation with external governance) does not lack methods for ordering the world—it simply employs different approaches.

Regarding cultivation, Laozi advocates becoming as empty as a valley (valley spirit), as mysterious as the feminine (mysterious female), reaching the ultimate stillness of emptiness, maintaining the middle way, and embracing pure unity. Later proponents of these teachings created distinctions between authentic and false, orthodox and heterodox. The Yinfu Jing discusses self-cultivation and governing the world in harmony with the Daode Jing, while the Longhu Shangjing aligns with the Zhouyi Cantongqi. But what can one study of Laozi's thought beyond the way of immortality?

Internal alchemy (Neidan) practice always takes spirit and Qi (Shen and Qi) as its foundation, while external alchemy (Waidan) takes lead and mercury as its guiding principle. The golden fluid (Jinye) follows the same path as the transformations of heaven and earth, and the divine chamber (Shenshi) is the crucible of alchemy. The sun's soul and moon's essence (symbolizing yin-yang) represent true lead and mercury—yang ascends and yin descends without departing from the positions of midnight and noon, while the sun and moon inevitably reside in the east and west.

Yang fire rises from midnight (Zi hour) to mid-morning (Si hour), reaching its peak at noon (Wu hour) when yin energy begins to emerge. Yin talismans descend from noon to late night (Hai hour), until midnight when yang energy regenerates. The divine chamber is hollow, one inch in diameter, symbolizing the union of heaven, earth, and humanity—this is the central palace (Dantian) of our bodies. Through the interplay of yin and yang, true mercury is produced; through internal refinement of mysterious essence (Xuanjing), fire arises from the north (Kan position) while water descends from the south (Li position). Thus Kan and Li represent the meridians of north and south, with cinnabar and mercury being their alternative names. Water and fire enact the functions of heaven and earth (Qian and Kun), while metal and earth play supporting roles.

This scripture elucidates the core principles of Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation, employing the mutual generation and restraint of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) and the transformations of Yin-Yang to explain the alchemical process. The term "three-five" refers to the combination of water, fire, and earth with the qi (vital energy) of metal and wood, while "three-one" represents the essential practice of unifying the Three Treasures: Jing (essence), Qi, and Shen (spirit).

The key to cultivation lies in understanding the relationship between metal (true lead) and water (the pivot of the Dao). True lead contains cinnabar (the essence of wood), and when metal and water combine, wood and fire naturally harmonize. Just as a mother is concealed within her child, metal is hidden within the nature of water—this interdependent relationship forms the foundation of alchemy. Qian and Kun represent heaven and earth, while Kan and Li symbolize water and fire; through the cyclical movement of the Five Phases, they transform into one another. The fire number seven returns to the eastern Zhen position, and the metal number nine reverts to the northern Kan position—this circulation constitutes the alchemical principle of "seven returns and nine reversions."

Mastering the fire phases requires adhering to celestial rhythms, guided by the rotation of the Northern Dipper and the twelve pitch pipes. Each month is divided into twelve hexagrams (each governing two and a half days) to regulate the fire phases, with the number of counting rods adjusted according to the waxing and waning of Yin-Yang: From the eighth month's Guan hexagram to the first month's Tai hexagram, 28 rods are used for Yang lines and 24 for Yin lines; from the fourth month's Dazhuang to the seventh month's Pi hexagram, 36 rods are used for Yang lines and 22 for Yin lines. Completing the cycle of twelve hexagrams achieves one month's work, and twelve such monthly cycles complete the annual cultivation period. The entire alchemical process emphasizes the balance of Yin-Yang and the harmony of the Five Phases, ultimately crystallizing the golden elixir through the refinement of true lead by fire.

This passage elucidates the cyclical patterns of heaven and earth, much like the perpetual rotation of the four seasons—neither excessive nor deficient. Such cycles perfectly align with Shao Yong's (a Northern Song Confucian scholar) "Innate Diagram" (a particular arrangement of trigrams), both originating from the system of symbolic changes established by Fuxi.

The principles governing the transformations of Yin and Yang in heaven and earth are as follows: Yang energy begins to sprout from the Fu hexagram (Earth over Thunder) and reaches its zenith at the Qian hexagram (Heaven); Yin energy starts growing from the Gou hexagram (Heaven over Wind) and culminates at the Kun hexagram (Earth). The sixty-four hexagrams revolve in this endless cycle without the slightest deviation. This pattern nurtures all things, beginning and ending without leaving a trace, fully merging with the Dao.

Regarding the theory of "Najia" (matching the heavenly stems with the trigrams): the Qian trigram corresponds to Jia and Ren, the Kun trigram to Yi and Gui, the Zhen trigram to Geng, the Xun trigram to Xin, the Gen trigram to Bing, and the Dui trigram to Ding—these are fixed pairings. The Kan trigram corresponds to Wu, and the Li trigram to Ji, neither of which originally had fixed positions. The transformations of Yin and Yang in the other six trigrams are essentially the rising and falling of the middle lines in the Kan and Li trigrams. Zhu Xi noted that this merely borrows the imagery of the hexagrams to express the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang, and the alchemical text Fire Record is based on this principle.

Later generations, inspired by metaphors involving cinnabar and mercury, divided elixirs into internal (Neidan) and external (Waidan), each composing texts to distinguish themselves. In truth, human spirituality far surpasses that of all other things—why should one rely entirely on herbs, metals, or minerals to attain divine states? As the Cantong Qi states, "Using the names of ores to encompass manifold principles" conveys precisely this meaning. Though few schools explicitly state it, they ultimately speak of nothing beyond the fundamentals of nature and life, spirit (Shen) and vital energy (Qi).

As for metaphors like the furnace and cauldron, fire and medicine, lead and mercury, dragon and tiger, or infant and maiden (Neidan terminology)—similar to Guan Yinzi's references to "infant and maiden, golden tower and crimson palace"—none of these terms existed in Laozi's time, leading some to dismiss them as later fabrications. Those who cling to superficial metaphors, forsaking the root for the branches, delighting in bizarre and fantastical claims to dazzle the crowd, are merely charlatans like Li Shaojun and Luan Da, the fangshi (masters of esoterica). Even the alchemical methods recorded in Ge Hong's Baopuzi belong to such heterodox practices that mislead people, achieving fleeting success but ultimately doomed to failure.

Those who truly understand the cultivation of immortality speak only of "seeing nothing, hearing nothing" (non-attachment to sensory perceptions), maintaining inner purity and naturalness.

This scripture primarily expounds on the core Daoist cultivation concept of "guarding the center" (shouzhong) and the transmission systems of different Daoist schools.

The text first explains essential cultivation techniques: Through calming the mind and preserving the spirit (shen), one forgets the physical form to nourish qi; through forgetting qi, one nurtures the primordial spirit; ultimately, even the spirit must be forgotten to attain the state of emptiness and nothingness. Those who truly master the Dao (Dao) possess complete virtue (de), and with complete virtue comes physical wholeness, which leads to abundant qi. When cultivation reaches the ultimate emptiness, luminous wisdom arises—a state that allows communion with heaven and earth, returning to the origin of all things. When the light and pure qi ascends, the essence of supreme yang (yang) also sublimates.

Some may question: If sages don't need to emulate immortals, why establish various cultivation methods? In truth, the great Dao is fundamentally one, just as the vast sky, though boundless, is all composed of qi. The Supreme Deity (Shangdi), ruler of heaven and earth, emanated from the undifferentiated chaos, transforming the three primordial qi into the nine qi (representing the nine celestial realms). The realm of emptiness is limitless, and the light pure qi is formless, yet divine beings naturally govern within it. To teach sentient beings, scriptures and talismans (fulu) were bestowed, establishing diverse cultivation approaches.

The text enumerates several important Daoist schools:

1. The Qingwei School traces its origin to the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning (Yuanshi Tianzun), founded by Patriarch Zhenyuan, transmitted through figures like Lady Wei of Southern Peak, and further developed by masters such as Zhu Dongyuan.

2. The Lingbao School began with the Dao Lord of Jade Capital (Yuchen Daojun), taking the Scripture of Salvation (Duren Jing) as its foundation. Propagated by the Three Mysterious Ones (Xuanyi) and promoted by patriarchs like Xu Taiji.

3. Other schools like the Shenxiao School each possess distinct transmission systems, forming branches such as Donghua and Nanchang.

Though these schools employ different methods, all originate from the same great Dao truth. Just as the sky, though vast, shares the same essential qi, the great Dao manifests diversely while maintaining identical fundamental principles. The key to cultivation lies in grasping the core principle of "guarding the center."

This scripture primarily elucidates the transmission lineages and cultivation principles of various Daoist Thunder Methods (a ritual practice combining Neidan/internal alchemy with incantations to summon thunder).

The Thunder Method traditions trace their origins to the Jade Clarity True King (a revered Daoist deity), later propagated by Fire Master Wang Zhenjun. Subsequent transmission passed through figures like Attendant Minister Wang Jun, Tranquil Void Zhenjun, Western River Master Sa, Demon-Subduing Master Li, and Chief Minister Xu Jun, with prominent representatives including Lin Lingsu, Xu Shenweng, Liu Hunkang, Lei Mo'an, Wan Wulei, Fang Pinle, and Deng Tieya. The Fengyue lineage was established by Zhu Ximing, Zheng Zhiwei, Lu Yanghao, and Ye Fashan, further developed by masters like Zuo Zheng and Pan Li.

Despite their diverse branches, all traditions center on the profound principle of "Three Qi and Five Phases" (referring to the Three Treasures—Jing/essence, Qi/vital energy, Shen/spirit—and the Five Phases of Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water). The scripture highlights "Three-Five Unity" (a state where Three Qi and Five Phases merge in cultivation) as the most essential cosmic law, corresponding to the numerical patterns of the Hetu (an ancient mystical diagram). Thunder Method practice unifies Yang Thunder and Yin Lightning (the two aspects of thunder) into the numerical concept of "Nine-One" (a cultivation term), with these forces inherently contained within the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate).

In bodily cultivation: the Middle Dantian (the sternum region) corresponds to the Thunder Mansion, the Qi of the five organs aligns with the Five Thunders, and the mind serves as the sovereign ruler. By harmonizing one's innate spirituality with the Three Qi and Five Phases, practitioners attain the state of "using utmost Yang to refine utmost Yin, illuminating deepest darkness with brightest clarity." The Southern Dipper (a southern constellation) nurtures the ethereal Hun soul, associated with the Water number six, while the Northern Dipper (a northern constellation) forges the physical Po soul, linked to the Fire number seven. Through cultivation, scattered Jing and Qi are consolidated, heavy distractions transcended, and ultimately, a luminous Yang-pure state emerges, freeing one from Yin obscurity.

