《弘道錄》Vol. 41

The Hongdao Lu (Record of Broadening the Dao), volume 48, discusses the trust between ruler and minister within the theme of xin (trustworthiness).

The Book of Han records that King Huai of Chu once agreed with his generals that whoever first entered Guanzhong and pacified it would be enfeoffed as king. At that time the Qin army was strong and often pressed its victories, so none of the generals wished to be first to enter the pass. Only Xiang Yu, enraged that the Qin army had killed his uncle Xiang Liang, asked eagerly to fight and wished to march west with the Duke of Pei (Liu Bang) and enter the pass.

The veteran generals around King Huai said, "Xiang Yu is fierce, violent, crafty, and cruel. He once attacked Xiangcheng and killed every person in the city, and wherever he goes he carries out massacres on a large scale. It would be better to send another magnanimous and benevolent elder to march west and pacify and persuade the people of Qin. The people of Qin have suffered under the harsh government of the Qin king for a long time. If a true elder goes there and does not harass the people, Guanzhong should be pacified. Xiang Yu must not be sent. The Duke of Pei has always been generous, so he may be dispatched." King Huai therefore did not grant Xiang Yu's request, and instead sent the Duke of Pei to march west and take territory.

The Hongdao Lu comments: Could King Huai of Chu be compared with the Gengshi Emperor of the Han? King Huai valued the Duke of Pei and would not send Xiang Yu. Judging from the words he used in selecting his generals, he had something of a ruler's bearing. Yet in the end he suffered humiliation at the hands of a violent man. This is what the Yijing (Book of Changes) describes as "wading too deep, the head goes under" (guo she mie ding): crossing water so deep that it closes over one's head, falling into a situation that cannot be reversed. His fate cannot simply be blamed on him alone.

The Gengshi Emperor was suspicious of Liu Ji and had him arrested together with Liu Yan. Judging from his ashamed and uneasy appearance, he was indeed a mediocre and incompetent man. Yet because of this he incurred the guilt of having killed the Liu brothers. This is what the Yijing means by "a wooden cangue on the neck that covers the ears" (he jiao mie er): bearing a cangue and covering the ears signifies grave guilt, such that correct words cannot be heard. The circumstances of the two men were indeed different.

After the Duke of Pei pacified Guanzhong, he gathered the elders and heroes of the various counties and said to them, "You elders have long suffered under the harsh laws of Qin. Those who criticize the government are executed along with their entire clan, and those who speak privately are put to death. I am about to become king in Guanzhong, and now I agree with you elders on just three laws: whoever kills a person shall be put to death; those who injure others or steal shall be punished according to law; and all other Qin laws are abolished. Officials and people shall all remain in their places and not be disturbed. I have come here to remove harm for you elders and will not harass anyone, so you need not be afraid. I am temporarily stationing my army at Bashang, and I will wait for the feudal lords to arrive before we determine the arrangements together."

The Duke then sent men to tour the counties and villages together with Qin officials, explaining these arrangements to the people. The people of Qin were overjoyed and vied with one another to bring oxen, sheep, wine, and food to reward the soldiers. The Duke declined and refused them, saying, "Our army has ample grain and lacks nothing, and I am unwilling to consume the people's goods." The people were therefore all the more pleased, fearing only that the Duke would not be willing to become king of Qin.

The Hongdao Lu comments: The Western Han, which after two hundred years was finally able to establish its capital in Guanzhong and found its foundation, owed this to the Duke of Pei's manner of pacifying the people of Qin.

This is the beginning of the Covenant of Three Articles. Mencius said, "The advantages of terrain are not as good as the harmony of the people's hearts." Jia Sheng (Jia Yi) also said that if benevolence and righteousness are not practiced, the situation of seizing the realm and the situation of holding it will differ.

Looking at the Han court's discussions today, opinions are many and varied. The views of Lou Jing and Tian Ken are not worth pursuing in depth. Zhang Liang was resourceful and should have seen more clearly, yet he too followed the old argument of Lord Fengchun (Lou Jing) and did not hit upon the root of the matter. They did not realize that the Covenant of Three Articles is more precious than the terrain of Hangu Pass, with its "hundred-to-two" defensibility, and that letting the common people live in peace accords with the people's hearts more than occupying the advantageous position of a commanding height. Even if one wished not to rely on dangerous mountains and rivers, could one truly abandon them? Yet how could a defense as solid as a metal fortress compare with the support of the people? How could the riches of a thousand li of fertile fields surpass the feeling of the people who hold out jugs of wine to welcome an army? Though Xiang Yu could break a temporary agreement, could he uproot a tripod meant to be passed down for a hundred generations?

Emperor Wen of Han was first enfeoffed as the King of Dai. After the Lü clan was executed, the great ministers deliberated on inviting the King of Dai to take the throne. Zhang Wu and others said that the Han ministers were mostly generals from the time of Emperor Gao, who were familiar with warfare and full of schemes, and that they could not be trusted. They asked that the King of Dai feign illness and decline to go, so that they could first observe how the situation developed.

The Commandant Song Chang said, "That is not right. After the Qin lost power, heroes rose up in great numbers, and each believed the realm would fall to himself, yet in the end it was the Liu clan that ascended the throne as Son of Heaven. When Empress Lü held power with severity, the Grand Commandant entered the Northern Army with nothing more than a single tally, and with one command the soldiers bared their left arms to show their allegiance to the Liu house, and in the end the Lü clan was destroyed. This was bestowed by Heaven's will and was not something human strength could achieve. Your Highness is wise, virtuous, and filial, and all under heaven know it. The ministers are following the hearts of the realm in inviting Your Highness. Your Highness need not doubt."

When the King of Dai arrived in Chang'an, the Grand Commandant Zhou Bo asked to have a private audience with him. Song Chang said, "Matters of state are to be spoken openly before all; a ruler has no private affairs." The Grand Commandant then knelt and presented the imperial seal and tallies. That same night the King of Dai appointed Song Chang as Commander of the Guard, placing him in charge of the Northern and Southern Armies, and appointed Zhang Wu as Chamberlain for Attendants, to oversee the affairs of the palace halls.

The commentary in Hongdao Lu remarks: that Emperor Wen was later able to hold the realm securely for twenty-three years was indeed owing to his trust in Song Chang's words, and Zhang Wu and the others were far from his equal. When Emperor Wen refused the Grand Commandant's request for a private audience, his words were firm, which further revealed the steadiness of his resolve. Who would have imagined that such talent could be found in the small household of the King of Dai! That Emperor Wen enfeoffed Song Chang as a marquis was truly justified. As for Zhang Wu and the others, whose offices amounted to no more than the rank of the Nine Ministers, could it be that…

This is precisely how one shows that the ruler harbors no partial bias. Would he begrudge Lord Zhuxu a single inch of land, refusing to honor a minister's word of trust and let him live in peace? Since justice ultimately came to nothing, those who asked to withdraw and stay out of the matter cannot be blamed.

Emperor Wen's letter to Zhao Tuo, King of Southern Yue, read:

"I am a son born to a concubine of Emperor Gao (Han Gaozu). I was sent away to guard the northern frontier in the land of Dai. The road there was long and news was scarce, and since I was simple and dull by nature, I never wrote a letter to Emperor Gao. After Emperor Gao passed away, Emperor Xiaohui also died. The Empress Dowager handled affairs of state herself, but unfortunately fell ill, and the Lü clan took advantage to rebel. Thanks to the strength of the meritorious ministers, the rebellion has been put down. Because the kings and officials were not yet settled, I had no choice but to ascend the throne.

"Now I have taken the throne. I have recently heard that Your Majesty wrote to Marquis Longlu, Zhou Zao, asking to meet your own brothers, and that you reproached the two generals of Changsha. Having read Your Majesty's letter, I have already dismissed the Marquis of Boyang (here referring to the general). I have sent people to console Your Majesty's own brothers in Zhending and to repair the tombs of your ancestors.

"Some time ago I heard that Your Majesty had dispatched troops to harass the border, and disasters followed one after another. At that time Changsha suffered, and the Nan Commandery was hit especially hard. What good could this possibly do for Your Majesty's kingdom? It would certainly cost many soldiers and capable generals, leaving widows without husbands, children without fathers, and parents without sons. To gain one, one would lose ten, and I cannot bear to do this.

"I wish to redraw the borders and sort out the lands where territories interlock like the teeth of a dog. My officials tell me that Emperor Gao drew the boundaries of Changsha in exactly this way, and I may not alter them on my own authority. Even if I acquired Your Majesty's lands, it would not be enough to make the state strong; even if I acquired Your Majesty's wealth, it would not be enough to make the state rich. The regions south of the mountain ridges may still be governed by Your Majesty.

"However, Your Majesty has styled yourself emperor, and with two emperors standing side by side, yet no envoy has passed between us to communicate. This has become a contest. To contend without yielding is not the conduct of a benevolent person. I hope that Your Majesty and I will together set aside the grievances of the past, and from now on resume contact and exchange envoys as before."

When Lu Jia arrived in Southern Yue, the King of Southern Yue kowtowed in apology, declared his willingness to obey the imperial edicts, to serve forever as a vassal of the Han court, and to present tribute at the appointed times.

The Hongdao Lu comments:

Confucius told Zizhang, "If your words are loyal and trustworthy and your conduct is earnest and respectful, you will be understood even among the barbarians." Zhao Tuo of Southern Yue was nothing more than a man fleeing the punitive campaigns of the court. Yet even the mighty Son of Heaven of the Great Han, who among us would not shy away from speaking of himself as merely the son of a concubine? And if he did not shy away from this, who would not boast of the riches of the Central Plains and the might of its weapons and armies?

The passage observes that people of the world know only that Heaven bestows perfect De (Virtue) on the sovereign, and that the sovereign in turn holds himself to the perfect dignity of that position. What a ruler says springs from his own heart and is not forced. Such sincerity can move metal and stone, and even fish such as the river dolphin and the finless porpoise are moved by it. How much more, then, would the "barbarians," the Yi, Di, Man, and Mo peoples, respond, since they too are human? Their inner joy and sincere submission also arise wholly from their nature, so how could they have been coerced? Zizhang could only write his teacher's words on his sash and was unable to truly embody them. Emperor Wen's natural disposition, however, accorded with them. Although he lacked the deliberate effort of one who "sees the words before him when standing, and sees them leaning on the yoke when riding in a carriage," his results were clear and certain. Thus, when a sage establishes teachings between Heaven and earth, it is like the work of creation made manifest in all things. It requires no whispering in the ear and no instruction given face to face.

The passage then quotes Emperor Wen's letter to the Chanyu (supreme leader) of the Xiongnu. Its meaning is roughly as follows: The Emperor respectfully greets the Great Chanyu of the Xiongnu. Recently you sent a letter hoping to halt the fighting, allow your soldiers to rest, dispel past enmities, and restore the old covenant, so that the border peoples may be settled and generations may live in lasting peace. I greatly approve of this, for it is also the wish of the sage kings of antiquity. The Han and the Xiongnu once swore to be as brothers, which is why the gifts sent to the Chanyu have been so generous. Those who have broken the covenant and estranged themselves from the bonds of brotherhood have often been on the Xiongnu side. However, the actions of the Right Worthy King, a senior Xiongnu noble title, took place before the general amnesty and need not be pursued. If the Chanyu acts according to the principles expressed in this letter, let him inform his officials clearly so that they do not break the agreement and keep their word, just as the Chanyu's own letter says.

The compiler of the Hongdao Lu (Record of Expanding the Way) comments: When I consider Emperor Wen's covenant with the Xiongnu, it bears no resemblance to the feudal lords of the Spring and Autumn period, who called upon spirits as witnesses and smeared blood on their lips to bind one another with oaths. His good faith arose from his own heart, just as the letter says, like Heaven and earth that carry and cover all things without exception. This is truly the proper way for a ruler to govern the barbarians. He did not merely win their trust. He also treated them sincerely. If the Hu and Yue peoples could be made one family, and the Hua and Yi one body, then even a hundred generations later, such a day could still be seen. Is this not a great achievement?

The passage next turns to another incident. Once, while the Emperor was traveling across the Zhongwei Bridge, a man ran out from beneath it and startled the imperial horses, and the Emperor ordered his riders to seize him. At that time Zhang Shizhi served as Tingwei (Chief Justice), the highest official in charge of judicial affairs. He memorialized that the man had violated the prohibition against "disturbing the imperial procession" and should be punished with a fine. The Emperor grew angry and said: This man personally startled my horse. We were fortunate that the horse was of gentle temperament. Had it been another horse, would I not have been injured? Yet the Tingwei sentenced him only to a fine! Zhang Shizhi replied: The law is what all under Heaven share in common. Now that the law stipulates this penalty, if it were made heavier, the law would be breaking faith with the people. Later, a man stole a jade ring from before the spirit seat in the temple of Emperor Gaozu. When he was caught, the Emperor was likewise enraged and demanded a heavier sentence. Zhang Shizhi still argued the case on principle, holding to the statute.

The emperor then had him handed over to the Tingwei (Chief Justice) for trial. Zhang Shizhi ruled that he should be executed by public exposure in the marketplace (qishi). The emperor was furious. He said, "This man is without Dao (the Way). He stole objects belonging to the former emperor. I wanted to exterminate his entire clan, yet you only memorialized according to the statute. This is not my intention in serving the ancestral temple."

Shizhi removed his official cap, knelt, and kowtowed in apology. He said, "The penalty prescribed by law ends here. Now, if someone steals objects from the ancestral temple and the punishment is extermination of the whole clan, then suppose a foolish commoner stole a handful of earth from the Changling mausoleum. How would Your Majesty further aggravate his punishment?" Only then did the emperor accept his view.

The Hongdao Lu (Record of Broadening the Way) comments: People know only that Shizhi held firmly to the law, but they do not know that the emperor too could act in accordance with it. What truly troubles the world is not an unjust law but a ruler who cannot govern by law. Gao Yao (a legendary judicial official of antiquity) said "zai pi" (the punishment is rightly applied), and the emperor also said "zai pi." Gao Yao said "zai you" (leniency is rightly extended), and the emperor also said "zai you." This describes a ruler who is able to handle matters according to law.

When a ruler's words are sufficient to reject remonstrance, and his cleverness is sufficient to conceal his faults, and he believes that everyone under heaven is inferior to himself, then he cannot act according to law. Therefore, mutilating punishments such as tattooing (mo) and nose-cutting (yi) know no limit, and they develop into paolao (roasting on a heated bronze frame). Paolao knows no limit, and it develops into disembowelment and dismemberment. Could all these tyrannies have been without law?

From the "Three Articles of Agreement" (yuefa sanzhang) of the early Han, through Emperor Wen's abolition of bodily punishments, to his abolition of the law of collective arrest and punishment and his removal of the offenses of slander and "perverse speech," all these reflect his fundamental concern for the people. When someone offended the emperor's carriage or stole a jade ring, the emperor's anger in the moment was private will. Sentencing the offender to a fine or to public execution was the justice that the law prescribed. The emperor did not allow private will to harm public justice. In the end, he did not let personal emotion disturb the law, and his conduct may be said to shine like heaven, earth, the sun, and the moon.

Afterward, men such as Zhang She and Zhi Ning determined guilt and sentences solely by the ruler's wishes. From this, one can imagine what the sovereign was like at that time. Alas, if even ministers found it hard to bear hearing a remark such as "a handful of earth from Changling," how much more so to speak it openly? What was it that made people so fearful and so guarded? Therefore, to know only that Shizhi upheld the law, and not that the emperor was able to act according to it, is to not understand law.

Ni Kuan served as Zhongdafu (Palace Counselor) under Emperor Wu, and later was promoted to Zuo Neishi (Left Grand Historian of the Capital District). In governing civil affairs, he valued agriculture and sericulture, eased punishments, and handled litigation with care. He managed affairs thoroughly, treated scholars with courtesy, and devoted himself to choosing suitable talent. He selected and employed men of benevolence, attended closely to the conditions of the common people, and did not seek fame. For this reason, officials and commoners alike trusted and loved him.

In collecting taxes, he would consider circumstances leniently and allow the people to defer payment for a time, so a considerable amount of tax was not paid on schedule. Later, when the court raised troops, he was ultimately rated in the lowest grade of the official evaluation because of the tax arrears, and according to regulation he should...

The common people, hearing that they could be relieved of their burdens, instead feared losing the chance. Wealthy households drove their oxcarts, and poorer households carried loads on their shoulders and backs, all competing to pay their taxes, so that neither the land levy nor corvée labor was ever interrupted. Afterward, his official rank rose steadily until he finally attained the post of Imperial Censor-in-Chief.

The Hongdao Lu comments: Kuan was originally a Confucian scholar. It is fitting to say that in governing the people he displayed the bearing of a Confucian, but it would not be appropriate to say that he governed entirely by statute. Why? Today, the officials charged with inspection treat matters such as lending as their key points of vigilance, and a single assessment record is enough to determine an official's merit or demerit, almost never to be altered. How much more so when governance must be carried out while war is breaking out? Although the net of Han law was loose and its prohibitions lenient, we can still see such customs even then, and they far surpass those of a degenerate age. Had he not been gentle, kind, and steadfast in his integrity, how could he have achieved this? Otherwise, where would there be no cunning and deceitful people, and who would have made the wealthy households drive their oxcarts and the poorer ones carry loads on their backs to pay their taxes? From this we know that winning people's trust through sincerity and care is more effective than relying on punishments alone, and that Confucian officials are superior to mediocre functionaries. These points are worth recording.

In the reign of Emperor Xuan of Han, Zhang Anshi (a minister of the Western Han) and Du Yannian (also a minister of the Western Han) both held rank among the Nine Ministers. Their loyalty and trustworthiness were highly conspicuous. They acted with caution and thoroughness, and there was no rift between them and their colleagues, inside or outside the court. Whenever they took part in deliberating major affairs of state, they would afterward always claim to be ill and withdraw from court, so that even the other ministers did not know they had participated in the deliberations.

Zhang Anshi once recommended a man, who came to thank him, and he was greatly displeased, saying, "To recommend the worthy and those of broad talent: how could one accept private gratitude for that?" A gentleman of the palace who had achieved great merit but had not been promoted complained to him. Zhang Anshi replied, "Your merit, the enlightened ruler will naturally know. Why should a minister, in carrying out his duties, weigh the merits of others or boast of his own?" When his chief secretary was promoted and departed, the emperor asked Zhang Anshi what faults he had. The secretary replied, "The General assists an enlightened ruler, yet has not recommended any scholars, and those who discuss this criticize him for it." Zhang Anshi said, "With an enlightened ruler above, the worthy and the unworthy will naturally be distinguished. A minister need only cultivate himself. Why should he inquire who is worthy and then recommend them?"

Because he sought no renown and kept far from power in this way, the emperor held him in high respect and some awe, yet privately was closer to Zhang Anshi than he had been to Huo Guang (a powerful minister of the Western Han). Du Yannian was likewise calm, steady, and thorough in his conduct. For a long time he presided over government affairs and enjoyed the emperor's trust. When he went out, he attended the emperor's carriage; when he entered the palace, he served as Gentleman Attendant-in-Ordinary (a palace attendant). At that time the four quarters were at peace and the realm was tranquil. After the Generalissimo Huo Guang died, Du Yannian was still able to keep the political situation stable to the end, and all under heaven praised him.

The Hongdao Lu comments: Ever since Confucius spoke of the ox of mixed coat whose calf is red-hued and horned yet fit for sacrifice, people have often said that one should not judge a person by the category of his origin. If even great worthies held this view, how much more so Zhang Anshi and Du Yannian?

People who discuss this often say that "the Way of Heaven loves retribution and recurrence." This understands the Way of Heaven too shallowly. Why would the Way of Heaven stoop to meddle in such affairs? When a person does wicked deeds, the people of the world and later generations call him a bad man; when he does good deeds, they call him a good man. Is such an assessment not more worthy of trust? To ignore what has already happened and presume to guess at what has not yet happened is to fail to understand others. Two officials like these, loyal, trustworthy, prudent, and generous, embody what Confucius said: "Even if I wished not to employ them, would the spirits of the mountains and rivers abandon them?" From this we can see that the sage's purpose in discussing such matters is lofty, and it is evident here as well.

When Han Yanshou served as Grand Administrator of Yingchuan, many powerful local families held sway, and the commandery was difficult to govern. Earlier, Zhao Guanghan had judged that the local custom of forming factional cliques was severe, so he gathered officials and commoners and had them inform on one another. Han Yanshou wished to change this climate, but he feared the people would not comply. He therefore summoned the elders held in esteem in each community, one by one, entertained them with wine and food, spoke with them personally, asked about local customs, and deliberated with them on the rites for weddings, funerals, and sacrifices. These rites broadly followed the ancient ritual canon, and extravagance and excess were forbidden.

When collecting taxes, he announced the due dates in advance and treated timely payment as a matter of great importance. At first this seemed to add trouble, but later officials no longer had to exert themselves pursuing delinquents, and the common people were spared the whip. All found the arrangement secure and convenient. He treated his subordinates with generous kindness and stated the agreed rules clearly. When someone deceived or betrayed him, he reproached himself: "Could it be that I betrayed him, and that is why things have come to this?"

The people trusted and obeyed his teachings, and after several years Yingchuan was well governed. Later Han Yanshou entered the court as Grand Administrator of Zuo Pingyi. While inspecting subordinate counties, he arrived at Gaoling. There, two brothers among the common people were in litigation over fields, and Han Yanshou was deeply grieved. He said, "I have been fortunate enough to serve as a local magistrate charged with transforming the people through instruction, yet I failed to make that instruction clear, so that brothers of one flesh and blood now sue one another. This has already harmed the customs and moral order. The fault lies with me, the Grand Administrator of Zuo Pingyi." He then withdrew into a room at the post station, shut the door, and reflected on his failings. The county magistrate, the county assistant, and the rural officials likewise confined themselves and awaited judgment.

When the litigating brothers heard of this, they reproached and urged one another to yield. Both shaved their heads and cut their skin, came before Han Yanshou to apologize, offered to give the disputed fields to each other, and vowed that they would not dare to contend again, even at the cost of their lives. Han Yanshou was greatly pleased and rose to attend to government affairs at his office. The whole commandery, from the highest to the lowest, was moved, encouraged one another, and dared not transgress the rules. Thus his virtue and authority spread throughout the twenty-four counties, and no one again brought a lawsuit to dispute land.

The compiler of the Hongdao lu (Record of Propagating the Way) remarks: I see that Han Yanshou seems to have intended to change customs and transform manners, so that officials and commoners would alter their minds and turn toward goodness. Yet in the end he did not die a good death. Why was this so?

The Confucian scholars once said that people after the Three Dynasties mostly acted on the strength of their blood and qi, unlike those before the Three Dynasties, who fully followed their De (virtue). Alas, this saying applies not only to prolonging life. Zhao Gai and Yang were likewise of this kind. By the time of the Han court, the primal qi had already been exhausted, and in the end they transgressed the precept of "being fond of trust but not fond of learning," and inevitably harmed others. Therefore, even with a promise such as You Wangzhi's, one could not see that this was precisely what Confucius detested. Alas, what a pity!

When Zhao Chongguo pacified the Western Qiang, the Xianling Qiang rebelled. Emperor Xuan sent Bing Ji to ask who could lead the troops. Zhao Chongguo recommended himself, saying, "No one is more suitable than this old minister." The emperor then asked how he assessed the situation of the Qiang. Zhao Chongguo replied, "Military situations are hard to judge from afar. I hope that once I reach Jincheng, I may draw maps and plan the strategy."

He moved a small force toward Jincheng and always made long-range reconnaissance his priority. On the march he was sure to be ready for battle, and when encamped he was sure to fortify his camp. He was especially composed and steady, cherished his soldiers, and always planned before fighting. When the Qiang repeatedly provoked him, he did not readily attack, because he wished to win them over through his prestige. As for smaller tribes such as the Shaoshukai and the Jielüe, he observed the Qiang's plans and waited until they had scattered and grown weary before attacking.

Xin Wuxian, Grand Administrator of Jiuquan, memorialized the throne proposing to attack the Shaoshukai in the seventh month. Zhao Chongguo argued that the Xianling were the first tribe to rebel and should be attacked first. In this way, the Shaoshukai and others would submit without troops having to be moved. The emperor issued an edict in reply, adopting Zhao Chongguo's strategy. The Shaoshukai did indeed submit in the end without any need to mobilize troops.

The compiler of the Hongdao Lu (Record of Spreading the Dao) remarks: I observe that the ancients achieved their merit because the rulers above entrusted them wholeheartedly, and because they themselves were firm and self-assured. They often brought people to submission through prestige and good faith, and would not rashly deploy troops. This is the reason.

Emperor Xuan was discerning, and Bing Ji and Wei Xiang were loyal. These were the conditions of that time. Xin Wuxian's memorial proposing a campaign in the seventh month was likewise a product of the circumstances of the moment. Had Zhao Chongguo lacked firm convictions of his own, advancing whenever the emperor ordered an advance and halting whenever he ordered a halt, this would be what the Yijing calls "the disciples carry corpses," meaning a general controlled by others and unable to act on his own. If the ruler and the chief minister do not trust the general's plans, but instead allow the opinions of outsiders to mingle in, failing to discern advantageous strategies and disregarding beneficial measures, this is what the Yijing calls "the army may carry corpses," meaning the troops may be defeated through improper command. When both those above and those below stand in dangerous positions and lack mutual trust, success becomes very difficult. Later generations should take this as a profound warning.

The Dong Han Shu (History of the Eastern Han) records: At first, Li Tong of Wan, who served Liu Xin, was fond of astronomy, the calendar, and prognostication texts. He once said, "The Liu house will rise again, and the Li house will assist it." These words remained in his heart. Later, when Ban Biao fled from the chaos of war…

Wei Xiao (Wei Ying), Governor of Tianshui Commandery, asked: "After the fall of the Zhou, the states fought one another and the realm was divided. Only after several generations did it settle. Will the doctrines of the Zongheng (Vertical and Horizontal) strategists, who lobbied the lords with schemes of alliance and counter-alliance, rise again? Or will the succession of rising powers, each receiving the Mandate of Heaven in turn, come to its end under one man?"

The reply came: "The rise and decline of the Zhou differed from the circumstances of the Han. In the past, the Zhou enfeoffed lords of five ranks, and each governed his own domain. As the royal house's foundations weakened and the lords grew ever stronger, the late age gave way to the struggles of the Zongheng strategists. This was the result of the conditions of that time. The Han inherited the institutions of the Qin and instead established commanderies and counties, so that authority rested with the ruler alone and the ministers had no hereditary base of power. Later, Emperor Cheng entrusted power to his maternal relatives, and the reigns of Emperors Ai and Ping were brief, so the imperial line was cut off three times. The Wang clan then seized control of the court and went on to usurp the throne. The calamity arose at the top and did not reach the common people. For this reason, after Wang Mang took the throne, the people of the realm all looked up and sighed. For more than a decade the court and the provinces were in turmoil. Uprisings broke out near and far, and those who falsely claimed imperial titles gathered like clouds. All of them called themselves members of the Liu house, though they did not consult one another, and their words were nevertheless the same. Today, the heroes who hold the prefectures and commanderies lack the long-established foundations of the Seven Powers of the Warring States. The common people sing and recite, longing for and admiring the kindness of the Han, and whether the Han can be restored may already be seen from this."

Wei Xiao replied: "Your account of how the Zhou and Han situations differed is reasonable. But to conclude that the Han will be restored merely because ignorant people are familiar with the Liu surname and the Han name is a shallow view. When the Qin lost the people's support and Liu Bang rose in arms to pursue and control the situation, who at that time knew that the Han would arise?"

Ban Biao (a historian of the Eastern Han) then wrote the Treatise on the Mandate of Kings, arguing that the Han inherited the virtue-cycle of Emperor Yao and bore the signs of Heaven's mandate. The rise of kings and the establishment of dynasties, he held, cannot be achieved through deceit and force alone. He hoped in this way to move the multitude. Later, the generals urged Liu Xiu to ascend the throne. Qiang Hua, a scholar who had shared lodgings with him, brought from Guanzhong the Chifu Talisman, a prophetic apocryphal text on the receiving of the mandate, which read: "Liu Xiu rises in arms and seizes the rebels; the four quarters of foreign peoples gather like clouds, and the dragon struggles in the fields. In the time of the 'four-seven,' the fire virtue shall become the governing cycle." The ministers then memorialized again, saying: "Auspicious signs of receiving the mandate must be answered by human affairs to be great. Signs ten thousand li apart that agree with one another, with hearts in accord without any deliberation, how can the white-fish omen of the Zhou compare with these? Now there is no Son of Heaven and the realm is in chaos, while the auspicious signs are manifest. Your Majesty should respond to the spirits of Heaven to fulfill the hopes of the realm." Emperor Guangwu then ordered the responsible officials to set up an altar, and on the sixth month, day jiwei, he ascended the altar and took the imperial throne.

The Hongdao Lu comments: "The Confucian sages were right to doubt the teachings of the apocryphal prophecies. Men such as Liu Xin, who catered to the times and sought fame, and Li Tong, who attached himself to prophecy and loved achievement, did not offer upright discourse or the sincere and substantial teaching. Why not look at what Ban Biao wrote in the Treatise on the Mandate of Kings? He clarifies principle and discusses the Mandate, and examines……"

Some hold that the judgment of the times was clear and unambiguous, that it was firmly grounded and could not be shaken. The Eastern Han received its mandate on this basis, and the course of events was divided by it. The Jianwu era did bring a period of brightness, but the generals failed to achieve what was expected of them.

Yet the Eastern Han faced a difficult situation. Looking ahead, the forces of Youlai, Dageqiang, the Red Eyebrows, and the Five Garrisons had not yet been pacified. Looking behind, Wei Xiao, Gongsun Shu, Dou Rong, and others had not yet submitted. Without relying on the Mandate of Heaven, what else could have won the hearts of the people? Emperor Guangwu credited these claims because he meant to use them as a temporary expedient. Once the realm was stable, he should have received the cinnabar writings (documents recording the principles of governance) with the reverence of King Wu of Zhou, and, like Jizi expounding the Hongfan (an ancient chapter on the essentials of governance), planned the great designs for emperors of ten thousand generations. Instead, he clung to those earlier partial claims and even used them to decide military affairs and settle ritual institutions. This was muddled, and it was precisely why Zheng Xing criticized him.

Guo Ji had ambition and integrity from his youth. In the reigns of Emperors Ai and Ping, he was summoned to serve in the office of the Grand Minister of Works, and after several promotions he became Commandant of Yuyang. When Emperor Guangwu ascended the throne, Guo Ji was transferred to be Governor of Yuyang. At that time the people had only just endured the chaos of Wang Mang's rule and the aftermath of Peng Chong's failed rebellion, so local customs were largely cunning and fierce, and banditry was rampant. After taking office, Guo Ji governed through good faith and clear rewards and punishments. He executed the bandit leaders, and the bandits gradually broke up and dispersed. In the five years of his tenure, the number of households and the population increased.

Later, bandits rose throughout Yingchuan, and the court summoned Guo Ji to serve as Governor of Yingchuan. Upon arriving, he pacified the region and called back those who had fled. Zhao Chong, Shao Wu, and several hundred others with their followers heard that Guo Ji's prestige was profound and that he kept his word. Some came from as far as Jiangnan, others from Youzhou and Jizhou, and they surrendered one after another without interruption. Guo Ji was then transferred to be Provincial Governor (mu) of Bingzhou. Having already dispensed widespread kindness during his earlier service there, he was greeted on his return by the people of every county along his route, young and old alike, who came out together to welcome him.

Soon after taking office, he toured the region. When he reached Meiju County in Hexi, several hundred children, each riding a bamboo horse, came along the road to bow before him. Guo Ji asked them, "Why have you come from such a distance?" The children replied, "We heard that you had arrived, and we were delighted, so we came specially to welcome you." Guo Ji thanked them. When his tour was complete, the children escorted him out beyond the city and asked which day he would return. Guo Ji calculated the date and told them.

When he came back from the tour, Guo Ji arrived one day ahead of the appointed time. Fearing this would break his word to the children, he halted at a wayside pavilion outside the city and waited until the agreed day before entering.

The Hongdao Lu comments: How does Guo Xihou's (Guo Ji's courtesy name) agreement with the children compare with that of Marquis Wen of Wei and the forester? Marquis Wen of Wei arranged with the forester to go hunting, and even if it rained...

Whether to go or stay hardly merits much discussion. The realm had only just been pacified, and countless men who had falsely seized positions were to be calmed through my virtue and trustworthiness. If a man retracts his words as soon as they are spoken and changes course at the slightest shift in circumstances, then even in small matters he is unreliable, and how could he win people's trust in great ones? The Book of Changes says, "Wuwang (non-deception), going brings good fortune," meaning that wuwang is sincerity without falsehood. This is probably why Xi Hou (Guo Yi of the Eastern Han, styled Xi Hou) was able to fulfill his aspirations.

Zhang Gang took office as Censor with top honors. In the reign of Emperor Ming, the court dispatched eight envoys to tour the realm, but Zhang Gang alone buried his carriage wheels at the Dujing pavilion in Luoyang, saying, "Wolves and jackals block the road; why bother with foxes?" He then memorialized to impeach the Grand General Liang Ji and the Governor of Henan, listing fifteen charges of their contempt for the sovereign. When the memorial was presented, Liang Ji flew into a rage and sought to destroy him through the law. At that time, the bandit chief Zhang Ying of Guangling had gathered tens of thousands of followers and killed the prefect, the officials of the two-thousand-bushel rank, and others.

Guan Yu killed Yan Liang, and Cao Cao regarded him as a man of righteousness. Later Guan Yu sent a letter taking his leave and went to join Liu Bei in Yuan Shao's army. Cao Cao's attendants wanted to pursue him, but Cao Cao said, "Each of them serves his own lord. Do not pursue."

The author comments: Guan Yu's killing of Yan Liang was like Zhang Liang's attempt on the First Emperor's life, and it is regrettable that no one offered him the counsel of "lending the chopsticks" (jie zhu). Zhang Liang refused to re-establish the descendants of the six states, just as Cao Cao captured Guan Yu and defeated Liu Bei; Zhang Liang avenged the state of Han, just as Guan Yu followed Liu Bei in hope of restoring the Han house. When heroes have no room to deploy their martial strength, even a vow to follow one's lord to the death amounts to throwing one's life away for nothing. If Guan Yu had instead moved Cao Cao by his own trustworthiness, joined him in destroying Yuan Shao, and then persuaded him to take Liu Bei back, would that not have been far more useful? That would have given both Cao and Liu their due, whereas merely killing one general, Yan Liang, was to abandon the root for the branch.

When Cao Cao campaigned south against Liu Biao, Liu Biao died, and his son Liu Qi succeeded him and surrendered Jingzhou to Cao Cao. At that time Liu Bei was stationed at Fancheng, and some urged him to attack Liu Qi and seize Jingzhou. Liu Bei said, "Liu Biao, on his deathbed, entrusted his orphaned sons to me. To break faith and save myself is something I am unwilling to do." He left Fancheng and passed through Xiangyang, and many local people came to submit to him; by the time he reached Dangyang, he had more than a hundred thousand people, and could travel only ten-odd li in a day. Someone urged him to hurry to Jiangling and hold it, but Liu Bei said, "Achieving great things must be rooted in the people. Now the people have come to me; how could I bear to abandon them?"

Liu Bei, worried that the military supplies stored at Jiangling could give Cao Cao's forces a base, led his elite troops on a forced march of more than three hundred li in a single day and night and caught up with Cao's army at Changban Slope. Liu Bei abandoned his wife and children and fled.

Fa Zheng, a military adviser to Liu Zhang, and the Left Assistant Zhang Song discussed the matter and concluded that Liu Zhang was not capable of accomplishing great things. They secretly urged Liu Bei to seize Yi Province. Liu Bei hesitated and asked his strategist Pang Tong for advice. Pang Tong replied, "Yi Province has fertile land and abundant wealth. It can be used to accomplish a great enterprise."

Liu Bei said, "The one who is truly as incompatible with me as fire and water is Cao Cao. Cao Cao acts hastily, so I act leisurely. Cao Cao is cruel, so I am benevolent. Cao Cao relies on deceit, so I keep my word and uphold righteousness. Only by doing the opposite of Cao Cao in everything can one succeed. Now, if I lose the trust of the world for a small immediate gain, what will I do?"