Those who master this practice command Yin-Yang by coalescing the "Essence of Two-Five" (the quintessence of Yin-Yang and the Five Phases) and the "Qi of Nine-One" (pure Yang energy). Internal cultivation is called alchemy (Neidan), while external application manifests as ritual methods. Activating the Qi of the five organs can instantly generate natural phenomena like thunderstorms or droughts. By mobilizing external divine forces through one's primordial Shen/spirit, resonance arises in stillness. This power fundamentally stems from aligning one's innate spirituality with cosmic patterns. Compared to this, exorcisms and disaster-averting techniques are minor arts.

The text concludes by referencing ancient sacrificial traditions, noting rituals of prayer dating back to Emperor Wu of Han. Classical records state that offerings to the Supreme Deity require fasting and purification—acts expressing sincerity. Even humble offerings (like duckweed or mugwort) prove effective when given with genuine devotion, for the key lies in the purity of intent.

This scripture emphasizes that spiritual cultivation lies in inner sincerity rather than external formalities. It states that deities and spirits do not casually accept offerings—what truly moves them is a person's genuine virtue (De). If one's heart is negligent and moral conduct deficient, yet they rely solely on ornate decorations and elaborate rituals to impress others, how are they any different from greedy charlatans and fraudulent mediums?

Daoism established various liturgical norms (Keyi, standardized religious ceremonies) with the original intent of using these external forms to express inner devotion, allowing practitioners to gain insight through contemplation and reverence. However, later generations inverted priorities, chasing fame, profit, and worldly acclaim while indulging in superficial extravagance—completely deviating from the true essence of cultivation. Some even deliberately obscure Daoist methods with excessive mystification, erecting artificial barriers to confuse the masses, leading followers to focus only on superficial techniques without grasping the root. This distances them further from the genuine Dao (the Way).

True ancient cultivators wore coarse garments, ate wild fruits, endured hunger and cold, and tempered both body and mind to cleanse distracting thoughts, never allowing material desires to pollute their hearts. They attained the state of unity between Heaven and humanity, where the heart communicates with Heaven, enabling them to resonate with celestial principles through natural harmony. This simple method of cultivation hinges on preserving the spirit (Shen) and merging with the divine. Those who indulge in worldly glamour, chase reputation, and flaunt titles like "immortal" or "divine master"—what else is this but heresy?

The text underscores that while cultivation methods may differ among schools, their fundamental principles remain the same. True inheritors should study broadly yet hold fast to the root, aiming to resolve doubts rather than seek novelty. As the Daoist teaching states: "Within truth lies the divine; beyond sincerity, there is no method." The external forms—talismans (Fulu), incantations, ritual steps, and esoteric formulas—can never compare to the sincerity within.

This passage presents two main discussions:

The first part critiques deviations in contemporary Daoist transmission. The author laments that without eminent Daoists like Peng Xiao and Wei Boyang, Daoist scriptures might degenerate into mere techniques and tricks; without realized masters like Wang Xuanfu and Bai Yuchan, Daoist practice would devolve into shamanistic rituals. True cultivators should unite with heaven and earth as one body, harmonize with all things, and communicate with spiritual beings—only then can they apprehend celestial mysteries and comprehend profound subtleties. This state requires silent contemplation and transcends verbal expression.

The second part elaborates on the concept of "Taiji" (Supreme Ultimate). Taiji manifests the Dao in its wholeness—undivided and impartial, formless yet encompassing all. It represents the origin of both innate nature (xing) and vital life (ming): nature derives from life, principle resides within nature, and the mind integrating these constitutes the Dao. Different classics refer to Taiji by various names: the "Book of Documents" calls it "Sovereign Ultimate" (huangji), the "Book of Changes" speaks of "converging at the ultimate," and the "Book of Poetry" mentions "nothing but your ultimate"—all pointing to the same source.

Confucian scholars like Zhou Dunyi, Cheng Yi, Shao Yong, Zhu Xi, and Lu Jiuyuan each interpreted Taiji from distinct perspectives. The Five Phases arise from Yin-Yang, which in turn originate from Taiji—all being different manifestations of the same principle. Yang qi fosters growth while Yin qi gives form; their interaction generates the qi of Five Phases, which transforms into myriad beings. The Eight Trigrams and Four Symbols all emerge from Yin-Yang dynamics. Taiji serves as both the source of all things and their immanent presence, containing all complementary opposites like movement-stillness and substance-function. It represents what Zhu Xi termed the original state of "principle" (li), while the movement of qi manifests Taiji's operation.

In the ceaseless transformations of Yin and Yang Qi (vital energies), what principle remains unmanifested? For Qi carries principle within it, and principle reveals itself through Qi. Qi forms physical shapes while nature (essence) governs them, with the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) interweaving in complex patterns. Viewed holistically, the entire cosmos constitutes one Taiji (Supreme Ultimate); examined individually, every entity contains the complete Taiji principle.

During the primordial chaos before heaven and earth separated, the Original Qi served as the foundation of all things. Its essential nature was called "principle," while its dynamic, ever-changing aspects of Yin and Yang constituted "Qi." Thus before the differentiation of cosmos, the Dao manifested as Taiji; after the formation of myriad beings, all things embodied this principle, wherein the mind itself became Taiji. This formless, quiescent state contained all principles within it, and when Yin and Yang became manifest, principle and Qi differentiated.

From Taiji's division emerged the two fundamental modes of odd and even (Yin and Yang). Through continuous permutations of this single Yin and Yang pair, one divided into two, two into four, four into eight, ultimately yielding the sixty-four hexagrams (symbolic diagrams in the Book of Changes) in endless generation. The sage Fu Xi, unable to express this truth through words, created the trigrams as symbols: an unbroken line representing Qian (Heaven) and a broken line representing Kun (Earth), both revealing the Taiji within our minds. The odd and even lines signify transformation—when stacked they form trigrams, when separated they become individual yao (hexagram lines), all being the most evident manifestations of Yin and Yang.

These symbolic diagrams encompass boundless depth and extreme subtlety, transcending concrete forms, sounds or colors. Luminous yet vibrant, empty yet numinous, they scatter into infinite diversity yet converge into singular origin—without momentary interruption or slightest discrepancy. Just as heaven and earth revolve, as rain and wind nourish, as thunder exerts majesty, as frost and snow purify, as mountains stand still while rivers flow, as plants flourish and wither, as birds and beasts perform their delicate movements—all living phenomena follow celestial patterns, receiving the same primordial endowment.

What we call "having ultimate" refers to the perspective of principle, while "without ultimate" speaks from the perspective of form. The ultimate principle fundamentally transcends form, yet claiming its absolute nonexistence would negate its role as the source of all generation. Shao Yong's (Northern Song philosopher) concept of "Wuji" (Ultimateless) denotes the patterned noumenon—though soundless, flavorless and beyond form, it remains profoundly real. Those who truly comprehend the Dao's essence never prioritize "non-being" over "being." Laozi's "Wuji" signifies the formless and boundless, while Zhuangzi...

This passage explains that the Dao (the Way) existed even before the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate, the cosmic origin). Like the numbers in the Hetu and Luoshu (ancient mystical diagrams) or the pre-cosmic trigrams, though they involve transformations of bending and stretching, advancing and retreating, fullness and emptiness, growth and decline, all are fundamentally rooted in the void at their core. If one can maintain inner emptiness, one may comprehend the inherent mystery of the Taiji—what distinction remains then between darkness and light, or between openness and obstruction?

The Book of Changes (Yijing) teaches that the study of the heart-mind (xinxing) is the foundation of all things, and all transformations originate from the mind. What the mind encompasses is the supreme truth that even heaven, earth, and the myriad beings cannot defy. Master Cheng Yi (Chengzi) stated that principle (li) precedes phenomena (xiang), and phenomena precede numerical patterns (shu). The cultivation of human virtue (rendao) begins with the Yang (active) and is perfected in the Yin (receptive), grounded in stillness yet flowing into movement—just as all things follow the same principle. Yet Yang itself is rooted in Yin, and stillness arises from movement; this alternation of movement and stillness aligns with the workings of heaven and earth. By grasping the essence of stillness, one establishes one’s true nature (xing). Once nature is established, virtues like centrality, correctness, benevolence, and righteousness naturally manifest. Thus, substance and function share a single source, and phenomena and essence are inseparable.

Regarding the transmission of the Taiji Diagram, Zhu Xi claimed that Zhou Dunyi learned it from Mu Xiu, who received it from Chong Fang, who in turn inherited it from Chen Tuan (a renowned Daoist master of the Five Dynasties period). Because Chen Tuan studied the teachings of Laozi, Lu Jiuyuan criticized Zhu Xi’s concept of "Wuji" (the Limitless) as being derived from Daoism. In truth, the Book of Changes only speaks of "Youji" (the Supreme Ultimate) and never mentions "Wuji," and Zhou Dunyi’s Tongshu also only discusses Yin-Yang and the Taiji. Still, Zhu Xi’s interpretation using "formlessness" does not contradict the principle. Examining the tomb inscription by Pan Xingci confirms that the Taiji Diagram was Zhou Dunyi’s own creation. Some also claim that Zhou Dunyi, along with Hu Su and Shao Gu, studied under a certain monk in Runzhou—but how could a monk possibly comprehend such profound truths?

Earlier scholars believed that the teachings of Zhou Dunyi and Shao Yong, though differing in form—whether through the Diagram of the Prior Heaven (Xiantian Tu) or the Taiji Diagram—shared the same underlying principle. This system is vast beyond measure, encompassing all things, and its function is marvelously present everywhere. From the Yin-Yang of heaven and earth down to the smallest insects and plants, even the most minute things conform to this law. This is a study that follows the essence of life and exhausts the transformations of the Dao—the hearts of sages throughout the ages are united in this understanding. If one does not turn inward and reflect, how can one recognize that the farthest reaches beyond the six directions (heaven, earth, and the four cardinal points) and the nearest truths within one’s own body, as fleeting as a moment or as subtle as movement and stillness, all follow this principle? How could mere verbal transmission ever convey this? One must devote effort to fully grasp it, exploring its mysteries until our inherently luminous and serene nature fills the six voids (the boundless cosmos) and governs all transformations. With persistent practice, realization will naturally arise in time.

The Xianquan Ji passage expounds on two major themes: the spiritual state a Daoist cultivator should attain, and the philosophical principles underlying the Primordial (Xiantian) Bagua arrangement.

Regarding cultivation, it states that when one reaches a state of utmost sincerity and purity, communion with divine consciousness (Shen) becomes possible. By grasping subtle mysteries, one penetrates profound truths. This transcendent state surpasses worldly concerns of fame and wealth—treating official positions as light as a coin's weight, and gold/jade as mere dust. Such detached spiritual attainment is irreplaceable.

The Primordial Bagua (attributed to Fuxi) differs from King Wen's Later Heaven (Houtian) arrangement in its trigram sequence. It reveals the cosmic generative principle: Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) gives birth to the Two Modes (Yin-Yang), which produce the Four Symbols, which in turn generate the Eight Trigrams. Through the interaction of Yin-Yang and harmony of firm/yielding forces, heaven/earth and all phenomena emerge. The trigram sequence is: Qian (1), Dui (2), Li (3), Zhen (4), Xun (5), Kan (6), Gen (7), Kun (8).

Through combinations, the eight trigrams form sixty-four hexagrams, illustrating what Shao Yong called the "one dividing into two" generative law. The diagram positions Qian (Heaven) in the south, Kun (Earth) in the north, Li (Fire) in the east, and Kan (Water) in the west, with the remaining four trigrams occupying the corners. The sequence progresses clockwise from Zhen to Qian (Yang expansion), then counterclockwise from Xun to Kun (Yin contraction), embodying the interdependent Yin-Yang relationship—the Fu hexagram symbolizing Yang's initial growth, Gou hexagram representing Yin's first emergence.

Finally, it explains the sixty-four hexagrams' formation: first arranging the eight trigrams, then using each as a base to derive eight new combinations (pairing trigrams). This generative process mirrors Shao Yong's description: "Eight divides into sixteen, sixteen into thirty-two, thirty-two into sixty-four," demonstrating the universe's evolution from simplicity to complexity.

This scripture elucidates the arrangement principles of the Primordial Bagua (Fu Xi's Eight Trigrams) and the natural patterns of Yin-Yang transformation. The text mentions fourteen symbolic images (fǎxiàng) that all emulate the natural Dao, with these four diagrammatic patterns being collectively called the study of primordial principles.

The distribution of Yin and Yang manifests in two configurations: circular and square. In the circular arrangement, the Qian trigram (representing Heaven) reaches its zenith at the noon position, while the Kun trigram (representing Earth) culminates at the midnight position. The Li trigram (Fire) resides at the mao (east) position, and the Kan trigram (Water) at the you (west) position. Yang energy emerges at midnight, peaking at noon; Yin energy arises at noon, climaxing at midnight—thus the southern direction belongs to Yang, the northern to Yin.

The square arrangement differs: the Qian trigram originates in the northwest, while the Kun trigram concludes in the southeast—here the northern direction belongs to Yang, the southern to Yin. These two configurations demonstrate the mutual correspondence of Yin and Yang: growth begins from Kun, progresses through Gen and Dui to reach Qian's apex, then declines from Qian through Xun and Gen back to Kun. The Zhen trigram (Thunder) represents the first emergence of Yang within Yin, while the Xun trigram (Wind) signifies the initial appearance of Yin within Yang.

In the circular diagram, the waxing and waning sequence follows: Zhen with one Yang line, Li and Dui with two Yang lines, Qian with three Yang lines; Xun with one Yin line, Kan and Gen with two Yin lines, Kun with three Yin lines. This transformation adheres to natural laws, numerically progressing from one to two, two to four, four to eight to form the Eight Trigrams. The outer circle symbolizes Heaven's movement, while the inner square represents Earth's stillness—though their forms differ, the trigram sequence aligns perfectly with all four diagrammatic patterns.

The author emphasizes this arrangement originates with Fu Xi, not Song Dynasty's Shao Yong, whose contributions merely expanded upon Fu Xi's foundational principles. "Primordial" (xiāntiān) here refers to cosmic laws existing prior to Heaven and Earth. Some conflate the Primordial Bagua with the Hetu (mythical dragon-horse diagram), yet they only partially resemble each other in sequence. The Hetu operates numerically, while the Primordial Bagua prioritizes symbolic meaning—its arrangement manifests the mathematical logic of trigram generation: Yang as one, Yin as two, thus Yang inherently gives birth to Yin.

This passage elucidates the Daoist numerical system governing Yin-Yang transformations, the generation of the Bagua (Eight Trigrams), and the operational principles of heaven and earth. At its core, it reveals how Yin and Yang combine through numerical patterns to produce the evolving trigrams, which correspond to the cyclical rhythms of all phenomena.

The text notes that "two times six makes twelve" represents the process of Yang emerging from Yin, while "thirty becomes three hundred sixty" symbolizes the complete celestial cycle. The Bagua (Qian, Dui, Li, Zhen, Xun, Kun, etc.) arise through the interplay of odd and even numbers, ultimately forming the comprehensive system of sixty-four hexagrams. From Zi hour (midnight) to Wu hour (noon), the energy is Yang, with the first four lines of the hexagrams being Yang; from Wu hour to Zi hour, it shifts to Yin, with the first four lines as Yin. Yin and Yang mutually transform—Yang is born from Yin, and Yin arises from Yang.

The author cites Cai Yuanding's (Cai's) Huangji Jingshi to explain that this numerical framework originates from the innate (pre-heaven) Bagua. Beginning with the number one, the sixty-four hexagrams evolve through mutual generation, corresponding to celestial bodies (sun, moon, stars), natural elements (water, fire, earth, stone), and the patterns of all things—seasons, day and night, birds and beasts. Heaven manifests the four Yin-Yang states (Great Yang, Great Yin, Lesser Yang, Lesser Yin), while earth exhibits four rigidity-softness configurations (Lesser Rigidity, Lesser Softness, Great Rigidity, Great Softness), together forming the Bagua system.

Finally, the text observes that cosmic changes unfold in four grand cycles ("yuan, hui, yun, shi"—analogous to cosmic years, months, days, and hours), while human affairs follow four governance models ("emperor, sovereign, king, hegemon"), much like the rotation of seasons. All are manifestations of Yin-Yang numerology in reality. Zhu Xi (Master Zhu) distilled all phenomena into a fundamental "fourfold" structure, demonstrating how celestial bodies and the myriad things are but visible expressions of Bagua transformations.

This passage elucidates the core concepts of Daoist prenatal (xiantian) cosmology, using the cyclical interplay of Yin-Yang and hexagram transformations to explain the operating principles of heaven, earth, and all phenomena.

The text asserts that all transformations between heaven and earth can be summarized through sixteen fundamental patterns (combinations of the Four Symbols' interactions). What Shao Yong (the Northern Song Neo-Confucian philosopher) described as "the subtle moment between movement and stillness" perfectly embodies the essence of heaven, earth, and humanity. Prenatal studies reveal fundamental principles, while postnatal studies manifest concrete expressions—all transformations originate from the heart-mind (the cosmic source).

The Prenatal Diagram (a crucial Daoist schematic) resembles the center of a circular ring. Though devoid of written characters, it encompasses all principles of creation. Its circular form represents the mathematical patterns of the Hetu (River Chart, said to be borne by a dragon-horse), while its square aspect corresponds to the textual records of the Luoshu (Luo Writing, inscribed on a divine turtle's shell). Both illustrate the cyclical waxing and waning of Yin-Yang.

Specifically: The winter solstice aligns with the midnight zi hour, manifesting as the "Return Hexagram" (Fu) state of nascent Yang energy. The "lunar cavern" (yueku) denotes the方位 where the Qian (Heaven) hexagram meets Xun (Wind), while the "celestial root" (tiangen) marks where Kun (Earth) encounters Zhen (Thunder). The progression from Fu to Qian charts Yang's ascent, whereas the movement from Gou to Kun traces Yin's growth. Five hexagrams from Qian to Xun form the "lunar cavern," while five from Kun to Zhen constitute the "celestial root."

The Thirty-Six Palaces (hexagram arrangements) derive from numerical calculations accumulating from Qian's position (1) to Kun's (8). Temporally, the celestial root corresponds to the winter solstice's zi hour—called the "heart of heaven and earth." On the diagram's left side, Zhen's initial line marks the winter solstice, progressing through Li (Fire) and Dui (Lake) until Qian's final line reaches the summer solstice. Conversely, the right side begins with Xun's initial line at summer solstice, passing through Kan (Water) and Gen (Mountain) until Kun's final line returns to winter solstice, creating an endless cycle.

This cyclical pattern manifests across temporal dimensions—months, days, and hours. The Gou-to-Kun sequence shows Yang concealed within Yin, while the Fu-to-Qian movement reveals Yin partitioned within Yang. Between Kun and Fu lies the "Non-Ultimate" (wuji) state: the return from Kun to Gou represents the realm before Non-Ultimate, while Qian's connection to Fu manifests post-form. Qian-Kun's intersection generates the Tai (Peace) hexagram; Kan-Li's union forms Jiji (After Completion). Qian emerges at the zi position, Kun at wu, Kan culminates at yin, and Li concludes at shen—all corresponding to celestial rhythms. Yin-Yang arise from opposite sides, with the central void embodying the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate, cosmic origin).

From the winter solstice to the summer solstice, the movement of yang qi follows the natural order (shun), while from the summer solstice to the winter solstice it moves against it (ni). When yin and yang qi flow harmoniously through a complete cycle, they create the eternal state of spring.

Zhu Xi (Master Zhu) discovered in his study of the Yijing (Book of Changes) that the twenty-eight fundamental hexagrams could generate fifty-six variations through inversion, but eight hexagrams (Qian, Kun, Kan, Li, Daguo, Yi, Xiaoguo, Zhongfu) remained unchanged regardless of inversion. These twenty-eight fundamental hexagrams plus the eight immutable ones form the so-called "Thirty-Six Palaces" system. This actually reveals the cyclical mysteries of heaven's root (tiangen) and the moon's phases (yueku).

Though Fu Xi's Early Heaven (xiantian) Bagua diagram contains no written explanations, it encompasses extraordinarily profound meaning. Every character and concept in the Yijing originates from this system. Structurally, the Taiji diagram appears less comprehensive than the Early Heaven Bagua, yet in theoretical depth, the Bagua lacks the Taiji diagram's concise refinement. Ultimately though, the Taiji diagram operates within the framework of the Early Heaven Bagua, as both share the same essential principles.

The study of hexagrams divides into two stages: the process from the initial single line (yang yao) to the complete six-line hexagram constitutes "Early Heaven learning," while interpreting formed hexagrams according to their meanings represents "Later Heaven King Wen's Bagua." Shao Yong (Master Shao) maintained that Fu Xi drew the Early Heaven Bagua, while King Wen of Zhou developed the Later Heaven version. Fu Xi's Yijing originally contained no text, using only images to represent numerical hexagrams, yet encompassed the patterns of heaven-earth and the full cycle of yin-yang transformations.

The Later Heaven Bagua's directional arrangement places Li in the south, Kan in the north, Zhen in the east, Dui in the west, Qian in the southwest, Kun in the northwest, Gen in the southeast, and Xun in the northeast—these being the practical application positions. Though Confucius composed commentaries based on King Wen's Yijing, his discussions in the Ten Wings about Bagua arrangement, Taiji's two modes and four images developing into eight trigrams, and concepts like heaven-earth-mountain-lake-thunder-wind-water-fire all return to Fu Xi's original intent, never equating King Wen's developments with Fu Xi's primordial creation.

Regarding these diagrams' transmission, tradition holds that Shao Yong received them from Li Zhi (Li Tingzhi), who in turn obtained them from Mu Xiu (Mu Bozhang), who inherited them from the venerable Chen Tuan—demonstrating the shared origins between Yijing studies and Neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation. Just as in spiritual practice, the progression from Fu hexagram to Qian represents yang qi's growth, while Gou to Kun signifies yin qi's accumulation. The Qian and Kun hexagrams establish heaven and earth's positions above and below, with Li and Kan positioned left and right, symbolizing the patterns of cosmic opening-closing and celestial movement—particularly the critical node of winter solstice...