Pang Tong said, "To seize territory under a legitimate pretext and then govern it according to the principles of reason is what the ancients valued. Once the matter is accomplished, we can enfeoff Liu Zhang with a large domain. How could this be called a betrayal of trust? If we do not take it now, we will only end up benefiting others."

Liu Bei initially found his argument reasonable. He therefore left Zhuge Liang and Guan Yu to hold Jingzhou and personally led the infantry into Yi Province.

The Hongdao Lu comments: Regarding Emperor Zhaolie (Liu Bei)'s acquisition of Jingzhou and Yi Province, Confucian scholars of earlier ages discussed the matter at great length. So how should this event be evaluated?

Confucius said, "The gentleman holds fast to the Way and does not cling to small trust." Mencius said, "When a sister-in-law falls into the water, reaching out a hand to rescue her is an act of expediency." An interpreter of this passage explained: "Zhen means being upright and steadfast; liang means clinging to small trust. A sister-in-law falling into the water is a grave matter, while reaching out a hand is a minor suspicion. Measuring minor matters by the standard of the upright Way allows one to understand righteousness; comparing great matters with minor ones allows one to understand expediency."

Since the rise of the Two Han dynasties, it has not been rare for founders to begin with not a single foot of land, but none has been as destitute as Emperor Zhaolie. The chaos of many powers competing and seizing territory has never been as severe as in his era. Why? Because establishing a state usually requires first having a fief of one's own. Duke Pei (Liu Bang) had already become King of Han, and Liu Xiu had already become Prince of Xiao; these were both territories of their own. Later, Liu Bang acquired the Long region and still wished to seize the Shu region. What, then, of Liu Bei? In the year he fled to Xuzhou, and the next year he was defeated at Xiapi, leaving him not one inch of land to rely upon. Could anyone who intends to become a king find himself in a situation like his?

As for Liu Biao occupying Jingzhou and Liu Yan occupying Yi Province, neither of these territories was granted to them by the court. They merely seized them in the course of the times. Moreover, both men later died. Must these regions ultimately become the capital of petty villains and the prize over which treacherous heroes fight?

As for Liu Bei's dying charge, it was nothing more than clinging to small trust, not an outstanding insight that penetrated the situation of the times. Therefore, on the one hand, Zhuge Liang said, "Heaven has granted Yi Province to you, my lord. Do you not intend to take it?" And on the other hand, he said...

Yizhou has steep, strategic terrain and is one of the most prosperous regions under heaven. Is this not clear enough? Yet Liu Bei was bound by the petty resentments of exchanges between lords and vassals and forgot the great affairs of the realm. Even if someone pointed out to Liu Bei's face the charges of defying one's father, abandoning one's ruler, bringing about the ruin of one's state, and surrendering to the enemy, none could be graver. At that time, how could Liu Bei have declined them, and how could later generations have defended Liu Bei? Had Liu Bei not forgotten the kindness that Liu Zhang had shown, and had Liu Bei not nurtured a tiger that would later become a menace, then the stratagem of kanghang fubei (striking at the throat and pressing the back, that is, attacking from both front and rear) could have been avoided altogether.

Liu Bei failed to seize the right moment, and in the end was compelled to take Yizhou by force. Therefore Zhu Xi said: "When both the meaning of the classics and the expedient adaptation to circumstances are mishandled, this is precisely such a case."

End of the Hongdao Lu.

Xin (Trustworthiness)

Junchen zhi Xin (Trust between Ruler and Minister)

The Jinshu (Book of Jin) records that when Yang Hu garrisoned Xiangyang, Yang Hu pacified those near and far with a generous manner and won deep support from the people along the Changjiang (Yangzi) and Han rivers. Yang Hu openly extended good faith to the people of Wu. When those who had surrendered to Jin later wished to leave, Yang Hu permitted every one of them to go.

Yang Hu often wore light garments in the army, with loosely tied sashes and no armor. Beneath the lingge (the pavilion where generals handled military affairs), Yang Hu's attendants numbered no more than a dozen. Yang Hu devoted all effort to soothing Wu through virtue and trustworthiness. Whenever the two armies met, battle began only after a date had been agreed upon, and there were never surprise attacks. If any general proposed a clever, deceptive stratagem, Yang Hu would have that general drink strong wine until they could no longer speak of it.

When Jin troops sometimes entered Wu territory to reap grain for their provisions, they would estimate the quantity taken and send silk in compensation. Whenever Yang Hu gathered men for hunting along the Jiang and Mian rivers, any game first wounded by Wu archers and later captured by Jin soldiers would be returned to the Wu people.

For this reason, the people on the border trusted Yang Hu deeply. Yang Hu and Lu Kang, the Wu Zhenjun Dajiangjun (Grand General of Military Pacification) stationed on the frontier, looked out at each other across the border, and envoys passed between them without pause. Lu Kang sent wine to Yang Hu, and Yang Hu drank it without the slightest suspicion. When Lu Kang fell ill and asked Yang Hu for medicine, Yang Hu sent a prepared remedy, and Lu Kang took it at once. When someone urged Lu Kang to refuse it, Lu Kang replied: "How could Yang Shuzi (Yang Hu's courtesy name) possibly poison anyone?"

Yang Hu often admonished the border garrisons: "If the enemy devotes itself to practicing righteousness while we indulge in violence, then there will be no need to fight, for they will submit of their own accord. We need only hold our borders and not covet small gains."

The Hongdao Lu comments: Duke Shao practiced good government, and the story of the gantang (sweet pear) tree he left behind is recalled. Is it the same as the story of the people weeping at Xian Mountain after Yang Hu left office, or is it different? Perhaps only a gentleman can fully grasp the principle within these accounts. Since Jin destroyed Shu, there has not been a single day when Jin did not plan to seize Wu. Zhang Ti's words, "If they prosper, it is our trouble," show that Yang Hu should not be blinded by the appearance of their magnanimity. In the distant past there was the precedent of the Chen clan, who widely dispensed favors. Nearer at hand, there is also the story of Lü Meng, who feigned goodwill...

The affairs of Wu are enough to serve as a warning from the past. As people of Wu, they should have slept on brushwood and kept their weapons at hand, straining every effort to preserve the inheritance left by their ancestors—and even then they would have had more than enough to do. Yet they said, “The other side practices benevolence alone, while we practice cruelty alone.” This shows that they had already fallen into their opponents’ scheme without realizing it. Alas, cruelty was certainly wrong, but was this so-called benevolence genuine? Wu was still immersed in strong wine, not yet sober, while plans to attack it had already been submitted time and again. Someone said, “If Wu installs a worthy and enlightened ruler, it will be difficult to deal with.” Alas, was this truly an expression of benevolence? It was merely a stratagem devised by counselors to confuse the enemy.

Even so, everywhere Wu went, it brought harm and destruction, unlike Shang Yang’s method of moving a pole to establish trust. Without the achievements of Yang Hu and Du Yu, the conquest of Wu could not have succeeded. Yang Hu was truly an outstanding figure!

The Treatise on Criminal Law in the Book of Tang records that Emperor Taizong personally reviewed the prisoners in custody. When he saw those sentenced to death, he took pity on them, sent them home, and agreed that they would return the following autumn to face execution. He then ordered that all death row prisoners throughout the empire be allowed to return home temporarily and come to the capital on the agreed date. The following September, all 390 prisoners sent home the previous year arrived at court on schedule, though no one had supervised or escorted them. Not one had fled or gone into hiding. Taizong therefore pardoned them all.

The Hongdao lu comments: The hexagram Wuwang in the Book of Changes says, “The medicine of Wuwang must not be tested.” The Sage’s meaning was presumably that a ruler governing the realm should uphold impartiality and govern with utmost sincerity and trustworthiness. As for harboring delusions, gambling on deceitful schemes and manipulations, and hoping to succeed by a moment’s pretence and good fortune, such conduct should not even be tested—how much less should it actually be put into practice?

Emperor Taizong had once forced his father to raise an army, then drawn his blade against his own brothers and killed many innocent people. The injustices suffered by Lu Zushang and Zhang Yungu are especially worthy of compassion. He then sent the prisoners home and pardoned them. Sending prisoners home was already unacceptable; how much more so was pardoning them? This was treating the people’s lives as a game and the law as a plaything. It could only become an object of ridicule for all ages.

Nothing frightens people more than death. If there is even the slightest chance of staying alive, what would they not do? How could we know that those who surrendered on schedule had not found others to take their places? Taizong was eager for a reputation and stubbornly convinced that he must be right. Could no one else at court have suffered an injustice like Zhang Yungu’s? To treat impersonation as truth, falsehood as trustworthiness, and a game…

Even if the death penalty is treated as a life sentence, indulging someone a hundred times brings no benefit.

Wei Zheng, a minister of the Tang dynasty, submitted a memorial saying: “The Wenzi says, ‘When the same words are spoken, whether people believe them depends on whether there is sincerity before they are spoken. When the same command is issued, whether people carry it out depends on whether there is sincerity beyond the command itself.’ More than ten years have passed since the Way of the King began to shine brightly, yet moral transformation has still not been fully put into practice. This is because sincerity and trustworthiness have not been complete in how those below the throne are treated.

“Today, when establishing policies and governing the state, one must entrust affairs to gentlemen. Yet when matters go well or badly, one sometimes seeks the advice of petty men. Toward gentlemen, one is respectful but distant; toward petty men, dismissive yet intimate. When petty men are kept close, they dare to say anything. When gentlemen are kept at a distance, the feelings between ruler and ministers cannot be shared. Do people of middling ability have no small cleverness at all? Yet their talents are insufficient to govern the state, and their plans lack foresight. Even if they apply themselves fully and act in good faith, they cannot avoid making mistakes. How much greater, then, are the troubles brought by those who harbor treachery?

“Gentlemen too may make minor mistakes, but if these do not obstruct the Way, they may be passed over. To call them gentlemen and then suspect them of being untrustworthy is like believing a tree trunk is straight while suspecting its shadow is crooked. If Your Majesty carefully selects gentlemen, treats them with courtesy, and trusts and employs them, what need is there to worry that the state will not be well governed? If you cannot do this, the day the state falls into ruin will be impossible to predict.”

The emperor issued a handwritten edict praising Wei Zheng, saying: “In the past, after Emperor Wu of Jin destroyed Wu, he became complacent and neglected affairs of state. He Zeng rose to the rank of Minister of State, yet could not offer frank remonstrance. Instead, he privately boasted to his children and grandchildren of his own wisdom. This was a grave failure of loyalty. Having heard your remonstrance, I recognize my own faults. I should keep these words on my desk, like a soft leather belt and a taut bowstring, to remind and correct myself at all times.” (A leather belt is pliant, while a bowstring is taut and straight. The ancients used them as metaphors for correcting oneself through the admonition of things with differing qualities.)

The Hongdao lu comments: “It was good that the emperor compared Wei Zheng’s memorial to a leather belt and a bowstring. But he did not know whether the belt’s pliancy and the string’s straightness were simply their own natural qualities, or whether they had been made so through correction. Why did Wei Zheng’s memorial still leave something unsaid? A straight tree trunk naturally casts a straight shadow; a clean source naturally sends forth clear water. If a ruler’s heart is always sincere and trustworthy, the people will be transformed even if he says nothing, and his policies will be carried out even if he gives no commands. Why, then, worry that he cannot be wholly sincere in how he treats those below him?

“If a ruler cannot achieve this, those called gentlemen today may well become petty men tomorrow. During Taizong’s reign, gentlemen and petty men still contended and shifted back and forth, and the ideal of the Three Dynasties was never attained. This was all because the ruler’s heart had not yet become fully sincere and trustworthy. Wei Zheng knew to observe the shadow, but did not ask whether the tree trunk was straight. He likened himself to a leather belt and a bowstring, but failed to get to the root of pliancy and straightness. What difference is there between the two?”

Taizong said to Wang Gui, “Your judgment is keen and you are also good at discussion. Of those from Fang Xuanling downward, you may evaluate each one; and please also say how you compare with them.”

Wang Gui replied, “In devoting my heart to the state and doing all I can in matters I understand, I am not as good as Fang Xuanling; in being accomplished in both civil and military affairs, able to lead troops on campaign and also enter court to assist in governance, I am not as good as Li Jing; in setting forth administrative matters in full and clear detail and handling decrees appropriately, I am not as good as Wen Yanbo; in dealing with complicated affairs and managing difficult government business so that everything is done well, I am not as good as Dai Zhou; in being ashamed that the ruler has not reached the level of Yao and Shun and taking frank remonstrance as my duty, I am not as good as Wei Zheng. As for distinguishing good from evil, praising the pure and upright, hating what is evil and loving what is good, I have a slight advantage over these men.” Taizong greatly agreed with his assessment, and the assembled officials all admired his fair judgment.

The Hongdao Lu comments: When an enlightened ruler is in power, people for the most part can respect public righteousness, and therefore evaluations can stand up to scrutiny; when a benighted ruler is in power, right and wrong are confused, and discussion becomes superficial and clamorous. At that time ruler and ministers trusted one another and were as close as hands and feet, belly and heart. Taizong employed Wang Gui, had him participate in decisions and assist in governance, and entrusted government affairs to him. Wang Gui observed government affairs personally; how could he fail to see the actual situation clearly? Therefore, even if his evaluations had wanted to be fair, they could not have been other than fair.

Wu Zetian, the female sovereign of the Tang, trusted and valued Di Renjie, and among the assembled ministers none could compare with him. She once called him “Guolao,” Elder of the State, and did not call him by his personal name. Di Renjie liked to remonstrate face to face and argue his case in court, and Wu Zetian often humbled herself to follow his advice. Wu Zetian once asked him, “I want to get a good talent to employ; whom do you think is suitable?”

Di Renjie replied, “If one speaks of broad learning and unhurried handling of affairs, Su Weidao and Li Qiao are indeed suitable candidates; if one is to select a person of outstanding ability and exceptional capacity, then Zhang Jianzhi, the Chief Secretary of Jingzhou, is such a person. Although he is advanced in years, he has the talent of a chancellor.”

Wu Zetian first promoted Zhang Jianzhi to be Sima of Luozhou. A few days later she asked Di Renjie again, and Di Renjie replied, “The Zhang Jianzhi whom I recommended earlier has still not been employed.” Wu Zetian said, “He has already been promoted.” Di Renjie said, “What I recommended was a talent fit for chancellor, not for Sima.” Thereupon Zhang Jianzhi was promoted to Vice Minister of the Ministry of Justice, and later he was finally appointed chancellor.

Di Renjie also once recommended several dozen men, including Yao Yuanchong, Vice Minister of the Ministry of War; Huan Yanfan, Investigating Censor; and Jing Hui, Prefect of Daizhou. Most of them later became famous ministers. Someone said to him, “The peaches and plums of the world all come from your gate.” Di Renjie replied, “Recommending the worthy is for the sake of the state, not for myself.”

The Hongdao Lu comments: These talents under Di Renjie’s gate were like the myriad things receiving radiance, and they accomplished the undertakings of the state; what later generations call “peaches and plums in the spring breeze” is mostly used to describe the flourishing scenery of spring. Looking at his record of recommending talents, it is truly enough to praise his merit in wholeheartedly assisting the state.

Zhang Jiuling believed that Yao Yuanzhi—also known as Yao Chong, a Tang dynasty chancellor—enjoyed great moral standing and the emperor’s deep trust. He therefore wrote to advise Yao to keep his distance from flatterers and restless men eager to advance, and to draw close to people who were plain and honest. Yao gladly accepted his advice.

One day, Yao Yuanzhi asked the emperor to appoint a number of gentlemen of the court and minor officials. He looked up at the roof of the hall and repeated his request several times, but the emperor did not respond. Alarmed, Yao quickly withdrew. After the audience, Gao Lishi advised the emperor: “Your Majesty has only just taken charge of state affairs. When a chancellor presents a matter, you should indicate your approval or disapproval in person. How can you pay no attention at all?” The emperor replied: “I have entrusted Yao Yuanzhi with handling the various affairs of government. Major matters must naturally be reported to me. But these minor officials hold low rank—must every appointment be brought to me one by one and made a nuisance?”

As it happened, Gao Lishi was sent to the Secretariat to attend to business, and he passed the emperor’s words on to Yao Yuanzhi. Yao was delighted to hear them. Everyone who learned of the incident admired the emperor for understanding the proper bounds of a ruler’s role.

The Hongdao Lu comments: This was precisely the beginning of Li Linfu’s and Yang Guozhong’s monopolizing power and disrupting the government. A gentleman thinks of bringing honor to the ruler and fears that power might fall into his own hands. A petty man, however, deceives and indulges himself in public, fearing that the ruler might take power into his own hands. Though gentlemen of the court and minor officials hold low rank, are they not still people whose appointments the emperor ought to oversee? Perhaps Yao Yuanzhi could reasonably regard the matter as a nuisance; another person might not have done so.

Moreover, Yao Yuanzhi made his request three times, and the emperor did not answer. Gao Lishi spoke just one sentence, and the emperor responded immediately. In this way, public affairs at court became private messages passed within the palace offices. How could anyone expect people not to manipulate power? The distinction between whether a single sentence should or should not be spoken revealed that Yao Yuanzhi would ultimately meet an unhappy end. Those who occupy the ruler’s position must examine this carefully.

Zhang Shougui sent An Lushan, a Tang dynasty general, to attack the Xi and Khitan. Relying on his own bravery, An Lushan advanced rashly and was defeated by the enemy. Zhang Shougui submitted a memorial requesting that he be executed. As he faced execution, An Lushan shouted, “Does the commissioner not wish to destroy the Xi and Khitan? Why are you killing me?” Zhang Shougui also valued his courage and wanted to spare his life, so he instead had him sent under escort to the capital.

Zhang Jiuling issued this ruling: “In the past, Rang Ju executed Zhuang Jia, and Sun Wu beheaded a palace woman. Since Zhang Shougui was enforcing military orders, An Lushan should not escape death.” The emperor valued An Lushan’s abilities and ordered that he be stripped of office but allowed to continue commanding troops as a commoner. Zhang Jiuling firmly opposed this, saying: “An Lushan violated military orders and lost troops; by law, he cannot be spared execution. Moreover, from his appearance I can see signs of rebellion. If he is not killed, he will certainly become a future threat.”

The emperor replied, “Do not be like Wang Yifu—Wang Yan—when he judged Shi Le, and mistakenly kill a loyal man.” In the end, An Lushan was pardoned.

The Hongdao Lu comments: I still do not understand what the emperor meant by these words. If Wang Yan truly saw through Shi Le, then there is nothing strange about Zhang Jiuling’s judgment. If Wang Yan did not see through him...

If Shi Le is the subject, then perhaps the claim that An Lushan was wronged is open to doubt. Since he had already recognized Shi Le, why did he then say that An Lushan had unjustly harmed loyal and worthy men? By then, turmoil had already broken out across the realm, and disaster was imminent. Perhaps Heaven had taken away his discernment, clouding his mind. As the old saying goes, if even an unbenevolent person could heed advice, how could states and families ever be brought to ruin? Or did he somehow fail to recognize An Lushan and know nothing of Shi Siming? Even if his confusion was to blame, it should not have led him so far astray.

In the second year of the Zhide era under Emperor Suzong of Tang (757), the retired emperor Xuanzong remembered that Zhang Jiuling had foreseen events long before. Overcome with grief, he sent an imperial messenger to offer sacrifices to Zhang at Qujiang and provide generous relief to his family.

The Hongdao lu comments: In retrospect, Zhang Jiuling’s words, spoken at different times, seem like oracular predictions of fortune and misfortune. The emperor not only refused to believe him, but grew suspicious of him. Li Linfu’s “honeyed words and a sword in his belly” were therefore not a trick he carried out on his own; the emperor allowed him to succeed. Nor were the sweet words Li Linfu spoke meant for his own palate—the emperor was the one who savored them. Rulers are often misled by petty men right before their eyes, while the counsel of gentlemen is often believed only after they are gone. Slander spoken in the present is foul and rank, making people cover their noses; loyal counsel from the past is like medicine and acupuncture, still praised a thousand years later. Is this not why people wept for Shu in those days, and why the example of Qujiang is still revered today?

In the first year of the Yongtai era under Emperor Daizong of Tang (765), Uighur and Tibetan forces besieged Jingyang. Pugu Huai’en had died, and the two sides were vying for leadership and at odds with each other, so they set up separate camps. The Uighur army was stationed west of the city. Guo Ziyi sent his aide Li Yuanzan to persuade them, hoping to join forces with the Uighurs against the Tibetans. The Uighurs did not believe him. “Where is Lord Guo? Are you trying to deceive us? If he is really here, can we see him?”

Li Yuanzan returned and reported to Guo Ziyi: “The enemy is numerous and we are few. It will be difficult to win by force. It would be better for you to go in person and persuade them. Perhaps they will submit without a battle.” Guo Ziyi then rode out through the city gate with a few mounted soldiers and had someone call out loudly, “The Commander has arrived!” The Uighurs were startled. Their commander, Yaogelu, the khagan’s younger brother, stood before the ranks with a bow in his hands. Guo Ziyi took off his helmet and armor, set down his spear, and walked forward. The tribal leaders looked at one another and said, “It is him!” They all dismounted and bowed. Guo Ziyi dismounted as well, went up to Yaogelu, took his hand, and reproached him: “You Uighurs rendered great service to the Tang, and the Tang repaid you generously. Why have you broken your pledge, come deep into our territory, cast aside your past achievements, and made an enemy of us…”

“Chou He, why are you so confused? You have received favors from the court, yet you have betrayed your ruler and abandoned your mother. Where in your own country could you possibly find a place to live?” Guo Ziyi stepped forward and said to Ge Luo, a Uighur general, “I will let you kill me, but my soldiers will fight you to the death.”

Ge Luo said, “Huai’en deceived me. He said the Son of Heaven—the honorific title for the Tang emperor—had died, and that Lord Guo, the respectful title for Guo Ziyi, had also passed away. With the Tang court left without a leader, I dared to come with him. Now I know the Son of Heaven is still in the upper capital, Lord Guo has taken command of the army again, and Huai’en has been struck down by Heaven. How could we be willing to fight you?”

Guo Ziyi then urged him, “The Tibetans act without regard for right. Taking advantage of the troubles in our country, they have ignored the ties between uncle and nephew and invaded our borderlands, laying waste to the region around the capital. The wealth they have carried off is beyond counting. Now Heaven has granted it all to you.” Ge Luo said, “Huai’en deceived me, and I have grievously wronged you. I now pledge to fight the Tibetans with all my strength and make amends.”

The Uighur attendants gradually edged forward, and some of Guo Ziyi’s men did the same. He immediately waved them back, took wine, and drank with Ge Luo. He also presented him with three thousand bolts of silk. The two sides finally made an agreement and went their separate ways. When the Tibetans heard what had happened, they led their troops away that very night. Ge Luo pursued them with his forces, while Guo Ziyi sent Bai Yuanguang with elite cavalry to join him at Xiyuan, west of Lingtai. Together they routed the Tibetan army.

The Record comments: “In my view, Guo Ziyi’s actions here cannot be attributed merely to honesty and trustworthiness. They reveal a breadth of spirit capable of embracing both the Chinese and the non-Chinese, with a heart large enough to welcome those within and beyond the borders. How could those who only take off their helmets and beg their enemies to spare them compare with him?”

When Han Yu was serving as prefect of Chaozhou, he asked the people about their hardships. They all said there was a deep pool near the prefectural city where a crocodile lived. Several zhang long, it was close to devouring all the people’s livestock. A few days later, Han Yu went to inspect the pool himself. He brought a pig and a sheep, cast them into the water, and wrote a formal address to the crocodile, setting a deadline for it to move south to the sea. It was to leave within three days; if it did not, it would be given five more days, and if it still did not leave, seven more. If it remained after that, the prefect would select able-bodied men, arm them with powerful crossbows and poisoned arrows, and send them to deal with it.

That very night, wind and thunder suddenly roared over the pool. A few days later, the pool dried up, and the crocodile moved to an old pool sixty li to the west. From then on, crocodiles were no longer a menace in Chaozhou.

Later, Han Yu was promoted to vice minister of war. A rebellion broke out in Zhenzhou. The rebels killed Tian Hongzheng and installed Wang Yancou as ruler. The emperor issued an edict ordering Han Yu to go and convey the court’s assurances. After Han Yu set out, everyone feared for him. When he arrived in Zhenzhou, Wang Yancou came to meet him with troops fully armed. Han Yu called out loudly, “The…”

“The court appointed you as a commander and granted you a tally—the credential that represents the court’s appointment and the authority it confers. Yet you have joined the rebels and turned against the court?” Before Han Yu had finished speaking, a soldier in the camp stepped forward in agitation and said, “When our late Grand Preceptor fought for the state against Zhu Tao, he fought with all his might, and his bloodstained clothes are still here today. What have our troops done to offend the court, that we should be called rebels?”

Han Yu said, “I thought you had forgotten the late Grand Preceptor. If you still remember him, that is all to the good. Since the Tianbao era, have any descendants of An Lushan, Shi Siming, or Li Xilie still held office?” They answered, “None.” Han Yu continued, “Tian Gong led the six prefectures of Weibo in submitting to the court and was appointed Secretariat Director. Both he and his sons accepted the banners and tallies bestowed by the court. Liu Wu and Li You also commanded important regional military governments. Everyone in your army has heard of these things.” They said, “Tian Hongzheng was harsh, so the army was uneasy.” Han Yu replied, “That is true. But you killed Tian Gong and harmed his family as well. What can you say for yourselves?” The crowd cried out in approval.

Then Chengcou, the army’s leader, asked, “What do you want me to do now?” Han Yu said, “A commander of the Six Armies of the Shence Guard, such as Niu Yuanyi, should not be held by you. The court must consider the larger situation and cannot ignore him. Why have you kept him under siege for so long?” Chengcou said, “We will release him at once.” Han Yu replied, “Then the matter is settled.” Just then, Niu Yuanyi also broke out of the encirclement, and Chengcou did not pursue him. After Han Yu returned to court, he reported their conversation to the emperor, who was delighted.

The Hongdao Lu comments: The Book of Changes, in the “Inner Truth” hexagram, says that sincerity can reach even pigs and fish. It also says that it is beneficial to cross the great river, because sincerity can transform the realm. Fish are creatures that live undisturbed and without awareness; if sincerity can move even fish, what cannot be accomplished or transformed? One could even wade through water or fire; one could even face dangers too deep to fathom. That is why it says, “It is beneficial to cross the great river.”

Chengcou at that time was overbearing and fierce, and his conduct was contrary to the right path, yet he was still an ordinary person. Han Yu won him over through loyalty and trustworthiness, and the crowd willingly followed suit; there was no other reason. This is what it means to “transform the realm.” How can people fail to urge themselves to do likewise?

Su Shi once said, “Han Yu’s devotion could part the clouds over Mount Heng, but it could not dispel Emperor Xianzong of Tang’s confusion. It could tame ferocious crocodiles, but it could not silence the slander of Huangfu Bo and Li Fengji. It could win the people of the South Sea, who worshipped him in a shrine from generation to generation, but it could not secure him a single peaceful day at court.” Perhaps what Han Yu could accomplish was brought about by Heaven’s will; what he could not accomplish was limited by human affairs. These words are more comprehensive, so they are included here as well.

The History of the Song records that Emperor Taizu said to Zhao Pu, “Since the Five Dynasties, in just a few decades, the throne has passed through eight surnames, and there have been twelve rulers. One after another, they seized the throne by force, and warfare never ceased; people were killed and wounded across the land. Why has this happened? I want to put an end to the wars throughout the realm and establish a lasting foundation for peace and stability. What should I do?”

Zhao Pu replied, “Your Majesty’s concern for this is a blessing from Heaven, Earth, humanity, and the spirits. The cause is not complicated: the regional military governors, who hold great military and administrative power locally, have become too strong, while the ruler is weak and his ministers are powerful. To govern now, you should gradually reduce their authority, bring their money and grain under control, and take back their elite troops. Then the realm will naturally be at peace.”

At the time, Shi Shouxin, Wang Shenqi, and the others were all former subordinates of Taizu. They had distinguished themselves in battle and commanded the imperial troops. One day, after the evening court had ended, Taizu invited them to drink. As the wine took effect, he sent the attendants away and said to them, “Without you, I would never have reached this position. Yet being Son of Heaven is extremely difficult; I was far freer when I was a military governor. I cannot sleep soundly through the night. Whoever sits in this place does not want to claim it for himself, does he?”

Shi Shouxin and the others hurriedly kowtowed and said, “Why does Your Majesty say such a thing? The situation is settled now. Who would dare harbor other intentions?”

Taizu said, “That is certainly true. But what about the men under your command who want wealth and rank?”

Shi Shouxin and the others wept and said, “We are foolish and failed to understand Your Majesty’s consideration for us. We beg Your Majesty to take pity on us and show us a way to preserve our lives.”

Taizu said, “Life is short, like a white horse flashing past an opening in a wall. People seek wealth and rank only to gather more riches, live comfortably, and ensure their descendants do not suffer poverty. Why not hand over your military authority and take up posts as regional governors in other places? Choose a scenic spot, buy fields and houses, and leave your descendants a secure estate for generations. Buy plenty of singing girls and dancers, drink and feast together each day, and enjoy your remaining years. I will become connected to you through marriage, so that neither ruler nor minister has reason to suspect the other. Would that not be good?”

Shi Shouxin and the others all bowed in gratitude and said, “Your Majesty cares for us so deeply that, even if we died, we would feel we had died among our own kin.” The next day, they all claimed to be ill and asked to resign their military commands.

The Records of the Vast Way recounts: The Chenqiao Mutiny, in which Zhao Kuangyin was proclaimed emperor at Chenqiao Post Station, unfolded abruptly. It continued the pattern inherited from the successive regimes of the Five Dynasties. Taizu had his commanders surrender their military authority, removing the danger before it could arise and laying the foundation for the Great Song, a dynasty difficult to overthrow.

The Judgment of Hexagram Guai in the Book of Changes says, “Make the announcement in the royal court and issue the command in good faith, but there is danger.” The Commentary on the Judgment explains: “The announcement is made in the royal court because a yielding line rides above five firm lines. To issue the command in good faith and yet face danger shows that, though the situation is perilous, one’s power and presence thereby become manifest.” The disorder caused by petty people had reached its extreme. Things turn and return in cycles, with loss followed by gain; therefore Heaven deliberately sent down …

When a ruler possessed great ability and was assisted by ministers of exceptional virtue and talent, his firmness, discernment, and decisiveness allowed the strong, active Way of Heaven (Qian)—symbolizing the ruler’s vigorous, leading role—to shine forth, while the Yin, yielding force receded. As a result, everyone at court clearly understood when to advance or withdraw, when to leave or stay. The ruler won people’s trust through utmost sincerity, not through deception or political schemes. His decrees were issued without secret plotting or trickery. This differed from the Han practice of quietly winning over close attendants, conferring with them in whispers, then executing, dismembering, or otherwise eliminating opponents. Is this not precisely why the Song dynasty’s family rules surpassed those of the Han and Tang?

When Zhao Pu, a renowned Northern Song chancellor, served as prime minister, he took the affairs of the realm as his own responsibility. Taizu relied on him and consulted him about decisions both great and small. Zhao Pu once recommended a man for office, but Taizu refused. The next day Zhao Pu submitted the recommendation again, and Taizu still refused. When Zhao Pu presented it a third time, Taizu grew angry, tore up the memorial, and threw it to the ground. Zhao Pu’s expression did not change. He knelt down and gathered the pieces. Later, he pasted the old memorial back together and submitted it once more, just as before. Only then did Taizu understand, and in the end he appointed the man.

On another occasion, a minor official was due for promotion, but Taizu refused to approve it because he had always disliked him. Zhao Pu firmly urged that the man be appointed. Taizu angrily said, “I simply will not let him be promoted. What can you do about it?” Zhao Pu replied, “Punishment is used to correct wrongdoing, and rewards to repay merit. This principle has held in every age. Moreover, rewards and punishments concern the public affairs of the realm. How can Your Majesty decide them solely according to personal likes and dislikes?” Taizu grew even angrier, rose, and went into the palace. Zhao Pu followed him inside and refused to leave for a long time, eventually persuading Taizu to grant his request. Such was Zhao Pu’s steadfastness, strength of character, loyalty, and trustworthiness.

The Record of Vastly Promoting the Dao comments: Pasting together the torn memorial and submitting it again was something Zhao Pu did when Taizu was in the prime of his reign. He truly fulfilled his duty to recommend worthy people. Why, then, did he later have the memorial torn apart at the emperor’s bedside when appointments were being signed? At that time, Taizu’s state was flourishing, and Zhao Pu devoted himself wholly to the realm. Self-interest had not yet arisen, nor had personal gains and losses become involved, so he could serve loyally. By the time he became prime minister again, thoughts of self-interest and personal advantage had appeared, and he could hardly avoid forming likes and dislikes based on his own gains and losses. If people look only at what others do, they usually act on their likes and dislikes and dare not express a different view. Who else would repeatedly speak up like Zhao Pu, paste together a torn memorial, and submit it again? Zhao Pu did have his good qualities, but perhaps he had not understood the underlying principle; it was Taizu who understood Zhao Pu’s intention.

When Qian Chu, king of Wuyue, heard that the Tang dynasty had fallen, he was afraid. He therefore brought his wife, Lady Sun, his son Qian Weijun, and his grandson Qian Chengyou to court to pay his respects to Taizu. Taizu gave him the Lixian residence to live in, personally hosted a banquet for him, and trusted him without suspicion. After Qian Chu had stayed in the capital for two months, Taizu sent him back and bestowed on him a yellow imperial robe, sealed up with great care.

The injunction said, “While on the way, Qian Chu, the last ruler of Wuyue during the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms period, should secretly observe the situation and report it to the court.” The officials then all submitted memorials asking that Qian Chu be allowed to stay. After the memorials were presented, Qian Chu grew even more apprehensive. When he returned to attend to affairs of state, he told his attendants to sit facing east and said, “The capital lies to the northwest, and the ruler trusts me. How could I dare fail to show respect? Whenever I prepare a letter and tribute, I always lay out the offerings in the courtyard, burn incense, and only then send someone to deliver them.”

The Hongdao lu comments: Did the emperor send Qian Chu back because Xu Xuan’s words, when he tried to dissuade Li Yu from surrendering, had made the emperor wary? If the emperor could not tolerate someone else sleeping soundly and snoring, how could he fail to trust Qian Chu, who alone stayed alert and acted with caution? If he had been misled by the formal bond between ruler and subject, without clear insight into the long-term consequences, then if someone like Xu Xuan had appeared, the emperor’s words would have been untenable. The emperor thereby demonstrated his trust. The fact that Qian Chu was later kept at court and not sent back also reveals the difference in the two emperors’ breadth of character and depth of virtue.

When Lord Wang Wenzheng, Wang Dan, served as chief minister, the emperor grew ever closer to him and trusted him more; there was nothing Wang Dan said that the emperor would not heed. Whenever the ministers submitted a request, the emperor first asked Wang Dan’s view, and only then decided whether to approve it. Wang Dan carefully upheld the laws and institutions handed down by the ancestors and did not alter them lightly. He often sent people to investigate the strengths and weaknesses of local administration. At times, he had them record what they found in memorials for the emperor. When he saw a person of ability, he would quietly note the person’s name without arranging a special meeting. When an official appointment arose, he would first submit the names of three candidates and ask the emperor to decide whom to appoint. The emperor marked his choice with a brush, and Wang Dan’s colleagues did not know which candidate had been selected. Thus, there was nothing Wang Dan submitted that failed to receive approval.

The Hongdao lu comments: Did Zhenzong trust Wang Dan out of sincere regard for his integrity? At first, Zhenzong drew Wang Dan close to secure his loyalty; later, he trusted him in order to advance his own aims. If Wang Dan had been unable to carry out the emperor’s plans and stratagems, how could the emperor have trusted his words? It may be said that Wang Dan held a close and influential position, but it is less certain that he remained cautious and faithful to his duties throughout. Caution is the proper standard for anyone in office, and there should be no trace of carelessness from beginning to end. How, then, could he leave room for regret at the end of his life? Readers should reflect on this quietly.

The Record of Eminent Ministers says: Lord Zhang Zhongding governed Shu twice, and on both occasions treated the people with kindness and trust. The people rejoiced and congratulated one another, as though they were young children whose parents had long been lost and had now returned. After taking office, he replaced harsh policies with lenient ones. As soon as his orders were issued, the people felt relieved and content, and Shu was governed well as a result. The emperor said, “With Zhang Yong, Lord Zhang Zhongding, in Shu, I no longer need to worry about affairs in the west.” Such was the depth of the trust he enjoyed. The emperor once asked Li Tian, “Do the people truly trust me?” Li Tian replied, “The official’s authority and benevolence…”

How could the people fail to be convinced? Lord Wang said, “The previous officeholder was not yet up to the task. This one will probably take time to show results. Just earning the people’s trust—that alone will take five years.”

He also said, “When you govern in the future, first win the people’s trust, and only then teach them. Once you have explained what is right, encourage them to act accordingly. Only after their conduct conforms to ritual and law can you gradually guide them through education; only when their hearts are calm and free of selfish desires can they live and work in peace. All four of these things must begin with the ruler setting an example through his own conduct.”

Wang Yigong once said, “In a person’s principles and conduct, nothing matters more than honesty. Whether circumstances are favorable or difficult, one should remain consistent.” When he took up office in Daming for a second time, he gave even greater priority to earning the people’s trust in his administration. The officers and soldiers in the army all had portraits made of him and offered sacrifices before them. At the time, Liao envoys passing through the territory would say, “This is the government office of Lord Wang.” They would always bathe and change their clothes before entering the office to pay their respects.

Throughout his life, Du Qigong was upright, generous, loyal, and trustworthy, and so he earned the respect of the whole realm. He once said, “I have served in office for many years and held responsibility for a long time. First, I gained my sovereign’s understanding; second, I won the trust of the court and the people. Only then could I put my convictions into practice.”

He also said, “When I served in the provincial administration, people still did not trust me, even after I became an inspector. Later, when I was appointed deputy commissioner of the Three Financial Offices, I repeatedly stood by my advice before the emperor and refused to change my position lightly. Only then did people begin to trust me.”

Du Qigong was usually generous in his dealings with others and glad to help them do good. Once he had come to know someone, he had not the slightest doubt about them. When Han Qi had just become deputy privy councillor, he disagreed with Du on one or two matters, which displeased Du Gong. After that, whenever Han Qi had something to do, he would ask, “Has the remonstrance official reviewed this? If he has, bring it here for his signature.” Han Qi therefore applied himself even more carefully and dared not be negligent. This shows that it is no easy matter either to earn another person’s trust or to trust others.

Editor’s note: The Three Ministers are the state’s officials in charge of divination and the pillars of their age. Whether one seeks to earn others’ trust or the people’s trust, or to gain the trust of one’s ruler or one’s colleagues, none of this is easy. How could a gentleman fail to strive harder and spur himself on? He should strive harder and spur himself on.

Hongdao lu, Volume Three: Trust

Trust Between Ruler and Ministers

Emperor Renzong of Song trusted and relied on his senior ministers. When choosing someone to serve as envoy to the Khitan and return their visit with formal courtesies, Lü Yijian recommended Fu Bi. At the time, Renzong hoped to bring peace and stability to the realm and entrusted the responsibility for governing the state to his ministers. He therefore assigned Fu Bi to handle affairs in the north and Fan Zhongyan to handle affairs in the west.

When Fu Bi entered the court to meet the emperor, he said, “If the ruler is worried, his ministers should feel ashamed. I would not dare spare my life.” Renzong was deeply moved by his words and planned to promote him to Academician of the Privy Council. Fu Bi firmly declined, saying, “When the state faces an emergency, a minister should not fear hardship. Why reward me with an official title?” He then set out.

Historical accounts describe Emperor Renzong of Song as resolute and decisive. Was he really so? When he quelled internal unrest, he questioned the ministers who assisted him; when he handled affairs in the north, he questioned Fu Bi; and when he dealt with matters in the west, he questioned Fan Zhongyan. This suggests that Renzong did not lack decisiveness. This is generally how things are in an age governed by the Dao. But when the world falls into decline, suspicion arises and doubts follow. The reason is that many people covet official salaries, while few are willing to devote themselves to the state. The worthy and the unworthy become mixed together, making it difficult for a ruler to place firm trust in anyone. Seen in this light, did Fu Bi have no reason for resigning from office?

Fu Bi was sent as an envoy to the Khitan. When he met their ruler, he said, “The two states have maintained friendly relations for nearly forty years. Why have you suddenly demanded that land be ceded?”

The Khitan ruler replied, “The Southern Court has broken its agreements. It has built fortifications at Yanmen Pass, managed waterways and built cities around Tangshui, and registered the people and organized the militia. What exactly does it intend?”

Fu Bi answered, “The defenses at Yanmen Pass were built to guard against Yuanhao. Work on the waterways at Tangshui began under He Chengju, before the two states had established friendly relations. The cities have only been repairs to existing ones, and the militia has only been brought up to full strength. None of this amounts to breaking our agreement.”

Fu Bi then said, “Has the Northern Court forgotten the kindness of Emperor Zhangsheng, Emperor Zhenzong of Song? During the Battle of Chanyuan, if he had followed the generals’ advice, few of the northern troops would have escaped. In friendly relations between our states, the ruler alone enjoys the benefits; in war, the benefits go to his ministers, while the ruler bears the calamities. Those who urge a ruler to wage war are acting in their own interests.”

The Khitan ruler asked in surprise, “What do you mean?”

Fu Bi said, “In the past, Gaozu of Later Jin defied Heaven and rebelled against his sovereign, while the last emperor was foolish and disorderly. The ruler and his ministers were divided, so the Khitan sent troops and won. Yet even then, they lost more than half their brave soldiers and fine horses. Today, the Chinese army is well trained, its horses strong, its laws clear, and the people united from top to bottom. If we truly went to war, could you be certain of victory? Even if you won, would the ministers bear the loss of soldiers and horses, or would the ruler? If the two states can remain on friendly terms, the annual payments—the goods the Song court sends to the Khitan each year—will all belong to the ruler. What benefit would the ministers receive?”

The Khitan ruler suddenly understood and nodded repeatedly. After a long pause, he said, “If you had not explained it clearly, I would still not have understood the whole matter.”

The commentary in the recorded text says: “When the Khitan first sent an envoy in return, no one dared to go. Even when Duke Zheng—the envoy referred to in the text—boldly volunteered for the mission, Ouyang Gong still submitted a memorial urging him to stay. Was this not the most difficult task in the world? Yet after Duke Zheng reached the Khitan, he found nothing there to fear. He argued his case at length, speaking hundreds of words, and the other side could not refute a single one. So where, then, did the true difficulty lie? It did not lie in facing the non-Han peoples, but in upholding faith and trust. The only thing China can rely on is faith and trust; only through faith and trust can the non-Han peoples be persuaded…”

Di—apparently the author’s term for the Di people, or the Khitans—believed that setting aside the principles at hand and speaking only of strength and weakness, of winning and losing, was not something a gentleman should wish to discuss. Surely the Khitans of today are not all entirely devoid of human feeling? Or is it that neither side has used trust and good faith to sustain its relations with the other? If we treated one another frankly and acted fairly, then clearly explained our interests and concerns so that the other side understood what would be gained or lost, what would bring honor or disgrace, then even if matters could not turn out entirely as we wished, they would not become as faithless and unreasonable as they are now. If so, why should those who govern the state hesitate to act in this way?

Fu Bi went on another mission to the Khitans. The negotiations concerned a marriage alliance, an increase in the annual payments of goods and money made by the Song court to the Khitans, protocol between the two sides, and the wording of the oath document. The Khitans later dropped the marriage proposal and demanded only an increase in the annual payments. They insisted, “Since the Southern Court has increased its payments to us, the document should say that it ‘offers’ them.” Fu Bi replied, “The Southern Court is the elder brother. What sense is there in an elder brother offering tribute to his younger brother?” The Khitans then proposed the word “presents.” Fu Bi rejected that as well, saying, “If the wording is that ‘the Southern Court, because it fears us, sends us generous gifts,’ then how should the word ‘fears’ be written?” Fu Bi explained, “Our court takes account of its relations with both north and south, and so has not hesitated to renew the agreement. How can this be called fear? If we are driven to use military force, then victory should be decided according to the rights and wrongs of both sides. That is not something an envoy can decide.”

The Khitan ruler said, “There was such a precedent in ancient times.” Fu Bi replied, “Since antiquity, only Emperor Gaozu of Tang borrowed troops from the Turks. Perhaps words such as ‘offers’ or ‘presents’ were used then. But after the Tang emperor Taizong captured the khagan Jieli, did that wording still apply?” Fu Bi’s expression turned stern. Seeing that he was resolute and could not be swayed, the Khitan ruler said, “I will send someone else to discuss this.”

The Hongdao Lu comments: “There was one oath document made in the Jingde era and two made in the Qingli era. The peaceful relations of the Jingde period were close; those of the Qingli period were distant. During Emperor Renzong’s reign, the state’s strategic planning fell somewhat short of Han, its tactics were inferior to Tang, its national strength was below Qin, and its wealth was less than Sui. The only thing it could rely on was Fu Bi’s integrity. His insistence, on principle, over the two words ‘offers’ and ‘presents’ is enough to show the care taken in relations between the Chinese and the non-Chinese.”

Yet the emperor was modest and wise, and his dispute over the word “presents” was not excessive. He was frugal, so increasing the annual payments was not extravagant. By nature he was benevolent, and his aim was to avert calamity and put an end to war; this was not mere posturing. Otherwise, even spoken promises and words uttered before departure might differ, let alone what later histories record. This, too, must be kept in mind.

At the time, fighting was under way on the western frontier, and the defenses were inadequate. Zhong Shiheng proposed that an abandoned fortified site at the former Kuanzhou, east of Yanzhou, be rebuilt as a city to repel enemy attacks and help secure Yanzhou’s defenses on the right.

Zhong Shiheng believed that, with careful planning, he could obtain grain from Hedong to the west and reclaim the former territories of Yinzhou and Xiazhou to the north.

The court accepted his proposal. Once the city was built, it was named Qingjian City. Among the local tribal groups was a Niu clan whose leader, Nu’e, was known for his stubbornness and had never paid a visit to the prefect. Zhong Shiheng said he would go out to the suburbs to meet him, and arranged to visit the next day to offer greetings to the tribe at their encampment.

That night, the snow lay three feet deep. His attendants urged him, “The roads are treacherous. You cannot go.” Zhong Shiheng replied, “I am seeking to win the trust of the various Qiang tribes. I cannot break my word.” So he pressed on despite the danger.

Nu’e was lying in his tent, certain that Zhong Shiheng would not be able to come. When Zhong arrived, he urged Nu’e to get up. Nu’e was astonished. “No official has ever visited our tribe before. How could you trust me?” he said. He immediately lined up his clansmen to bow before Zhong Shiheng and follow his arrangements.

While Zhong Shiheng was stationed at Qingjian City, Yuanhao had not yet acknowledged the Song court as his overlord. Among his followers were the Yeli brothers, nobles who enjoyed his deep trust and wielded great power. Zhong Shiheng wanted to find a way to drive a wedge between them and Yuanhao. At the time, a monk named Wang Guangxin was known for his agility and courage, and for his familiarity with the local tribes and roads. Zhong Shiheng memorialized the court, which appointed Wang to the low-ranking military post of Sanban Jiezhi. Zhong then sent him with a secret letter to Yuanhao’s nobles, urging them to submit as soon as possible.

Yuanhao believed the reports and indeed began to suspect the Yeli brothers. In the end, he had them killed. Later, Yuanhao sent his minister Li Wengui to report that he was willing to make peace with the Song and hoped to receive a reply. Zhong Shiheng reported the matter to Fan Zhongyan. Fan told Yuanhao that the court was willing to accept him and treat him with benevolence. After the envoy returned and delivered the reply, Yuanhao requested submission and resumed his former practice of acknowledging the Song as his overlord.

The Hongdao lu comments: “I believe that the Zhong clan was not distinguished in origin and initially had no particular reputation, yet later generations produced renowned generals one after another. Looking back at how they achieved their accomplishments, Zhong Shiheng’s winning Nu’e’s trust at Qingjian City was the beginning of his career; his later handling of Yeli Ganglang and the others brought it to completion. At the beginning, he faced dangers as deep as an abyss and took risks whose outcome could not be foreseen. In the end, he relied on the trust he had already established to plan his next moves. How can those who command the frontier forces today fail to understand what they ought to do?”

Some say, “Zhong Shiheng had Emperor Renzong above him and Fan Zhongyan beside him, which is why he could succeed. If the ruler is not generous, benevolent, and broad-minded, and the general is not fair, clear-sighted, and true to his word, then even if they wish to make a decisive move at the right moment, they may not be able to do so—much less hope to have their names remembered by later generations.” This, too, must be carefully considered.

Sima Guang was loyal and trustworthy, upright and selfless. From youth to old age, he never spoke carelessly. He once said of himself, “I have no particular excellence. I have simply never done anything in my life that I believed I could not let others know about.”

When Sima Guang spoke, people believed him wholeheartedly. For this reason, people throughout the realm respected and trusted him, and the people of the Shaanzhou and Luoyang regions were also transformed by his De. When someone did something wrong, they would often say, “Surely Lord Junshi [Sima Guang’s courtesy name] hasn’t heard about it?” After Sima Guang took charge of government, most of the provisions in the New Policies that harmed the people were repealed. Some said that many of the former officials from the Xining and Yuanfeng eras were crafty, and that in the future they might exploit the bond between father and son to sow discord between the emperor and his son, bringing disaster. Sima Guang replied gravely, “If Heaven intends to protect the Song dynasty, this will not happen.” The people throughout the realm were then convinced, believing that this was precisely what the late emperor had intended.

The Hongdao lu comments: Why can people not speak honestly to one another? “Other people” is a term used in relation to oneself. If a person cannot deceive himself, how could he deceive others? Those who try to deceive others may use every possible stratagem and speak with sharp words, yet the clarity deep within their hearts cannot ultimately be obscured. So their speech is bound to become disjointed and vague; they want to speak, but hesitate. The Great Learning says, “What is meant by making one’s thoughts sincere is allowing no self-deception.” It also says that when others look at you, they see you as clearly as if they could see your lungs and liver. If a person cannot even convince himself, how can he win the trust of others? Sima Guang’s determination to reform and abolish old abuses and decisively repeal the New Policies came from his confidence in his own heart. Even if everyone in the realm believed he was protecting the Song dynasty, he would not change what he did because of that.

Tang Jie was appointed Vice Grand Councilor. He believed that he had been promoted because of his upright conduct, and was deeply moved by the emperor’s recognition. He therefore devoted himself even more fully to serving his ruler. Honest and sincere by nature, he handled affairs impartially, frequently making proposals to the court and daring to correct matters of government. When recommending capable people, he stated plainly whether they had ability, showing no favoritism because of personal kindness and passing no one over because of an old grievance. In discussions of government with his colleagues, he argued his case repeatedly and never gave in merely to agree with them. He was especially cautious about changes to the institutions established by the founding emperors and about the appointment or dismissal of close officials. Even in the emperor’s presence, he would always pursue the matter and argue from principle until right and wrong were clear, never holding back out of concern for the consequences. The emperor therefore respected and trusted him all the more, and people throughout the realm admired his character.

The Hongdao lu comments: How fortunate Tang Jie, whose courtesy name was Zifang, was! At first, his reputation for uprightness was known throughout the realm; later, he established himself at court through the same upright conduct. Scholars live in the world and serve the people. Even when their position is low, they think of doing their utmost to fulfill the trust placed in them—how much more so those who hold high office? Even a person serving a single term as a minor official should think of making a contribution—how much more so those entrusted with the duties of chief ministers? They felt such deep gratitude for being recognized and trusted one another without suspicion for one reason: ruler and ministers, those above and those below, all fulfilled their obligations to one another.

Zhang Dun (zi Zihou) was calculating and deceitful. He often spoke ill of people with whom he had once been on friendly terms. Anmin said, “Is this man disloyal to his sovereign? Why do you speak of him so harshly?” Zhang Dun replied, “I truly dislike him in my heart; I only associate with him outwardly.” Anmin said, “What you are doing is what people call ‘harboring resentment in your heart while appearing friendly to someone.’ That is exactly how Li Linfu, the powerful minister of the Tang, behaved.”

Zhang Dun smiled and said, “I concede the ‘straight path’ to you. You will become prominent one day; if my prediction comes true, you will owe me a forfeit.” Anmin often said afterward, “If Chuhou (Zhang Dun’s zi) becomes prominent, the affairs of the world will all become clear. I will go to his door and thank him then—what need will there be to keep arguing over right and wrong? I only fear that doing so would damage my hidden store of De (Virtue).” Later, Zhang Dun’s son was executed for a crime, just as Anmin had said.

At the time, although the powerful ministers who had held office during the Yuanfeng era had left the court, their followers were scattered throughout the court and beyond it, inventing private stories to unsettle government policy. Anmin was especially concerned about this. He wrote to Lü Gongruo:

“Those who are skilled at observing the state of the world are like capable doctors diagnosing an illness. When the world is peaceful and nothing is amiss, if someone tells everyone, ‘A great calamity is certain to come,’ people will surely be astonished and laugh. Only those with keen insight, who can detect subtle signs, are able to see in advance the traces of calamity as it gradually takes shape. Thus, the deepest concern is to worry for the future while, for now, there seems to be no cause for worry.

“It is not difficult to remove petty men; the difficulty lies in overcoming them. Chen Fan, Dou Wu, and the five ministers of the Wang clan were all calamities that had already occurred in earlier times. Though loyal and worthy men have now been promoted, the court has failed to gather the finest talent from across the realm and bring them together there to collectively overpower the petty men. I fear that upright and worthy men still cannot rest easy. If ten men set out to subdue one tiger, the men will prevail; if one man tries to subdue two tigers, the tigers will prevail. How can a mere few dozen men subdue a thousand tigers?”

His words all came true. He also said that Lü Huiqing was base, sinister, and deeply calculating. Whenever Lü now passed through the palace gate, he would praise the late emperor and shed tears, hoping to move the present emperor and remain in the capital. Later, he requested an audience with the emperor, and events unfolded exactly as Anmin had predicted. The emperor’s expression was stern and he gave no reply. Public opinion at the time found this deeply satisfying.

Anmin also spoke out forcefully against Zhang Dun, Cai Que, Zeng Bu, and others. At the time, Cai Jing’s misdeeds had not yet come to light, and many people did not believe Anmin’s judgment. Anmin alone said, “Cai Jing is deceitful enough to mislead the people; eloquent enough to conceal his faults; skilled enough to deceive the ruler’s eyes and ears; and powerful enough to turn right and wrong throughout the realm upside down.” He submitted memorials dozens, even hundreds, of times over the years, and everything he said was well founded.

The Hongdao lu comments: “Divination, turtle-shell divination, medicines, and acupuncture and stone treatments have all been esteemed by people since ancient times. This is because medicines and acupuncture and stone treatments can cure illnesses that have already arisen, while divination and turtle-shell divination can discern future calamities…” The original text breaks off here.

Tortoise divination and medicinal drugs each have their uses. If one relies on divination alone, there is no way to administer medicine; without medicine, one cannot expect divination to be effective. What matters is the decision made by those involved.

The realm under the Song dynasty was like a human body. At first, it rejected gentle remedies, took medicines recklessly, and acted without restraint or regard. As a result, it grew so weak that every part of it, from its vital organs to its limbs, was afflicted. Later, every effort was made to treat it and protect it, with a single-minded desire to restore its condition. Its brows relaxed, its face brightened, and every part showed signs of joy. But in the end, if the medicine could not rouse a response in the patient, the illness could not be cured. If even the slightest improvement led to carelessness and neglect, new calamities followed. Once the illness had penetrated to the point of no return, there was no way to save the patient.

These proposals for bringing peace to the people were as trustworthy as divination, but they were useless if no one would accept and implement them. A nation’s vital energy determines whether its fortunes rise or fall; a person’s life and death determine the length of their years. If Empress Dowager Xuanren had received Heaven’s protection and lived to a ripe old age, governing with complete impartiality and never having to fear the fall of the state, how could she have brought upon herself the calamity of being mocked and humiliated? Then, even if there had been hundreds or thousands of wolves and fierce tigers, they could only have watched the sun rise and the sky grow bright, unable to roar as they pleased. It is a pity that the political order declined during the Yuanyou era and that upheavals followed one after another during the Shaosheng era. Senior court officials were cast among thorns, and the people came to resemble owls. The Book of Songs says, “Disorder arose in the heartland and spread as far as the distant Gui Fang.” These words are indeed true, and all the more painful to contemplate.

Yang Bangyi had a clear and handsome appearance and a tall, upright build. Those who met him trusted and admired him. In ordinary times, he never clashed with others; when circumstances demanded, however, he acted with courage and decisiveness, unmoved even by ten thousand people. He cultivated his virtue at home, earned the praise of his community, and won the trust of his friends. Later, he even gave his life for his country, establishing a great example that would endure for ages. This was no momentary impulse.

At first, Yang Bangyi served as acting magistrate of Liyang County, enforcing government orders with firmness and integrity. At the time, rebel soldier Zhou De occupied the prefectural city and killed its officials. Bangyi brought the prisoner Zhao Ming before him, moved him through sincerity and trustworthiness, and then let him go. The next day, Zhao Ming indeed gathered the local leading men and brave fighters, captured the rebels, and put them down. Yang Bangyi was then serving as assistant prefect of Jiankang. After the Jin army crossed the Yangtze, Du Ke was ordered to defend the city, and Bangyi trusted him. But the next day Du Ke fled, leaving Jinling city without a single defending soldier. The prefect, Chen Bangguang, went out to welcome the Jin army, and Du Ke had already surrendered. Only Bangyi refused to submit. He cried out, “Am I the sort of man who would surrender to the enemy?” Chen Bangguang opened…

Wuzhu (Wanyan Wuzhu, a Jin general) said that Bangyi had long been ill, and sent a trusted retainer to persuade him: “Your family is poor, and your elder brother is old and depends on your salary for support. Your widowed sister-in-law has come from far away with your nephew to seek refuge with you, and depends on your care. Your five sons are still young, and your daughter is not yet married. Do you not think of them?”

Bangyi replied, “These are ordinary human feelings. Do you think I alone have no feelings? But family and country cannot both be preserved at once. I am firmly convinced of this.” Wuzhu set out wine and summoned those who had surrendered to drink. Bangyi went to the foot of the steps and struck his head against the pillar base, saying, “Am I to live drunk and full, like a dog or a pig?”

The next day, Bangguang urged him again: “The matter can no longer be undone. I hope you will change your mind a little. There is no point in throwing your life away.” Bangyi glared at him and rebuked him: “You were a close official at court, entrusted with defending the frontier. When danger came, you could not give your life in loyalty, but willingly knelt and surrendered. If everyone followed your example, whom could the court rely on?”

At the time, a man called Liu Tuanlian brought Bangyi a sheet of paper and said, “There is no need to say more. For the Zhao house [the Song imperial family], write the character ‘death’; for me, write the character ‘life.’” Bangyi took up the brush and wrote “death.” Liu Tuanlian still did not believe him, so Bangyi pricked his finger and used his blood to write on the front of his robe: “I would rather be a ghost of the Zhao house than a subject of another state.”

The following day, the enemy questioned Bangyi again. Bangyi cursed them loudly and tore open his robe to show them the writing. Only then did they believe him. They killed him and cut open his abdomen to examine his heart.

The Hongdao lu comments: “In my view, Zong Ze’s indignation, Du Ke’s brutality, Bangguang’s surrender, and Bangyi’s disembowelment were all connected with Wang and Huang holding power and the ruler’s lack of firmness in virtue. Jinling is a place where imperial destiny gathers; it cannot be compared with a corner of Jiangsu and Zhejiang. The emperor had already lost his opportunity in the east. Perhaps he could still have turned things around in his later years, but he stood by helplessly and watched the state perish. Even so, the Song dynasty continued for several generations. Confucius said, ‘Since ancient times, all people have died; without the people’s trust, a state cannot stand.’ Thus, a city wall can be breached, but the sheet of paper bearing the character ‘death’ cannot; a general can be captured, but the loyalty expressed in a blood-written pledge cannot. Had Zhongxiang [the person referred to here] not stepped forward, the realm might long ago have fallen into the hands of the barbarians. He established himself through sincerity and made his resolve known through faithfulness; his spirit reached straight through Heaven and Earth. If he could thereby have kept his life, that would have been all the more fortunate. Fortunately, his name for loyalty was not forgotten.”

Yue Fei was ordered to campaign against Yang Gong, with Zhang Jun, a Song general, serving as commander-in-chief. Later, the court issued an edict recalling Yue Fei to prepare for the autumn campaign. Zhang Jun summoned Yue Fei and proposed waiting until the following year to discuss the matter. Yue Fei said, “I already have a plan. Could the commander-in-chief stay a little longer? Within eight days I can defeat the enemy.” Zhang Jun said, “You make it sound far too easy.” Yue Fei replied, “It was difficult for Wang Sixiang to lead government troops against the river bandits; I, Yue Fei, with the water…”

The water bandits were in revolt, and fighting on water was inherently difficult. Our weakness was precisely the enemy’s strength. To attack their strength with our weakness was naturally unlikely to bring victory. If we could adapt to the enemy’s situation, strike their forces first, deprive them of mutual support, and sow discord among their trusted followers, leaving them isolated and divided, then the imperial army could press the advantage and attack, bringing victory.

Within eight days, we should be able to capture the leaders in every region. Zhang Jun agreed to Yue Fei’s request, and Yue Fei set out for Dingzhou. Until then, his troops had all been from the northwest and were unfamiliar with water warfare. Yue Fei said, “There is no fixed method for deploying troops. It all depends on how you use them.”

He sent someone to persuade Huang Zuo, one of the water bandits, to surrender. When Huang Zuo came to submit, Yue Fei turned his back to him and said, “Since you understand the difference between rebellion and obedience, what is there to boast about in earning merit and being made a marquis?” Later, Huang Zuo persuaded Yang Qin to surrender. Yue Fei said happily, “Yang Qin is fierce and formidable. Now that he has surrendered, the bandits’ core has been broken.” Yue Fei sent Yang Qin back into the lake, where he persuaded Quan Zong and Liu Shen to come and surrender.

Yang Yao relied on the lake’s treacherous terrain to resist. He traveled across the lake in boats fitted with paddle wheels, moving as swiftly as if they were flying. The government forces fitted their boats with long ramming poles and tried to intercept them head-on, but the poles shattered as soon as they struck. Yue Fei had already ordered trees on Junshan to be cut down and made into huge rafts to block the various inlets. He also set rotten wood and tangled weeds into the current upstream, letting them drift down. He chose a shallow stretch of water and sent soldiers skilled at taunting the enemy to provoke them, advancing as they shouted insults. Enraged, the bandits pursued by boat. The drifting plants and timber piled up and jammed the boats’ paddle wheels, leaving them unable to move. The government forces then attacked fiercely. The bandits fled into an inlet, only to find it blocked by the rafts.

The government troops boarded the rafts, shielded themselves from arrows and stones with oxhide, then raised enormous logs and rammed the enemy boats, smashing them all. Yang Yao jumped into the water and died. Yue Fei stormed the bandits’ camp. The remaining leaders cried out, “What kind of divine being is this?” and immediately asked to surrender together. Just as predicted, the victory report arrived eight days later. Zhang Jun said with delight, “Marquis Yue truly has miraculous foresight!”

At first, Yang Yao had relied on the lake’s difficult terrain and said, “To invade me, Yue Fei himself would have to come.” Now people thought his words had come true like a prophecy, and their faith in Yue Fei grew all the stronger.

The Hongdao lu comments: Everyone says that Marquis Yue had miraculous foresight. I believe, however, that this shows even more clearly how confident Yue Fei was. He said, “Wisdom, trustworthiness, benevolence, courage, and strictness: none of these five can be lacking.” Looking at this case, he used the water bandits’ own methods against them, showing “wisdom”; he won in eight days as predicted, showing “trustworthiness”; he won people over by persuading them to surrender, and let them leave when he dismissed them, earning their willing submission and showing “benevolence”; Yang Yao’s words, “To invade me, Yue Fei himself would have to come,” showed “courage”; and Yue Fei’s insistence that the commander remain for the time being, without waiting until the following year to discuss matters anew, showed “strictness.”

With wisdom, one avoids falling into difficulty; with trustworthiness, one does not fail to deliver; with benevolence, one does not kill indiscriminately; with courage, one is not afraid; with strictness, one is not misled. Looking back at the battles of Fuping and Fuli, they seem like child’s play. Through those close to him, he made the spirits heed him…

The fortune-teller said that later he would be blamed over the deliberations of the military governor’s office. In the end, he disobeyed in outward appearance and was also unwilling to comply inwardly. The same was true in other respects. Thus, this matter calls for regret on Jun’s behalf, but it does not warrant treating it as Fei’s fault.

Alas, how lamentable!

Yang Cunzhong was loyal and cautious. When Gaozong was still Prince Kang, he was ordered to establish the Grand Marshal’s Office, and Yang Cunzhong was already a trusted and valued figure there. Just after the office was established, Yang guarded Gaozong’s sleeping quarters day and night, never allowing himself to leave the emperor’s side for even a moment. When Gaozong crossed the Yangtze and settled in Jiangsu and Zhejiang, Yang Cunzhong followed Zhang Jun with the Victorious Army to defend Wumen. During the Miao and Liu Rebellion, he again accompanied Zhang Jun to rescue the court. Afterward, he was promoted to commander of the Imperial Army and then appointed commander of the Central Shenwu Army.

Zhang Jun later wanted to keep Yang Cunzhong in his own army. Gaozong said, “The palace guard lacks a commander. The man I have chosen cannot be replaced.” Yang Cunzhong served as head of the Palace Guard Command, the office responsible for protecting the emperor and the palace precincts, for twenty-five years. When Wanyan Liang, ruler of the Jin, planned to invade the south, Yang Cunzhong submitted ten proposals for preparing for war. Zhao Mi, commander of the infantry, sought to seize his authority and accused him of chasing glory and stirring up trouble. In the end, Zhao replaced him. Before long, reports of fighting on the border grew increasingly urgent. Gaozong went to Jiankang and issued an edict appointing Yang Cunzhong commander of the imperial camp guard, ordering him to accompany and protect the emperor. Gaozong told the chancellor, “Yang Cunzhong acts only on orders. No one can surpass him in loyalty. He is my Guo Ziyi.” He also said, “I trust and treat all my generals well, but I have a particular regard for Cunzhong, treating him better than my own sons. When Zhao Mi replaced him, I could not sleep for three nights.”

Yang Cunzhong served the emperor within the palace precincts for more than forty years. Even under Emperor Xiaozong, the emperor continued to trust and esteem him, granting him the title of commandery prince and never addressing him by name.

The Hongdao lu comments: “In my view, among the generals who helped restore the Southern Song, Yue Fei was in the most perilous position, while Yang Cunzhong was the closest to the emperor. Yue Fei’s circumstances were like raging waves and crashing thunder, yet he steadfastly upheld what was right. For this reason, people throughout the world, then and in later generations, have honored him. Yang Cunzhong, by contrast, was like a finger joined to the arm and the arm joined to the body: if the emperor told him to go east, he went east; if told to go west, he went west. That was why the emperor favored him at the time. Consider how the emperor pretended not to have heard when Qin Hui killed Yue Fei, while Zhao Mi’s replacement of Yang Cunzhong left him unable to sleep for several nights. The difference in the depth of the emperor’s care for the two men is clear from this. Can this be explained only by the value placed on keeping faith in one’s dealings with ministers?”

The Huangming mingchen lu records: “Duke Li Wenda, Li Xian, was loyal and trustworthy, meticulous and careful. In his dealings with friends, he always valued faithfulness. Even when they disagreed, they did not lose their cordial relations. Once he attained influence, he was able to put his abilities to use; since the time of the Three Yangs, no one had surpassed him.

“After Emperor Yingzong ascended the throne on his own, he showed Li Xian exceptional favor and courtesy. When Emperor Xianzong succeeded him, his trust in Li grew deeper still. At first, Li Xian recommended Lu Yu, the provincial administration commissioner, for appointment to the Ministry of Justice…”

He was repeatedly slandered in private by the Minister of Personnel, Shi Heng, a powerful Ming official, and for a long time the court did not summon him to appear before the emperor. Some people believed this could endanger the state. After Li Yu took up his post, he was about to draft an imperial edict when a colleague said to him, “You were recommended for promotion to vice minister by the minister. Now you are drafting an edict directed against him. Surely you will feel uneasy about it yourself.” Li Yu drafted the edict all the same, and the minister carried out its instructions.

After this, Li Yu found favor with the emperor, and the court once again summoned him to appear before him, as it had before. Li Yu also recommended Geng Jiuchou for the post of Censor-in-Chief and Xuan Ni for minister. Geng Jiuchou had been pushed aside by Shi Heng, while Xuan Ni had resigned on grounds of illness after powerful men usurped his authority. Li Yu repeatedly petitioned the emperor, and eventually Xuan Ni was restored to office. Nian Fu, too, had been falsely accused by Shi Biao. After Shi Heng fell from power, Li Yu strongly praised Nian Fu as fit for important responsibility, and the court appointed him Minister of Revenue.

At the time, the post of Vice Minister of Rites was vacant, and a close attendant of the emperor asked to recommend a candidate. The emperor asked Li Yu what he thought. He replied, “I do not know this person. The only one I know is Academician Li Shao.” He went on to say that the conduct of scholars had lately become corrupt, with many seeking advancement by cultivating influential connections. If the court intended to appoint Jingqing—a name or office uncertain in the original—it would be better to summon him and admonish the officials of the Ministry of Personnel in his presence. This, he said, might serve as a warning to scholars.

At that time, the Grand Secretary Wang Ao was elderly and dignified, while Ma Mao was upright in bearing; both were held in high regard by the emperor. Whenever someone recommended an official, the emperor first stated his own view: civil appointments were to be discussed with Wang Ao, and military appointments with Ma Mao. When the emperor later summoned people to question them in his presence, they would often begin by saying, “This is all I know. It would still be best to summon so-and-so and the others to confirm it.” The emperor always acted in accordance with Li Yu’s advice. He therefore never came to suspect Li Yu, and officials throughout the court trusted and respected him.

The Hongdao lu comments: “When I consider the reign of Emperor Yingzong, I see slanderous and treacherous men appearing one after another. Fortunately, Heaven had grown weary of disorder, and the emperor himself could no longer tolerate Cao Jixiang, Shi Heng, and the others. He therefore reclaimed the authority they had abused and entrusted it to Li Yu, who held the reins of government. Li Yu, for his part, took deep warning from the Sweet Dew Incident—the failed Tang attempt to eliminate the eunuchs, which brought disaster in its wake—and from the calamity of factional proscriptions. He did not pursue advancement through reckless gambles or help fuel disorder. Thus the slander came to nothing, the emperor’s trust in him deepened, and in the end Li Yu was able to assist the court and help bring about an era of peace.

“People in later generations neither learn from what has already happened nor guard against calamities yet to come. They rely only on drastic actions, hoping to turn the situation around and change the emperor’s mind. Such conduct is unlikely to win trust and may instead invite disaster. Anyone who reads this should take it to heart.”

The Censor-in-Chief Han Yong was broad-minded and forthright, valued trust and righteousness, dared to take action, and firmly accepted responsibility. In the yiyou year of the Chenghua reign (1465), unrest broke out in the Liangguang region, and he and Commander Zhao Gongfu were ordered to go there…

The two generals appointed to lead the campaign respected and trusted one another. They planned carefully and discussed matters in confidence and harmony, confiding in each other like brothers and friends. At first, they intended to divide their forces: the Jiangxi troops would enter Guangdong through Shouling, while the main force would enter Guangxi from Huguang. They reasoned that if the bandits were in Guangdong, they should be pursued; if in Guangxi, they should be surrounded.