This scripture elucidates the correspondence between the movement of Yin-Yang energies and lunar phases in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) practice, employing the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) from the Zhouyi (Book of Changes) to expound cultivation principles.

Within the annual cycle, the period from winter solstice to summer solstice resembles "exhalation," while summer solstice to winter solstice corresponds to "inhalation" — representing heaven and earth's respiratory rhythm. The Qi movement at winter solstice mirrors that of summer solstice in reverse. During spring and summer, energy flows from the Zi hour (11pm-1am) to Chen-Si hours (7-11am), while autumn and winter see movement from Wu hour (11am-1pm) to Xu-Hai hours (7-11pm).

The four key trigrams — Qian (Heaven), Kun (Earth), Kan (Water), and Li (Fire) — hold paramount importance. The Zhouyi Cantongqi states that these four Yin-Yang trigrams function like bellows (symbolizing breath regulation). Kan and Li, numerically represented as one and two respectively, form the meridional axis between north and south. Kan embodies true Water and Li true Fire — these govern the other six trigrams, which manifest their functions. Both Yin and Yang energies originate and culminate at the Zi-Wu axis.

The Kan trigram conceals the six Wu (heavenly stems), symbolizing lunar essence in the north, analogous to the golden tiger (kidney's true Yang) born from water. The Li trigram contains the six Ji stems, representing solar radiance in the south, like the mercury dragon (heart's true Yin) born from fire. Beginning with Zhen trigram, the cycle reaches fullness at Qian, gradually wanes through Xun, and completely dissipates at Kun.

Qian's central Yang line resides within Kun, showing metal-water's common origin; Kun's central Yin line dwells in Qian, revealing wood-fire's coexistence. Qian generates three Yin trigrams (Xun, Li, Dui) in the east — two Yang producing one Yin. Kun produces three Yang trigrams (Zhen, Kan, Gen) in the west — two Yin generating one Yang.

Kan's embryonic form resides at the Wu position, Li's at Zi. The west borrows metal's primordial Qi, the east borrows wood's ancestral Qi. Qian retreats to lodge in Kan, while Kun withdraws to reside in Li. The Najia (stem-incorporation) method operates thus:

• Qian corresponds to the full moon (15th day) incorporating Jia-Ren
• Kun corresponds to the dark moon (30th day) incorporating Yi-Gui
• Kan and Li ascend and descend through the central palace

Specifically:

Qian incorporates Jia-Ren

Kun incorporates Yi-Gui

Li incorporates Ji

Kan incorporates Wu

Xun incorporates Xin

Zhen incorporates Geng

Dui incorporates Ding

Gen incorporates Bing

These perfectly align with lunar phases: Kun's initial transformation into Zhen matches the new moon appearing in the Geng direction; its subsequent change to Dui corresponds to the first quarter moon in Ding. Qian's initial shift to Xun reflects the moon's waning appearance in Xin, further diminishing to Gen as the last quarter moon. From the dark moon to the new moon (1st day), Zhen receives celestial mandate as the Fu hexagram emerges. Zhen in the west incorporates Geng, mirroring its trigram nature.

On the 8th day, Dui incorporates Ding; on the 15th, pure Yang Qian incorporates Jia; the 16th sees Xun incorporate Xin; the 23rd has Gen incorporate Bing; the 30th completes with Kun incorporating Yi. Thus Ren-Gui pairs with Jia-Yi to complete the monthly cycle.

This passage explores the relationship between the Primordial Bagua (Eight Trigrams) and the Zhouyi Cantongqi (The Seal of the Unity of the Three), as well as the principles of Yin-Yang transformation and cosmic creation. Zhu Xi observed that the arrangement of the Primordial Bagua corresponds to ancient divination techniques like Najia ("stem-branch matching"), such as the alignment between "Heaven and Earth taking their positions" and the complementary relationship of the Pi (否) and Tai (泰) hexagrams. The author suggests that Wei Boyang's Cantongqi likely drew from Chen Tuan's (Master Xiyi) teachings, as their trigram positioning subtly resonates with each other.

The text elaborates on the cyclical patterns of Yin and Yang: Yang Qi begins its ascent at the Fu (复) hexagram, reaching its zenith at the Qian (乾) hexagram, while Yin Qi emerges from the Gou (姤) hexagram and culminates in the Kun (坤) hexagram. These transformations mirror the cyclical rhythms of the twelve months, thirty days of a lunar month, and twelve double-hours of a day. The 384 lines of the 64 hexagrams perfectly symbolize a complete cycle of the Dao of Heaven.

The author emphasizes that the teachings of Shao Yong (Master Kangjie) and Chen Tuan revived clarity in these principles. Unlike Yang Xiong's Taixuan Jing (Canon of Supreme Mystery) or Guan Lang's Dongji Jing (Scripture of the Ultimate Cavern), which mechanically imitated the Yijing, they truly grasped the essence of Yin-Yang transformation. Those who comprehend the profundity of Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) can perceive the laws of cosmic creation—indeed, one might say "Heaven and Earth arise from the Changes (Yi), yet the Changes do not originate from Heaven and Earth."

Finally, the passage notes that the Hetu (River Chart), the legendary diagram revealed to Fuxi, unveils these fundamental principles. Those who awaken to the Dao of the Primordial can master the creative patterns of all phenomena, attaining the realm where "creation and transformation lie within oneself." This state transcends the limits of language, reaching the ineffable ultimate.

The Book of Changes (Yijing) recounts that the Dragon Chart (Hetu) emerged from the Yellow River and the Turtle Script (Luoshu) appeared in the Luo River, based on which the sage (referring to Fuxi) established cosmic principles. The Commentaries on the Changes (Yizhuan) states: Heavenly numbers are odd (1, 3, 5, 7, 9), while earthly numbers are even (2, 4, 6, 8, 10). There are five heavenly numbers and five earthly numbers, which combine in pairs to form a complete system. The sum of heavenly numbers is 25, and the sum of earthly numbers is 30—together, the numbers of Heaven and Earth total 55. Confucius used the numerical patterns of the Hetu to explain the laws of cosmic transformation, demonstrating its capacity to reveal the workings of spirits and deities.

The specific correspondences are as follows:

• Heaven's 1 corresponds to Water, shaped by Earth's 6;
• Earth's 2 corresponds to Fire, shaped by Heaven's 7;
• Heaven's 3 corresponds to Wood, shaped by Earth's 8;
• Earth's 4 corresponds to Metal, shaped by Heaven's 9;
• Heaven's 5 corresponds to Earth, shaped by Earth's 10.

The Book of Documents (Shangshu) records the Hetu displayed in the eastern chamber—this refers to the Eight Trigrams (Bagua) derived by Fuxi when a dragon-horse emerged from the Yellow River bearing the chart, whose patterns he used to create the trigrams. The Book of Rites (Liji) similarly mentions the dragon-horse presenting the chart, while the Analects (Lunyu) laments "the Yellow River no longer brings forth the chart," referencing this same Hetu-Bagua tradition.

Predating written language, the Hetu encapsulates the natural order of Heaven and Earth, containing the mysteries of creation and serving as the origin of all symbolic numerology (xiangshu). Zheng Xuan (a Han dynasty scholar) explained: The Yellow River connects to the Qian hexagram (symbolizing Heaven), revealing celestial secrets, while the Luo River links to the Kun hexagram (symbolizing Earth), manifesting terrestrial signs. Liu Xin of the Han dynasty stated that Fuxi, ordained by Heaven to rule, received the Hetu and thereby drew the Eight Trigrams, with the Hetu and Luoshu functioning as warp and weft, and the trigrams and ninefold Luoshu scheme as complementary frameworks.

Later scholars offered varied interpretations:

• Wang Su identified the Hetu directly as the Eight Trigrams;
• Wang Chong described it as the trigrams emerging from the Yellow River's waters;
• Guan Ziming depicted the Hetu's arrangement as seven in front, six behind, eight to the left, and nine to the right;
• Liu Mu emphasized its 45-number system representing the Four Images (Taiyang, Shaoyang, Taiyin, Shaoyin) without referencing the Five Phases (Wuxing);
• Dai De's Elder Dai's Records of Rites (Da Dai Liji) preserves the sequence "2-9-4-7-5-3-6-1-8," said to imitate a turtle's shell markings—a pre-Qin archaic script;
• Ouyang Xiu asserted the trigrams' patterns were divinely bestowed when the celestial horse bore them from the river, affirming their supernatural origin beyond human artifice.

This synthesis of classical accounts positions the Hetu as a pre-cosmic schema—both the source of the trigrams and the key to ancient cosmological understanding. Despite interpretive variations, all traditions acknowledge its transcendent, sacred nature beyond mortal creation.

This passage discusses the origins and significance of the Hetu (River Chart) and Luoshu (Luo Writing), mysterious diagrams from ancient Chinese legend. According to tradition, a divine horse emerged from the water bearing the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) patterns—these were natural formations from Heaven and Earth, not created by Fuxi (the ancient sage). Wang Anshi held that the Hetu reveals the Dao of Heaven through symbols, while the Luoshu demonstrates human principles through concrete rules.

Scholar Cai Shen noted that ancient scholars from Kong Anguo through Liu Xiang and his son to Ban Gu all believed the Hetu was transmitted to Fuxi while the Luoshu was bestowed upon Yu the Great. However, scholars like Guan Ziming and Shao Yong (styled Kangjie) maintained that the Hetu used ten numbers while the Luoshu used nine—only Liu Mu held the opposite view, claiming the nine-number diagram was the Hetu and the ten-number version the Luoshu, attributing this interpretation to Chen Tuan (also known as Xi Yi), which differed from other scholars' views.

The text explains: Fuxi needed only the Hetu to compose the Yijing (Book of Changes), requiring no exposure to the Luoshu to achieve correspondence; Yu the Great formulated the Hongfan (Great Plan) based solely on the Luoshu without needing to reference the Hetu. The Hetu's numbers are all even, symbolizing stillness yet expressing dynamic function—its numerical pairings being 1 with 6, 2 with 7, 3 with 8, 4 with 9, and 5 with 10. The Hetu's essence is circular yet its application square, from which sages derived the Bagua.

Cheng Yi (Master Cheng) stated that sages drew the Bagua after seeing the Hetu and Luoshu, yet even without these diagrams, the trigrams would have been created. Both diagrams center on the number five, which when extended to ten yields the "Great Expansion number" fifty mentioned in the Yijing. The Hetu's total is fifty-five, with all multiples of ten deriving from five—only five being fundamental. Shao Yong associated the circular form with celestial bodies (Hetu) connecting to calendrics, while the square form corresponded to terrestrial divisions (Luoshu) relating to geography. Thus Fuxi and King Wen developed the Yijing from these, while Yu the Great and Jizi formulated the Hongfan. Zhu Xi (Master Zhu) also endorsed this interpretation.

This passage discusses the relationship between the Hetu (River Chart—the legendary mystical pattern borne by a dragon-horse from the Yellow River) and the numerical principles of the Zhouyi (Book of Changes). The Hetu arranges numbers from 1 to 10, totaling 55, distributed in paired Yin-Yang odd-even correspondences: 1 and 6 belong to Water in the north, 2 and 7 to Fire in the south, 3 and 8 to Wood in the east, 4 and 9 to Metal in the west, and 5 and 10 to Earth at the center. This layout reveals the fundamental patterns of Heaven-Earth, Yin-Yang, and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water).

The Hetu prioritizes the "generative numbers" (1–5), with the "completion numbers" (6–10) subordinate to them. The sum of the five odd numbers is 25, while the five even numbers total 30, combining to 55. The central 5 and 10 symbolize Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate, cosmic origin), the twenty odd and even numbers represent the Two Modes (Yin-Yang), and the correspondences between 1–4 and 6–9 manifest the Four Images (Lesser Yang, Greater Yang, Lesser Yin, Greater Yin).

Wu Cheng explains that when Fuxi observed the numerical arrangement of the Hetu borne by the dragon-horse, he realized that all things in Heaven and Earth follow Yin-Yang correspondences. Thus, he used solid lines (odd strokes) for Yang and broken lines (even strokes) for Yin, creating the Eight Trigrams (Bagua) through layered combinations, later expanded into the sixty-four hexagrams. The five-position layout of the Hetu also corresponds to the celestial Five Palaces: the Black Tortoise in the north, Vermilion Bird in the south, Azure Dragon in the east, White Tiger in the west, and Purple Tenuity Enclosure at the center. Although the Hetu contains ten numbers, it represents only five directional positions. During the Zhou dynasty, it was treasured alongside the celestial sphere and jade discs.

Chen Zhi from the Jade Mansion (a Daoist cultivation site) explained that the Hetu (River Chart) and Luoshu (Luo Writing) diagrams fundamentally revolve around the number five, existing in a relationship of principal and variation. If we take the Hetu as primary, then the Hetu represents the principal form while the Luoshu becomes its variation; conversely, when considering the Luoshu as primary, their roles reverse. Though these diagrams transform through crisscrossing patterns, they complement each other like warp and weft threads interwoven in fabric.

Weng Yong elaborated: In the Hetu, the arrangement of Yin-Yang primarily follows the "generating numbers" (1-5), with the "completing numbers" (6-10) serving as complements. The northeast sector belongs to Yang, thus using odd numbers (1,3) as principal with even numbers (2,4) as complements; the southwest sector belongs to Yin, employing even numbers (2,4) as principal with odd numbers (1,3) as complements. Hu Nuan added: The Hetu distinguishes Yin-Yang through generating and completing numbers, using the Yang energy of five generating numbers to govern the Yin energy of five completing numbers within shared sectors. With Yang energy internal and Yin energy external, the generating and completing numbers mutually correspond, symbolizing the harmonious state of heaven-earth communion. The Hetu's total sum being seventeen establishes its fundamental structural correspondence.

Hu Yigui observed: The Luoshu appears to contain only five numbers without ten, yet examining its numerical pairs (1 & 9, 2 & 8, 3 & 7, 4 & 6) arranged in opposing positions reveals an implicit concept of ten. Previous scholars who deeply studied the principles of Yin-Yang transformation had thoroughly explored the Hetu's mysteries, though debates persist regarding the diagrams' similarities and differences.

Liu Mu proposed: The arrangement where 1-6 occupy the north, 2-7 the south, 3-8 the east, 4-9 the west, and 5-10 the center actually describes the Luoshu; whereas the pattern "9 above like a hat, 1 below like shoes, 3 left, 7 right, 2-4 as shoulders, 6-8 as feet" represents the true Hetu. Therefore he associated nine numbers with the Hetu and ten with the Luoshu. Zhang Wenrao, well-versed in Shao Yong's teachings, shared this view, though Shao Yong himself only discussed the diagrams' square and circular forms without mentioning numerical correspondences - his interpretation aligning with Confucius and Jizi's accounts.

Regarding transmission lineages, some say Shao Yong's teachings came via Mu Xiu, while Liu Mu's derived from Chong Fang, both inheriting from the renowned Five Dynasties Daoist Chen Tuan. Zhu Xi recorded: Chen Tuan transmitted the Prenatal Diagram to Chong Fang, who passed it to Mu Xiu, then Li Zhicai, finally reaching Shao Yong; simultaneously Chong Fang transmitted the Hetu-Luoshu to Li Gai, through Xu Jian and Fan Echang to Liu Mu. Mu Xiu also taught the Taiji Diagram to Zhou Dunyi, who passed it to Cheng Hao. Zhu Xi vehemently criticized Liu Mu's interpretation as eternally definitive, though later Wei Liaoweng rebutted Zhu Xi's position.

(Note: This passage reflects Song Dynasty scholars' diverse interpretations of the Hetu-Luoshu, demonstrating the integration of Daoist numerology and Confucian Yijing studies. These ancient mystical diagrams were used by both traditions to explain cosmic principles. "Generating numbers" [1-5] and "completing numbers" [6-10] symbolize the process of cosmic generation.)

This passage discusses the origins of the Hetu (River Chart) and Luoshu (Luo Writing) and the controversies among various schools of thought. Initially, some attributed the nine diagrams and ten writings to Chen Tuan (a renowned Daoist master of the Northern Song dynasty). Later, Jiang Shanfu identified the Prenatal Diagram as the Hetu and the Five Phases Generation Numbers as the Luoshu. Dai Jiu believed the Taiyi Downward Progression Numbers constituted the Hetu, while Luo Duanliang claimed to have obtained the Hetu from the Sichuan recluse Cai Jitong—its circular form resembled a wheel, with alternating black and white sections divided into eight parts symbolizing the Bagua (Eight Trigrams). White represented pure Yang (Qian trigram), black pure Yin (Kun trigram), and the gradations between them symbolized the remaining trigrams.

Xie Fang asserted he received the Hetu from an extraordinary individual—its form imitated the Bagua, featuring the intersection of the Kan (Water) and Li (Fire) trigrams, resembling the Kan-Li techniques in Neidan (internal alchemy) practice. Zhang Pingzi identified the Nine Palaces Numbers from the "Qian Zao Du" as the Taiyi Diagram, while Liu Mu directly labeled all ninety-two diagrams as the Hetu. These diverse interpretations create considerable confusion.

Zhu Xi regarded the Hetu and Luoshu as not entirely credible, a skepticism traceable to Ouyang Xiu. Yet classical texts like the "Guming," "Xici," and "Analects" all reference them. Though explanations vary, the two diagrammatic traditions transmitted by different schools follow consistent numerical principles, with clear rules governing their horizontal, vertical, and curvilinear arrangements. Ouyang Xiu, having never seen the original diagrams, dismissed their authenticity based solely on commentaries—even doubting Confucius' authorship of the "Xici"—an overly arbitrary stance.

The Hetu and Luoshu contain profound mysteries of cosmic creation; sages indeed derived the Bagua from them. But can we straightforwardly equate the Hetu with the Bagua? The Luoshu aligns with the "Hongfan" (Great Plan), matching its "first to ninth categories" and clearly originating from it. The Luoshu employs five odd numbers governing four even numbers, with odds dominant and evids subordinate. Its horizontal and vertical sums all equal fifteen; the numbers seven, eight, and nine wax and wane reciprocally. The vacant five divides into ten, forming correspondences between one and nine, two and eight, three and seven, four and six. These intricate transformations reveal boundless profundity. Thus, both the Hetu and Luoshu's numerical systems develop from five to ten, ultimately conforming to the "Great Expansion number fifty" principle.

This passage explains the relationship between the Hetu (River Chart) and Luoshu (Luo Writing) with Yin-Yang and the Five Phases (Wuxing). The Luoshu, an ancient mystical diagram, displays 45 dots arranged in its outer sections, divided into four states of Yin-Yang maturity (old and young). The central number five itself contains five dots, bringing the total to fifty. The Luoshu primarily represents transformation, with its highest number being nine. Odd-numbered positions dominate, while even-numbered ones are fewer, with each Yin and Yang side containing twenty dots.

The central number five combines with the surrounding numbers: Taiyang (old Yang) plus five yields six, Shaoyin plus five yields seven, Shaoyang plus five yields eight, and Taiyin (old Yin) plus five yields nine. This numerical progression mirrors the alternating Yin-Yang pattern of the Hetu. The Hetu and Luoshu relate like warp and weft threads, while the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) and the nine-grid Luoshu complement each other as surface and depth.

The "Great Expansion number fifty" (Dayan zhi shu wushi) also derives from the five fundamental numbers each expanding to ten, totaling fifty. Both the Hetu and Luoshu have empty centers, symbolizing the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). The surrounding twenty odd and even numbers represent the Two Modes (Liangyi, i.e., Yin and Yang). Their horizontal and vertical sums always equal fifteen, corresponding to the four numbers seven, eight, nine, and six, which symbolize the Four Symbols (Sixiang: Shaoyang, Taiyang, Shaoyin, Taiyin). By positioning the Qian (Heaven), Kun (Earth), Kan (Water), and Li (Fire) trigrams as the primary directions, and Zhen (Thunder), Dui (Lake), Xun (Wind), and Gen (Mountain) as the secondary, the Bagua is formed.

In the circular arrangement of the Pre-Heaven Bagua, the Qian trigram occupies the due south (noon position), Kun the due north (midnight position), Li the due east (sunrise position), and Kan the due west (sunset position). Yang energy arises at midnight (north) and peaks at noon (south), while Yin energy arises at noon and peaks at midnight. The square arrangement, however, begins with Qian in the northwest and ends with Kun in the southeast. These patterns align with the odd-even arrangement principles of the Hetu and Luoshu, making the Pre-Heaven Bagua a fundamental framework for Neidan (internal alchemy) practice.

In the Hetu, the generative number of Yang is five (the root of the Five Phases), while the formative number of Yin is ten (the foundation of all things). The sums of one and nine, four and six both equal ten, representing the shared origin of Metal and Water. Similarly, two and eight, three and seven also sum to ten, symbolizing the unity of Wood and Fire. The total fifty-five numbers are distributed among five directions: one and six in the north (Water), two and seven in the south (Fire), four and nine in the west (Metal), three and eight in the east (Wood), and five and ten in the center (Earth). When calculating with generative numbers, subtracting the base number from each direction reveals the fundamental source of the Five Phases.

This scripture elucidates the profound principles of mutual generation and restraint among the Five Phases (Wuxing) in Daoist cultivation. It first mentions the fundamental numbers of the Five Phases (Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, Earth): after subtracting the inherent numbers of the Five Directions (east, west, south, north, center), the remaining number twenty-five symbolizes the foundation of the Five Phases and the essence of Central Earth (Wutu).