Lord Han said, “That will not do. In ancient times, when generals set out on campaign, the court granted them authority to command the army in the field. They could decide matters independently so long as their actions helped bring peace to the state and protect the altars of the soil and grain. Sometimes an army concentrates its strength for a direct assault; at other times it divides its forces to win through surprise. At present, neither Guangdong nor Guangxi has any prefectures that are wholly secure, and the bandits’ lair is in Dateng Gorge. If we make no plan to capture it and instead pursue enemies on the outskirts, I doubt we will succeed. If the whole army goes there, we can attack Dateng Gorge to the south, support Nanshao to the east, capture Liuqing to the west, and cut off routes such as Yangdong to the north. We can win in every direction. Why pursue them blindly?”

Some also wanted to lure the Yao and Lao people of Xiuren and Lipu into battle and then kill them, believing that the rest of the bandits could thereby be subdued with little effort. Lord Han considered that an army sent out under imperial orders to punish rebels had to act on just grounds. To deceive the other side and then kill them would undermine trust and good faith.

He therefore sent his subordinates out in twenty-five detachments. He and the eunuch, the commander-in-chief, and Guangxi commander-in-chief Ou Xin led the central force, chose a date, and began the campaign. A little over a month later, Xiuren and Lipu were pacified. The army then moved on to Xunzhou and pressed forward while the momentum was in its favor. They explained to the local people that the court’s authority to reward and punish was formidable, and that the bandits could now be defeated and destroyed. The people cheered and joined in, and the bandits were ultimately put down completely.

Lord Han relied chiefly on adapting to circumstances and making decisive choices, while also ensuring that rewards and punishments were clear. He handled every matter with fairness and impartiality. That was why success came so quickly and the results were so substantial.

The Hongdao lu comments: “An ancient book says that those who follow Heaven’s principles receive Heaven’s help, and those who keep faith receive the people’s help. Acting with trust and good faith, and following the Way of what is reasonable, is precisely what brings success.” A man like Lord Han must surely have been an outstanding figure of his time. That is why this account has been recorded.

Hongdao lu, juan 4, on “Trust”: “Trust between Father and Son.”

Mencius said, “The people of the world were delighted and ready to submit to him; yet to regard the people’s delight and willingness to submit as no more than a blade of grass was something only Shun could do. If one cannot win one’s parents’ affection, one cannot be considered a true person; if one cannot accord with one’s parents’ wishes, one cannot be considered a worthy son.”

The Hongdao lu comments: Shun’s heart was steadfast and single-minded. He believed that his parents could be trusted, and so he devoted his thoughts entirely to them.

There was not the slightest suspicion. Acts that violate the bonds of affection between father and son all begin with a lack of trust. Thus Emperor Xuanzong of Tang first suspected Ruizong of wanting to harm him, making him more likely to believe Wang Ju later on. Suzong first suspected that the people had rallied behind Minghuang (Emperor Xuanzong), and so Li Fuguo’s slander was able to take effect. Liaoweng also said: “When ministers murder their ruler, or sons their fathers, it often begins with seeing something wrong in the other person.” Alas, a fault noticed at the outset can later become a suspicion lodged in the heart.

The “Dark Bird” hymn in the “Hymns of Shang” says: “Heaven sent down the dark bird, and Shang was born from it; they dwelt in the vast lands of Yin. The ancient sovereign commanded Wu Tang to set the four quarters in order.” In essence, Heaven sent down the dark bird, bringing the Shang people into being; they settled in the broad lands of Yin. The ancient sovereign commanded King Tang to govern the territories of the four quarters.

“Birth of the People” in the “Major Court Hymns” says: “At the beginning of the birth of the people, there was Jiang Yuan. How did she give birth to the people? She made offerings and performed sacrifices with devotion, praying that she would no longer be childless. She stepped into the footprint of the Lord and was moved; there she stayed, conceived, and in due time gave birth and raised her child. This was Houji.” In essence, when humankind first came into being, there was Jiang Yuan. How did she bear a child? She made sincere offerings and prayed that she would not remain childless. She stepped into the Lord’s footprint and was moved; she remained there, became pregnant, and in due time gave birth to and raised the child. That child was Houji.

The Hongdao Lu says that Jiang Yuan and the dark bird were respectively the ancestors of the Shang and Zhou. Is Sima Qian’s account, based on the Book of Songs, really credible?

The answer is no. When reading the Book of Songs, one should consider the meaning of the poem to understand what its author intended. A virtuous couple can have virtuous descendants: this is the natural order of Heaven and Earth and the basic principle of human reproduction.

In ancient times, when Gaoxin ruled the realm, he extended his kindness widely and benefited all things. He was benevolent yet dignified, generous yet trustworthy. Emperor Ku had four consorts. His principal consort, Jiang Yuan, daughter of the You Tai clan, bore Houji. The next, Qing Du, daughter of the Chen Feng clan, bore Yao. The third, Jian Di, daughter of the You E clan, bore Xie. The last, Chang Yi, daughter of the Juzi clan, bore Zhi.

Given Gaoxin’s sage virtue and his four worthy consorts, it was only natural that they would have sage and worthy children. The dark bird’s auspicious arrival and the conception said to follow from stepping into a footprint were merely strange omens that happened by chance. They do not mean that Jiang Yuan had no human relationship with a husband, but suddenly swallowed a bird’s egg or stepped into a footprint and gave birth to a child.

The poet used the words “Heaven’s command” for the sake of elegant expression and described Houji’s birth in an indirect, figurative way. This is why the poem also speaks of “a narrow lane,” “cold ice,” and “cattle and sheep sheltering and nurturing him.” Such expressions are common in poetry. One should not cling to their literal wording and thereby distort the poem’s meaning. How can anyone use them to invent supernatural claims that defy reason, discard Gaoxin—a father of lofty virtue—and attribute these stories to a sage revered by all generations? This mistake comes precisely from failing to grasp the meaning the Book of Songs was meant to convey.

At its most fundamental, the Confucians take the investigation of principles and affairs as their chief concern. Even after reciting all three hundred poems of the Book of Songs, one may still fail to understand their meaning. So what is there to wonder at in the bizarre claims of Buddhism and Daoism? For example, the Buddha was born from his side, with fragrance filling the room at his birth; Yi Yin was born from a hollow mulberry tree; and Laozi was born with snow-white hair. Such claims have all been recorded and passed down as credible events, so they must be examined.

In the ninth month of the sixth year of Duke Huan of Lu, on the day dingmao, Zitong was born.

The Record of Expounding the Dao says: Ever since the poem “Xiaobian” gave voice to resentment between father and son, the bond between fathers and sons has suffered. When Confucius compiled the Spring and Autumn Annals, he likely felt grief over this. Although the Annals records events in the state of Lu, its purpose in fact reaches beyond Lu: by recording the disasters between Duke Yin and Duke Huan, it warns people for generations to come. The Zuo Commentary says that Confucius recorded this event with the word “joy.” This is indeed deeply significant.

Confucius’s aim here—to distinguish what is doubtful and resolve uncertainties—is already quite clear. Only when the relationship between husband and wife is properly defined can closeness between father and son be maintained. Duke Huan of Lu was benighted and ignorant, while his wife, Lady Wen Jiang, behaved without restraint; such a case has been rare since ancient times. The histories record the day dingmao in the ninth month to make clear the actual date of Zitong’s birth. The Book of Songs, with the words “Indeed, my nephew,” hints at what was subtle in the matter. This account was written to prevent others from confusing the facts.

Duke Huan also claimed that Zitong was not his son, but the son of the Marquis of Qi. Hu’s Commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals holds that this record sets out the proper principle governing the father-son relationship and prevents anyone from usurping the legitimate line of succession. Confucius’s concern for the moral order of the world begins to emerge here: he sought to correct the wrongs that continued after Duke Huan’s death and to settle a question left unresolved for ages.

In the summer of the fifth year of Duke Xi of Lu, Duke Xi met the heir to the throne of Zhou at Shouzhi, together with the Marquis of Qi, the Duke of Song, the Marquis of Chen, the Marquis of Wei, the Earl of Chen, the Viscount of Xu, and the Earl of Cao. In the autumn, in the eighth month, the lords formed an alliance at Shouzhi.

The Record of Expounding the Dao says: Why did the royal house of Zhou move east? Why was King You of Zhou killed? And why was the Spring and Autumn Annals written? These disasters all arose because the heir to the throne had not been firmly established. Once the succession was thrown into doubt, calamity brought the state to ruin: the ancestral temples lay in ruins, the palaces were destroyed, and rulers were killed. Yet later generations still failed to learn from these lessons. A generation or two later came the troubles of Zike, followed by the disaster of Zitu. King Hui had witnessed these events with his own eyes. But soon after he regained the throne, the threat of Shudai’s bid for power arose again. I do not know what King Hui was thinking.

The root of these disasters was a failure to understand the principle taught in the Great Learning: those who crave pleasure cannot put their conduct in order, and those who favor their intimates become partial. If one cannot cultivate oneself, one cannot put one’s family in order, govern the state, or bring peace to all under Heaven.

Once trustworthiness and justice had taken root in people’s hearts, even when someone died, people still dared not immediately announce the death and mourn, for fear of behaving improperly.

The affection between father and son came to the point where the Rong people attacked the royal city; the bond between brothers reached the point where the Son of Heaven of Zhou went to live in Zheng; and the rites between ruler and minister had completely fallen away. These circumstances arose because King Hui gave others an opportunity to take advantage of him. Without the help of Duke Huan of Qi, Guan Zhong, and Duke Hui, the Zhou royal house would almost have fallen into a crisis like the one in the time of King You. Where else could the Zhou royal house have moved? Confucius deliberately recorded and approved this event in his writings for the sake of the world and generations to come; it concerned more than any one person’s position.

The Zuo Tradition records: Ying Kaoshu was an official in charge of a border town in Ying Valley. He once presented a gift to Duke Zhuang, who rewarded him with food. As Ying Kaoshu ate, he set the meat aside. Duke Zhuang asked why, and he replied, “I have a mother, sir. She has tasted everything I eat, but she has never tasted the meat soup bestowed by my lord. I would like to take some home to her.”

Duke Zhuang said, “You have a mother to whom you can send food. I alone have no one.” Ying Kaoshu asked, “May I ask what you mean by that?” Duke Zhuang told him what had happened and expressed his regret. Ying Kaoshu replied, “Why should my lord worry? If you dig until you reach a spring, then make a passage underground and meet your mother there, who could say that this is contrary to proper conduct?”

Duke Zhuang took his advice. As he entered the passage, he sang, “Within the great tunnel, mother and son meet again—how joyful!” When Lady Jiang came out, she too sang, “Beyond the great tunnel, mother and son meet again—how at ease!” From then on, their relationship returned to what it had been. A gentleman praised him, saying, “Ying Kaoshu was truly sincere and filial. He loved his own mother, and his filial devotion extended to Duke Zhuang as well. The Book of Songs says, ‘The filial heart of a devoted son has no end; for a long time it bestows blessings upon his kin.’ Surely that is what this means.”

The Hongdao Record comments: I see that Ying Kaoshu was able to bring trustworthiness to light. An ordinary person makes an oath to show that he will keep faith; a gentleman makes a promise and acts in accordance with what is right. Thus, with a single remark, he dispelled the confusion in Duke Zhuang’s heart. Some say that Duke Zhuang’s “regret” lay between trust and doubt. Had he felt no regret at all, Ying Kaoshu could not have guided him by appealing to what he was still able to understand.

Ji You’s mother was from the state of Chen. Duke Huan of Lu especially favored her. When Ji You was about to be born, Duke Huan sent someone to perform a divination. The oracle said, “The child will be a boy, and his name will be You. He will rank immediately below the ruler, stand between the two altars, and support the ducal house of Lu. If the Ji clan perishes, Lu will not flourish.” Duke Huan then performed a yarrow-stalk divination, which yielded the hexagram “Great Possession” changing into “Heaven.” The text said, “Zhou will return to his father’s side and honor him as a ruler.” After Ji You was born, the lines on his palm formed the character “You,” so he was given that name and called Chengji.

The Hongdao Record comments: I see Ji You’s birth as Heaven’s rejection of Lu’s disorder; it was not for Duke Huan alone. Duke Huan and Duke Zhuang failed to fulfill the Way of a ruler; Duke Wen and Duke Ai failed to fulfill the Way of a wife; Duke Ban and Duke Min were repeatedly murdered; and the Shu and Zhong families caused turmoil for a long time. Lu was no longer truly Lu, and its circumstances were more than merely dangerous. If…

If no virtuous person had been born into the line, would the sacrifices to the Duke of Zhou not have come to an end? The markings on the hand refer to the lines of the palm. Heaven’s will seemed to say: “Those who draw close to Cheng Ji will prosper; those who do not will perish.” Was this a continuation of the benevolent path by which Ban and Min had treated him as a friend? If not, Ji was himself descended from an adulterous line—what virtue could he have possessed to win Heaven’s approval? Installing Duke Xi was meant to stabilize Lu, quell disorder, and preserve the Taoyuan branch. The purpose of the divination was truly far-reaching.

When Cheng Feng heard the omen revealed by Cheng Ji’s divination, she served Cheng Ji and entrusted Duke Xi to him. Cheng Ji therefore installed Duke Xi.

The Hongdao lu comments: Was Duke Xi’s accession really arranged by human beings, or was it decided by Heaven’s will? The answer is: by Heaven’s will. The calamity brought about by Peng Sheng was caused by Wen Jiang; this was the first time Heaven cut off her good fortune. Ai Jiang entered the ancestral temple of Lu and was rejected; this was the second. Later, Meng Ren fled, and soon afterward the groom Luo (an official in charge of raising horses) brought about another calamity; this was the third. After Zi Kai took the throne, there was the seizure of land by Bu Yi; this was the fourth. The Feng clan succeeded the Jiang clan and produced descendants, just as the Bo clan succeeded the Lü clan and later supplanted it. Was Heaven not indeed arranging things behind the scenes?

Xi Qi and Zhuo Zi were both sons of Li Ji, and Xun Xi served as their counselor. As Duke Xian of Jin lay dying, he asked Xun Xi, “What may be called loyalty and trustworthiness?” Xun Xi replied, “If one can bring the dead back to life and ensure that the living have no cause to be ashamed of their words, that may be called loyalty and trustworthiness.” After Duke Xian died, Xi Qi took the throne. Li Ke said to Xun Xi, “The ruler killed the rightful heir and installed someone who was not entitled to succeed. What should be done? I am willing to discuss a plan with you.” Xun Xi said, “The ruler once asked me this question, and I replied, ‘If one can bring the dead back to life and ensure that the living have no cause to be ashamed of their words, that may be called loyalty and trustworthiness.’” Li Ke then understood that Xun Xi would not join him in a plot. He withdrew and killed Xi Qi. Xun Xi then installed Zhuo Zi, whom Li Ke killed in turn. Xun Xi also died as a result. A gentleman commented, “Xun Xi may be said to have kept faith with his own words.”

The Hongdao lu comments: Wei Sheng did indeed keep his promise, but he had arranged a secret meeting with a woman, which was not in keeping with the right path. Why, then, did gentlemen praise Xun Xi? They praised him in order to condemn Li Ke in the strongest terms. Li Ke had once served as counselor to Shen Sheng, whose claim to succeed was rightful and legitimate. This was unlike Xun Xi’s service to Xi Qi, who was not the rightful heir. One remark by You Shi was enough to settle the situation, while Xun Xi set the standard of loyalty and trustworthiness as “bringing the dead back to life and having no cause to be ashamed of one’s words.” How great the difference between them! If Li Ke had held fast to the right path from the start and resisted confusion, thereby saving Shen Sheng from disaster, that would have been best. If he could not do that, yet could remain steadfast to the end and never change…

To die alongside the Crown Prince would have been only a second-best course of action. Yet after making up his mind, he shamelessly killed one ruler in the morning and another in the evening. I do not know how such a man should be dealt with. Duke Hui did not publicly establish his guilt, yet he still raised the question of deposing and installing rulers. What, then, had become of Jin’s laws and decrees? Confucius therefore reproached Duke Hui once again. Perhaps Duke Hui was reproached so repeatedly because Li Ke was his fellow townsman.

Duke Wen of Zheng had a low-ranking concubine named Yan Ji. She dreamed that a heavenly messenger gave her an orchid and said, “I am Bo Tiao, one of your ancestors. Take this orchid as your son. The orchid has the fragrance of a state, and people all delight in it.” Later, Duke Wen met Yan Ji, gave her an orchid, and slept with her. Yan Ji declined, saying, “I have neither talent nor virtue. If I am fortunate enough to bear a child, I fear you may not acknowledge him. May I ask whether this orchid can serve as proof?” Duke Wen agreed. Yan Ji later gave birth to Duke Mu, and Duke Wen named him Lan after the orchid.

The Hongdao Lu says: Mencius taught that the Son of Heaven may recommend a worthy person to Heaven, but cannot compel Heaven to hand over the realm to him; a feudal lord may recommend a worthy person to the Son of Heaven, but cannot compel the Son of Heaven to grant him the lordship. Since Zihua had been made Crown Prince, received the Mandate of Heaven, and was held among the feudal lords as a hostage, Zheng’s succession should have been settled beyond doubt. When Zilan was born, the succession was still in question—especially since many other princes were also contending for the throne.

Zilan was nearly killed for taking part in Zheng’s civil strife, which was followed by a succession of flights and expulsions: Zizang fled, Zishi was poisoned, and Zixia and Ziyu also died young. Only after these men no longer posed a threat to the succession could Shi Gui’s proposal be carried out, and the plan devised by Kong Jiang and two others be settled. Thereafter, Zheng swore an alliance at the Grand Ancestral Temple, and the state flourished greatly under several generations of rulers, from Duke Ling to Duke Xiang. Was this not a situation opened up by Heaven? The auspicious sign later generations called “the Azure Dragon Resting on the Belly” cannot be compared with this, but ah, perhaps the orchid’s fragrance was a sign arranged by Heaven.

Duke Gong of Chu had no eldest son by his principal wife, but he had five favored sons. He intended to appoint one of them as ruler but could not decide which, so he performed an elaborate sacrifice to the gods of every quarter and prayed: “May the spirits choose one of these five to preside over the state’s sacrifices.” He then presented a jade disc to the spirits and said, “Whichever one bows in worship with his feet directly over the disc is the one chosen by the spirits. No one will dare defy their choice.”

Later, Duke Gong and Ba Ji secretly buried the jade disc in the courtyard of the Grand Ancestral Temple. After the five sons had fasted, they entered one by one to make their bows. Duke Kang stepped over the disc; Duke Ling struck it with his elbow; Zigan and Zhe kept well away from it. Ping Wang was young, so he was carried in. He bowed twice, and each time his feet landed squarely over the disc’s knob. Dou Weigui then allied himself with Cheng Ran.

The Commentary on the Record of Broadening the Way says: Whenever I read about Duke Gong of Chu, I cannot help but sigh. A father betrayed his son, and a son defied his father. They did not trust themselves but trusted the spirits; they did not choose a person but consulted ghosts and spirits. Instead of stating things openly, they followed secret and obscure schemes. King Wen, Yao, and Shun received the Mandate of Heaven through their deeds and achievements; no one, it is said, rose to the throne because he “was the jade,” with the jade’s knob pressed down upon him. And what of Ba Ji, Duke Gong of Chu’s consort? Her own affections and aversions may well have been mixed up in the burial of the jade. As for whether the successor was fit to rule, did this not amount to teaching people to usurp the throne? When someone above usurps power, there will surely be someone below to help him. This is why Chu became what it was: those five sons all came to power through regicide. So who, in the end, had the spirits’ favor?

Lady Jiang, wife of Duke Xiang of Wei, had no sons. His favored concubine Zhou gave birth to Meng Zhi, a son of Duke Xiang. Kong Chengzi dreamed that Kang Shu, the founder of Wei, said to him, “Make Yuan ruler. I will send Yu, grandson of Ji, and Shi Gou to assist him.” Shi Chao had the same dream. That year, Han Kangzi of Jin was on a diplomatic mission to the feudal states, and Zhou gave birth to a son, whom they named Yuan. Meng Zhi had a disability in his feet and found it difficult to walk. Kong Chengzi consulted the milfoil oracle on his behalf. Its pronouncement said, “Yuan can inherit Wei and preside over the state’s altars and grain offerings.” He showed the pronouncement to Shi Chao and said, “Yuan can inherit Wei. What doubt could there be?” Kong Chengzi asked, “Doesn’t this mean that the eldest son by the principal wife should succeed?” Shi Chao replied, “Kang Shu himself gave him his name, so he may be called the eldest. Meng Zhi is not a suitable candidate; he cannot be included in the ancestral temple rites, so he does not count as the eldest son by the principal wife. The pronouncement also says, ‘It is favorable to establish a feudal lord.’ The oracle agrees with the dream; this was the method used by King Wu. A man with weak feet can still hold a feudal lord’s position, preside over the state and its rites, govern the people and serve the spirits, and take part in meetings and audiences. Each can do what suits him. Would that not be good?” Kong Chengzi therefore installed Yuan as ruler, and Yuan became Duke Ling of Wei.

The Commentary on the Record of Broadening the Way says: I believe that the Way of Heaven rewards the good and punishes the wicked, and has never erred. The licentious conduct of Xuan Jiang, wife of Duke Xuan of Wei, and Meng Zhi’s disability were both Heaven’s way of stripping them of their claim to succeed to the throne. Yet the sacrifices to Kang Shu could not be discontinued, and the inheritance of the Ji clan’s virtue could not be broken. Even without the dream of Zhengchu and Shi Chao’s divination, could Yuan have been left uninstalled as ruler? Still, without signs that confirmed the choice, it would have been hard to win people’s trust; without their trust, the people would not obey. The ministers of Wei may be said to have followed the proper way. Later, Gong Meng accepted his place and did not resent it on the grounds that he was the eldest son; Duke Ling was suited to govern a feudal state, and was not displaced because he was born to a concubine. When Confucius recorded Duke Xiang of Wei, noting his death and burial, was it because of this matter? Otherwise, the various arguments…

Signs of calamity may not be limited to those described in the Commentary.

Confucius said, “Min Ziqian was truly filial! No one disputed the praise people gave him, his parents, and his brothers.”

The Hongdao lu says: To praise Min Ziqian’s filial conduct, one must begin with what his parents and brothers thought of him. Min Ziqian’s mother was like Shun’s mother, and his younger brother was like Shun’s younger brother. His father was loving, but his mother was not; people would then have criticized her. His elder brother cared for him, but he was not affectionate toward his younger brother; people would then have criticized the younger brother. Shun’s mother could hardly escape being called “Yin” (foolish and obstinate), and his younger brother could hardly escape being called “Xiang” (arrogant). But Min Ziqian moved his family with deep affection, speaking and acting with sincerity. His father abandoned the idea of sending his mother away, and his mother, too, changed her cold attitude toward him. Once all three sons had reconciled with their family, Min Ziqian was no longer subject to criticism from others. This is a principle that Confucius’s disciples put into practice themselves, and it must be examined carefully.

The Book of Han records that Liu Bang, founder of the Han dynasty, had the surname Liu. His father was called Grandfather Tai, and his mother, Lady Liu. In her youth, Lady Liu once rested beside a great marsh and dreamed that she met a spirit. Thunder and lightning shook the sky, and darkness fell. Grandfather Tai went to see what had happened and saw a dragon coiled over her. Soon afterward, Lady Liu became pregnant and gave birth to Gaozu. Gaozu was tall and imposing, with a prominent nose, a face like a dragon, a fine beard, and seventy-two black moles on his left leg. He was generous and compassionate, with an open heart. Once, while performing corvée labor at Xianyang, he took the opportunity to watch Qin Shi Huang on a progress and exclaimed, “A great man ought to be like that!”

The Hongdao lu says: The transformations of Yin and Yang are called the Dao. When things reach their extreme, they turn in the opposite direction. During the prosperous ages of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou, when the capitals were established at Luoyi, the center of the realm was made the capital, and grand enterprises were planned, the Yang aspect had reached its height. This was like the saying in the Book of Changes: “The dragon flies too high and has cause for regret.” Thus, the upheaval of the eastward migration followed.

The Five Hegemons rose, and by the time Jin had been divided among three families and the six states had formed an alliance against Qin, the Yin aspect, too, had reached its height. This was like “dragons fighting in the wilds,” Yin and Yang contending on the outskirts. The calamity of Qin’s unification of the realm then arose. With both Yin and Yang in distress, the order between Heaven and Earth became deeply unsettled. The text next mentions omens such as “a sparrow giving birth to a □” and “a horse growing horns”; a character is missing from the original at this point. These were seen as signs that the lowly would become exalted and the small would become great.

Heaven and Earth seemed to be declaring that it was better to choose a commoner than a noble person as the bearer of Heaven’s mandate. That Liu Taigong and Lady Liu, commoners, became the parents of Han Gaozu can be explained. But if one says that a child born to Lü Buwei or Lord Chunshen and a noblewoman bore Heaven’s mandate, it is difficult to make sense of. So was Lady Liu’s dream of meeting a spirit, amid thunder, lightning, and darkness, not also like…

Are people’s deeds, too, signs foretold by Heaven, just as the auspicious arrival of the Dark Bird was? The Han dynasty did indeed rise to power under a sign of this kind.

Bo Ji was the mother of Emperor Wen of Han. When she was young, she and Lady Guan and Zhao Zier were close friends. The three made a pact: “Whoever is first to rise to prominence must not forget the other two.” Later, Lady Guan and Zhao Zier were the first to win the favor of the King of Han. In the fourth year of the King of Han (203 BCE), while he was at the Ling Terrace in Chenggao, Henan, the two beauties were by his side, laughing and talking. He asked what they were laughing about, and they told him truthfully of their pact with Bo Ji. Hearing this, the King of Han felt compassion for Bo Ji and summoned her to his bed that very day.

Bo Ji said, “Last night I dreamed that a dark blue dragon coiled across my chest.” The King of Han replied, “This is a sign of nobility. I will make it come true for you.” He then slept with her. Bo Ji became pregnant and, the following year, gave birth to Emperor Wen of Han.

The Hongdao Lu records: “The dream of Lady Wei was a sign that Heaven was setting destiny in motion; the dream of Bo Ji was a sign that she would help sustain the age and nurture the people. The rise and fall of the Qin and Han dynasties, and the changing fortunes of Lady Wei and Bo Ji throughout their lives, each bore signs of Heaven’s mandate. The Book of Songs says, ‘Radiance appears below, splendor shines above; Heaven’s intent is hard to fathom.’ This is precisely the sort of thing it describes. Otherwise, if one takes those of one’s own kind as intimates while the people of the realm secretly shelter them, and thinks oneself beloved when others in fact despise one, how far would one be from the terrible fate of being killed in the hidden palace and having one’s flesh made into the shape of a pig?”

When Ju Bu Yi was serving as Governor of the Capital Region, a man arrived at the North Watchtower in a carriage drawn by a yellow calf. He carried a yellow banner, wore a yellow jacket, and had a yellow cap on his head, claiming to be the Heir Apparent Wei. The Director of the Chariot Office, who oversaw palace gate security and received memorials, reported the matter to the court. The emperor issued an edict ordering the high ministers, generals, and officials with salaries of two thousand piculs or more to identify and examine the man together. Officials and commoners from Chang’an gathered to watch; their numbers reached tens of thousands. The Chancellor, the Censor-in-Chief, and the high-ranking officials were all present, but no one dared to speak first.

Ju Bu Yi said, “Why should you all be troubled about the Heir Apparent Wei? In the past, Kuai Kui defied his ruler’s command and fled, while Duke Zhe of Wei refused to receive him. The Heir Apparent Wei offended the late emperor and, when he fled, did not take his own life at once. Now he has come here of his own accord; he is a guilty man.” Ju Bu Yi then sent him to the imperial prison, where the Court Commandant was ordered to interrogate and examine him. In the end, it was established that the man was an impostor. He was a native of Xiayang named Cheng Fang-sui, who lived in Hu County and made his living as a diviner. Someone who had once served in the Heir Apparent’s palace had asked him to tell his fortune and remarked, “Your appearance is very much like the Heir Apparent Wei’s.” Coveting the wealth and status that might come from those words, Cheng Fang-sui nearly profited from them and so impersonated the Heir Apparent.

After Ju Bu Yi, Zhao Guanghan also served as Governor of the Capital Region. He once said, “I can probably suppress wickedness and stop unlawful conduct, but when it comes to handling the great affairs of the court, I am no match for Ju Bu Yi.”

The Hongdao Lu records that during the reign of Emperor Dezong of the Tang, people who pretended to be his mother, Lady Shen, were all convicted of fraud. Only in the time of Emperor Gaozong of the Song did someone pretend to be Princess Yongfu and have the emperor accept her identity without the slightest doubt, showing her unmatched favor. Later, although Empress Dowager Wei exposed the deception, the emperor merely let the woman escape on her own and did not pursue or punish her. He deeply regretted this. In the case investigated by Cheng Fangyuan, one could hardly do without the clear judgment of someone like Zhi Buyi.

Yu Dingguo’s father, Yu Gong, once served as a minor local official. He judged cases fairly and handled legal documents without ever leaving people resentful. In Donghai Commandery, there was a filial daughter-in-law who served her mother-in-law with great care. Feeling sorry for her young, widowed daughter-in-law, who had no children, the mother-in-law wanted her to remarry, but she consistently refused. Believing that she was holding the young woman back, the mother-in-law hanged herself. Her daughter reported the case to the authorities. The officials examined the body and questioned the filial daughter-in-law; to bring the case to a close, she confessed to a crime she had not committed. When the case file was completed and sent to the commandery, Yu Gong argued the matter on principle but could not persuade his superiors. The daughter-in-law was ultimately sentenced to death.

Afterward, Donghai Commandery suffered drought for three years. When the new governor took office, he used divination to ask the cause of the drought. Yu Gong said, “There is no need to divine. The cause of this calamity lies in that case.” The governor then slaughtered an ox in sacrifice at the filial daughter-in-law’s tomb and erected a commemorative stele for her. Rain fell at once. The people of the commandery consequently respected and trusted Yu Gong, and even built a shrine for him while he was still alive.

When Yu Dingguo was young, he studied the law under his father and also served as a prison official. Later, his ability earned him promotion, and he became the Minister of Justice, responsible for judicial affairs and criminal cases. He was highly trusted by the court. In trying difficult cases and applying the law fairly, he took particular care to show compassion toward widowers, widows, orphans, and the childless. When the evidence in a case was uncertain, he gave the accused a lighter sentence, and he was always cautious and scrupulous. The court praised him, saying, “When Zhang Shizhi served as Minister of Justice, no one in the realm suffered a wrongful conviction. Only after Yu Dingguo became Minister of Justice did the people feel that they would not be wrongfully convicted.”

The gate tower before Yu Gong’s home collapsed, and the village elders wanted to repair it together. Yu Gong said, “You must rebuild it high enough for a covered carriage drawn by four horses to pass through. I accumulated much hidden virtue by judging cases in the past, so my descendants are sure to prosper.” Later, Yu Dingguo became chancellor, and his son Yu Yong went on to serve as Grand Censor and was enfeoffed as a marquis. Their family remained prominent for generations. People therefore believed that Yu Gong’s words had indeed come true.

The Hongdao Lu comments: Zhang Shizhi had no wrongfully convicted people under his tenure as Minister of Justice because Emperor Wen of Han was benevolent; the people were not wronged under Yu Dingguo because Emperor Xuan of Han was discerning. The claim that accumulated hidden virtue brings prosperity to one’s descendants also depends on the circumstances shaped by the ruler and the chancellor. Readers should believe this.

The Book of the Later Han records that Mao Yi of Lujiang, while young, upheld his principles and became known for his filial conduct. Zhang Feng of Nanyang heard of his reputation and went to visit him. They had just sat down when an official dispatch arrived, appointing Mao Yi to serve in an acting capacity as …

After receiving the summons to take office as magistrate of Anyang County, Yi went gladly to assume his post, his face bright with joy. Feng, a man of lofty aspirations, secretly looked down on him and regretted having come. He firmly resigned and left. Later, when Yi’s mother died, he resigned to observe mourning. The authorities summoned and appointed him, but he refused to go. Feng sighed, “A person of virtue should not act this way. What, then, was the joy he showed earlier when he humbled himself to take office for the sake of his family?”

Xue Bao of Runan was devoted to learning and upright in conduct. After his mother died, he became known for his great filial devotion. Later, his father took a new wife, and Xue Bao was sent away from the household. He wept day and night and refused to leave. Only after being beaten with a stick did he reluctantly build a shelter outside the house. Every morning he went in to sweep and tidy up. His father grew angry and drove him away again, so he built a shelter beside the village gate, yet continued to serve his parents as before, morning and evening. After more than a year, his parents were finally moved by his sincerity and let him return home.

The Hongdao lu comments: “The histories praise these two men because they put their utmost sincerity into practice. Conduct that comes from the heart can move others. In this way, they earned renown in later generations and received stipends and respect in their own time. This may be called bringing honor to one’s parents.”

When Lu Ji served as a subordinate official, his mother kept a well-ordered household. Later, Lu Ji became entangled in the case of Chu Prince Ying’s rebellion and was taken to the imperial prison in Luoyang, where cases were tried by imperial decree. His mother traveled a long way from Wu to see him, but was not allowed to meet him. She could only prepare food and send it to him. When Lu Ji saw the food, he was so overcome with grief that he could not stop crying. A messenger asked why. Hearing that Lu Ji was distressed because his mother had traveled so far but could not see him, the messenger asked how he knew she had come. Lu Ji replied, “When my mother cuts meat, she always cuts it into square pieces; when she cuts scallions, she always measures them to one inch. If my mother had not prepared this soup herself, it would not taste like this. That is how I know she sent it.”

Cai Shun—written as “Cha Shun” in the text—lost his father when he was young and became known for his filial care of his mother. One day, while he was away gathering firewood, a guest suddenly arrived at their home. When his mother saw that he had not returned, she bit her finger. Cai Shun immediately felt pain in his own heart and hurried home, kneeling to ask what had happened. His mother said, “An urgent guest arrived. I bit my finger so you would know.”

The Hongdao lu comments: “I believe that Lu Ji’s mother sending him delicious food and Cai Shun’s mother biting her finger both show the deep, instinctive bond between mother and son. Preparing food and managing the household were what the mother cared about; the son’s flesh and hair came from the same blood and body as his mother’s. Because his mother cared about the daily food of the household, the son would not dare, even for a moment, to go against her wishes. Because mother and son shared the same flesh and blood, the son would not dare take a single step without remembering his mother. This bond is not like trust between unrelated people, who must wait for the other to prove themselves before believing.”

End of the Hongdao lu.

Hongdao lu, volume five

Trust

Trust between father and son

The Tang History records: “Emperor Taizong of Tang, posthumously titled the Sagely and Martial Great Emperor, was named Shimin and was the second son of Emperor Gaozu of Tang.”

Emperor Taizong’s mother was Empress Dowager Taimu, née Dou. On the day of Wuwu in the twelfth month of the eighteenth year of Kaihuang under the Sui, Taizong was born at a detached residence in Wugong. When he was just four, a scholar came to pay his respects to Gaozu and said, “You are a man of great distinction.” Seeing Taizong, the scholar added, “This child has the bearing of a dragon and phoenix, and a presence as extraordinary as the sun. Before long, when he is nearly twenty, he will surely bring order to the age and pacify the people.” Gaozu took the scholar’s words to heart and named the child Shimin.

The Hongdao lu says: Mencius once said that every five hundred years, a true king is bound to arise, and that in the intervals there will also be figures renowned in their own age. More than five hundred years had passed between Han Gaozu and the Tang. In that time, Jin, Song, Qi, Liang, and Chen had succeeded one another. Usurpations and regicides had occurred six or seven times; none of the dynasties had lasted a hundred years, and the realm had long been divided and convulsed by disorder. The Sui at first unified the realm, but it too began with usurpation and in the end fell through usurpation. Every dynasty had sought someone capable of bringing peace to the realm. The scholar’s words, “bring order to the age and pacify the people,” were indeed credible. There is no need to attribute them to a supernatural person’s prophecy: they also accorded with reason and the rise and decline of the times.

In the seventeenth year of Zhenguan, Taizong ordered Changsun Wuji, Fang Xuanling, Li Ji, and Chu Suiliang to discuss appointing Prince Li Zhi of Jin as crown prince. At the time, more than ten pheasants gathered in the palace. Taizong asked what omen this signified. Chu Suiliang replied, “In the time of Duke Wen of Jin, a child was transformed into a pheasant. A hen pheasant called from Chencang, and a cock pheasant from Nanyang. The child said, ‘Whoever gets the cock will become king; whoever gets the hen will become hegemon.’ Duke Wen later became the leading lord among the regional rulers and established a shrine to the Precious Pheasant in that place. Emperor Guangwu of Han obtained a cock pheasant, raised an army in Nanyang, and eventually came to possess the realm. Your Majesty was originally enfeoffed in Qin; now hen and cock pheasants have appeared together. This is Heaven’s way of declaring that Your Majesty’s virtue shines brightly.”

Taizong was pleased and said, “A person cannot make his way in the world without learning. Chu Suiliang is truly a learned and broad-minded gentleman!” He then appointed him Guest of the Crown Prince, an official who assisted the heir and discussed the classics with him.

The Hongdao lu says: Did Chu Suiliang really not know that Prince Jin’s childhood name was Zhinu, “Pheasant Boy”? The gathering of pheasants was precisely an auspicious sign that the prince would ascend the throne. Prince Jin’s given name was Zhi, and his childhood name was Zhinu. To explain the event simply as pheasants coming to inform the emperor is rather far-fetched. This was an omen bestowed by Heaven; there was no need to spell it out repeatedly and announce it directly.

When Wu Zetian was in power, Ruizong was still the imperial heir. Few ministers and nobles were able to see him. An Jincang, a musician in the Court of Imperial Sacrifices who served as a palace attendant, had the opportunity to enter. Before long, someone falsely accused the imperial heir of plotting rebellion, and Wu Zetian ordered Lai Junchen to investigate the case. Those around the heir feared torture and planned to confess. An Jincang cried out, “If you do not believe me, cut open my chest, and I will prove that the imperial heir has not plotted rebellion.”

He drew his sword and thrust it into his abdomen. His intestines spilled out, and he collapsed to the ground unconscious. When people later heard what had happened, they were horrified and hurriedly carried him by cart to the palace. Emperor Ruizong ordered the physicians to put his intestines back inside and sew him up with sangchu—a material or paper made from mulberry and paper mulberry bark. He woke the following night.

Ruizong came to visit him in person and sighed, “I have a son, yet I cannot clear his name. You are so loyal; I am the one who falls short of you.” He then issued an edict halting the interrogation, and only then did Ruizong feel at ease. At the time, court officials praised him one after another, saying that they could not compare with him. During the Jingyun era, Emperor Xuanzong entrusted the matter to the court historians to record, and ordered his name engraved on steles on Mount Taihua and Mount Hua as an honor. After his death, he was enshrined alongside Ruizong in the imperial temple.

The Hongdao lu comments: An Jincang and Lei Haiching were both musicians. Amid torture as fierce as a blazing fire, An Jincang stood up to defend the great bond between father and son. At a time of savage cruelty and overwhelming wickedness, Lei Haiching bore the deepest anguish of a subject for his ruler. They faced death without flinching; such was the resolve they had always held. More astonishing still, both returned from the brink of death: one was sewn up again after his abdomen had been cut open, while the other left behind a record of his ordeal. Their names were engraved on the Qin and Hua mountains, and they were honored with enshrinement in palace rites. Few such events have been heard of, from ancient times to the present.

The History of the Song records: Taizu’s surname was Zhao, and his personal name was Kuangyin. His father, Zhao Hongyin, had served under the Later Zhou as Supervisor of the Secretariat and Military Commissioner of Yuezhou; his mother’s surname was Du. Zhao Kuangyin was born at Jiama Camp in Luoyang. A red glow filled the rooms, and a strange fragrance lingered throughout the night. People called him “the Fragrant Child.”

The year Taizu was born was the year Emperor Mingzong ascended the throne of Later Tang. Every night, Zhao Hongyin burned incense in the palace and prayed to Heaven, saying, “I am a barbarian who has been raised up by the people amid the turmoil of the realm. May Heaven soon send down a sage to rule the people.” The following year was the year of the Fire Pig, and Zhao Kuangyin was indeed born that year. When he grew up, he was imposing in stature and appearance, broad-minded and open in bearing. Those with insight all knew he was no ordinary man.

The Hongdao lu comments: According to the History of the Five Dynasties, the age was in decline, human relationships were in disorder, and the proper bonds between close and distant kin had been overturned. Even warfare broke out among relatives, while people of different clans were made fathers and sons through adoption. In the fifty years from the Kaiping to the Xiande era, the realm passed through five dynasties, yet power was held by a total of eight surnames, three of whose ruling houses arose through adoption. Alas, the world had fallen into such disarray! Heaven therefore deliberately sent down Taizu of the Song to establish for all ages the proper bonds between fathers and sons, and between rulers and subjects. The extraordinary signs at his birth and the portents that he had received Heaven’s mandate probably appeared of their own accord. Is this not plain evidence, enough to inspire belief?

Earlier, Emperor Shizong of Later Zhou found a wooden tablet more than three feet long inside a document pouch. It bore the words, “The Inspector will become Son of Heaven.” After the Chenqiao mutiny broke out, Shizong sent Chu Zhaofu…

People from the An family in Bianjing reported, “The Inspector [the post held by Song Taizu before he became emperor] has become the Son of Heaven.” When Empress Dowager Du heard this, she said, “My son has always had great ambitions, and now they have indeed been fulfilled.”

The Hongdao Lu comments: Some people took the Empress Dowager’s words to mean that Taizu had long secretly harbored disloyal intentions. This may not have been the case. Talk about the Inspector’s position had long spread throughout the court and beyond; only now did the Empress Dowager believe it to be true. This was unlike the situation with Tang Taizong, who, driven by necessity, said, “Today, you have ruined my family and cost me my life; you will also be the one to transform my family into a state.” Seeing that Empress Dowager Du’s words were grounded in fact, Taizu felt glad. Looking closely at Tang Taizong’s words, one can discern his misgivings and feel apprehensive.

When the Empress Dowager was gravely ill, she asked Taizu, “Do you know why you were able to gain the empire?” Taizu choked up and could not answer. She pressed him, and he replied, “My gaining the empire is entirely due to the accumulated blessings and De of my ancestors and Your Majesty.” The Empress Dowager said, “That is not so. It was because Zhou Shizong entrusted the realm to a young child that you had the opportunity to reach where you are today. After your death, you should pass the throne to your younger brothers Guangyi and Guangmei, and then to Dezhao. A state is fortunate when its ruler is old enough to take charge of affairs.” Taizu bowed his head and said, “How could I dare disobey your instruction?” He then made a solemn vow at the Empress Dowager’s bedside, placed the written oath in a golden casket, and entrusted it to a discreet and reliable palace attendant.

The Hongdao Lu comments: The Empress Dowager’s words brought two generations the blessing of peace and stability. If there had been such an oath at the beginning of the Tang dynasty, how could bloody conflict have broken out in the palace? Sadly, petty men, anxious about their own gains and losses, destroyed a principle of the utmost fairness, meant to endure for generations. As a result, the matter of Guangmei and Dezhao was not recorded in reliable histories, but survives only in scattered accounts and tales. For this reason, the Hongdao Lu also omitted Zhao Pu’s name. What a noble person does is often beyond the understanding of ordinary people.

When Emperor Yingzong of Song first took the throne, the Empress Dowager and the emperor jointly heard state affairs from their respective palaces. Rumors arose that they disagreed. Chuan Yaoyu believed that the palace eunuch Ren Shouzhong and others were sowing discord and making slanderous accusations. He therefore submitted a memorial saying, “Nothing is more worthy of trust in the realm than entrusting the realm to another; nothing commands greater respect than receiving the realm from another. The court has no other urgent business now: it need only punish and expel those who spread slander, and the Empress Dowager’s kindness and the emperor’s filial devotion will become renowned throughout the realm.” Ren Shouzhong and the others were then expelled from the court, and the Empress Dowager returned the reins of government. Mother and son soon regained their former harmony.

The Hongdao Lu comments: Han’s remarks addressed an urgent crisis, as everyone at the time knew. Chuan Yaoyu’s words, by contrast, were indirect…

At times, people may not know the truth at first. A difference in words leads them to believe slander; slander arouses suspicion, and suspicion in turn breeds distrust. What begins as a slight disagreement may ultimately lead someone to cast aside a profound debt of gratitude. Even when things do not go so far, people will often sooner shatter a jade disk worth a thousand pieces of gold than dispel the doubts in their hearts. Unless one is a gentleman whose virtue is like gold and jade, how can one always keep one’s word? Readers, consider this passage carefully.

Sun Fu was an honest and trustworthy man who observed the laws. He once said to the emperor, “The laws of the founding ancestors benefited the people; the laws of the Xining era benefited the state; but the laws introduced since the Chongning and Daguan eras have benefited treacherous men.” His words struck at the heart of the matter.

Later, when Emperor Qinzong went to the Jin camp, he ordered Sun Fu to assist the Crown Prince in remaining behind to guard the capital, and appointed him Junior Tutor as well. The Jin demanded the Crown Prince, but Sun Fu kept him hidden and did not hand him over. He secretly concealed the Crown Prince among the common people, found another man who resembled him, killed that man, and sent his head to the Jin camp, claiming, “Eunuchs tried to steal the Crown Prince and take him over to the army. In the ensuing struggle among the people of the capital, the Crown Prince was killed by mistake. We have already sent troops to suppress the rioters and present their leader’s head.” If the Jin still refused to relent, Sun Fu was prepared to follow with his own death. Five days passed, and no one was willing to take responsibility for the matter. Sun Fu beat his chest and wept, saying, “As the Crown Prince’s tutor, it is my duty to go to my death alongside him. Though the Jin have not demanded me, I should still go with him.”

At the time, Sun Fu was staying temporarily at the Imperial City Office. His son came to visit, and Sun Fu rebuked him: “I told you long ago not to come. I have already resolved to die for my country and preserve my word. What use is there in your coming?” He waved his son away, urging him to leave at once. His son wept too and said, “If my father serves his country by keeping his word, what can I say?” Sun Fu then handed over the duties of guarding the capital to Wang Shiyong and set out for the Jin camp.

The compiler of the Hongdao Lu comments: Many people died in the disaster at the palace, and the one who ultimately saved the Crown Prince was Sun Fu, who stepped forward and took the danger upon himself. Fortunately, Prince Kang was still alive. Had Heaven not been willing to preserve an heir to the Song, would the dynasty not have come to an end? Yet at that time no one was willing to take responsibility for the matter. Heaven had come to loathe treachery to the utmost; perhaps it was clearing away the old to make way for the new, and opening a path for the fortune of Taizu’s line. From then on, the traces of Shaoshu—the political program of continuing the New Policies and carrying on earlier policies—gradually disappeared. As the Shaoshu current faded, so too did the policies that had benefited treacherous men.

Gaozong’s mother, Lady Wei, had originally been an Imperial Concubine. She accompanied the Retired Emperor, Huizong, north in captivity. At the beginning of the Jianyan era, the court honored her from afar as Empress of the Xuanhe era, and later elevated her to Empress Dowager. Gaozong once wept as he said to his senior ministers, “The Empress Dowager is growing old. Whenever I think of her, I cannot rest easy. Though I possess the empire, I cannot care for my mother. We must make a solemn pledge and declare plainly that we will bring the Empress Dowager back to me.”

I am not ashamed to make peace. If peace cannot be achieved, I am not afraid to wage war. Just then, the Jin court sent Xiao Yi to discuss peace terms. The emperor said to him, “If the Empress Dowager can indeed return, I will of course honor my oath. If she cannot, then this oath is nothing but an empty promise.”

The emperor then ordered He Zhu and Cao Xun to go to the Jin court to offer thanks. He summoned them to the inner palace and instructed them: “I gaze north toward the place where my parents are, and grief fills my heart, yet I have no tears left to shed. When you meet the ruler of Jin, tell him this: in your country, the Empress Dowager is merely an old woman; in ours, she means a great deal. Speak to him with utter sincerity. Perhaps you will move him.” When He Zhu and the others arrived in Jin, they pleaded repeatedly, and only then did the Jin ruler agree.

The Hongdao lu comments: By this point, the emperor’s true intentions had been fully revealed. Some reproached him for failing to bring back the two emperors Huizong and Qinzong, and for failing to recover the Central Plain. All those thousands of words, in truth, amount to one repeated point. Why? Because there are three fundamental considerations in the human heart that no one else can change: first, the number of people one loves; second, the weighing of gains and losses; and third, the judgment of benefits and harms.

People see only that their parents gave birth to and raised them, but may not consider this: if a father and mother have thirty-one children, then, between the parents and one son or one mother, who is truly closer? Consider, too, someone whose appearance suggests descent from a family of generals. If that person does not receive a parent’s loving care, who is more closely related: that person, or those bound to their parents by flesh and blood?

Even if one’s father and elder brother are still alive, all one gains is a princely title. How does that compare with being sovereign, ruling all under Heaven, commanding millions of subjects and the multitudes of a great state—which brings the greater gain? Even if the capital is recovered, one merely resumes the throne, facing south. How does that compare with leisurely enjoying the lakes and mountains, free of concern about dangers and obstacles, while Southerners remain in the south and Northerners in the north—which brings the greater benefit? Even those nearest to us may be disregarded if we treat them as adversaries. People often care only for themselves; everyone wants to be sovereign.

This was the emperor’s true intention, clear as a mirror. His oath, then, was bright as the sun—how could anyone take it away or alter it? Thus, the noble person values cultivating the “Four Sprouts”—the beginnings of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom—and does not let any of them be obscured. An ancient saying goes: “If you can extend them, you can preserve all under Heaven; if you cannot extend them, you cannot even protect your wife and children.” These words seem to have been spoken for this emperor alone. From this we can see that the sages had already set forth the principles long ago. However many words later generations may speak, they can scarcely come close.

On the birthday of Empress Dowager Longyou, a banquet was held in the palace. The Empress Dowager wept as she said to Gaozong, “I am old now, and there is something I have never been able to put out of my mind. I would like Your Majesty to hear me…”

Empress Lie—the adoptive mother of Emperor Zhezong of Song, Empress Dowager Xuanren Gao—was intelligent and virtuous, a model for women throughout history. No one before her had matched her. Treacherous ministers had slandered and framed her at will. In the early Jianyan era, the court issued an edict clearing her name, but the official history had not yet been revised and finalized. How could later generations be expected to trust the historical record on that basis? I believe the spirit of the late empress in heaven may still be hoping for this. When Gaozong heard these words, he was deeply moved, and issued an edict ordering the history books to be revised.

The history records: “Empress Meng, wife of Emperor Zhezong, was benevolent and wise, like Empress Dowager Longyou, the mother of Emperor Gaozong. Like pines and cypresses in the bitter cold, she met upheaval without wavering in her integrity. Empress Dowager Longyou, in turn, was like Empress Dowager Xuanren: even beneath the heavy snows of winter, the sunlight could melt the snow, and it could not be kept away for long. Such a virtuous daughter-in-law did not fail such a virtuous mother-in-law. Heaven deliberately spared this elder so that she could assist our ruler. Alas, while she lived, she was called ‘Yao and Shun among women’; after her death, she was slandered. How many times would Empress Dowager Xuanren, Cai Jing, Zhang Dun, and the others have to be put to death before their crimes were fully punished? The histories were marked in red and black ink, disorder was set right—but how regrettable that it was done so late.”

For three generations, from Fan Zhen to Fan Zuyu, the Fan family had served in the palace historiography office. Scholars envied their distinction. During the Yuanyou era, Fan Zuyu compiled the Veritable Records of Emperor Shenzong, giving particular emphasis to Wang Anshi’s errors. Wang’s son-in-law, Cai Bian, bore a grudge over this and used it to have Fan Zuyu convicted and exiled to Lingnan, where he eventually died.

At this point, Gaozong hastily issued an edict ordering the Veritable Records of the Shenzong and Zhezong reigns to be revised. He summoned Fan Zuyu’s son, Fan Chong, to court, appointed him Vice Minister of the Imperial Clan, and made him concurrently a Historiographer. Gaozong told him, “The important records of both reigns have been destroyed by treacherous ministers, so I am entrusting this task to you.” Fan Chong wrote the Examination of Discrepancies, copying the original text in black ink, marking passages to be removed in yellow, and indicating revisions in red. For this reason, the history became known as the “Red and Black Ink History.” He also wrote the Record of Clearing Zhezong’s Name. From then on, the histories of both reigns were restored to fairness, and the true character of the treacherous ministers became clearer.

Earlier, when Empress Dowager Xuanren died, people inside and outside the court were deeply anxious. Everyone watched and waited, afraid to speak of the matter. Fan Zuyu submitted a memorial: “Your Majesty is now taking charge of government and receiving your ministers. This is the foundation on which the state’s rise or decline rests, the turning point on which the altars of soil and grain depend for their safety, and the beginning of the people’s good or ill fortune. It is also a moment when the advance and retreat of virtuous and petty men, and the alignment or estrangement of Heaven’s mandate and the people’s hearts, are in flux. How can one fail to be vigilant? The late empress rendered great service to the ancestral temples and the state, and showed great virtue toward the people, remaining constant throughout nine years. Yet there are many petty men harboring resentment; they will surely use as a pretext the need to change the late emperor’s policies and dismiss his ministers, and will sow discord. This must be watched carefully. The late empress responded to the changing will of all under Heaven…”

If these people are employed, they will betray the late emperor above and the people below. They are hated by all under Heaven and everyone is eager to get rid of them. Afterward, who would hold a grudge over this? As long as right and wrong are made clear and false doctrines are firmly refuted, anyone who uses perverse words to mislead others should be punished severely according to the law. Punishing one person harshly to warn the many who act wickedly will bring peace and stability to the realm.

It was also said: The late emperor and the Empress Dowager always took impartiality and justice as their guiding principles. They abolished the New Policies introduced by Wang Anshi and Lü Huiqing and restored the policies established by the ancestors. Thus the state was once in peril, but later returned to safety; people’s hearts were once divided, but later came together again. Even the ruler of the Liao state warned his ministers not to provoke trouble. This shows that if even foreign peoples held such views, the feelings of the people of China can readily be imagined. The late emperor and the Empress Dowager labored day and night to lay the foundations of peace for Your Majesty. I hope Your Majesty will rectify yourself, govern the realm, and listen to counsel with an open mind. Then the loyal and the wicked among the ministers, and right and wrong in all affairs, will be clearly revealed in the mind of the sovereign. These memorials were submitted again and again, yet no reply ever came. Only now has Your Majesty begun to believe his words.

The Hongdao lu comments: From my reading of the accounts in the two histories, written in vermilion and black ink, this was not only a blessing for Empress Dowager Xuānrén, but also for the Fan family. Fan’s father had been repeatedly demoted because the Veritable Records slandered him, and eventually died. His son, however, vindicated his father and corrected those slanders, setting down the truth in full. What had been obscured by heavy clouds at the time was revealed again, like the sun emerging; the injustice done to an entire family was also cleared away, as if it had been restored from the ashes. This shows that the principles of Heaven and the human heart are indeed worthy of trust: right and wrong, uprightness and perversity, cannot ultimately be twisted. Matters that have yet to be judged will in time be made clear to all ages. How can people attend only to the moment before them and willingly give up the judgment of posterity?

Chen Guan was appointed Assistant Director of the Left Secretariat and temporarily served in the capacity of a Policy Adviser. Zeng Bu sent a messenger to tell him that he intended to appoint him formally as a Policy Adviser. Chen Guan said to his son Zhenghui: “The Chancellor and I disagree on matters of policy. What he is doing now is an attempt to win me over with rank and office. If I accept his promotion and later disagree with him, I will feel ashamed both before public opinion and because of the personal favor I received. I have a letter in which I intend to set out his faults and give it to him; that will determine whether I stay or go. But the suburban sacrifice is approaching. If he cannot tolerate me, you will not receive the benefits of the imperial pardon. Can you accept that?” Zhenghui said he was willing to read the letter. Zeng Bu flew into a rage and had Zhenghui stripped of his official status and exiled to Yuanzhou.

While in Hangzhou, Zhenghui also reported that Cai Jing appeared to be plotting to undermine the Eastern Palace. He was therefore escorted to the capital for interrogation.

The Kaifeng Prefecture combined the prison cases and tried them together. It also arrested Guan and Yin Li Xiaocheng, pressuring him to testify that his own words were false. Guan replied:

“I did indeed hear that Jing (Zhang Dun) was going to do something harmful to the state and its altars of soil and grain. Those words had already spread among the people. How could I possibly have known in advance? If you want me to claim I knew what I did not know, that would mean forgetting the bond between father and son and calling my father’s words false. I cannot bear to do that. To go against my private feelings just to accommodate the interrogators’ account would also be contrary to what is right. Jing’s treachery will surely bring calamity upon the state. I discussed this in the remonstrance office long ago; it is not something I have only just mentioned in conversation.”

The eunuch Huang Jingchen presided over the interrogation. Hearing Guan’s words, he said, “The emperor only wants to know what happened. Just answer truthfully.” Guan had also written the Collection on Honoring Yao, arguing that the historians of the Shaosheng era had revised the Veritable Records of Emperor Shenzong using only Wang Anshi’s daily records, reversing right and wrong. The history they produced could not be trusted. Guan exposed its falsehoods to uphold the proper relations between ruler and subject. Now the chief minister ordered the brutal Shi Jie to bring Guan into court, where a full array of instruments of torture was laid out, ready to force him to his death. Guessing their intention, Guan called out, “In this matter today, are you acting under an imperial decree?”

Only then did Shi Jie tell him, “The court has ordered an investigation into the Collection on Honoring Yao.” Guan said, “If that is so, why lay out so many instruments of torture? Do you know why the Collection on Honoring Yao has that title? It compares Emperor Shenzong to Yao and the present emperor to Shun. How could honoring Yao be a crime? Those in power have little understanding and have been misled by others. What benefit can you hope to gain from this? Are you not afraid of public judgment?” At this, Shi Jie withdrew in shame.

The Record says: Chongzhi compiled a history describing different periods of the Northern and Southern Dynasties, while Guan’s Collection on Honoring Yao discussed events from the same era as Jing and Bian (Cai Jing and Cai Bian). This shows that the national history can be rewritten, but people’s hearts cannot; those at court may overlook certain things, but the people will not forget them. The violent power of the moment may be frightening, but public judgment across the ages cannot be erased. Perhaps the only thing a gentleman can truly rely on is that judgment.

As for the father who trusted his son enough to ask him to deliver a memorial determining whether he would stay or go, and the son who trusted his father enough to bring the letter and expose treachery; the father who would rather give up the imperial gift for the suburban sacrifice than go against his son, and the son who would rather endure a false accusation than falsely accuse his father—these are among the deepest expressions of human feeling, and they are indeed a source of honor for the state. To record such people in this way is to have a clear conscience.

Zhao Jiong was transferred from exile in Chaozhou to confinement in Jiyang Army, a place of exile in the Song dynasty. His son Fen pleaded repeatedly to accompany him, but Zhao Jiong refused, saying, “At the beginning of the Shaosheng era, Lü Dafang was exiled to Lingnan. He had only one son, Jingshan, whom he loved most…”

Lü (a figure in the text) would not let Jingshan accompany him, but Jingshan insisted on going along. When they reached Qianzhou and Lü was about to cross the mountain pass, he turned back, looked at his son, and wept. “I am already old. What is there to regret about dying? You are still young. Why die with me in this land of miasma? Better that I die first, so you can escort my coffin home. At least then I will have a descendant.” After saying this, he drank heavily and died.

Lü had refused to let his son travel with him for this very reason. Later, he went into seclusion in a remote place, where neither his disciples nor his former subordinates dared to contact him. Just then, the court issued an order requiring the army to report each month to the Department of State Affairs on who was alive and who had died. Only then did he summon his son and say, “Qin Hui is determined to put me to death. If I do not do this, the whole family will be drawn into disaster.” He wrote his own epitaph, recording the dates on which he had been granted his official posts, and added: “Riding the asterism Ji and the asterism Wei, I return to Heaven; my vital force becomes mountains and rivers, strengthening our dynasty.” (“Ji and Wei” refer to two lunar lodges; the verse means that his spirit returns to Heaven and his noble force becomes mountains and rivers, lending strength to the dynasty.) He then stopped eating and died.

Fen (a figure in the text) escorted the coffin home. The local official, Zhang Jie, knew that Zhao Gong had regularly exchanged letters with scholar-officials both inside and outside the court. He assumed that Fen must be carrying letters on this funeral journey and saw them as an opportunity. He immediately sent county soldiers to conduct a surprise search, on the pretext of looking for illicitly brewed wine. The county commandant, Weng Mengzhi, gave a note to a servant and had him escape over the back wall to secretly alert Fen. Fen then burned all the letters and the square-bladed knives in the chest. When the soldiers arrived, they found nothing.

Qin Hui was still not satisfied. He prompted the censor Xu Jia to accuse Fen of having shared a farewell drink with Ling Jin, a member of the imperial clan and prefect of Quanzhou, and of accepting lavish gifts from him—evidence, he claimed, of a larger conspiracy. The court ordered Fen sent to the Dali Court prison and forced him to confess to plotting rebellion with Zhang Jun, Li Guang, Hu Yin, Hu Quan, and fifty-three others. After the case had been concluded, Qin Hui fell gravely ill and could not personally sign the documents, so Fen was released. Every word Lü had spoken to his son on his deathbed came true.

The Record comments: I wonder whether Zhao Zhongjian’s final words were truly credible. Mencius said that the noble force is vast and unyielding: nurture it through uprightness, do it no harm, and it will fill the space between Heaven and Earth. If it can fill Heaven and Earth, surely it can also make mountains and rivers magnificent. Yet it is a pity that he did not follow what was right and accept his fate in peace.

Death is the great limit of human life. As for being imprisoned or put in chains, or suffering such calamities as a wall collapsing or falling into a ditch, what matters is how carefully one acts. If one’s conduct accords with the right way, then even imprisonment is no crime, and being put in chains is no disgrace. If one’s conduct does not accord with the right way, then these experiences are no different from a wall collapsing or falling into a ditch. Why, then, stop eating and die?

Things outside one’s household are easy to obtain; one’s own life is hard to preserve. Rather than caring only for one’s own…

In times of danger, I had worried that I might meet with disaster. But when I remembered that I was still safe, how could I know that I would surely end up worse off than Zhang Jie, who was arrested and imprisoned? As for Weizhong and so-and-so, who looked after and sheltered their own sons, they were not even as worthy as Tian Hua, who challenged Zou Hao. Was it only in old age that they learned to exercise caution and restraint? Otherwise, even if they indulged in drink, they would not have sullied their reputations. And people like these could not bring the dead back to life merely by being exiled beyond Lingnan, to the farthest shores of the sea.

In the eleventh year of Hongwu, the Taizu ordered Wu Liang, Marquis of Jiangyin, to supervise construction of a new imperial hall. The Taizu believed that if the inscription for the imperial mausoleum were polished and composed entirely by Confucian officials, it might not be trusted by later generations. So he personally recounted the hardships of founding the dynasty and the course by which he established its flourishing foundation, so that people in every generation could understand and no longer harbor doubts. The inscription reads:

In former times, my imperial father lived in this region. From morning to night he worked hard, and his heart was often troubled and uneasy. Before long, natural disasters swept through the land, and calamity struck our family as well.

My father lived to the age of sixty-four, and my mother died at fifty-nine. I was left alone and without support, with no purpose in my heart and no success in life, and could only wander from place to place. My body drifted like tumbleweed in the wind, while my thoughts churned like boiling water. I was like a floating cloud, wandering for three years. By the age of twenty, I had reached my prime. At that time, bandits rose throughout the Huai River region, and the people were thrown into turmoil. Before long, I returned to my former work, but only three years later, fierce bandits began to run rampant.

At first, unrest broke out around Ruzhou and Yingzhou, then spread to the south of Fengyang. I left my former company, mounted my horse and took the reins, and traveled south. Gradually my spirits lifted and my resolve returned. I called on farmers to join the army and set my undertaking in order. In less than a month, the ranks had gathered, and red banners covered the fields and filled the hills.

I led the army across the Qingliu River and stationed it at Chuyang. Missing my family and recalling the past, I spent whole days moved by deep feeling. Heroes from every quarter fought one another, and the troops had no time even to eat. Later, I camped for a time at Hezhou, crossed the Yangtze eastward, and first brought peace to Gushu. I upheld ritual and propriety, and in the end pacified Jianye. Thereafter, I guarded the strategic passes in all directions, put the army in order, fed the horses, and watched as the various powers contended.

I personally campaigned against Jingchu and pacified Huxiang. The Sanmiao all submitted, and Lingnan was brought within the realm. I ordered the great general to pacify Wu-Yue and Qilu in the east, where our banners gleamed brightly, and to march west toward Yiluo, the strategic passes of Mount Xiao, and the Hehuang region. When we entered the capital of the northern lands, the markets continued to operate as usual, and the shops had not changed. The blades of the brave generals flashed, bright as stars. Then the army advanced deeper into Jingxing and the lands within and beyond its mountains and rivers, and the people all looked up to us and submitted. Guanzhong was pacified as well, and music rang through its streets and lanes.

Lelang was entered into the registers, brought under the state’s household records and administration, and the thirteen southern tributary states also came to pay tribute. Jinling, present-day Nanjing, was made the capital in a place protected by natural defenses. It had the aspect of a crouching tiger and the auspicious air of a phoenix arriving. Stars hung high in the heavens, and moonlight shone over the vast sea; Mount Zhong guarded the land, while a chain of peaks reached toward the Milky Way.

Those seeking to make the tomb firm and enduring were told by the diviner that this site was unsuitable. Yet the tomb was concealed here. The rites of sacrifice were established, and at every offering the sacrifices were presented with meticulous care and purity. Our parents’ kindness is profound, their toil without end, and repayment is beyond us. So an inscription was carved in stone at the imperial mausoleum, expressing the hope that generation after generation would inherit the fortunes of the state and diligently cultivate virtuous governance, and that the ancestors would come often to partake of the offerings.

The Record of the Broad Way states:

I have respectfully read the inscription at the imperial mausoleum of the Sacred Ancestor. I believe it does more than simply recount hardship and proclaim the flourishing fortunes of the state: it also contains a deeper meaning that must be carefully understood.

The beautiful site where the imperial mausoleum stands was not chosen after a search; it was settled upon out of necessity. Now, as Son of Heaven, ruler of all under Heaven, what could not be done if one undertook extensive reconstruction? Yet people do not understand this: discerning what lies ahead is less reliable than testing principles against what has already happened. The principles of geomancy are remote and hard to fathom, while human affairs are easy to see; the resting place of one’s ancestors is hidden and difficult to discern, while the legacy they left behind can be examined.

Before the imperial mausoleum was built, the Sacred Ancestor was no more than an ordinary man from north of the Yangtze. This is the extent of the hardship described by his wise imperial hand. After the mausoleum was built, the Sacred Ancestor became a true dragon rising between the Huai and Si Rivers, and his divine achievements reached the height we now see. Should we not investigate how this came about?

Only through planning can one gain a result; what is obtained must first have been sought. These are the workings of human endeavor. When no one acts, yet things take shape of themselves; when no one brings them about, yet results come to pass naturally—this is Heaven’s will, not human power. King Tai of Zhou moved to Mount Qi, and only three generations later did his house possess the realm. The noble-minded still regarded this as the beginning of the royal enterprise. How much more so when the results become evident only after a person’s death?

Moreover, the principles of geomancy rest on stillness, while the remains of one’s ancestors require a secure resting place. The presence of Dragon Qi does not depend on the size of a site, and the gathering of fortune and virtue does not depend on distance. If one rejects human planning here and goes against the Way of Heaven, it becomes clear that although a ruler may have the power to arrange his destiny, geomancy may ultimately fail to bring the blessings of peace and security; and although descendants may hold the utmost reverence, the ancestors’ remains may still be exposed to the danger of disturbance. Comparing this site with another, which course would bring greater gain and less loss?

The Sacred Ancestor’s words are plainly written, yet their purpose reaches far; they are worthy of being handed down for all generations. May the descendants of the Sacred Ancestor…

These are matters that should be honored and believed in, and never forgotten.

The Record of Eminent Ministers states that Ni Yue, a vice minister of the Ministry of Rites, held posts in various ministries in both capitals and eventually became Junior Guardian of the Heir Apparent. Another was Duke Wenxi, Qian, who also served as Minister of Rites in Nanjing. His mother’s surname was Yao. When Duke Wenxi was ordered to perform the emperor’s sacrifice at Mount Heng in the north, Lady Yao dreamed one night that a red-robed deity entered her house. After she awoke, she gave birth to Duke Wenxi. Believing this to be a manifestation of the mountain god of Northern Heng, she named the child “Yue,” meaning “mountain.”

When Ni Yue grew up, he was powerfully built and had bright eyes; he truly looked like a person of extraordinary, almost divine presence. Both he and his father had served as academicians, and both had the character “Wen” in their posthumous names. Ni Yue’s Drafts from Qingxi circulated alongside the collected writings of Duke Wenxi. Both are rare works in the world.

Later, when Ni Yue fell gravely ill, he still wrote a memorial draft in his own hand. As his condition became critical, he struggled to ask for a brush and wrote a few lines, saying that throughout his life he had been fair and impartial. Then he could write no more, and he never mentioned his family’s affairs. From this we can see that in life and in death alike, he was truly unlike those who live and die merely by following the crowd.

The Minister Han was named Wen. His ancestors came from Xiangzhou, and he was a descendant of Han Qi, Duke of Wei in the Song dynasty. When he was born, his mother dreamed that a man dressed in purple said to her, “I am sending you Wen Lugong.” So she named the child “Wen.” He eventually rose to the rank of Grand Guardian of the Heir Apparent.

In the early years of the Jiajing reign, the emperor issued an edict praising and consoling him. It said: “Recently, powerful and treacherous men have usurped authority, repeatedly disrupting and altering the affairs of state. Yet you have held firmly to the right path, refusing to attach yourself to the powerful and pledging yourself to loyalty. You have dared to offer frank remonstrance, going straight to the palace gate; your resolve stands firm as a mountain and cannot be shaken. You have willingly endured calamity, even at the cost of your family, and remained as unyielding as ice and frost. The people of the realm admire your bearing, and the spirits protect you with long life and good health. After nine of your close kin died one after another, you still rallied your strength and became someone in whom all placed their hopes. You have also ensured that the renown of Duke Han of Wei endures a hundred generations later, making your family’s blessings shine all the more brightly.” People of the time considered these words entirely credible.

The Record of Broadening the Way comments: The deeds of these two eminent ministers were reasonable and entirely possible. They were outstanding figures of their generation, brought forth by Heaven, not products of chance. That is why they have been recorded.

Volume Six of the Record of Broadening the Way: Trustworthiness

Trustworthiness Between Husband and Wife

The Canon of Yao says: “I will examine him. I will give my daughters to him in marriage and observe how he conducts himself with them.”

The Record of Broadening the Way comments: I believe that when Yao examined Shun, he observed not only how he behaved in situations where he was making a deliberate effort, but also where he might easily be careless. The former was at court; the latter was in the everyday life he shared with his wife. Two women living under the same roof but not of one mind with each other: this is a common human failing. What is rarer is to influence one’s wife through virtue, then influence one’s brothers, and ultimately bring the whole family to live together in harmony.

Governing the state is a responsibility borne by the sage alone. What, then, counts as good governance? People must respect one another as they would guests; only then can ritual and right conduct flourish. There must be order between those above and those below, so that all can live in harmony. The firm and the yielding must each keep their proper place and not become confused; only then will jealousy recede. Action and stillness must both accord with what is natural, so that inner and outer realms can be in harmony. This is the manifestation of profound De (xuande), a virtue that reaches up to Heaven, though unseen, and is nonetheless real. Gentleness and respectfulness, honesty and substance, are also subtle practices of vigilance and restraint, of carefully keeping oneself in check. Who can say that Shun’s achievement in governing the realm did not begin with shendu, remaining watchful and self-possessed even when alone? Otherwise, why is it said that Shun was able to yield the throne to his successor? I will try to explain this here.