The text further analyzes the generative relationships among the Five Phases: the number one of Northern Water leaves four, symbolizing Metal (Metal generates Water); the number two of Southern Fire leaves three, symbolizing Wood (Wood generates Fire); the number three of Eastern Wood leaves two, symbolizing Fire (Fire generates Wood); the number four of Western Metal leaves one, symbolizing Water (Water generates Metal). These numerical transformations reveal the mysteries of mutual generation and restraint, such as alchemical terms like "Metal Tiger" (lead born from silver) and "Wood Dragon" (mercury congealing through lead), illustrating the arcane principles of material transformation. The central void position represents Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), while the combination of the Four Symbols (sixiang, four directions) forms ten, manifesting the creative principle of Yin-Yang inversion and perpetual regeneration.

The latter part discusses the transmission of the Hetu (River Chart) and Luoshu (Luo Writing). Some believe these prophetic diagrams originated with Chen Tuan (Master Xiyi), represented by circular symbols. Lost for over a millennium after the Three Dynasties (Xia, Shang, Zhou), they were rediscovered by occultists during the Song dynasty. However, these practitioners merely used their odd-even numbers for divination, which actually formed the basis of calendrical astrology. The author refutes certain Confucian scholars' disparagement of the Cantongqi (a foundational Daoist text), arguing that while the Hetu-Luoshu and Bagua (Eight Trigrams) are related, they cannot be equated. From Fuxi to Confucius, successive sages interpreted the River Chart differently, and it wasn't until Zhu Xi that the explicit formulation "ten for the Chart, nine for the Writing" emerged. Yet debates persist regarding the relationship between the Prenatal Diagram and the River Chart among various schools.

This passage discusses the core ideas of image-numerology (xiangshu) theory in the Book of Changes (Yijing) and how to correctly comprehend its underlying principles.

The text begins by criticizing far-fetched interpretations of the Hetu (River Chart, the legendary auspicious diagram said to appear during Fuxi's era). The author points out that according to the "Xici" commentary's account from "Heaven one, Earth two" up to "Earth ten," the number five represents the root of transformation (yan mu), while ten signifies its outcome (yan zi). The numbers one through fifteen naturally form their positions like celestial constellations—completely natural phenomena rather than anything supernatural or mystical.

Master Cheng Yi observed: First comes the principle (li), then its symbolic manifestation (xiang), and only then emerges its numerical expression (shu). By grasping the principle, both image and number are naturally encompassed. From the original Hetu and Luoshu diagrams to the later trigrams and hexagrams, all use symbolic forms to illuminate universal principles. The subtle patterns of celestial brightness and darkness, the birth and decay of all things—all can be manifested through these symbols. However, becoming obsessed with the symbols and numbers themselves, treating the Yijing merely as a divination tool while neglecting to investigate its deeper principles, constitutes a deviation from the true Dao (Way). Diviners like Guo Pu and Guan Lu used numbers to deduce cosmic phenomena and trigrams to determine fortune—this represents but one facet of the Yijing, far from exhausting its profound unity of substance and function.

The principles of human nature (xing) and cosmic destiny (ming) are ultimately one. Scholars seeking the Dao must investigate the origin of xing-ming. Without thorough inquiry, genuine understanding remains elusive. When Han Yu discussed human nature, though inheriting the sages' teachings, some principles remained unarticulated. Since ancient times, many have theorized about human nature, yet few grasped its essence. Figures like Yao and Shun embodied its innate purity, while Tang of Shang and Wu of Zhou attained authentic realization through self-cultivation—these truly apprehended xing's essence. Thus when Yao transmitted rulership to Shun with the admonition "The heart of Dao is subtle," he revealed the foundation of kingly governance.

As the Zhou dynasty declined, Confucius emerged in response to Heaven's mandate...

This passage explores the essential relationship between human nature and the Dao of Heaven. The core argument states that the innate nature bestowed by Heaven (天命之性, tianming zhi xing) is originally pure and virtuous, inherently possessing qualities like benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom—just as a mirror is naturally bright or water naturally clear. This fundamental goodness neither increases nor decreases based on human intelligence or foolishness, much like floating clouds cannot obscure the sun's true nature in the vast sky.

Two aspects of human nature are distinguished: first, the primordial purity of "Heaven-endowed nature" (天命之性, tianming zhi xing), which aligns with Mencius's concept of innate goodness; second, the "temperamental nature" (气质之性, qizhi zhi xing) shaped by postnatal influences, corresponding to Confucius's observation that "human natures are alike." Manifestations of evil arise from external temptations, desires, and habitual obscurations—akin to dust dulling a mirror or sediment clouding clear water. Yet once these disturbances are removed, the original radiance of one's nature will reappear.

Those who attain genuine enlightenment reach a state of "stillness in concentration and directness in action" (静专动直, jing zhuan dong zhi)—their inner being becomes lucid and unshaken by external phenomena. This awakened state harmonizes the physical senses, regulates emotions like joy and anger, and penetrates the principles governing life, death, and the unseen realms. From the Duke of Zhou and Confucius to Yan Hui, sages achieved moral perfection by preserving this authentic nature, whereas tyrants like Jie and Zhou fell into depravity by abandoning it.

The text refutes two misconceptions: Yang Zhu's claim of "mixed good and evil" merely reflects deviations caused by acquired habits, while Gaozi's assertion that "life is nature" actually refers to desires rather than true innate nature. Authentic heavenly principle (天理, tianli) manifests in social norms like rites, music, and laws—all natural expressions of the cosmic order of the Dao.

This discussion examines different philosophical perspectives on the fundamental nature of human character. Xunzi argued that human nature is inherently evil, with all goodness being artificially cultivated through later efforts. Han Yu categorized human nature into three grades (superior, medium, and inferior), proposing seven manifestations of emotions and desires. Dong Zhongshu defined "destiny" (ming) as the mandate of heaven, "nature" (xing) as the essence of life, "emotions" (qing) as human desires, and the "Dao" as the path to governance—considering benevolence, righteousness, rites, and music as tools to realize the Dao.

Zhou Dunyi (Master Zhou) and Cheng Yi (Master Cheng) offered more refined insights: what heaven bestows is "destiny," what all things receive is "nature," and "nature" itself is the heavenly principle (tianli). This view can be seen as inheriting Mencius's theory of innate goodness, surpassing the doctrines of other thinkers.

Daoism (Lao) and Buddhism (Shi) each have distinctive understandings of "nature": Daoism regards "nature" as the original spirit (yuanshen, the innate and indestructible spiritual essence), while Buddhism sees it as primordial awareness (benjue, the originally empty yet luminous nature). Both advocate severing external temptations and maintaining purity to reveal this luminous essence. However, critics argue that such perspectives treat heaven, earth, and all things as illusory, neglecting the real existence of principle (li) and vital energy (qi).

Finally, it is noted that Daoist practitioners who investigate the matter of life and death differ significantly from the doctrines of Shen Buhai, Han Fei, or Yang Zhu. Daoism seeks the supreme state of harmony between heaven and humanity—a subtle and profound principle of the Dao that is not easily grasped by ordinary people. Thus, it should not be conflated with utilitarian philosophies.

This passage discusses philosophical questions concerning heavenly principle versus human desires, as well as beliefs about spirits and deities. The main ideas are:

When people fail to distinguish between heavenly principle and human desires, they cannot truly comprehend the wisdom of sages. Only by fully grasping the original mind of the sages can one master the fundamental principles of cultivating both nature (xing) and life (ming).

Regarding the existence of spirits and deities, the author argues: Heaven and earth are both composed of Qi (the vital energy that constitutes all things in Daoist thought). This formless Qi circulates ceaselessly, implying there must be a governing force. As Cheng Yi stated, this governing force is called "Di" (the Divine Ruler), and its mysterious functions are termed "spirits and deities." These spirits and deities are actually manifestations of the interactions between Yin and Yang energies. Though their forms remain invisible, their existence can be deduced through rational principles.

While Confucius taught people to "respect spirits and deities but keep them at a distance," this wasn't a denial of their existence—rather, it was to prevent obsession with supernatural phenomena. The Book of Changes states that "what cannot be fathomed through Yin and Yang is called spirit," indicating that spirits and deities are connected with fortune and misfortune. In truth, the existence of spirits and deities is closely related to the human mind—when thoughts are pure and upright, principles become naturally clear. At this stage, the profound mechanisms of Yin-Yang transformation manifest within the mind, allowing spontaneous resonance with spirits and deities.

Those who truly comprehend the divine can perceive the mysteries of heaven and earth, attaining the state of unity between heaven and humanity. They don't need to deliberately seek spiritual connection, yet they naturally possess miraculous resonance. As stated in the Doctrine of the Mean, "utmost sincerity moves heaven." Though the Dao of heaven is formless and invisible, a perfectly sincere mind can naturally correspond with it. This represents the supreme state where sages exhaustively investigate spiritual wonders and comprehend all transformations.

This passage expounds on the principles of spirit worship and sincere ritual practice.

Even wicked individuals, if they sincerely observe purification rituals (Zhaijie, Daoist rites for bodily and mental cleansing) and bathe, may serve the celestial deities and spirits. The key lies in the sincerity of one’s heart—only through sincerity can one connect with Heaven. During sacrifices, the fragrant smoke of burnt offerings (Fanliao Shanxiang) and the glow of mugwort are used to repay the primordial Qi of Heaven and Earth, while millet, grains, animal livers, lungs, and aromatic sacrificial wine (Yuchang) serve as offerings to the hun and po souls. All these practices rely on the resonance of Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy).

Divine beings manifest like natural phenomena: thunder rumbles, wind and rain nourish, frost and dew sustain—such ever-changing phenomena could only be the work of the supreme deities. As for ghosts, though formless and traceless, they may appear through scent, sound, image, or spiritual resonance. Those lingering souls unable to transcend the mortal realm are what we call ghosts. The saying goes, "Jing and Qi form things, while wandering souls bring change"—all of which are the workings of Yin-Yang transformation.

Some may ask: If spirits truly exist, why do people attribute illnesses to ghostly afflictions, then claim efficacy if they recover after blood sacrifices, or resent the spirits if they do not? In truth, much of this stems from folk superstition, where improper worship (Yinsi, unorthodox sacrifices) is directed not at the legitimate deities of Heaven, Earth, and the altars of state, but at wayward spirits. Would true divine beings ever assist demons in harming human lives? Such beliefs are born of ignorance.

This superstitious trend has persisted for ages, with common folk misled by rumors, fostering harmful customs. We must understand: the living embody the expansion of Qi, while the dead represent its contraction—the hun and po souls return to Heaven, the physical form to Earth. By maintaining inner purity and sincerity, aligning with the unity of Heaven and Earth, one may move the cosmos as did Lu Yang Gong, who turned back the sun with his spear; the chaste widow whose weeping brought frost; or Han Yu, who parted the clouds of Mount Heng and drove away crocodiles. The sages of old grasped this truth long ago.

On the relationship between sincerity and the spirits: As long as one’s heart is sincere, the spirits will be present; without sincerity, how could they manifest? It is like what Dong Zhongshu said about “opening the Yang Qi and closing the Yin Qi.” Did Shichen, a high-ranking Daoist ritual master, not say as much? Primordial Qi is the true orthodox law of the August Heaven, and the spiritual power within our hearts is like the officials of the Thunder Department and the spirits of the mountains. Those who dismiss this as talk from beyond the pale—do they truly understand the hidden principles behind wondrous transformations and the patterns governing the transformations of spirits and ghosts?

As Mangwuzi walked through the mountains and forests, he observed that tall trees stood upright and spread their branches, while low shrubs grew thickly together; twisted limbs coiled in graceful shapes, and straight trunks flourished with green leaves. Some trees were so large that several people were needed to encircle them, while the smallest branches were less than a finger’s breadth across. They grew freely among cliffs and ravines, dancing with the clouds and mist and offering birds places to perch and sing. He could not help exclaiming, “What I admire most is the vigorous life force of plants. Birds and beasts each have their own nature, but the patterns of plant growth are the most vivid and pleasing to observe. Look at the changing seasons: flowers, grasses, and trees appear in red or purple, white or yellow, never defying the season or changing their true nature. As cold gives way to heat and heat to cold, they put forth buds and branches at their appointed time. Their dazzling colors cannot be matched even by the finest embroidery or cosmetics. Spring cannot make flowers bloom in winter, nor can summer make plants flourish in autumn. Before the season arrives, one cannot force them to hurry; before the season has run its course, one cannot make them slow down. Even when people transplant them into pots, bend their branches to please the eye, and alter their habits to suit cultivation, seemingly going against their natural disposition, they still grow and flower in their own rhythm. Who, then, is in control? This is the Creator’s most exquisite design! Every thing has its own distinctive nature, and each thing contains within it the complete cosmic pattern, the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). Though things need proper cultivation, their growth depends above all on the right time coming to fruition.”

This passage uses observations of wild mountain vegetation to expound the profound philosophy of "the Dao follows what is natural." The plants in mountain valleys grow without artificial fertilization or irrigation, relying solely on the nourishment of natural rain, dew, frost, and snow. Yet they thrive in all environments—tall or short, bent or straight, large or small—each developing freely according to its inherent nature. Pines, cypresses, and nanmu trees grow into pillars and beams, while camphor and catalpa wood become rafters and eaves. Resin is used to make ointments and lacquer, withered branches become utensils or firewood, sweet fruits provide nourishment, and fine roots serve as medicine. Each fulfills its purpose. Even when growing deep in remote forests, unknown to anyone, they remain complete in their intrinsic nature.

This mirrors how the great Dao (the fundamental law of the universe) pervades all under heaven, like water seeping into the earth, reaching everywhere. Though plants may seem devoid of emotion or awareness, they perfectly embody the truth of "all things sharing a common origin"—an unchanging principle that fills the cosmos, enduring through past and present. The author thus attains profound joy from this realization, though others fail to understand. He explains: observing the nature of plants is akin to contemplating one's own inherent nature. Those trees that appear merely as scenery have weathered the rise and fall of time. Had they not grown in rugged, secluded mountains, they would have long been recklessly felled. This teaches us that things endure by preserving their authentic nature, whereas forced interference disrupts the natural balance.

This passage employs the metaphor of trees being crafted into various utensils to explore philosophical reflections on the destruction of natural essence. Just as wood is transformed into boats, hoes, houses, carts, or even firewood, its innate nature is obliterated—where then can we witness its original vitality? Only those gnarled, "useless" trees, as Zhuangzi described, manage to preserve their natural lifespan. The author laments how people ceaselessly cut down trees on Mount Niu (an ancient place name), unwittingly harming their own inherent nature—is this not far more than just harm done to trees?

Shao Yong (a Northern Song Confucian scholar) once remarked that even inanimate objects like wood and stone each possess their own inherent principle of existence. The utility of objects can be fortunate or unfortunate: fine timber may become qin zithers or ceremonial vessels (fǔguǐ) for temple rites; sturdy wood might be carved into plates and bowls for grand halls; inferior pieces are relegated to humble uses, while rotten ones are discarded. Yet no matter how they are used, their inborn nature can never be entirely extinguished. This is what is meant by "exhausting one's nature" (fully realizing innate potential).

The latter section shifts to a discussion of Confucian orthodoxy: the teachings of Confucius and Mencius had already illuminated the great Dao (Way), yet later the kingly way declined—not because texts were lost, but because interpreters failed to truly comprehend them. During the Han and Tang periods, few genuinely understood the Dao. It was not until Zhou Dunyi (Zhouzi) of the Song dynasty expounded the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) theory and Shao Yong revealed the principles of the "prior heaven" that the lineage from Fuxi, King Wen, the Duke of Zhou, to Confucius (Xi-Wen-Zhou-Kong) was reconnected. The foundation of the sages' Way lies in the "heart-mind"—the Yijing (Book of Changes) is ultimately a study of the heart-mind. Shao Yong declared that "the heart-mind is Taiji," asserting that the study of prior heaven is essentially the cultivation of the heart-mind, and his theories thoroughly elucidated its mysteries. Through circular and square diagrams, he manifested the Yijing's profundity—whether addressing the vastness of heaven-earth, the subtleties of yin-yang, the obscurity of spirits, the wonders of images and numbers, or the transformations between being and non-being and the principles underlying all things—all originate from Taiji.

This passage expounds the cultivation path of returning to the cosmic origin. The Taiji (Supreme Ultimate, the cosmic origin) actually exists within the human heart—when thoughts are gathered inward, they can encompass the entire cosmos; when expanded outward, they can reach the most subtle refinement. This state is pure, exquisite, profoundly mysterious, and must be realized through direct experience rather than intellectual analysis.

True observation means perceiving things without subjective consciousness—neither from the self's perspective nor from external objects'. Just as the abdications of sage-kings like Yao, Shun, Yu, and Tang, or the rise and fall of dynasties from Zhou to Han and Chu, all ultimately depended on choices between good and evil. Order and chaos stem from the pursuit of Dao and righteousness; corruption and integrity originate in the orientation of words and deeds. The deeds of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors (legendary ancient sage-rulers) are like a bright mirror reflecting objects with perfect clarity—revealing how sages could penetrate the essence of all things.

This is the cultivation path of investigating cosmic principles, exhausting one's innate nature, and comprehending heavenly mandate. Expanding this principle, the patterns of Yin-Yang in heaven and earth can be metaphorically described: the "formless One" represents nature's spontaneity, while the "non-acting One" symbolizes the Dao. In practical application, these correspond to the Three Powers (heaven, earth, and humanity). Before Wuji (the undifferentiated state of cosmos), Yin contained Yang; after forms emerged, Yang differentiated into Yin. The cyclical transformations between the "heavenly root" (life's origin) and "moon's cavern" (lunar phases) all exist within Wuji.

Since the emergence of the Zhouyi (Book of Changes), thousands have commented on it, yet few truly grasp the sages' original intent. Most people pursue leisure and pleasure without understanding its profound meaning. Like Han Yu reading Xunzi—he only selected elements resembling Confucius' thought. Both Yang Xiong's Taixuan Jing and Shao Yong's "innate learning" (studying cosmic origins) emphasize heart-mind cultivation, while "acquired learning" focuses on concrete phenomena. Life, death, survival, and extinction all follow the Dao's patterns—forcing outcomes through clever manipulation violates cosmic principles and indulges human desires, straying far from the true path.

Those who truly attain the Dao possess vast knowledge, profound insight, elevated understanding, and expansive mental states. They can accomplish earthshaking deeds without leaving traces—this is the ultimate divine and sagely realm. Finding genuine practitioners of heart-mind cultivation to discuss these teachings is exceedingly rare. Some say the Six Classics (Confucian canons)...

This passage examines several pivotal thinkers in Chinese history and their political fortunes, with a central focus on contrasting the divergent trajectories of Dong Zhongshu and other philosophers during the Qin-Han period.

The author begins by noting that after the decline of the Zhou dynasty, the Kingly Way (the Confucian ideal of political order) was disrupted. The Qin dynasty perpetuated the corrupt practices of the Warring States period, burning books and burying scholars alive, nearly severing the transmission of the Dao. Although the Han dynasty brought stability to the realm, most Confucian scholars remained entrenched in outdated customs, unable to revive the Way of the ancient sage-kings. Emperor Wen of Han, though a virtuous ruler, failed to fully employ even a talent like Jia Yi, let alone others.

The discussion then centers on Dong Zhongshu’s life and contributions: he devoted himself to scholarship for three years without leaving his home, his words and deeds always conforming to ritual propriety, earning him the reverence of scholars as their teacher. When Emperor Wu of Han sought virtuous candidates, Dong Zhongshu’s responses (referring to his Three Memorials on Heaven and Man) directly addressed the ills of the time, expounding the Kingly Way rooted in benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and music. He clarified the nature of human destiny and articulated the principles of Yin-Yang and the interplay of punishment and virtue (a classical governance concept balancing penal law and moral education). His theories illuminated the doctrine of Heaven-human resonance: when personal cultivation aligns with ritual propriety, good and evil evoke responses from Heaven. The governing principles passed down by sage-kings like Yao, Shun, Yu, and Tang were founded on this fundamental truth.

Yet even an enlightened ruler like Emperor Wu ultimately failed to fully implement Dong Zhongshu’s three memorials, appointing him only as Chancellor of Jiangdu. More regrettably, when opportunists like Gongsun Hong rose to power, Dong was transferred to Jiaoxi out of jealousy. Nevertheless, Dong Zhongshu remained upright, serving two arrogant feudal lords with dignity and eventually retiring to write, thus preserving the Dao of timely advancement and withdrawal. His maxim, "Rectify righteousness without seeking profit; illuminate the Dao without calculating merit," was only fully developed centuries later by the Cheng brothers (Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi) of the Song dynasty, becoming a model for later generations.

Finally, the author cites Sima Qian and Liu Xiang’s evaluations, asserting that Dong Zhongshu’s talent rivaled that of Yi Yin (the virtuous minister of the Shang dynasty) and Guan Zhong (the renowned statesman of the Spring and Autumn period), far surpassing figures like Ban Gu, Jia Yi, Liu Xiang, and Yang Xiong—let alone later scholars. Through these comparisons, the passage highlights both the profundity of Dong Zhongshu’s thought and the misfortune of his political reception, emphasizing how the true Dao is often difficult for those in power to fully embrace.

This passage discusses two main themes: the first part evaluates Dong Zhongshu's historical significance, while the latter explores the relationship between literature and the Dao (the Way).