The “Xing Lu” poem in the Book of Songs describes how King Wen of Zhou’s influence reached the south. A woman upheld her chastity and integrity, refusing to be violated by force. She then declared her resolve in a poem rejecting the man who was pressuring her:

“The dew along the road is thick and damp. Do you think I do not wish to travel there at dawn and dusk? I only fear the road is too wet with dew. Who says the sparrow has no beak? How else could it pierce my roof? Who says you have no wife? Why do you press me to appear in court? Even if you bring me before the magistrate, we have never been husband and wife in truth. Who says the mouse has no teeth? How else could it pierce my wall? Who says you have no wife? Why do you press me to go to law? Even if you bring me before the magistrate, I will not yield to you.”

The Hongdao lu comments: Why did the woman refuse so resolutely? The Book of Changes, in “Gui Mei,” says that when marriage is delayed, there is still a proper time for a later wedding. Confucius also said, “Sell it, sell it! I am waiting for the right price.” The meaning is that people and things of value should wait for the right time and the right match.

The woman was as beautiful as a peach blossom, yet not alluring; her chastity was as firm as stone, unshaken. A chaste woman should wait for someone who shares her feelings and seeks her in accordance with proper rites. But why are so few people who understand virtue, while those who use force and coercion are so numerous? So it is with the scholar as well: his integrity is as pure as a white rainbow, yet harms no one; his spirit illuminates mountains and rivers, yet is not ostentatious. A noble person who holds fast to the Dao should wait for the time when a worthy ruler and an able minister can meet. But why are peaceful times always so few, while times of disorder are so many? Thus there is both this apprehension and this plea.

Consider the accounts in the histories of Fu Yue suffering under Xumo’s imprisonment and hardship, Guan Zhong asking to be imprisoned, Shu Xiang being jailed, and Wang Ling becoming enemies with Marquis Wei Qi. Which of them did not end up suffering imprisonment? The hardships of a gifted person in straitened circumstances and the anguish of a woman pressed by force have been alike since ancient times.

Zhuang Jiang, wife of Duke Zhuang of Wei, was beautiful but had no sons. She adopted Wan, the son of the Chen woman Dai Gui, as her own. After Duke Zhuang died, Wan succeeded him, but Zhou Xu, the son of the duke’s favored concubine, killed him. Dai Gui then returned to Chen. Zhuang Jiang composed a poem to see her off, which says: “Zhong shi ren zhi…”

She was deep and thoughtful in character, gentle and benevolent in her conduct, and careful in cultivating herself. She kept her late lord’s charge in mind, using it to encourage me—the ruler speaking of himself.

The Hongdao lu comments: The Judgment of the “Marrying Maiden” hexagram in the Book of Changes says, “One-eyed, yet able to see.” Zhuang Jiang was virtuous, yet she found herself married to the tyrannical Duke Zhuang. From an observer’s point of view, she might as well have gouged out her eyes and left that benighted situation. Yet she still honored her late lord’s charge. Was Duke Zhuang truly tyrannical, and how should we judge him? The Book of Changes also says, “It is favorable for the secluded person to remain steadfast in what is right.” This means that it benefits those who live in seclusion to hold firmly to the right path. Zhuang Jiang was not loved by her husband, and she also faced the usurpation and rebellion of Zhou Xu. If she had chosen to leave, it would have been as decisive as overturning a table and slaughtering a piglet. Yet in the end she retained her position as the ruler’s wife. Was Zhou Xu’s conduct rebellious, and how should we judge him? From this we can see that steadfastness in what is right can move Heaven, and following what is righteous can win the people’s hearts. The Book of Changes says that sincerity can move even pigs and fish; the Book of Songs says, “My heart is not a stone.” Both texts uphold steadfastness and adherence to virtue.

The heir apparent of Wei, Gongbo, died young, and his wife, Gong Jiang, upheld her duty and remained chaste. Her parents wanted to change her mind and have her marry again, so Gong Jiang composed a poem to declare her resolve: “A cypress boat drifts in the middle of the river. The person whose hair hangs down on either side is my spouse. I vow never to marry again, even unto death. Mother, Heaven, do you not understand me?”

The Hongdao lu comments: Steadfastness in what is right can reach Heaven; even among those close to us, a person’s character can be discerned when they do not follow the right path. Sincerity can accord with the spirits; even a father’s character can be discerned when he fails to understand what is reasonable. Human skin, bodies, and flesh are alike, so people are easy to perceive. But Heaven responds to voices, intentions, and spirit, and so Heaven’s will is difficult to know. It is therefore not hard to understand why Gong Jiang’s parents wanted her to marry again.

The Biographies of Exemplary Women records: Zhen Jiang was the wife of King Zhao of Chu. When the king went on an excursion, he left his wife on the Jian Terrace. Later, the river rose in flood. King Zhao sent an envoy to fetch her, but forgot to bring the agreed token. When the envoy arrived, Zhen Jiang said, “The king and the palace agreed that anyone summoned must present the token. Since you have no token, I dare not go with you.” The envoy said, “The flood is rising now. If I go back for the token and return, it may be too late.” Zhen Jiang replied, “I have heard that a virtuous woman upholds what is right and dares not break an agreement. I can only keep faith with the pledge.” The envoy therefore went back to fetch the token. By then the flood had grown even greater. The Jian Terrace collapsed, and Zhen Jiang was swept away and drowned.

The Hongdao lu comments: A woman remains faithful to one until the end. “Faithful to one” does not necessarily mean faithful to only one person; steadfastly upholding a principle, a virtue, an agreement, or a pledge of trust can all be called “faithful to one.” Since the King of Chu had agreed that a token was required to summon someone, and no token had arrived, Zhen Jiang’s life had already reached its end. Why could she not have trusted what the envoy told her?

A person living in this world can preserve their life and aspirations only by refusing to forget or abandon them. This is why a gentleman holds firmly to his convictions and studies diligently, willing even to give up his life to uphold the right way. If a person could choose at will to hold fast or give up, taking things up one moment and casting them aside the next, how could they be called a gentleman?

The Book of Han records that Lü Gong, the father of Empress Lü (Lü Zhi), was skilled at reading people’s faces. When he met Liu Bang, whose courtesy name was Ji, he was deeply impressed by Liu’s appearance and said, “Of all the people I have seen, none compares with you. I hope you will take good care of yourself.” Lü Gong also said that he had a daughter whom he was willing to give in marriage to Liu Bang. Lü Ao, Lü Gong’s wife, was angry. “At first you kept praising this daughter and saying you would marry her to the county magistrate of Pei. Now that someone has come to ask for her hand, you refuse. How can you give her casually to Liu Ji?” Lü Gong replied, “This is not something women like you can understand.” In the end, he married his daughter to Liu Ji. She was Empress Lü, who later gave birth to Emperor Hui of Han and Princess Luyuan.

Once, Empress Lü was staying in the fields with her two children when an old man passing by asked for a drink of water. She gave him a meal as well. The old man read her face and said, “Madam, one day you will become the most honored woman in the realm.” He then looked at Emperor Hui and added, “The reason for your great honor is this boy.” After the old man left, Liu Bang happened to return from a nearby dwelling. Empress Lü told him what had happened, and he hurried after the old man. The old man said to Liu Bang, “You, your wife, and your children all have the noble bearing of rulers. This must not be spoken of.” Liu Bang thanked him and said, “If what you say proves true, I will never forget your kindness.”

Empress Deng, posthumously known as Empress He Xi of the Eastern Han, was the granddaughter of Grand Tutor Deng Yu. Her father was Deng Xun, and her mother was of the Yin clan, a younger sister of Empress Guanglie. Empress Deng once dreamed that she reached out and touched the sky. It stretched wide and blue, and seemed to contain something like stalactites. She tilted her head back and drank from it, then asked a dream interpreter whether the dream was auspicious or inauspicious. He replied that it was an immensely auspicious omen, beyond words.

Empress Deng’s uncle, Deng Gai, often said that he had heard that anyone who saved a thousand lives would bring honor to their descendants. Her elder brother, Deng Xun, had overseen repairs to the Shiqu embankment and believed that the Yellow River saved thousands of lives each year. This, he said, showed that Heaven’s way could indeed be trusted and that their family was sure to prosper. Her grandfather, Deng Yu, had also once sighed, “I commanded an army of a million, yet never once killed anyone without cause. Surely my descendants will receive blessings for this.” Later, Empress Deng was selected to enter the palace and became a Noble Lady.

As Empress Yin gradually lost favor, she saw Empress Deng’s beauty and imperial favor growing ever greater. She therefore resorted to witchcraft and gu poison, hoping to harm her. Gu poison was believed in ancient times to be a way of injuring others through sorcery and curses. Just then, the emperor’s illness worsened. Empress Yin said privately, “When I regain power, I will make sure not a single member of the Deng clan survives.” When Empress Deng heard this, she wept and said to those around her, “I have served the empress with all sincerity, yet in the end I have received no protection from her. I am willing to die to prove my resolve.” She even considered taking poison to end her life. The palace attendant Zhao Yu firmly stopped her, falsely claiming that the emperor had recovered.

After Emperor Guangwu accepted those words, Emperor Ming died the very next day, just as predicted. Empress Yin was deposed after being accused of practicing witchcraft. The emperor favored Noble Consort Deng. He told the officials around him, “Noble Consort Deng has outstanding virtue and is the most virtuous woman in the inner palace. She should be made empress.” So Noble Consort Deng was installed as empress.

The Hongdao lu comments: “When an emperor rises to power, it must be by the Mandate of Heaven. What is more, both empresses held the highest rank, and each had once ruled in the emperor’s name. Heaven’s will therefore repeatedly revealed itself through omens; this was no ordinary favor shown within the inner palace. In the end, a strange force within the palace strengthened the original resolve of the Duke of Pei, while a wicked plot involving external arts instead brought prosperity to the Deng clan. From this we can see that the Way of Heaven is indeed trustworthy. This is why the account has been recorded.”

Chen, the Filial and Chaste Woman, married at sixteen and had not yet borne any children. Her husband was about to leave on a military campaign to guard the frontier. Before departing, he said to her, “I cannot know whether I will live or die on this journey. Fortunately, my elderly mother is still at home, and I have no other brothers who can care for her. If I do not return, will you care for my mother in my place?” Chen agreed.

Her husband was later killed in battle and did not return. Chen devoted herself to caring for her mother-in-law. Her own parents took pity on her because she was young and had no children, and planned to bring her home so she could remarry. Chen said, “I have heard that keeping faith is the foundation of human conduct, and keeping to what is right is the rule for one’s actions. To abandon what was entrusted to me would be to break faith; to betray a promise made to the dead would be to abandon what is right. Rather than cling to life while betraying what is right, I would rather hold to what is right and die. If I cannot carry through my promise to care for an elder, and cannot keep my word to another person, on what basis could I live among people?” She then considered taking her own life. Fearing that something would happen to her, her parents let her continue caring for her mother-in-law.

After her mother-in-law died, Chen buried her and continued to perform the rites in her honor. The Governor of Huaiyang reported the matter to the court. Emperor Wen of Han praised Chen’s commitment to what was right and valued her integrity. He sent an envoy to give her forty jin of gold and exempted her from corvée labor for life.

The Hongdao lu comments: “Since ancient times, everyone must die; without trust among the people, a state cannot stand. Chen was merely the wife of a man who had gone to war, yet her story has been passed down from the Han dynasty to the present, for hundreds and even thousands of years. Without integrity and a commitment to what is right, would she not long ago have rotted away and vanished like grass and trees? The gains and losses of honor or disgrace in a single moment are small; the virtues that endure for generations are the true treasures. Alas, even after the people are instructed in this way, some still take a ruler’s salary while breaking their word and betraying their promises to others. It is just as the Book of Songs satirizes: when they hear someone speak, they readily agree; but when that person repeats the promise, they act as though they were drunk and confused.”

Liu Changqing of Pei Commandery was married to the daughter of Huan Luan, a man from the same commandery. She bore a son, and when the child was five, Liu Changqing died. To avoid suspicion, his wife refused to return to her parents’ home for a visit. When her son was fifteen, the text goes on to say, she worried that she might be unable to preserve her chastity. In advance, she cut her own ears to show that she swore never to remarry.

Everyone pitied her and said, “Your family had no other intention. Even if they truly had another plan, they could have shown their good faith through your aunt or sisters. Why go so far as to treat your own life so lightly?”

She replied, “In the past, my ancestor Wugeng, an ancient official title in charge of learning, was revered as a master of Confucian learning and honored as a tutor to the emperor. This was so in every generation. The men of my family became known for their loyalty and righteousness; the women were praised for their chastity. The Book of Songs says, ‘Do not forget your ancestors; cultivate their virtue.’ Wang Ji, the chancellor of Pei, submitted a report about her to the court. The court commended her and bestowed on her the title ‘Huan Fu, Exemplary in Righteous Conduct.’”

Cai, the wife of Yin Yu of Nanyang, was the daughter of Xun Shuang of Yingchuan. After she gave birth to a daughter, Yin Yu died. Cai was still young at the time. Later, when Guo Yi, a man from the same commandery, lost his wife, Xun Shuang promised Cai to him in marriage. Xun Shuang pretended to be gravely ill, and Cai had no choice but to return to her family home. She hid a knife in her bosom and swore to preserve her chastity. Xun Shuang had a maid take the knife from her and ordered people to keep close watch over her, but in the end he still sent her to Guo’s household.

Cai put on a cheerful air and said to those around her, “I had resolved to be buried in the same grave as Yin Yu. Now I have been forced into this predicament. I have always kept a clear head and held myself in check, but I truly do not know what to do.” She then had four lamps lit, dressed up, and asked Guo Yi to come and meet her. They sat facing each other and talked at length. Guo Yi both respected and feared her, so he did not dare force himself on her. He stayed until dawn, then left. Cai next told those around her to prepare a bath. She went into a room, shut the door, and wrote on it in powder: “Return the body to the Yin family.” Then she hanged herself with her sash.

The Record comments: “Both women came from distinguished families and were worthy of serving as examples to the world. Yet Xun Shuang did not trust his own daughter and instead brought calamity upon her. Alas, what a pity! Cai never wavered from her original vow. She could truly say, ‘If you do not believe me, I can swear by the shining sun.’ Yet instead of talking and laughing with Guo Yi and pretending to be pleased, why did she not cut off her ears beforehand to show that she would never change her resolve? Readers should consider this carefully.”

The Book of Wei records: Cao Lingnu, wife of Cao Wenshu, a cousin of Cao Shuang, was the daughter of Xiahou Wenning of Qiao Commandery. Cao Wenshu died young. Lingnu believed she was still young and had no children, and feared that her birth family would surely marry her off again. So she cut off her hair to make her resolve clear. She lived in Cao Shuang’s household. Later, after Cao Shuang was executed, Lingnu’s uncle submitted a memorial requesting that the marriage tie with the Cao family be severed, and forcibly took Lingnu back. At the time, Xiahou Wenning was chancellor of Liang. He pitied her because she was young, and, thinking that the Cao family had no descendants left, hoped she might change her mind. He secretly sent someone to persuade her gently. Lingnu sighed and wept, went into her room, and cut off her nose with a knife. Then she covered herself with a quilt and lay down. Her mother called for her to come out and speak, but she did not answer. Her mother lifted the quilt to look and saw blood streaming down…

She was lying on a sleeping mat, while her whole family was panic-stricken. Someone said to her, “Life in this world is like light dust settling on a tender blade of grass. Why put yourself through such hardship?”

Lingnü replied, “I have heard that the benevolent do not change their integrity with fortune’s rise and fall, and those who value righteousness do not alter their resolve because of life or death. When the Cao family was flourishing, I still wished to protect them. Now that they have fallen and been destroyed, how could I bear to abandon them? How could I act like an animal?”

The Hongdao lu comments: “The principles of righteousness reside in the human heart. One might expect distinguished people versed in worldly affairs and ordinary women to differ in this regard, yet why are their actions so often exactly the reverse? The mud in the road may seem sweet to someone who points it out; the aroma of boiling soup may make a hungry onlooker drool and eat his fill. Yet the spring beneath the mountain remains clear, and the plain, unseasoned flavor of taigeng—the meat soup offered in ancient sacrifices—remains unchanged. The resolve of ordinary men and women can move Heaven and Earth and penetrate metal and stone. Yet those who stand among the assembled officials at court may show less resolve than a stick casually laid across a headscarf or hat. This is why the noble person sighs so deeply, and why I could not help recording this story.”

The Book of Jin records: Sun, the wife of Yu Zhong, was a granddaughter of the powerful Sun family. After Yu Zhong died, she vowed not to remarry. She raised their young son, Yu Tan, and taught him the Way of loyalty and righteousness. At the end of the Yongjia era, Yu Tan was serving as governor of Nankang when Du Tao rebelled, and he led troops to suppress the uprising. Sun urged him to give his life for righteousness if necessary, and brought out the family’s possessions to reward the soldiers. Yu Tan was victorious. When Su Jun rebelled, Yu Tan was stationed in Wuxing and set out with his tally of authority to campaign against him. Sun admonished him: “I have heard that loyal ministers come from the households of filial sons. You should be ready to give your life for righteousness; do not hesitate on my account because I am old.” She also sent all the household servants to assist in the campaign and sold her own jade pendants to provide funds for the army. Later, Sun was appointed Lady Dowager of Wuchang Marquis and was awarded a gold seal and purple ribbon. Yu Tan built a hall at home for her, and Wang Dao and others came to pay their respects. Sun died at the age of ninety-five. The emperor sent an envoy to offer condolences and sacrifices, and bestowed on her the posthumous title “Ding.”

The Hongdao lu comments: “It has been rare since ancient times for a woman to receive a posthumous title. Sun’s conduct was upright and free of fault; the title ‘Ding’—‘Steadfast’—truly suited her. She sincerely took her husband as her model, and so taught her son with great earnestness; she held firmly to her integrity, and so lived a long life and came to a peaceful end. Did Confucius not say, ‘Only when the weather turns cold do we know that the pine and cypress are the last to lose their leaves’? Surely he was speaking of a woman like Lady Ding.”

The Book of Tang records: Empress Dou, posthumously honored as Tai Mu Shun Sheng, was from Pingling in Jingzhao. Her father was Dou Yi…

The woman’s father served as Supreme Pillar of State under the Northern Zhou. Her aunt, Princess Xiangyang, married the governor-general of Dingzhou under the Sui, the Duke of Shenwu. When the woman was born, her hair already hung past her neck; by the age of three, her height was equal to the length of her body. Emperor Wu doted on her and raised her in the palace, treating her differently from his other nieces. He once said to Princess Xiangyang, “This child has an unusual appearance and extraordinary insight. How could she be casually promised to someone else?”

Later, Emperor Wu had two peacocks painted on a screen. Suitors who came to ask for her hand had to shoot at them. He privately stipulated that the marriage would be granted to whoever hit a peacock in the eye. Dozens of archers tried, but none succeeded. At last, the future Gaozu (Li Yuan, the founding emperor of the Tang) struck one eye on each peacock, and so the woman married him.

The Hongdao lu comments: In marriage, it is not only the man who chooses a wife; the woman, too, chooses a husband. When the two are joined, there is often a certain affinity at work. This is what the Book of Songs means by “a union made by Heaven.” Around the transition from the Jin to the Sui, there were archers as plentiful as a wall; hitting the eyes of peacocks painted on a screen was easier than hitting a louse. Yet in the end it was Gaozu who struck both eyes. The choice of the person to arrange the marriage seems to have been settled by Heaven, not forced by human effort. Later, Empress Zhangsun’s arrangements for marriages likewise revealed the exceptional character of Empress Taimu, Li Yuan’s wife. The two emperors and two empresses were all matched in talent and virtue. Considering the outcomes of these two successive marriages, could they really have been mere coincidence? Could they really have been mere coincidence?

Emperor Taizong privately asked Li Chunfeng, Director of the Bureau of Astronomy: “Is what the secret records say true?” Li Chunfeng replied, “I observe the celestial patterns above and examine calendars and numerological arts below. The person described in the secret records is already within Your Majesty’s palace, among your relatives. Within thirty years, she will rule the realm and nearly wipe out the descendants of the Li Tang house. The signs have already appeared.”

Taizong said, “What if we killed everyone who seems suspicious?” Li Chunfeng replied, “What is ordained by Heaven cannot be resisted by human power. The one destined to become ruler would not die because of this; many innocent people would only be killed in vain. Thirty years from now, that person will already be old and perhaps more merciful, so the harm she causes may be less severe. If she is killed now, Heaven might bring forth someone younger and more formidable, who would take full revenge. By then, Your Majesty’s descendants might not be left at all.” Taizong therefore let the matter drop.

The Hongdao lu comments: “If the Pei Duke had died, there would have been no Pei Duke in the world”—that is the strategist’s way of speaking. “Even if we seize and kill her now, Heaven may bring forth someone formidable”—that is the numerologist’s way of speaking. But where should a gentleman’s heart rest? A gentleman will not commit an unjust act or kill an innocent person in order to gain the realm. The lasting continuation of later generations rests precisely on this principle. The deeds of emperors…

How many acts of injustice, how many killings of the innocent, could anyone possibly count? Heaven’s retribution is often only one step away. Given the emperor’s keen judgment and decisiveness, could he not have foreseen what would happen? It was simply difficult to investigate the ties among the palace relatives. If that grown man had come back to life, could he have escaped the disgrace of lying exposed to the elements, gathering dust? A person of noble character should concern himself less with weighing the size of gain and loss than with discerning what is right and wrong.

Pei Kuan, a Minister Pei from Renhe Ward in the Eastern Capital, had many descendants, and his family was well known. During the reign of Wu Zetian, the chancellor Wei Xuantong chose Pei’s eldest son as a husband for his daughter. Before the marriage could take place, Wei Xuantong was caught up in a case built on fabricated charges, and his family was implicated as well. By the time the Pei family returned north, Wei’s daughter had passed the age of fifteen, the traditional age at which a girl came of age. After discussing the matter, the Wei family concluded that they could not afford to support her and planned to have her shave her head and become a nun. A nun who had come from elsewhere said, “This young woman is richly blessed. She will surely marry a man of upright character, and her descendants will spread throughout the land.” Her family then dropped the idea of making her a nun. When they reached Jingmen, Pei Kuan had already prepared for the journey and come to meet them.

Pei Kuan later had eight sons. All passed the examination in the Classics, and served in the Censorate, government offices, or local posts. When Pei Kuan was an assistant military adviser in Runzhou, the prefect Wei Shen was seeking a suitable husband for his daughter. One day, while on leave, he climbed a tower and saw someone burying something in the back garden, so he asked his subordinates who it was. They replied, “That is Assistant Military Adviser Pei. He is an upright man and will not let the exchange of goods stain his family’s reputation. Someone happened to bring him a gift of meat, set it down, and left. Unwilling to deceive himself, he buried it.” Wei Shen was greatly impressed and agreed to marry his daughter to Pei Kuan. Returning home, he told his wife, “I have been looking for a good son-in-law for a long time. At last I have found one.”

The next day, Wei Shen gathered his relatives to meet Pei Kuan. Pei was wearing a blue robe, and was tall and slender. When he entered, the relatives all laughed and called him “the blue stork.” Wei Shen said, “I cherish my daughter and hope she will marry a virtuous minister. How could I choose a husband by his appearance?” In the end, he married his daughter to Pei Kuan. Lord Liu Pi once remarked, “These days, those who chase power and profit discard oaths and trust as easily as turning over their hands. The Pei family’s many flourishing descendants are Heaven’s reward for good deeds.”

Commentary in the Hongdao Lu: The Heng hexagram, which symbolizes constancy, says that sages persist in following the Dao over time. They first treat others with sincerity and generosity, then act with integrity and fidelity; doing so again and again, they bring the Great Dao to fruition. The Xian hexagram, which symbolizes mutual response, says that a person of noble character receives others with an open mind, and when both sides accord with what is right, they respond to one another. To assess a daughter’s character and then seek a husband for her is to create a mutual response through which understanding can arise; this principle, too, leads to success. When the Wei family first fell into misfortune, how could they have spared a thought for their daughter’s good fortune…

The essay opens with marriage: the bond between the eldest daughter and eldest son was never altered in the first place. When the husband and wife are mutually responsive, yin and yang complementing each other, their descendants multiply and prosper, and this is not something that can be obtained by deliberate pursuit. When Madam Wei (Wei Shi) chose a husband for her daughter, she did not weigh whether the prospective son-in-law came from the same clan. Instead she valued his sincere and honest character, and the principle was indeed confirmed. The son-in-law was at ease and content, the two families were in harmony, and the daughter became the virtuous wife of a high official. Did this require divination to know? From this we can see that the ancients always acted with sincerity and dealt with affairs with trustworthiness, and that Heaven's bestowing and repaying cannot be deceived. How could this be compared to mere power and profit?

Below is an account from the Song Shi (History of the Song). Zhou Wei's wife, Mo Quan, was a virtuous woman. Zhou Wei, courtesy name Dechen, was a native of Gongcheng in Zhaozhou. When Liu Chang (Liu Chang, the last ruler of the Southern Han) governed the Five Ridges (Wuling), Zhaozhou was included within his domain. Governance was harsh and taxes were heavy, and the common people could not sustain their livelihood. Zhou Wei led his fellow villagers across the Five Ridges, intending to take refuge in Lingling, but before they arrived, bandits blocked the road on the way and cut off their supplies, so they had no choice but to return to Gongcheng, where their houses had already been reduced to ashes. Later he escaped and went north, arriving in the capital in the early Jianlong years (960–963) of the Song. He was treated with courtesy by the chief minister Xue Juzheng, submitted a memorial discussing current affairs, and, after examination, was granted the jinshi degree. In the second year of the Taiping Xingguo era (977), he took up the post of vice commissioner for transport in the circuits of Guangnan.

When Zhou Wei fled north, he had no time to bid farewell to Mo Quan. Their two sons were still young, and Mo Quan herself was still in the prime of her youth, so her parents wanted her to remarry. Mo Quan wept and swore an oath, saying, "Zhou Wei will not remain in hardship for long. Now that he has gone far away to escape, he will surely strengthen himself and rise up." She then devoted herself even more diligently to raising silkworms and weaving, and personally pounded grain with a mortar and pestle to keep the household alive. In the Kaibao years (968–976), when the Southern Han was pacified, the court issued an edict seeking her out in Zhaozhou and granted her money and grain as relief. Only then, after a span of twenty-six years in all, did Zhou Wei return to his native place and see Mo Quan again, and the people of the time marveled at this extraordinary event. Both of their sons had also already married. Zhu Ang recorded the matter, and it has been transmitted to serve as evidence.

The compiler's commentary says: Considering the deeds of Mo Quan, I sigh at the decline of worldly customs between the Qin and Han periods. Su Qin's wife would not even cook a meal for him, and Zhu Maichen's wife would not wait even two nights for him. How much more so for a span of twenty-six years, during which she also had young children to care for? The Song's education flourished in Lingnan, and the customs of the barbarian lands were greatly transformed, but it would not be right to demand that all women attain such a standard. Those high-ranking officials with abundant gold, whose travels were preceded by attendants sweeping the road with brooms, would not measure up to her in governing their households or in upholding constancy. Alas, to call her virtuous and capable is truly fitting.

Empress Xie, of Emperor Lizong, was the daughter of a man named Xie Qu, and her paternal great-uncle was Xie Shenfu. At her birth her complexion was dark, and this passage begins with her origins and her early appearance.

Yimu Qu Bo died young, and the family’s fortunes fell into further decline. He once drew water and prepared meals himself. When Shenfu had just become prime minister, the Empress Dowager was deeply grateful to him for his part in placing Yang on the throne. After Lizong ascended the throne, the court discussed choosing an empress. The Empress Dowager ordered that a woman from the Xie family be selected. At the time, only one Xie daughter remained unmarried. Her uncles chose her cousin Qu Bo, but Qu Bo said, “If she is chosen in response to an imperial decree, she should be given a generous dowry.”

At the Lantern Festival, a magpie flew in and built a nest on the lantern display. People took this as an auspicious sign. Not long after Lady Xie was selected by imperial decree, she came down with a rash. Once she recovered, her skin shed and became as white as jade. Later, medicine also cured her eye ailment. At the time, Jia She’s daughter was also strikingly beautiful, and she was selected alongside Lady Xie. After they entered the palace, Lizong wanted to make Lady Jia empress. The Empress Dowager said, “Lady Xie is dignified and steady, and a woman blessed with good fortune. She is fit to be established as empress and take up residence in the central palace.” Those around them also remarked privately, “If the true empress is not to be appointed, are they going to install a false one instead?” The emperor could not change the Empress Dowager’s decision, and in the end Lady Xie was made empress.

The Hongdao lu comments: The Book of Songs says, “The favored wife is stirring up trouble while her influence is at its height.” This shows that the favor shown to a beautiful woman can indeed become a source of disorder. The Song dynasty’s rules for the imperial household far surpassed those of the Han and Tang; was this not because the families of imperial consorts did not take part in government? Although Lady Jia was strikingly beautiful, opposition from those around the emperor prevented her from becoming empress. But who could prevent the emperor from favoring her in bed? Jia Sidao was then summoned from his post as a minor official in charge of storehouses to appear before the court. Before long, he was appointed to command in the army and became Right Chancellor. The commentary holds that this was precisely because Lady Jia harbored malicious intent, and that Jia Sidao later used the might of a tiger and wolf to damage the government, eventually bringing down the Song state, while the Empress Dowager Xie was taken captive and even the emperor’s skull was left unpreserved. The calamity brought on by the Jia family was so in name, and indeed so in reality. Thus, the private remarks of those around the court, and Qu Bo’s words when he refused the marriage, both proved well-founded.

The Records of Words and Deeds relates: When Huang Guinian was young, his family was poor, but he bore his circumstances calmly. Later, when he sat the prefectural examination, the examiner, Li Chaoying, was then serving as county commandant in Huang’s home county. On meeting Guinian, Li admired him greatly and privately said, “How can I make this young man my student?” Guinian was indeed recommended later. The commandant was delighted and offered his daughter in marriage to him. By the time Huang Guinian passed the jinshi examination and returned home, the commandant had died. The commandant’s wife and children were escorting his coffin home when they met Guinian on the road. Weeping, Guinian asked them to convey his feelings and requested that the original marriage agreement be honored. The commandant’s wife declined, saying, “How can we bear to bring up what happened in the past? The commandant’s salary was meager, and he served honestly; when he died, he left no private property. I am escorting his coffin back to Xixiang with a large household in tow. We have nearly sold all our clothes and belongings, and may not even have enough to finish the journey. How could we possibly discuss arranging a marriage for our daughter? Besides, you have already passed the jinshi examination…”

Huang Jia should marry into a suitable family. I am leaving now. Please say goodbye to him for me.

Weeping, she said, “I promised him I would never change, even unto death. Now I am to betray that promise—how can I face the world afterward? Madam, you disregard the words he spoke in life and instead repeat the worldly talk of barbarians. If I can fulfill my wish, I would not heed your arrangements, even if I must bear some loss myself.” And so the marriage was settled. Later, the two met briefly, then went their separate ways again, weeping in deep sorrow.

The Hongdao lu records that neither Liu Tingshi nor Huang Guinian abandoned his original resolve after passing the jinshi examination. Those who changed their friendships for wealth and status, or took another wife after attaining prominence, had already cast aside their former principles. What right had they to blame anyone else? Qin Hui’s four memorials to the throne cannot truly be said to contain no sense of self-reproach. Those who often associated with Zhan Dafang and catered to Qin Hui’s wishes judged that his aims and conduct were improper and that he had attached himself to the wrong person. From this, one can imagine what the prevailing moral climate was like.

According to the Chen Rang Shaowu Gazetteer, the woman surnamed Huang was named Shu, with the courtesy name Zhirou, and came from Sanxi in Jianning County. From childhood, she was well versed in the classics and histories, skilled in poetry and prose, and accomplished in calligraphy. She married Wang Fang, a jinshi from the same county. While serving as an assistant administrator in Sizhou, Wang Fang died. Huang escorted his coffin back to their home region and, overcome with grief, became so thin that only skin and bones remained. When the mourning period ended, her relatives discussed arranging another marriage for her. Hearing of this, Huang said, “How could I face the Assistant Administrator Wang?” She refused to remarry and eventually died of sorrow. On her deathbed, she instructed her maidservant, who was also her concubine: “I cannot bear to discard the poems I wrote. Please bury them with me.” The maidservant placed the manuscripts in the coffin. Huang’s father gathered the remaining poems and found more than a hundred. One poem praising bamboo reads: “Firm and upright, it embodies the loyalty of a faithful minister; solitary and noble, it reflects the resolve of a chaste woman. Its color remains the same through all four seasons; neither frost nor snow can mar it.”

The Hongdao lu comments: As I see it, the Nanyou qiaomu (“South of the River, Tall Trees”) section of the Zhou Nan repeats the word “cannot” eight times. The woman in the poem steadfastly guards her own integrity, and is worthy of admiration; people therefore respect and trust her. Had later figures such as Cai Wenji and Li Yian’an lost the virtue of chastity and gentleness, how could they have earned such trust? Yet this poem was written by Huang herself. If she asked for her manuscripts to be buried with her because she intended to die for love, how could anyone believe that her words and actions had always been consistent? It seems, then, that even learned people who write works do not necessarily live up to their words. Alas, how can one fail to be cautious?

According to the Jiahe Gazetteer, “Hanxiang” and “Wancui” were the concubines of Zhang Ning of Fangzhou, a Ming official who had once served as a court gatekeeper. In their youth, both were gentle and mild; they trusted and loved one another, and both came from respectable families. They served Lord Zhang. After his death, the principal wife saw that they were still young and planned to arrange marriages for them. The two vowed to remain chaste together and each cut off a lock of hair to show her resolve. The principal wife then stopped raising the matter. From then on, they lived in a cold curtained chamber and a lonely tower, passing the year in solitude…

When he returned to the capital, he had nothing in his baggage. After his death, his family fell into even greater hardship. He endured a life of toil, unaware that old age was drawing near. His family seldom saw his face. His daughter Hengqing later married Commander Yao Lin. Yao Lin’s wife had been widowed young and had also vowed to remain chaste. A gentleman said, “The Book of Songs has these words: ‘Their speech and laughter are gentle; their vows are sincere.’ Surely they describe just such a case?” During the Jiajing reign, the court unexpectedly bestowed honors on these two women for their chastity.

The Hongdao lu comments: In my view, relations between ruler and minister, and between husband and wife, are founded on shared commitment to the Way. The two women remained loyal and faithful to the Duke because he had once been loyal and faithful to his ruler. The Duke was upright and outspoken throughout his life, and the Yingzong Emperor consequently trusted him all the more. For this, he incurred the jealousy of powerful, treacherous officials and was pushed aside by the chief minister of the day. From then on, he spent the rest of his life in frustration and no longer sought official distinction. Given this, how could the two women bear to serve him without preserving their chastity for his sake? That is why I have recorded this story.

Hongdao lu, juan 7

Trust and Loyalty Between Brothers

The Records of the Grand Historian relates that King Cheng of Zhou was playing with his younger brother, Shu Yu. He cut a paulownia leaf into the shape of a jade tablet and said to him, “With this, I enfeoff you as a lord.” The court historian Shi Yi then asked King Cheng to choose a day for the investiture ceremony. The king said, “I was only joking with him.” Shi Yi replied, “The Son of Heaven cannot joke. When he speaks, the historian records his words, the rites make them into established rules, and the music officer sets them to song.” So King Cheng enfeoffed Shu Yu in the former lands of Emperor Yao, naming him Lord of Tang.

The Hongdao lu comments: Liu Zongyuan said that if King Cheng’s younger brother deserved to be enfeoffed, the Duke of Zhou should have explained this to the king in good time. He need not have waited until the king joked, then seized the opportunity to congratulate him and bring the matter to completion. But if the younger brother did not deserve enfeoffment, the Duke of Zhou made an unsuitable joke into reality, entrusting land and people to a weak person to govern. Could someone who acted this way still be called a sage?

I do not think so. The sages of antiquity were skilled at assisting rulers and guiding them onto the right path. They would seize upon the first sign of good intention in a ruler and use it to guide and encourage him. Mencius’s account of King Xuan of Qi seeing an ox tremble as it was being led away for the bell sacrifice, and feeling compassion for it, illustrates precisely this principle. How much more does it apply when guiding a young ruler?

In the Book of Changes, the Nine in the Second Place of the Meng Hexagram says, “Embracing the inexperienced brings good fortune.” The Six in the Fourth Place says, “Entangled in inexperience brings regret.” A young ruler’s mind is like a tender shoot just emerging: fragile and not yet firmly rooted. If guided by proper and upright methods, it will grow straight; if it is constantly obstructed and opposed, it will be pressed down and grow crooked. Therefore, those charged with teaching the inexperienced must be broad in their tolerance and generous in their giving, continually guiding and supporting them in accordance with their inclinations, so that instruction can succeed and matters go smoothly. As long as a ruler’s spoken words have not become so bad that they cannot be redeemed…

As soon as something shows the first signs of becoming excessive, before it has gone so far as to stray from the right path, suppressing it at once will only make the unenlightened feel even more constrained. They may find it hard to bear the hardship of being restrained and confined, while everything we do will leave regrets behind. This is precisely what the sages especially warned people to avoid.

Of all those in ancient times who knew how to guide and nurture the unenlightened, none surpassed Mencius’s mother. When Mencius was a child, he asked, “Why is our neighbor slaughtering a pig?” His mother replied, “It’s to give you something to eat.” Afterwards, she felt that she had spoken improperly, so she bought pork and gave it to Mencius. The story of “cutting a paulownia leaf to enfeoff one’s younger brother” means the same thing. King Cheng of Zhou once said that he would enfeoff his younger brother with a paulownia leaf. Although it was only a joke, if the Duke of Zhou, the worthy minister who assisted King Cheng, had put on a stern face and rebuked him harshly, insisting that the king should neither grant an enfeoffment nor joke about one, King Cheng had shown nothing improper when he spoke. He would only have felt that the Duke of Zhou was pressuring and frightening him, and his thoughts would surely have turned elsewhere.

Thus, going along with King Cheng’s words and allowing the enfeoffment to be carried out was a way of following the moment and helping him fulfill his intention. At the same time, it quietly made the fault in his joke disappear without a trace. In this way, the Duke of Zhou’s words could naturally take root in the king’s heart. Did this not allow both ruler and minister to achieve their purpose? Later generations sometimes failed to work with a ruler’s first stirrings of thought and help them develop gradually. Instead, they pressured the ruler relentlessly, bringing about regret and wrongdoing. How could such people compare with the Duke of Zhou?

The Zuo Commentary, under Duke Xi, year 22, records that the people of Song made an alliance with Chu at Lu Shang, hoping by this means to invite the feudal lords to submit. Chu agreed. Prince Muyi said, “It is a calamity when a small state competes to preside over an alliance. Song is probably doomed; even if it happens to escape defeat for a while, the calamity will only come later.” In autumn, the feudal lords met with Duke Xiang of Song at Meng. Muyi said, “The calamity is probably here. The ruler’s desires are too excessive. How can others bear it?” Later, Chu captured Duke Xiang and attacked Song. In winter, the feudal lords met in an alliance at Bo, and only then did Chu release him. Muyi said, “The calamity is not over yet. This is not enough to make the ruler take warning.”

In the twenty-second year of Duke Xi, Duke Xiang of Song attacked Zheng. Muyi said, “The calamity I spoke of lies in this.” On the first day of the eleventh month in winter, Yisi, Duke Xiang of Song fought the Chu army at the Hong River, and Song was soundly defeated. The following spring, the ruler of Qi attacked Song and besieged Min. In the fifth month, Duke Xiang of Song died. He died from injuries he had suffered in the battle at the Hong River.

The Hongdao Lu comments: Divination by milfoil and turtle shells has never been unfailingly reliable, yet Prince Muyi was wise, and his words proved true. Although a hegemon acts through force, there is also a reason behind what it does, and that reason is…

Caring for all people and living in harmony with one’s kin is called benevolence. Relieving danger and settling disputes is called righteousness. Holding firmly to one’s resolve is called courage. Measuring one’s virtue and abilities is called wisdom.

Duke Xiang of Song, ruler of Song during the Spring and Autumn period, had just made an alliance with the feudal lords when he cruelly mistreated the rulers of two states. He was truly lacking in benevolence. No sooner had he formed the alliance than he let his army besiege a city, bringing about a terrible calamity. He was truly lacking in righteousness. He had only just won a reputation as hegemon when he suffered the humiliation of being captured. He was truly lacking in courage. He failed repeatedly yet refused to reflect on his own conduct. He was truly lacking in wisdom. Since he possessed none of these virtues, I cannot understand what gave him the idea that he could dominate the feudal lords.

Today, some street toughs swagger about, acting imperiously and arbitrarily as if they had no regard for anyone around them. One day they take someone to court; the next, they are in dispute with someone else. If by luck they win, they become smug and pleased with themselves. If they lose, they do not examine their own conduct but instead look for another chance to prevail. In the end they are imprisoned and punished, left covered in wounds, yet still refuse to repent. They stop only when they face severe punishment. How is the calamity Duke Xiang of Song brought upon himself any different? Taking this as a warning, one can no longer rely on divining yarrow stalks and tortoise shells.

Duke Xuan of Wei, ruler of Wei during the Spring and Autumn period, had an affair with his stepmother, Yi Jiang, and she bore him Ji Zi. Later, he arranged a marriage for Ji Zi with a woman from Qi. But when he saw the bride, Xuan Jiang, and found her beautiful, he took her for himself. Xuan Jiang and Prince Shuo conspired to frame Ji Zi. Duke Xuan ordered Ji Zi to go on a mission to Qi, then sent assassins to lie in wait at Shen and kill him. Shou Zi, Ji Zi’s younger brother, told him what was planned and urged him to flee. Ji Zi refused, saying, “If I abandon my father’s command, what kind of son would I be? I could flee only if there were a country without fathers.” When Ji Zi set out, Shou Zi got him drunk, took his carriage and banner, and went ahead in his place. The assassins killed Shou Zi. Ji Zi arrived soon afterward and said, “I am the one they came to kill. What crime has Shou Zi committed? Kill me instead.” The assassins then killed Ji Zi as well. The people of Wei mourned them and sang this poem:

“Two brothers set out by boat, its shadow drifting across the water.

Whenever I think of you, sorrow fills my heart.

Two brothers set out by boat, its shadow drifting far away.

Whenever I think of you, I can only hope you escaped misfortune.”

The compiler of Hongdao lu comments: “When faced with death, people of old would always choose some good deed through which to secure their reputation after death. People in later generations, by contrast, often do nothing but fight one another, until they perish together. Wei’s Crown Prince, the Grandson of the Emperor, and Li Jiancheng and Li Yuanji of the Tang, as well as Zhao Guangmei and Zhao Dezhao of the Song, all died in a single calamity; anyone may pass judgment on them. By contrast, Shou Zi of Wei and Shen Sheng of Jin are still praised by the people today. Is it not because they understood how to choose the manner of their death?”

Someone once said, “A gentleman holds fast to the right way, but does not cling to petty notions of fidelity.” In what Shou Zi and Ji Zi did, were they clinging to fidelity at the expense of the right way, or… The original text breaks off here; what follows is incomplete.

He kept his word and always finished what he started, yet was so stiff and stubborn about it—what a petty person! Even so, he was better than someone who broke his word and never finished anything. If you twist your elder brother’s arm and snatch away his food, how far can you be from a gentleman? How far can you be from one?

When Shiqizi’s father, Taizhong, died, he had no principal son, only six sons born to concubines. People consulted the oracle to determine who would inherit the family estate. They were told, “The auspicious sign will appear only if you bathe and wear jade ornaments before the divination.” Five of them did so. Shiqizi said, “How can someone mourning his father bathe and wear jade?” So he did neither, yet the divination showed that he was to be the heir. The people of Wei therefore believed that tortoise-shell divination truly had power.

The Hongdao Lu comments: Filial devotion to one’s parents and affection for one’s brothers accord with De, so they can move the spirits and find confirmation in the divination signs. This is what is meant by the saying, “The diviner must first set his own intentions aright, then entrust the matter to the great tortoise for its decision.” The other five trusted the divination but not their own judgment; they considered only what people wanted and ignored the spirits’ intent. Why did they need to wait until the divination implements were opened and the records examined to learn that the three tortoise divinations had not supported them?

The Book of Han records that Empress Gao (Lü Hou) wanted to make her brothers of the Lü clan kings, so she consulted Wang Ling, the Right Chancellor. Wang Ling said, “Gaozu once killed a white horse and swore an oath: ‘If anyone who is not of the Liu clan becomes king, all under Heaven shall join in attacking him.’ To make members of the Lü clan kings now would violate that oath.” The Empress Dowager was displeased and asked the Left Chancellor Chen Ping and Grand Commandant Zhou Bo. They replied, “After Gaozu pacified the realm, he made his own sons and brothers kings. Now that Your Majesty rules as regent, there is nothing improper about making members of the Lü clan kings.” The Empress Dowager was pleased. After the court audience, Wang Ling reproached Chen Ping and Zhou Bo: “When we swore our blood oath with Gaozu, were you not there? Now Gaozu is dead, and the Empress Dowager wants to make members of the Lü clan kings, yet you go along with her wishes. How will you ever face Gaozu in the underworld?” Chen Ping and Zhou Bo said, “When it comes to arguing openly at court, we are no match for you. But when it comes to preserving the state and securing the Liu descendants, you are no match for us.” Wang Ling had no reply.

The Hongdao Lu comments: How was King Cheng of Zhou’s promise to make his younger brother Shuyu a feudal lord by cutting a paulownia leaf any different from Gaozu’s blood oath? Shuyu was King Cheng’s own younger brother, and enfeoffing him accorded with the proper order, so the Duke of Zhou should have worked to bring it about. The Lü clan, by contrast, were to be made kings at Empress Lü’s wish and out of personal feeling; this went against reason, so Wang Ling should have worked to prevent it. Wang Ling’s conduct is the proper standard for a minister; Chen Ping and Zhou Bo’s actions are not worthy of praise.

Emperor Wen of Han’s Empress Dou had an elder brother, Changjun, and a younger brother, Guangguo, whose courtesy name was Shaojun. When Guangguo was four or five, his family was poor. He was abducted and sold, and his family did not know where he was. He was passed from household to household, living in more than ten homes…

When Shaojun arrived in Yiyang, he went into the mountains to make charcoal for a local landowner. At dusk, he slept below a riverbank. The bank suddenly collapsed, burying more than a hundred people who were sleeping there. Shaojun alone escaped and survived.

Later, Shaojun went with his family to Chang’an. He once divined that he would be made a marquis within a few days. At that time, the Empress had just taken her position. Her family came from Guanjin, and their surname was Dou. Shaojun had been young when he left home, but he remembered the name of his county and his own surname. He also recalled gathering mulberry leaves with his older sister and falling from a tree. He offered these memories as proof. He submitted a memorial recounting his origins, and the Empress told the Emperor. The Emperor summoned him, and Shaojun described the past in detail. When the Emperor asked what else he remembered, Shaojun replied, “When my sister left me and went west, we parted at a relay station, where officials and messengers lodge on their journeys. She bathed me there every day for ten days and did not leave until I had eaten.” Empress Dou embraced him and wept. She gave him generous rewards and also bestowed a generous reward on his younger brother.

Empress Dou said to her younger brother and to the Marquis of Jiang, the General Guan, and others in Chang’an, “My younger brother did not die. His fate came to depend on these two men. Since they came from humble backgrounds, we must choose learned teachers for them.” She added that this matter bore on the fortunes of the Lü clan. So they selected older men of integrity to teach the two brothers. From then on, both became modest and courteous gentlemen, never daring to use their wealth and rank to treat others arrogantly.

The Hongdao lu comments: “I find the Han educational system hard to understand. It set aside the Emperor’s eldest son and his other sons, leaving them untaught, yet chose to educate only these two men. This shows a failure to understand what matters most. Men like the Marquis of Jiang and the General Guan would surely look out for their own interests. At first they feared disaster; later they feared for their lives. Their rise was rare in any age, yet once they gained power they remained so anxious and cautious. How much more so when power and favor accumulate and endure from one generation to the next? The calamity of Wang Mang’s usurpation did not take shape in a day or two.”

The History of the Song records that, when Wang Anshi was in government, Wang Anli submitted a memorial saying: “When human affairs below are mismanaged, unusual signs appear in the heavens. Your Majesty has a benevolent concern for the people and cherishes all living things, yet your kindness has not fully reached them. I fear that your attendants and senior ministers have acted unjustly, calling loyal officials disloyal and the unworthy capable. Those who rely on power to pursue private gain work tirelessly at it, even extracting profits from gardeners and others of the like. Such practices can disturb Yin-Yang and bring about strange celestial signs. Your Majesty should examine the conduct of those close to you and close the path by which wicked and corrupt people advance. As for minor measures such as prayers to avert calamity, words alone cannot answer Heaven’s signs.” After reading the memorial, Emperor Shenzong praised it with admiration and told him, “Wang Gui wants you to set out your views point by point. I believe we should not obstruct or suppress people’s petitions and close off the channels of advice, leaving ourselves unable to hear others’ opinions.”

Nowadays, if you cover your eye with a single finger, you cannot see Mount Tai or Mount Hua, even when they are right before you. How is this any different from close ministers deceiving their ruler? You should trust your own judgment more firmly.

Emperor Shenzong of Song again brought up Fu Bi’s memorial with his chief ministers. Zhang Dun asked, “What did Fu Bi say?” Shenzong replied, “He said there are many petty men around me.” Zhang Dun said, “You could ask him to point them out and see who these petty men are.” Shenzong said, “Fu Bi is a senior minister who served three reigns. How could I make him identify them one by one?” Wang Anli, the Left Chancellor, said, “Fu Bi is right.” After court, Zhang Dun reproached Wang Anli: “What you said to the emperor just now was inappropriate.” Wang Anli replied, “If today we say, ‘It is just as Your Majesty says,’ and tomorrow we say, ‘Your Majesty’s learning is beyond what your subjects can attain,’ how could we avoid being called flatterers?”

The Hongdao lu comments: Since ancient times, ministers who have acted perversely and against reason have sometimes been able to deceive their ruler but not their family, and sometimes to deceive the people of the realm but not their own brothers. Suppose an elder brother says, “There is no need to fear changes in the heavens, and no need to worry about what others say,” while his younger brother says, “When affairs below are mismanaged, Heaven reveals signs of it.” And suppose the ruler has already said, “Cover your eye with a single finger, and you cannot see Mount Tai or Mount Hua,” while a minister has also pointed out that there are many petty men among those close to the ruler. Is it not then clear how these men deceive the ruler?

Given all this, it is hard to believe that the situation ultimately could not be changed. Perhaps Heaven took away his sound judgment, as the ancients said of a large cart without its crossbar fitting or a small cart without its linchpin: neither can move. Otherwise, since the ruler treated Fu Bi with the respect due an elder, how could he not only reject Fu Bi’s advice but also say, because the younger brother opposed the elder, that the younger brother should have greater confidence in himself? Even if the ruler was already confused, how could he have become so completely turned around?

In the eighth year of Yuanfeng under the Northern Song (1085), Cheng Hao, a native of Henan whose courtesy name was Bochun, died. Wen Yanbo inscribed his tombstone with the title “Master Mingdao.” His younger brother Cheng Yi wrote the preface to his epitaph:

“After the death of the Duke of Zhou, the Way of the sages was no longer put into practice. After Mencius died, the learning of the sages was no longer passed down. When the Way is not practiced, good government is absent for a hundred generations; when learning is not transmitted, no true Confucians appear for a thousand years. Without good government, scholars can still explain to people the principles of good governance and pass them on to later generations. Without true Confucians, people lose their bearings, their desires run unchecked, and the principles of Heaven are extinguished. Born fourteen hundred years later, Master Cheng grasped the lost learning through the surviving classics and made the revival of Confucianism his own responsibility: he distinguished heterodox teachings and refuted false doctrines…”

The one who probably restored the Way of the sages to clarity in the world after Mencius was none other than him. Yet if students do not know where the Way lies, who can understand what this man contributed? And if they do not know the extent of his achievements, who can tell whether the acclaim he received was deserved?

The Record says: A person’s character can be seen in the way he advances and withdraws, in his conduct and speech, and in how he treats his parents and siblings. But the order in which he explains the transmission of the Way, the line of succession from sages and worthies, and the ties between teachers and friends do not depend on his own accounts of his inner understanding. If so, why could Duke Lu (Wen Yanbo) inscribe a dedication for him but not write a preface?

The two masters were equal in virtue and matched in reputation in their time. They were like gui, zhang, hu, and lian—precious jade vessels used in ancient rites—all of comparable worth. If a jade connoisseur judged them differently, people would instead doubt the judgment. Looking back at the dispute between Anli and Anshi, how could the two be treated as equals?

Wang Xu’s younger brother, Wang Xu, belonged to a family whose members had lived together for generations, and so it was known as a “righteous household.” Their father, Wang Mengyi, once served as acting administrator of Xingzhou. He was later transferred to oversee the tea trade in Sichuan, where he established tea shops and spared the people from corvée labor. A local prefect resented his refusal to attach himself to him, so he used another matter to slander him, stripped him of three ranks, and sent him home. Not long afterward, Wang Mengyi died. Their mother, née Xiang, an aunt of Empress Qinsu, was consumed by grief and indignation.

Wang Xiang said to Wang Xu, “Father was pushed aside for upholding the right way, and Mother, keeping vigil beside his coffin, vowed that we brothers would become accomplished. She will agree to bury Father only when we have achieved something and restored his official rank. We must encourage one another.” The brothers then shut themselves away to study the classics and histories, traveled a thousand li in search of teachers, and investigated the meaning and purpose of the texts.

When young, Wang Xu once wrote to the prime minister, advocating a centered and impartial position. Lü Tao and Su Zhe both held him in high regard. He also sent Su Shi his interpretations of the classics, saying, “In the age of the Two Emperors and Three Kings—the legendary sage rulers of antiquity—scholars set their hearts on virtue. Because the Way was not easy to grasp for themselves, they held to it all the more firmly. After Confucius and Mencius composed the Six Classics, the Way came to be expressed in settled terms. Later scholars’ cultivation fell short of that of the ancients. From this we can see that people in later ages, thinking the Six Classics easy to understand, came to disdain them and stopped putting them into practice.”

Su Shi replied, “That is indeed well said.”

During the Yuanyou era, Lü Tao recommended Wang Xu for the special examination held by imperial decree. Wang Xu then submitted a memorial discussing the gains and failings of current affairs, pointing out that communication between the court and the regions had broken down, which would invite the danger of invasion by foreign enemies. He was later demoted to a junior post and eventually returned home. During the Daguan era, the court implemented the school system for selecting talent and summoned Wang Xu again. He declined, saying, “In the past, because my mother was growing old, I asked to remain at home and serve her. Now that she is elderly, I am to take up office by imperial command. Could that truly be what I want?” The court then appointed Wang Xu to serve at the capital and posthumously bestowed …

Only after his father’s death was Xiang able to bury him; after his mother died, Xiang also completed the full period of mourning. Later, he was recommended for possessing the “Eight Conducts”—the eight virtues then valued in the selection of talent—and appointed Grand Director of Education. After examining his conduct, the court judged him the finest in the realm, issued an edict commending him, and honored his family. The Empress Dowager once wished to grant him an official post, but Xiang repeatedly declined, insisting that others be placed ahead of him according to rank. After Xiang died, Emperor Xiaozong granted him the posthumous title “Worthy and Steadfast.”

The Hongdao lu says: It is indeed difficult to maintain one’s principles consistently in old age. Xiang was devoted to learning and did not enter office lightly. To please his family, he trusted his friends, and he did not covet glory or emoluments. Some have argued that the integrity of his reclusive life may have weakened in his later years. How could scholars fail to be cautious about this?

Others say: Xiang was an outstanding member of a powerful family. At first, he disciplined himself through hard work and cultivated the company of worthy men, hoping to fulfill his aspirations by bringing honor to his parents. Later, however, he drifted with the current and failed to establish a career; in the end, he achieved only his own wishes. His mansion was lavish, and the imperial favors he received were illustrious. This was perhaps unavoidable, and he should not be judged by the conduct of Yuan Wei or the integrity of Zhong Che. Anyone reading this passage must understand the point.

Lizong’s childhood name was Yuru; his younger brother was named Yurui. Before the two brothers rose to prominence, a diviner once said that they would both attain the highest honors. No one believed him at the time. Shi Miyuan had then served as chief minister for many years, and the imperial prince Zhao Hong disliked him. Shi Miyuan planned to make other arrangements. Just then, Prince Jing of Yi had no heir, so Shi hoped to use this circumstance to make secret preparations in advance.

Yu Tianxi, a guest at the chief minister’s residence, was cautious and honest and took no part in public affairs. Shi Miyuan held him in high regard. When Yu Tianxi returned to his home district to sit the imperial examinations, Shi Miyuan told him, “Prince Yi has no heir. Please choose a worthy and honest member of the imperial clan and bring him here.”

Yu Tianxi crossed the river and reached the western gate of Yuezhou as heavy rain was falling. Beside the city gate lived a man named Quan, a village headman, and Yu Tianxi took shelter at his home. The two headmen prepared chicken and rice and received him with great respect. Before long, Quan brought two boys out and had them stand to one side. Yu Tianxi was puzzled and asked why. Quan replied, “These are my grandsons.” Remembering the chief minister’s request, and thinking that the boys’ lineage and status were suitable, Yu Tianxi reported the matter to Shi Miyuan.

Shi Miyuan then ordered the two boys to be brought to him. The headman was delighted. He sold his fields to buy them clothes and hats, then gathered their relatives to see them off. Yu Tianxi took them to meet Shi Miyuan. After looking them over, Shi was greatly impressed, but worried that if the matter leaked, it would be difficult to handle. He immediately sent them back. The headman was deeply disappointed. More than a year later, Shi Miyuan suddenly asked Yu Tianxi, “Could those two boys come again?” The headman protested that he did not want to send them again. Shi Miyuan then told him in private, “The elder boy will one day be the most exalted. You should keep him at home and look after him well.”

Before long, the boy was summoned to the palace and adopted into Prince Yi’s line to continue its ancestral sacrifices. He later ascended the throne as emperor. This was Lizong.

The Hongdao lu also says: In my view, both Yu Tianxi and Zheng Qingzhi rose through their learning in the classics and their literary talent…

Zhao Yuju and Zhao Yurui, officials responsible for remonstrance and oversight, had originally been ordinary commoners, but were promoted on account of their reputations.

At the time, the emperor occupied the highest position and possessed supreme authority. The control and transfer of state power, and the appointment and dismissal of officials, could all take place in an instant. The court knew nothing of it, and neither did the empress dowager. By then, the Song realm had been reduced to little more than an empty title attached to the emperor’s name. In such circumstances, how could one fail to put deep trust in the plans offered by others? How could those plans fail to be meticulous? How could power and favor fail to appear magnificent? And how could the prime minister still dare to restrain the heir apparent, or presume upon his own authority? The Book of Changes says, “When plans are not kept secret, their execution is harmed.” The Book of Songs says, “Ears are pressed against the wall” (to eavesdrop). Both speak of matters of power.

The Comprehensive Records states that Li Chengfang, a native of Jiayu in the Ming dynasty, had the courtesy name Maoqing and the sobriquet Dongqiao. His younger brother Li Chengji had the courtesy name Shiqing and the sobriquet Dayai. The brothers were upright and self-disciplined, hardworking and restrained. They loved the learning of antiquity and devoted themselves to putting it into practice. Though they had uncommon aspirations, they refused to bend with the customs of the age. In their studies, they did not cling to the parsing of phrases and the glossing of words; they sought above all to grasp directly the original intent of the teachings of Confucius and Mencius.

When they were young, their father pointed to a local censor named Kong and said to them, “He likes to wear purple robes and a gold belt, and he is very respectful when visiting his elders in the hall. Now I believe this is genuine. Children, can you be like him?” Li Chengfang replied, “Wealth and rank cannot make me reckless, and poverty can still leave me content. These are what I cherish.”

As he grew older, Li Chengfang became a student at the state school and grew weary of the civil service examinations. When the officials in charge pressed him to sit for them, he had no choice but to comply. He and his younger brother both passed the provincial examination. Reading the commentaries written by earlier Confucian scholars, he felt they had fragmented the classics of the sages. He said, “The Book of Songs and the Book of Documents are merely traces in writing left behind by the Way we have inherited. Since recent times, nothing has harmed the hearts of people throughout the realm more than government schools; nothing has corrupted the manners of scholars more than the civil service examinations; and nothing has more readily driven scholars everywhere to follow along without scruple than the teachers and officials of our day. All of this should be abolished. We should seek out teachers and scholars of advanced years and great virtue: if a village has a worthy person, take that person as the village’s teacher; if a state has a worthy person, take that person as the state’s teacher. That would be proper.”

Later, he was appointed an Evaluator in the Court of Judicial Review, an official responsible for legal matters. But he said sadly, “My authority is not enough to save people from life or death; my ability is not enough to discern shifts in the times; and my own uprightness is not enough to meet the worldly turns of yielding and advancing. To hold this office would be to fail in my duty.” He then pleaded illness and resigned, returning to his home village.

Li Chengji once went to the capital to sit for the metropolitan examination. After returning, he traveled a thousand miles without hesitation to study under Chen Baisha (the Ming scholar Chen Xianzhang). They climbed mountains, approached rivers, paid their respects at historic sites, and wrote poetry, yet never discussed how to pursue learning. After a long while, Li Chengji suddenly understood and said, “I see.” Any learning transmitted through words is not true transmission. As for the kind in which people meet one another’s gaze and understand each other…

One who has truly attained the Dao returns to the original nature and no longer harbors thoughts of striving for fame and rank. Each day, he sits upright in a room, purifying body and mind. He does not cling to a fixed order of cultivation, but directly apprehends his original nature. Among their peers, they treated one another as both teachers and friends. Later, someone wrote an inscription for his tomb: “With emptiness and stillness, he established his foundation; when he acted, the wondrous became apparent. His heart held doubts, yet remained receptive and cultivated; he was like a bird soaring into the sky and a fish diving into the depths.” The nobleman considered these words a true expression of what he had personally realized.

The Hongdao lu records: Lord Wang Wengong said that matters and principles are sometimes questioned precisely where everyone takes them for granted, yet one person alone may understand and speak of them. What everyone under Heaven agrees is right, I alone may see as not right; what everyone under Heaven agrees is wrong, I alone may see as not wrong. I neither echo the crowd’s approval nor follow its rejection, but take the quiet of my own heart as my guide. What is the basis for that inner assurance? The principles of things and the Way of right conduct. Were these two gentlemen not just such people—confident in themselves and unmoved by things outside them?

Trust Among Friends

The Huangwang daji records that at the age of twenty, Shun was renowned for his filial devotion and affection toward others. He had seven friends: Xiong Tao, Fang Hui, Xu Ya, Bo Yang, Dong Buzi, Qin Buxu, and Lingfu. At the time, Shun did not need to say much or give instructions. Simply keeping deep De in his heart, he transformed those around him; his influence was swift and wondrous. Without trust, even eloquence and going from door to door to persuade people could not transform a single person.

The Hongdao lu records: There is no way to verify who these seven men were. Yet if we consider ancient books such as the Sanfen and the Wudian, which people today have never seen, much about ancient history remains unknown. This passage is recorded here for that reason.

The Daxue zhuan says: “In dealing with the people of the state, the essential thing is trustworthiness.”

The Hongdao lu records: With whom did King Wen of Zhou associate? Boyi and Taigong served as models, while Dadian, Hongyao, Sanyi Sheng, Nangong Kuo, and others assisted him at his side. There were also those assigned to the roles of Shufu, Xianhou, Ben Zou, and Yuwu, who carried out his commands. If the foundation of trustworthiness is not established, every word and deed can turn into flattery, opportunism, and the unrestrained pursuit of selfish gain. In that case, even though the people of Zhou outwardly served the Shang, it would have been nothing but an empty form. That is why the text says “the people of the state,” rather than “friends”: perhaps King Wen’s power already extended over two-thirds of the realm.

In the Analects, Confucius says: “My friends trust me.”

The Hongdao lu records: Trustworthiness, one of the Five Constant Virtues, is like Earth among the Five Phases. It is the foundation on which people can act with steadiness and sincerity, keep their word, and bring things to completion from beginning to end. If this cannot be achieved, then the principles of human nature and the Way of Heaven...

This is not merely knowledge passed on by word of mouth and acquired by listening. For a gentleman who puts the teachings into practice, that alone does not yet amount to knowledge on which one can truly rely.

Some say I am different from others; some say I am deep and inscrutable; some say I know everything; others say my learning is vast. Opinions are many and varied. Only trustworthiness—being honest and keeping one’s word—is fundamental, so I do not say much. I am silent like Heaven and broad and generous like the Earth, without boundaries. I do not feel depleted by the abundance of what I teach, nor do I tire of giving the Four Teachings—what Confucius called the four forms of instruction: culture, conduct, loyalty, and trustworthiness. When it is right to speak, I speak clearly; when it is right to be silent, I do not conceal things deliberately. I act and speak decisively and steadfastly. That is all. The virtues that later generations of scholars honor, and the achievements for which they give thanks, lie in this. Seen in this light, is this not the aspiration the sage established?

On the duties of a disciple, it is said: “Be careful in your work, keep your word with others, care broadly for the people, and draw close to those who are humane.” On the learning of a gentleman, it is said: “Make loyalty and trustworthiness your guiding principles; do not associate with those who are not your equal.”

The Hongdao lu comments: A disciple’s duties are what one who has not yet resolved to pursue learning should practice. The learning of a gentleman, by contrast, is what an adult of virtue should undertake. Yet one passage says “be careful and keep your word,” while the other says “make loyalty and trustworthiness your guiding principles.” There is no difference between the two. Why? Because learning, and the joy one feels after regularly reviewing what one has learned, as well as the happiness one feels when friends come from afar, are all inherent in human nature. From the first steps in learning to becoming a sage, the principle remains the same.

People sometimes fail to see this. For beginners, they emphasize only carefulness and keeping one’s word. But when discussing what adults of virtue should do, they treat honesty as a minor detail and friendship as a game. They do not understand that the essentials of governing a state and bringing peace to the world depend on loyalty and trustworthiness. Arrogance and self-indulgence cause people to lose these foundations. How, then, could a gentleman fail to make loyalty and trustworthiness his foundation?

Zengzi said: “In my dealings with friends, have I failed to keep my word?”

Zixia said: “In dealing with friends, one’s words must be trustworthy.”

Youzi said: “If keeping an agreement accords with what is right, then what one has said can be put into practice.”

The Hongdao lu comments: Since ancient times, people have said that honesty is the foundation of all things. Why, then, is keeping one’s word in dealings with friends emphasized again and again? The bond between parent and child rests on natural affection; that between siblings on deep kinship; ruler and minister are joined by duty; husband and wife are united through marriage. These relationships all have clear roles, and the parties cannot help but take each other’s thoughts and actions into account.

Friends, however, may originally be strangers from opposite ends of the world who meet by chance. They have neither the affection of blood relatives nor a bond fixed by birth. What the other person thinks or intends to do is hard to predict. Without honesty to hold the relationship together, it is not like the bond between ruler and minister, which is difficult to escape, nor like marriage, which is difficult to undo, nor like the ties between parents and children or between siblings, which are difficult to sever…

When parting, if you feel no concern for the other person, what is the point of clasping hands? When speaking, if you give no thought to the other person, what does a pat on the shoulder mean?

Such behavior will only invite resentment, like the wronged wife described in “The Valley Wind,” and will also draw the mockery of the gui-yu, legendary spirits that secretly harm people.

What matters most, however, is keeping one’s word and acting with reason. Without reason, one becomes what is called a “death-sworn partisan,” blindly following one’s faction without asking what is right, or engages in what is called “marketplace friendship,” a relationship driven by self-interest like a street bargain. Or one may behave like Weisheng or Bai Gong: Weisheng drowned while clinging to a bridge pillar to keep a promise, while Bai Gong Sheng was defeated and perished after plotting a revolt. Among Confucius’s disciples, Zeng Shen was best at keeping his word, Zigong was most steadfast in trust, and Zilu paid the greatest attention to fundamentals. To establish oneself through trust in the Dao, and to take joy in friends gathering together—this is truly what friendship is about. How can students of the Way overlook this? How can they overlook this?

Confucius urged Qidiao Kai to take up an official post. Qidiao Kai replied, “I am not yet confident about this.” The Hongdao lu says: Confucius once remarked that people in antiquity studied to cultivate themselves, while people today study to make themselves known to others. To study for oneself is to make learning take root in one’s own person; this is precisely what Qidiao Kai meant by saying, “I am not yet confident.” To study for others is to seek their approval. Since there are people nearby and state affairs to attend to, why must one first read books to count as a student of the Way? Alas, once we know that Zigao was seized and killed, we can understand why Confucius praised Qidiao Kai.

Confucius told Fan Xu, “When those in high positions value trustworthiness, there is no one among the people who will dare not respond with sincerity. If this is so, people from the four directions will come to join you, carrying their children on their backs. Why be in such a hurry to discuss marriage alliances?”

The Hongdao lu says, “I can discern what others are thinking.” The sage is not without feelings, but neither does he let feelings control him. Those without feelings, in turn, cannot speak appropriately; yet this is no reason to give free rein to emotion. But how could Fan Xu possibly achieve this? Even so, the worthy grasp the larger principles, while the unworthy see only the details. Yi Yin worked the fields with his own hands, and the Duke of Zhou understood farming; these were merely their outward deeds. Looking into their hearts, we see that they delighted in putting the ways of Yao and Shun into practice, while also carrying out the work of the Three Kings—Yu of Xia, Tang of Shang, King Wen of Zhou, and other sage rulers of antiquity. Thus, if even one person had not received the benevolence of Yao and Shun, it would have been as though they themselves had pushed that person into a ditch. Would the sages ever fail to treat others with sincerity?

For three years, Heaven had sent neither fierce winds nor torrential rains, and the sea had been calm. Could it be that a sage was in the Central Plain, and that this was why all under Heaven was so peaceful? Would a sage ever fail to value trustworthiness? This is the essential reason why Confucians can be honored alongside Heaven and Earth, unlike ordinary people who work as farmers, artisans, or merchants. Yet even if these words are taken as admonition, there was still Chen Xiang, a disciple of Chen Liang, who abandoned what he had learned before and turned instead to study with Xu Xing.

The Zuo Commentary records that Ji Zha passed through the state of Xu on a diplomatic mission. The ruler of Xu admired Ji Zha’s sword, but did not dare ask for it. Ji Zha thought to himself…

Jizha, a prince of Wu during the Spring and Autumn period, was sent on a mission to a major state. On the way, he passed through Xu. The ruler of Xu greatly admired his sword, but did not express his feelings. Jizha understood this in his heart and planned to give him the sword after returning from his mission. By the time Jizha returned, the ruler of Xu had died. So Jizha removed the sword and hung it on a tree at the ruler’s home, then left.

His attendant said, “The ruler of Xu is already dead. To whom are you giving the sword?” Jizha replied, “That is not so. At the time, I had already made a promise to him in my heart. How could I go against my own intention just because he has died?”

The Hongdao Lu comments: The ruler of Xu did not reveal his admiration for the sword, yet Jizha understood it in his heart. Shoumeng, ruler of Wu, did not reveal his intention to make Jizha his heir, yet Jizha understood that in his heart as well. Jizha hung up the sword not in order to give it away, but to show that he kept faith. Since he could not go against a promise made within himself, it is clear that he could never accept the throne of Wu.

Han Xuanzi, an official of Jin during the Spring and Autumn period, owned a jade ring, part of which was in Zheng. A merchant from Zheng agreed on a price with Han Xuanzi, but then said, “This matter must be reported to the ruler and the ministers.” Han Xuanzi asked Zichan, the chief minister of Zheng, to give him the jade ring. Zichan replied, “Earlier, when I asked for this jade ring, those in charge judged it contrary to what was right, so I did not dare raise the matter again. Now I have offered to buy it from the merchant, and he says the ministers must be informed. So I have taken the liberty of making this request to you.”