Regarding Dong Zhongshu, the text notes that his talents far surpassed those of Guan Zhong and Yan Ying—ministers who assisted hegemonic rulers—because Dong advocated for kingly governance (Wangdao) rather than rule through force (Badao). Though some proposed enshrining Dong in Confucian temples to honor his achievement of "rejecting the hundred schools and elevating Confucianism alone," this never materialized. The author laments that even an enlightened ruler like Emperor Wu of Han failed to fully utilize Dong Zhongshu's potential, making it even harder for later monarchs to truly appreciate his worth.

The latter section examines the essence of literature: it posits that the vital energy (Qi) of celestial bodies and sacred mountains condenses into literary expression, which serves as a vessel for the Dao. Truly excellent writing must be grounded in virtue (De), centered on principle and righteousness, and spring from genuine temperament. When Zhen Dexiu compiled his Authentic Literature anthology, he rigorously selected only works of edicts, discourses, narratives, and poetry that adhered to classical forms and were rooted in Confucian classics. From the Zuo Commentary to the prose of the Eight Great Masters of Tang-Song, any piece—no matter how rhetorically brilliant—that failed these standards was excluded.

(Note: Dong Zhongshu was a prominent Han Dynasty Confucian scholar; "Guan-Yan" refers to the Spring-Autumn period statesmen Guan Zhong and Yan Ying; "Zhen Wenzhong Gong" is the honorific name of Southern Song Neo-Confucianist Zhen Dexiu; Authentic Literature is his literary anthology; "Wángdào" denotes governance through moral virtue, while "Bàdào" signifies rule through military dominance.)

Judging from this passage, even the ancients' most profound and reasonable teachings are exceedingly rare. How much less can later generations—who fail to truly grasp the Dao yet presumptuously critique literary styles, aspiring to become masters while conforming to orthodoxy—possibly achieve? Ultimately, this is because they fail to illuminate the true Dao, and their inner Qi (spiritual cultivation) remains insufficient. The purpose of study lies in exhaustively investigating principles to attain practical application; one must be firmly rooted in the Dao and nurture upright Qi. Once one understands how to cultivate, upright Qi will flourish, and the Dao will naturally be established—how could writings produced in this way ever lack refinement?

For over twenty years, I have devoted myself to studying the Dao of literature, delving deeply into works from the Six Classics (the Book of Songs, Book of Documents, Book of Rites, Book of Music, Book of Changes, and Spring and Autumn Annals) to the writings of Han and Tang dynasty masters. My hope was to trace the teachings of the Three Dynasties (Xia, Shang, Zhou) and uncover the truths that complement the classics. Yet, ashamed of my limited learning and inability to achieve broad mastery, I felt deep trepidation. Only after thorough study of this text did clarity suddenly dawn upon me, strengthening my conviction and enriching my understanding. Those who lack proper direction and cultivation—their shortcomings can now be clearly discerned.

Alas! Few in this world understand this principle. They merely pursue ornate phrasing and elaborate embellishment, producing trivial and feeble writings that fall short of the true Dao of literature by not just a thousand miles but ten thousand fathoms. Do they not realize that to reach lofty heights, one must follow the correct method? If someone were to trace the origins and structure, selecting and seeking within the essence without weariness, how could they fail to grasp the faithful intent of literature? To have the fortune of following in the footsteps of the sages—is this not a cause for celebration?

On Xunzi's Writings:

Xunzi’s works comprise thirty-three chapters. The opening essays, Encouraging Learning and Cultivating the Self, are rooted in Confucius’ teachings. Subsequent discussions cover the utility of Confucian scholars, the way of rulers and ministers, the principles of kingship and hegemony, and the institutions of rites and music—seemingly grasping the fundamentals of the kingly Dao. Yet they are interspersed with debates on enriching the state and strengthening the military, and more strikingly, Xunzi explicitly advances the doctrine of "human nature as evil," arguing that human nature is inherently wicked and difficult to reform. He even questions the ways of Yao and Shun, criticizes Zisi and Mencius, and ultimately contributes to Li Si’s role in Qin’s downfall. The contentious habits of the Warring States strategists are also evident in Xunzi’s thought. Li Si, Xunzi’s disciple, facilitated Qin’s destruction—thus exposing the flaws of Xunzi’s teachings.

Mencius lived around the same time as Xunzi, yet there is no record of Mencius’ disciples, such as Wan Zhang, ever mentioning Xunzi’s views. Mencius advocated the doctrine of "human nature as good," and in his first audience with King Hui of Liang, he emphasized: "Benevolence and righteousness—that is all." If Mencius’ teachings were insufficient to influence his time and endure for generations, then Xunzi’s critiques of Yang Zhu and Mozi—were their harms not even greater?

After the Confucian orthodoxy was lost, Han Yu advocated restoring the ancient Way (Dao), though his discussions on certain issues lacked thoroughness. This may be because he didn't have time to refute Xunzi's erroneous theory of "innate human evil," or perhaps some truths hadn't fully dawned on him. While he certainly viewed Mencius through Xunzi's lens, it's unlikely he completely dismissed Mencius—he simply didn't embrace him wholeheartedly.

During the Warring States period, Xunzi stood as a highly revered Confucian master. Was there no one who could debate with him about the distinction between the Kingly Way (benevolent rule) and the Hegemonic Way (coercive rule)? Yet contemporaries honored him as their patriarch. This resembles how Duke Ai of Lu consulted Confucius about the ways of Yao and Shun, only to receive exaggerated responses meant to guide him. Xunzi likely employed divination and shamanistic practices to attract followers. Later generations remembered only the merits of his teachings, seldom discerning their flaws.

On the textual study of the Yinfu Jing (Scripture of the Hidden Talisman): Historically, Huangdi (the Yellow Emperor) and Laozi were jointly referred to as "Huang-Lao" due to the convergence of their doctrines. However, Huangdi's original words were lost; the "Huangdi texts" cited in the Liezi mostly align with Laozi's thought. The only surviving work attributed to Huangdi is the Yinfu Jing, whose language is simple yet profound—how could it have been written by anyone but one who had attained the Dao?

In the Tang dynasty, Li Quan discovered this scripture on Mount Song, allegedly hidden by Kou Qianzhi during Emperor Taiwu of Northern Wei's reign. Li Quan's commentary divides it into three sections: the first hundred characters discuss cultivating immortality, the middle hundred address governing the state, and the final hundred concern military strategy—yet each phrase simultaneously embodies all three meanings. Shao Yong dated it to the Warring States period, while Cheng Yi believed it originated either in late Shang or early Zhou, at the latest before the Qin dynasty. In the golden age of ancient sage-kings, orthodox teachings prevailed, leaving no room for novelty; only as the Zhou dynasty declined did thinkers lose their bearings and begin voicing divergent views.

The scripture's distinctive feature is this: direct assertions often mix in impure ideas, whereas its paradoxical phrasing inadvertently aligns with the true Dao. Its core teaching takes "ultimate emptiness and nothingness" as the root, with the cyclical patterns of heaven and earth as its model, asserting that all things emerge from non-being. Human perfection lies in returning from "being" to the state of "non-being." Zhu Xi, however, suspected Li Quan himself composed it, given Li's shallow grasp of Daoist arts—hardly equal to such profundity. Cheng Yi and Shao Yong insisted it was a Shang-Zhou work, convinced no Tang writer could produce such a text.

Confucian scholars often avoid discussing the pursuit of immortality, claiming such matters are not the true legacy of the Yellow Emperor (revered as the progenitor in Daoism). Yet even Zhu Xi, when annotating the classics, found it necessary to explain precisely because the texts were fragmented and obscure. My concern is that people focus only on superficial details while missing the fundamental essence.

Those who observe the patterns of celestial movement and grasp the laws of nature become one with heaven and earth—this is the state of attaining the Dao (the Way), the core teaching of this entire scripture. Human nature and the cosmic principle are fundamentally interconnected, though they manifest differently in subtle ways: the Dao establishes celestial laws to stabilize the ever-changing pivots of transformation. When things change excessively, they become erratic; but by mastering this principle, one achieves harmony between celestial mechanism and human effort.

Once the root of the great Dao is established, all transformations find their foundation, and movement and stillness naturally fall into place. This is also the principle behind cultivation—whether dealing with the "five thieves" (the five senses: eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and body), the "nine orifices" (the body's major openings), or the "three essentials" (Jing/essence, Qi/vital energy, and Shen/spirit), these patterns of generation, destruction, and restraint are all expressions of natural mechanisms. Master them correctly, and the three powers of heaven, earth, and humanity will stabilize.

The noble person understands the importance of abiding by their inherent nature without reckless action, while petty individuals act impulsively and invite calamity. The mysteries ordinary people cannot see or comprehend are precisely the marvel of "attaining spiritual communion without deliberate pursuit." Thus, sacred achievements arise from this, and transcendent wisdom manifests through it. Through the "threefold return" (repeated refinement of Jing, Qi, and Shen), ceaselessly reverting to the source day and night, severing selfish desires and guarding the root, one penetrates the boundary between life and death.

Just as the blind develop acute hearing and the deaf gain keen sight, single-minded focus yields tenfold results. Heaven's greatest gifts often appear ruthless, and the most impartial Dao resides in extreme privacy. Opposites like life and death, gratitude and enmity, benefit and harm—these seemingly contradictory concepts are all expressions of natural principle. Only those who reach the state of supreme joy and stillness can align with the "threefold return," revealing the patterns of heaven and earth in the interplay of movement and stillness.

Ordinary people see only the outward manifestations of sages, while I perceive temporal and spatial laws identical to the essence of heaven and earth—this is true wisdom. Fools measure sages with their folly and approach the sacred with curiosity; I never judge the divine through ignorance nor treat it as mere novelty. The Dao of nature silently gives birth to all things; celestial laws operate imperceptibly, with the waxing and waning of Yin-Yang driving endless transformation. In this ultimate stillness, hardness and softness balance, Yin and Yang shift, and the Dao of nature thus operates endlessly.

The universe resembles a wondrous vessel where all things flourish in endless cycles. This profound mystery cannot be fully measured by ancient calendrical systems or the hexagram lines of the Yijing (Book of Changes), hence it's described as "divine mechanism concealed in mystery." Shao Yong's theory of Najia (incorporating celestial stems into the Bagua) and the coordination between the Eight Trigrams and the sexagenary cycle represent methods of Yin-Yang mutual restraint for deducing hexagram manifestations. These theories form an interconnected system from beginning to end.

However, the popular versions by Chu and Cai scholars only scratch the surface of phenomena. For the subsequent twenty-one passages particularly esteemed by Zhu Xi, one should consult the editions by Chu and Zhang scholars. Though divided into three chapters addressing distinct subjects, true understanding of the relationship between essence (ti) and function (yong) - achieving the state where "essence established, function naturally flows" - requires mastery of the principles governing movement-stillness transformations and the arcane secrets of life-death. Such wisdom, if not transmitted from the Yellow Emperor himself, must certainly originate from the reclusive sages of the Shang-Zhou period. How then can we rigidly adhere to studying either the Dao alone or merely ritual techniques? The ultimate truth is comprehensive and interconnected.