Zichan replied, “Long ago, our former ruler Duke Huan and the merchants both came from the Zhou realm. They worked side by side, clearing weeds and opening up the land, and lived together. Their descendants passed down an oath of alliance that established trust between them. The oath said: ‘You shall not betray me, and I shall not force you to sell your goods. Let no one take your property without permission. If you have valuable goods or precious things, I shall not interfere.’ With this pledge of trust, both sides were able to protect one another, and that bond has continued to this day. You have come to our humble state with good intentions, yet now you say that we are forcibly taking a merchant’s property. Would that not mean asking us to violate our former oath? If you gained the jade ring but lost the trust of the feudal lords, you surely would not want that. I have taken the liberty of telling you this privately.”

Han Xuanzi therefore declined the jade ring, visited Zichan in private, and thanked him.

The Hongdao Lu comments: This passage concerns dealings with individuals and states, whose foundation is keeping faith. We can see from it that the ancients would not break a promise, even over a small object or a minor matter. People in later generations may think that breaking an agreement does little harm, but trouble soon follows. The case of gaining a jade ring while losing the trust of the feudal lords had already occurred in the Spring and Autumn period. How many people are there like Han Xuanzi, who did not hesitate to correct his mistake? This is why the story is recorded.

The people of Zheng often gathered at the village school, a place where local affairs of state were discussed, and talked there about the conduct of the ministers. Ranming said to Zichan, “What do you think of demolishing the village school?”

Zichan said, “Why do that? After the people have finished their work in the morning and evening, they go there to meet and talk. When they praise what the ministers have done well, I follow their advice; when they are dissatisfied with something, I…”

“Someone who corrects my faults is my teacher. How could I malign him? I have only heard that loyalty and kindness can lessen resentment; I have never heard that showing off one’s power can prevent it. This way, resentment may subside quickly, but it is like damming a river: when the bank breaks, many people will be harmed, and I will be powerless to save them. Better to clear the blockage a little and give the water a way to flow. I heard these words and took them as a fine remedy for illness.”

Ranming said, “From this day forward, I know that you, sir, are indeed someone worth serving alongside. I truly lack ability. If we can really act in this way, Zheng will be fortunate.”

The Record comments: Han Yu once wrote an encomium saying that when the Zhou dynasty was flourishing, the Duke of Shao, a worthy minister of Zhou, sought counsel from the wise elders. But when the Zhou dynasty declined, it had those who slandered the government oversee affairs of state. This is precisely what Zichan’s way of governing addressed. It is regrettable that his teaching was practiced in only one state—perhaps that was what Han Yu lamented. This was a remembrance of the past. Han Yu also said that if this way were truly followed in governing the whole realm, ruler and ministers would be able to communicate freely, and beneficence would spread far and wide, without limit. Alas, perhaps what he lamented was that the realm could not be well governed because it had a ruler but no worthy ministers. This was a hope for the future.

Yet, from the perspective of how a gentleman should conduct himself, when the government is clear-sighted, his words should be upright and his actions correct. The people of Zheng discussing affairs of state at the village school belong to this situation. When the government is corrupt, his actions should remain correct and his speech be cautious. King Li of Zhou, who used the shamans of Wey to monitor and report the people’s speech, represents the other situation. Thus, viewed from the standpoint of Zichan’s governance at the time, his approach can serve to encourage those in government. But if King Li’s conduct is taken as a model for monitoring the people’s discussions, one must carefully consider whether it is appropriate. To concern oneself only with whether someone should be maligned is futile. This, too, must be understood.

A sea bird named Yuju came to rest outside the eastern gate of the capital of Lu. After it had stayed for two days, Zang Wenzhong, a high official of Lu, ordered the people to offer it sacrifices. Zhan Qin, also known as Liuxia Hui, a worthy man of Lu, said, “Zangsun’s way of governing has strayed far from the right path! Sacrifice is a great matter of state. The enlightened kings decreed that sacrifices be made only for those who had shown kindness to the people; who had given their lives in service to the state; who had secured the state through their achievements; who could ward off great disasters; or who could prevent grave calamities. Those who did none of these things were not included in the rites of sacrifice.

“The five sacrifices of Di, Jiao, Zong, Zu, and Bao are rites prescribed by the state. In addition, the altars of soil and grain, and the mountains and rivers, receive sacrifices because they benefit the people. The sun, moon, and stars in the heavens are objects of the people’s reverence. The Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) on earth are the foundation from which all things grow and reproduce. The famous mountains and great rivers of the nine provinces yield resources. Now a sea bird has arrived, and people neither know what it is nor ask why it has come. It has done nothing for the state, yet they would make sacrificing to it a state ritual. It is hard to call this humane, enlightened, or wise.”

This seabird is surely about to meet with disaster. Birds and animals in the vast waters can usually sense danger in advance and avoid it. This year, the sea has been plagued by strong winds, and winter has been unusually warm. After hearing Liu Xiajì (that is, Liu Xia Hui) advise him, Wen Zhong said, “I was indeed wrong. What Master Ji has said must be taken as a guiding rule.” He then ordered that the matter be written down as three warnings.

The Hongdao lu comments: Liu Xia Hui was a mild and even-tempered man. Why, then, did he speak with such certainty instead of simply echoing others? A seabird’s failure to recognize its own mistake is a small problem; failing to recognize a mistake and also failing to ask about it is a much greater one. How much more so for someone in a high position, entrusted with governing the state, whom the people look up to and whose actions shape their allegiance. If he stubbornly persists in error and conceals his faults, he will eventually stop hearing the truth. Such things do happen. This shows that those who governed in ancient times were humble in spirit, glad to accept good counsel, calm and even-tempered, and free of any stubborn attachment to their own opinions. Some say that even the benevolent and the wise may not know how to accept frank advice or correct themselves when they discover a fault. In fact, only those who can do these things deserve to be called wise and trustworthy.

Cheng Ying and Gongsun Chujiu were both retainers of Zhao Shuo. When disaster struck the Zhao clan, Gongsun Chujiu asked Cheng Ying, “Why don’t you go and die?” Cheng Ying replied, “Zhao Shuo’s wife is pregnant with his posthumous child. If she is fortunate enough to give birth to a boy, I will raise him to adulthood. If she gives birth to a girl, I will die later.”

Before long, Zhao Shuo’s wife escaped and gave birth to a boy. When Tu’an Gu heard of it, he sent men to search for the child. Zhao Shuo’s wife hid him beneath her trousers and prayed, “Is the Zhao clan to be wiped out? If it is, let the child cry. If it is not, let him stay silent.” When the searchers came, the child did not make a sound, and they were fortunate enough to escape.

Cheng Ying said to Gongsun Chujiu, “They searched and failed to find him this time, but they will come again. What should we do?” Gongsun Chujiu asked, “Which is harder: to raise the orphan or to die?” Cheng Ying replied, “Raising the orphan is harder.” Gongsun Chujiu said, “The former lords of the Zhao clan treated you generously. Do your best at the harder task; I will take the easier one.”

After they had made their plan, the two men found another infant, wrapped him in a patterned swaddling cloth, and had Gongsun Chujiu carry the child into hiding in the mountains. Cheng Ying went to inform on them and led the soldiers to the hiding place. Gongsun Chujiu cursed him: “Cheng Ying, you wretch! Since you could not die for the Zhao clan, you once agreed with me to hide the orphan, yet now you have betrayed him!” Holding the child, he cried out and begged them to spare him. The soldiers refused and killed Gongsun Chujiu as well. The commanders thought their great deed was done, unaware that the real orphan was still hidden with Cheng Ying.

Fifteen years later, Duke Jing fell gravely ill. The diviner said, “The legacy of the Zhao ancestors has not been continued; this is the cause of the haunting.” Duke Jing told Han Jue. Knowing that the Zhao heir was still alive, Han Jue said, “The clan whose ancestors’ legacy has been cut off and whose sacrifices cannot continue must surely be the Zhao clan.” He then told Duke Jing the truth. Duke Jing summoned the heir…

Duke Jing of Jin was about to go into the palace to inquire after the sick. Han Jue, relying on the duke’s authority, coerced the various generals and took them to see Zhao Wu, the orphan of the Zhao clan. Han Jue said, “The calamity in the past was caused entirely by Tu’an Gu. Now, while the ruler is ill, the ministers had originally intended to petition that a descendant of the Zhao clan be established as heir. Now the ruler has given the order, and all the ministers are willing to act accordingly.”

Thereupon Duke Jing summoned Zhao Wu and had him pay his respects to each of the generals in turn. After that, they attacked Tu’an Gu, exterminated his clan, and returned the Zhao family’s former lands and fiefs to the Zhao clan.

At this time Cheng Ying took leave of Zhao Wu, saying, “In those years I did not die because I wanted to establish a descendant of the Zhao clan. Now that you have been established, I must go underground to report the news to Zhao Meng and Gongsun Chujiu.”

Zhao Wu wept and tried to detain him, saying, “I am willing to endure hardship and suffering until death to repay you. How can you bear to abandon me?”

Cheng Ying said, “No. Gongsun Chujiu believed that the great undertaking could succeed, and so he died before me. If I do not go now to report to him, it would amount to saying that what he and I did did not succeed.” With that, he killed himself.

The Hongdao Lu comments: In my view, are not the deeds of Cheng Ying and Gongsun Chujiu in practicing trustworthiness and righteousness more worthy of praise than the service to their ruler of Li Ke and Xun Xi? Keeping faith means not merely speaking without shame, but, more importantly, being able to fulfill a commitment from beginning to end and bring matters to completion. While Shensheng was still alive, Xun Xi was already a minister of honored rank, and Li Ke personally held the post of Grand Tutor; they were not merely retainers of the Zhao family like Cheng Ying and Gongsun Chujiu.

If these two ministers could have worked together, planned the most difficult task, divided the easier tasks between them, and personally escorted the crown prince in flight, as Cheng Ying protected the Zhao orphan, Shensheng might have survived. Before Shensheng died, Li Ke made no plan for him; this was Li Ke’s great crime. Li Ke could also have acted like Gongsun Chujiu, remaining at court personally to await punishment, or even falsely claiming that he had harbored the crown prince. He did not do this, yet wanted Xiqi and Zhuozi to come to power in turn, hoping to reverse the situation by changing rulers—this was precisely the difficult task of which Cheng Ying spoke. The key to success perhaps lay in seeking a solution once, rather than waiting for another regicide; this too is quite clear.

Alas, one was a wailing orphan, the other a dignified gentleman. If trustworthiness and righteousness are valued, even a severed line can be reconnected; if they are slighted, even the living will go toward death. This can be seen in the deeds of these four men. As for the saying about “reporting the news underground,” it was by and large merely a remark of the shi of the Spring and Autumn period and need not be examined too deeply.

The state of Jin imprisoned Shuxiang. Yue Wangfu went to see Shuxiang and said, “I will plead with the ruler on your behalf.” Shuxiang did not respond; when Yue Wangfu left, Shuxiang did not salute him either. The bystanders all blamed Shuxiang. Shuxiang said, “The one who will plead for me must be Minister Qi.”

When the steward of Minister Qi’s household heard this, he said, “Whatever Yue Wangfu says before the ruler is never rejected. If you ask him to plead for you, he can get the ruler to pardon you; Minister Qi cannot do that, yet you say you must rely on him...”

Why was Shuxiang, a senior official of Jin during the Spring and Autumn period, not punished? Shuxiang had once said, “Yue Wangfu is a man who simply obeys the ruler. How could he get anything done? But Lord Qi, Qi Xi, can recommend outsiders without overlooking his enemies, and recommend those close to him without overlooking his relatives. Why, then, has he forgotten me alone?”

Qi Xi was already old. When he heard what had happened, he took a post carriage to visit Fan Xuanzi, the chief minister of Jin, and said, “The Book of Songs says, ‘May kindness extend without end, so that descendants may enjoy its blessings.’ The Book of Documents says, ‘The wise and discerning have plans and accomplishments that can bring stability to the state.’ Shuxiang has the qualities of one who plans well and rarely errs, and who tirelessly teaches others. He is a pillar of the state. Even if his descendants were pardoned for ten generations to come, that could serve to encourage people of talent. Now, to punish Shuxiang alone in such a way that he cannot preserve himself, while also harming the state, would that not be foolish? Gun was put to death, yet Yu was appointed to office; Guan Shu and Cai Shu were executed, yet the Duke of Zhou served the king of Zhou. Why would you abandon a pillar of the state because of Shuhu, Shuxiang’s younger brother?”

Fan Xuanzi was pleased by what he heard. He invited Qi Xi into his carriage and took him to present his case before the other senior officials. As a result, Shuxiang was pardoned. Qi Xi returned without seeing Shuxiang, and Shuxiang did not tell Qi Xi that he had been released; he simply went to court as usual.

The Record of the Broad Way comments: “When I read the story of Shuxiang, I cannot help reflecting on how difficult it is to establish virtue, and how easy it is to destroy it. Pardoning a worthy man’s descendants for ten generations is a way to encourage the talented; allowing descendants to enjoy blessings is a way to carry on the family line. Within the Yangshe clan, Shuxiang alone possessed literary virtue, yet that was not enough to save the whole clan. Shuhu alone brought disgrace upon the family, yet he did more than enough to ruin it. This shows how fearsome the fortunes and misfortunes of a family can be, and how little they can be relied upon. Qi Xi’s words temporarily spared Shuxiang the disgrace of punishment, yet later Boshí, a descendant of the Yangshe clan, still brought about the clan’s destruction. Where, then, was the promised ‘pardon for ten generations’? Therefore, a noble person must be cautious and diligent. Even if one has done good, one must not become complacent; how much less should one indulge in licentiousness in the next generation, or trust in a family’s favor and advantages? Looking at the troubles of these two families, both began with secret, illicit relationships. Although the histories do not explain clearly how the calamity spread, those who wish to preserve their clans should take sexual misconduct as a warning and learn from the history of the fall of the Shang.”

When Shuxiang was in the state of Zheng, Zong Mie, a man of Zheng, was unattractive and wished to meet him. He followed the attendants carrying the utensils and stood below the hall. As soon as Zong Mie began to speak, Shuxiang thought his words excellent and recognized that he must be Zong Ming, Zong Mie’s courtesy name. He went down from the hall, took his hand, and led him up, saying, “Long ago, Lord Jia was ugly, but he married a beautiful wife. For three years, she neither spoke nor smiled. Then Lord Jia took her to a high place to shoot pheasants. When he hit one, his wife finally smiled and spoke. Lord Jia said, ‘Talent must be put to use! If I had not known how to shoot, I would almost have lost you.’ This is exactly how it is: principles and words ought to be expressed. You are young, and your looks are unremarkable. If you had not spoken, I would almost have missed you.” Afterward, Shuxiang continued to associate with him as before.

The Record of Broadening the Dao recounts: When we think of the ancients pursuing good conduct, it seems they were always afraid of falling behind. When we think instead of people today who give up on themselves and refuse to make an effort, we cannot help but sigh.

Mencius said, “If Xi Shi, the woman famed in antiquity for her beauty, were covered in filth, people would hold their noses as they passed her. Even someone ugly in appearance can serve the Lord of Heaven if they fast and bathe.” A person’s looks are not something to rely on; this principle has long been clear. Yet why did people so wish to meet Shuxiang, the Jin official of the Spring and Autumn period? Because he was widely learned, and because he was virtuous. He earned praise for his skill in recognizing worthy people, and was valued for it in turn. One can imagine how pleased they must have been when they met beneath the hall, clasped hands, and talked! The Book of Songs says, “Once I have seen my noble lord, he gives me a hundred friends.” How could meeting a virtuous person bring benefits no greater than receiving a single pheasant? To have such a wife, too, is enough to make one happy.

Wu Can of Chu and the Grand Preceptor Zichao of Cai were friends. Wu Can’s son, Wu Ju, was close to Shengzi. Wu Ju married the daughter of Prince Mou. Prince Mou later became the Lord of Shen and then died. The people of Chu accused Wu Ju of effectively having sent Prince Mou to his death, implying that Wu Ju had killed him. Wu Ju therefore fled to Zheng, intending to escape from there to Jin. When Shengzi was about to travel to Jin, he met Wu Ju in the countryside outside Zheng. They spread out thorn branches to sit on, and ate and talked together. Wu Ju said he was leaving. Shengzi replied, “Go ahead of me. I will certainly bring you back.”

Later, Xiang Xu of Song set out to mediate the dispute between Jin and Chu. Shengzi was sent on a mission to Jin. When he returned, Zimu, the prime minister of Chu, asked him, “Between the officials of Jin and those of Chu, which side has the more capable men?” Shengzi replied, “Jin’s high ministers are not as capable as Chu’s, but all of Jin’s officials have the abilities of high ministers. It is like the catalpa wood, leather, and other products that originally come from Chu but are taken and put to use by Jin. Chu may have capable people, but Jin is the one who actually employs them.”

Zimu asked, “Do they have no clan relatives?” Shengzi replied, “They do have clan relatives, but Jin truly employs many people from Chu. Now there is an even more serious case than that of Shijiao: Wu Ju married the daughter of the Lord of Shen. After the Lord of Shen died, people said Wu Ju had killed him. Afraid, Wu Ju fled to Zheng. He craned his neck to look south toward Chu, hoping Chu would pardon him, though he did not dare count on it. Now he has reached Jin. Jin is preparing to grant him a county, giving him standing comparable to that of Shuju. If he were to plot against Chu, would that not become a disaster?”

Zimu was alarmed by this. He advised the king of Chu to increase Wu Ju’s stipend and rank and summon him back to Chu. Shengzi sent Jiao Ming to meet Wu Ju.

The Record of Broadening the Dao comments: Shengzi’s remarks about Chu’s talented people are entirely the same in argument and meaning as Li Si’s words urging the king of Qin not to expel visiting officials. A capable person from one’s own state ought to be valued by that state. If it does not value them, others will draw them into their service. What happened in the past is enough to serve as a warning; lessons from the past are meant to caution those who come after. Even if every Wu Ju of today were summoned back, it still might not be…

This scripture recounts the story of two loyal ministers from the Spring and Autumn period—Wu Zixu and Shen Baoxu. When Wu Zixu fled to the state of Wu after his father Wu She was unjustly executed by King Ping of Chu, he vowed to his friend Shen Baoxu: "I will surely overthrow Chu." Shen Baoxu replied, "If you can destroy it, I will surely restore it."

Later, when Wu's armies sacked the Chu capital and King Zhao of Chu fled to the state of Sui, Shen Baoxu journeyed to Qin for aid. He likened Wu to "ravaging boars and giant serpents," warning that Qin would be Wu's next target if Chu fell. For seven days and nights, he wept at the Qin court without food or water until Duke Ai of Qin, moved by his devotion, dispatched troops to rescue Chu.

The commentary observes: How resolute were the ancients in their convictions, compared to our present laxity! One sought to destroy his country, the other to save it—seemingly contradictory, yet both acted from loyalty. Wu Zixu bore the bitter hatred of his family's massacre; Shen Baoxu faced his homeland's ruin with equal devotion. Had their circumstances been reversed, each would have made the same choice. Such spirit—pledging one's very life to fulfill an oath—shines through history like a mirror.

(Note: Wu She was a Chu minister; Helü was the king of Wu; "ravaging boars and giant serpents" metaphorically describe greedy Wu; No Clothes is a battle hymn from the Classic of Poetry expressing shared resolve against enemies.)

The great principles were already settled in his heart: to make righteousness clear and set an example. To offer vague agreement, drift with the crowd, or rely on others to act—these are the ways of the mediocre and incapable. Would Wu Zixu and Shen Baoxu ever have acted like that?

The Records of the Grand Historian relates that Su Wu and Li Ling had both served as attendants at court. They were officials and friends. Later, Li Ling surrendered to the Xiongnu, while Su Wu was detained and steadfastly refused to yield. He was exiled to the Northern Sea, near present-day Lake Baikal, where his food ran out. He survived by digging up wild mice and pulling up grass roots. Day and night, Su Wu held fast to the Han court’s tally, until every tuft of yak hair had fallen from its staff. The Chanyu, ruler of the Xiongnu, made a bargain with him: he would be allowed to return only when a ram gave birth to a lamb.

Struck by this bargain, Li Ling set out wine and said to Su Wu, “Life is brief, like morning dew. Why put yourself through such hardship?” Su Wu replied, “My father and I had no great merit, yet we held the rank of generals and were enfeoffed as marquises. We have always been willing to give our lives for our country. Now I have the chance to serve it, and I am entirely willing. Please do not speak this way again.” The two then drank together for several days.

Li Ling said again, “I know that I am already a dead man. If the king insists that I surrender, let me enjoy this banquet today, then die before you.” Hearing Su Wu’s words, Li Ling sighed, “Alas! The crimes of Li Ling and Wei Lü reach up to Heaven!” Tears wet his robes as he took leave of Su Wu. Li Ling composed a poem: “Strive to honor bright virtue, and keep to it until your hair turns white.” Su Wu replied, “Alive, I shall surely return; dead, I shall long remain in your thoughts.”

The Hongdao lu comments: “In my view, Li Ling and Su Wu were not far apart at first, yet in the end one became a celebrated minister and the other a captive who had surrendered. The celebrated minister’s portrait was painted in the Qilin Pavilion, while the captive willingly remained among the wilds. From this we can see that present pleasure cannot compare with a reputation that endures after death. Integrity is a great principle between Heaven and Earth; wealth and rank are as fleeting as morning dew.

“Still, Li Ling’s fate was of his own choosing. When Sima Qian wrote his biography, could he have felt no remorse? Sima Qian’s disregard for loyalty and righteousness had its own causes. Alas, a ram may give birth to a lamb, but what has rotted cannot come back to life. Had Li Ling not endured such suffering, Su Wu’s words of counsel would scarcely be worth discussing.”

The Book of the Later Han records that Fan Shi, style name Juqing, was from Shanyang Commandery. As a young man, he studied at the Imperial Academy, where he became friends with Zhang Shao, style name Yuanbo, from Runan Commandery. When the two took leave together to return home, Fan Shi said to Yuanbo, “In two years I’ll come back. On my way, I’ll pay my respects to your parents and see your children.” So they agreed on a date. As the appointed day approached, Yuanbo told his mother about it and asked her to prepare food and wait for Fan Shi. His mother said, “You parted two years ago and are a thousand li apart. How can you be so sure he’ll come, based on a single promise?” Yuanbo replied:

Fan Juqing (Fan Shi) was a man who kept his word. He would certainly not break his promise. Zhang Yuanbo’s (Zhang Shao’s) mother said, “If that is truly so, I will brew wine for you.”

When the appointed day arrived, Fan Juqing came as expected. He entered the hall, paid his respects, and drank happily with them before taking his leave. Later, Zhang Yuanbo served as a merit officer, a subordinate official in the commandery government. Fan Juqing suddenly fell gravely ill and died.

Fan Juqing dreamed that Zhang Yuanbo said to him, “I will die on such-and-such a day and be buried on such-and-such a day. You have not forgotten me. Can you come in time to see me off?” Fan Juqing awoke in a daze and immediately set out to attend the funeral. Before he arrived, the funeral procession had already departed. When he reached the burial ground, the coffin was about to be lowered into the grave, but it refused to move forward. Zhang Yuanbo’s mother stroked the coffin and said, “Yuanbo, are you still waiting for someone?” The coffin then came to a stop. A little while later, a white carriage drawn by a white horse came along, with someone weeping inside. Zhang Yuanbo’s mother looked toward the newcomer and said, “This must be Fan Juqing.” When Fan Juqing arrived, he patted the coffin and said, “Come, Yuanbo. The paths of life and death are different; from now on, we part forever.” With that, he took hold of the rope used to draw the coffin. Only then did it move forward.

The Hongdao lu comments: The response that manifested after Zhang Yuanbo’s death arose from the promise Fan Juqing had faithfully kept while alive. Though life and death belong to separate paths, there is no difference between the utmost sincerity and the mysterious power it brings forth. Thus, to look for it and not see it, to listen for it and not hear it—this is “sincerity.” Its presence can be felt throughout the myriad things, leaving nothing untouched—this is “spirit.” It is because of utmost sincerity that mysterious responses arise; because of the mysterious, there is a response.

The visions seen by mediums are likewise of this kind. The apparitions of ghosts and the responses of spirits all arise from the essence and root of the primordial Qi within us. There, they vibrate, gather, and move. Their mutual response occurs naturally; it is not deliberately arranged. Had Fan Juqing’s promise to travel a thousand miles to meet his friend fallen through, then in the unseen realm he and Zhang Yuanbo would surely have grown distant from each other. Had Zhang Yuanbo’s mother not prepared wine and food of chicken and millet to welcome Fan Juqing, her words as she stroked the coffin at the moment of burial would not have carried her expectation that he would come.

An ancient text says, “Without evidence, people cannot be made to believe.” The first line of the nine in the Zhongfu hexagram says, “With sincerity and caution, good fortune.” Is this not precisely what happened between Jinxiang, Zhang Yuanbo’s home, and Runan, Fan Juqing’s home?

Zhu Hui’s father, Zhu Cen, studied in Chang’an in his youth alongside Emperor Guangwu, and the two had been old friends. After ascending the throne, Emperor Guangwu once asked after Zhu Cen. Learning that he had died, he summoned Zhu Hui, appointed him a gentleman-in-attendance, and later promoted him to Grand Administrator of Linhuai. Zhu Hui valued integrity and promoted people of upright character. Officials and commoners both feared and respected him, and so a song praised him: “Firm and upright, decisive in action: Zhu Ji of Nanyang. Officials fear his authority; the people remember his kindness.”

Zhang Kan, a man of great renown from the same county, once met Zhu Hui at the Imperial University. He thought highly of him, treated him as a friend, and, taking hold of Zhu Hui’s arm, said, “I would like to entrust my wife and children to you.” Zhu Hui considered Zhang Kan a man who had achieved distinction earlier than he had…

He raised his hand but did not dare answer him face to face. After that, the two never saw one another again. Later, Kan heard that Hui’s wife and children were living in great poverty. He went to visit them in person and gave them a great deal of money and supplies.

Hui’s younger son, Jie, was puzzled and asked, “Father and Kan were not friends, and I have never heard that you were close. I have never understood this.” Hui replied, “Kan once spoke of me as a kindred spirit. I have kept those words in my heart ever since, and I believe in the bond they expressed.”

Chen Yi, a fellow native of the commandery, died young, leaving behind an unborn child. Hui befriended the child and cared for him out of pity for his circumstances. Later, when Huan Yu, Minister over the Masses, became governor of Nanyang, he summoned Hui’s son Pian to serve as an official. Hui declined the appointment on his son’s behalf and instead recommended a friend. Huan Yu was deeply moved and summoned that friend. Such was Hui’s integrity and faithfulness.

The Hongdao lu comments: From Yan Guang, in the time of Emperor Guangwu, championing lofty principles among those above, to the people of Shanyang and Runan embracing them among those below, Cen and Hui were among those who heard of these customs and acted upon them. Afterward, discussions arose about “ending friendships.” Through this, a gentleman can observe how the ways of the age change.

Cai Yong wrote the “Treatise on Proper Friendship” to uphold Zhu Mu’s aims. Its general argument is as follows:

An upright person does not befriend the crooked. Such people’s bonds are sincere and honorable, and their pledges are kept faithfully and firmly. When the virtue of government began to decline in the Zhou dynasty, the lament of the abandoned woman in “The East Wind” came into being. Its roots lay in failings of governance.

From then on, the ways of the age gradually deteriorated. Some could not remain on good terms with friends from beginning to end; some formed cliques under pressure; some despised shallow, self-serving relationships; and others, loathing factionalism, simply cut off all association.

Therefore, a gentleman is careful in choosing those with whom he associates, and weighs carefully with whom he ought to associate. If he examines how a relationship began, he can understand why it ended; if he sees how it started, he can foresee how it will conclude.

Later scholars who held fast to their principles did not wait to befriend others until they were wealthy and honored, nor did they look down on the poor and lowly once they themselves had gained wealth and status. For this they deserve respect. Friends stay together when their association accords with what is right, and part when it does not. If a friend does good, remember his past words for a long time; if he does wrong, advise him sincerely and guide him toward goodness.

Thus, a gentleman does nothing that would give others cause to abandon him, and does not worry that others will betray him. He possesses virtue worthy of trust and reliance, and is not troubled when others distance themselves from him. Even if such a misfortune befalls him, he should blame himself more and others less; in this way, he can avoid resentment.

In the past, Zixia was generous in temperament, so Confucius taught him to know when to refuse others. Zizhang was narrow in temperament, so Confucius taught him to be tolerant of everyone. As for Confucius’s teaching of the proper Way, it was to care for all people and draw close to those who were humane. The Guliangzi says, “When hearts and aspirations cannot be brought into accord, reputation and renown…”

When you hear that a friend has done wrong, you may want to stop the wrongdoing from spreading and cut it off at its roots. Yet this is ultimately less fitting than clarifying the upright way, rejecting what is crooked, trusting in good conduct, and taking wrongdoing upon yourself.

The Hongdao lu says: Zhu Gongshu (Zhu Mu) advocated ending friendships in order to correct the frivolous and restless tendencies of his time; he spoke this way only because he felt he had no choice. But when Cai Bojie (Cai Yong) spoke of Dong Zhuo’s kindness toward him, was he also compelled to say those things? If so, should we forget the principle of rejecting what is crooked and taking wrongdoing upon ourselves? It is also said: those who criticize frivolous customs are often learned and discerning; those who end friendships remain upright but alone. The lonely person has the integrity praised in “The Lamb,” a poem in the Book of Songs. Rather than flee out of necessity, it is better to become this kind of upright and solitary person. This saying is all the more credible.

The Book of Wei records that Zhai Heizi, Duke of Liaodong, enjoyed Emperor Taiwu of Wei’s favor. While on an imperial mission to Bingzhou, he accepted a thousand bolts of cloth. After the matter came to light, he asked Gao Yun, a Court Gentleman of the Imperial Library: “If the ruler asks me about this, should I tell the truth or conceal it?” Gao Yun replied: “You are a favored confidant close to the emperor. If you admit your offense at once, you may yet be forgiven. You should not lie and deceive him.” But Cui Jian and Gongsun Zhi, Attendant Gentlemen of the Secretariat, said: “If you admit it, the consequences are impossible to predict. It would be better to conceal it.” Zhai Heizi therefore grew angry with Gao Yun and said, “Why are you leading me to my death?” When he went before the emperor, he did not answer truthfully. The emperor was enraged and had him killed.

Later, the emperor ordered Gao Yun to teach the crown prince the classics. When Cui Hao was arrested over his work compiling the official history, Gao Yun was also in danger of being implicated. The crown prince said to Gao Yun: “When I go before the emperor, I will try to get you out of trouble. If the emperor questions you, simply answer as I tell you.” Before the emperor, the crown prince said that Gao Yun was cautious and discreet, and held a low position; Cui Hao had directed the compilation of the history. He asked the emperor to spare Gao Yun from execution. The emperor summoned Gao Yun and asked, “Was the national history written entirely by Cui Hao?” Gao Yun answered, “Cui Hao and I compiled it together.” The crown prince, alarmed, said, “His Majesty’s authority is awe-inspiring. Gao Yun is only a minor official and must have been so frightened that he lost his composure. I asked him just now, and he said it was all written by Cui Hao.” The emperor asked Gao Yun, “Is it really as the crown prince says?” Gao Yun replied, “My offense should have brought punishment upon my whole family. I dare not lie. His Highness has had me serve as his lecturer for many years and took pity on me, hoping to secure my life. In fact, he never questioned me, and I never said those things.”

The emperor turned to the crown prince and said, “This man is truly upright. Even when facing death, he does not change his answer. He can indeed be trusted. A subject who does not deceive his ruler is acting with integrity.” He therefore pardoned Gao Yun. Later, the crown prince reproached Gao Yun, saying, “I wanted to save your life. Why didn’t you listen to me?” Gao Yun replied, “Cui Hao and I truly did take part together in compiling the history. In life or death, honor or disgrace, one should act according to what is right…” The original text breaks off here.

“I owe it to Your Highness’s life-giving kindness that I did not kill Zhai Heizi on my own. But to go against my conscience and escape punishment by compromising my principles is not what I wish to do.”

The Crown Prince was moved by his words. He praised him with heartfelt admiration and agreed to let him withdraw. Then he said to those around him, “I refused the Eastern Palace officials’ advice because I feared letting Zhai Heizi down.”

The Hongdao lu comments: Gao Bogong did not let Zhai Heizi down, and he was indeed true to his word. But he did not understand that fidelity should first accord with what is right; he even took “being someone others can rely on” as his guiding principle. Zhai Heizi had taken bribes, repaid kindness with betrayal, and abandoned what was right. He had already disgraced his mission and committed the gravest of crimes. Whether or not he truthfully confessed, by rights he could hardly escape death. Why, then, did Gao Bogong fail to guard his words carefully, and instead let them slip to Cui Jian and Gongsun Zhi?

Cui Hao acted out of selfish desire, favoring Duke Wen of Wen and allowing personal likes and dislikes to cloud his judgment. He harmed an upright man, and this was Heaven’s punishment. Even if Jianbu [the person referred to here] had not exposed him, he could hardly have escaped death. Why, then, did he fail to see the situation clearly in time, and instead act differently from Min Zhan and Xi Biao?

Perhaps it was because Yun Ya followed Buddhism and Daoism but did not take Confucius as his guide, and so he could hardly avoid placing his trust in the wrong people. If, as might well have happened, Jingmu’s plea had gone unheeded and Emperor Taiwu’s tyranny had continued, I believe he too would have fallen into ruin. Thus Zong Qin said, “Yun was truly a sage.” I say instead, “Yun was truly a fool.”

The Book of Tang records: Wu Jing and Zhang Yue served together as court historians and were also appointed to oversee the compilation of the Veritable Records of Zetian. Wu Jing recorded the facts truthfully. When Wei Yuanzhong was serving as chief minister, he had once told the empress dowager to her face, “Since the previous emperor’s time, I have received your favor. Now I have reluctantly taken on the office of chief minister, yet I have failed to serve with complete loyalty and have allowed petty men to remain close to the emperor. This is my fault.”

The empress dowager was displeased when she heard this, and the Zhang brothers were furious. They falsely accused Wei Yuanzhong, saying, “The empress dowager is advanced in years. It would be better to install the Crown Prince, so that the dynasty’s future might be secured.” The empress dowager was enraged, had Wei Yuanzhong imprisoned, and prepared to question him in court. Zhang Changzong secretly won over Zhang Yue, a Gentleman of the Phoenix Pavilion, offering him a high office in exchange for testifying against Wei Yuanzhong. Zhang Yue agreed.

The next day, the empress dowager issued an edict summoning the Crown Prince, Prince Xiang, and the chief ministers to hear the confrontation. The two sides argued back and forth, but no conclusion was reached. Zhang Changzong said, “Zhang Yue heard Yuanzhong’s remarks. Summon him.”

Song Jing said to Zhang Yue, “Integrity and righteousness are of the utmost importance; even the spirits cannot be deceived. You must not side with evil and frame an upright man just to escape punishment. Even if you are convicted and sent into exile, that would still be an honor. If anything changes, I, Song Jing, will knock at the palace gate and argue your case with all my strength. I will die alongside you. Do your utmost. The integrity that will earn the admiration of generations to come rests on this one act.”

The Left Historian Liu Zhiji also said, “Do not stain the history books and leave trouble for your descendants.” Zhang Yue then entered the palace. The empress dowager questioned him, but before Zhang Yue could answer, Zhang Changzong…

Someone nearby pressed him, saying, “His Majesty is right there in court, and you see how he behaves. What must he be like when he is outside?” Yuan Zhong replied, “I truly have never heard of such things. Zhang Changzong is only pressuring me to give false testimony.” Later, Yuan Zhong was summoned to face his accusers again, as before, and so escaped execution.

At the time, after the court historian witnessed this incident, Zhang Yue privately asked him to alter a few words. The historian Wei Jing steadfastly refused, saying, “If I grant your request, this history will no longer be written with a steady brush. How could it be trusted by people in the future?”

The Hongdao lu comments: “When I consider how the ancients upheld their integrity, I see that even when someone pleaded for the sake of changing just a few words, the historian still firmly refused. How much more should one refuse a request that violates ritual and righteousness? Thus, in conducting themselves in the world, exemplary people must be able to face their own conscience without shame. Only then will they have no need to ask anything of others. While alive, Zhang Yue wronged Song Jing; after his death, he brought trouble upon Yao Chong. He was ashamed before Heaven when he looked up, and ashamed before people when he looked down. There are many such cases. Even if he had persuaded Wei Jing to secretly alter the history, how could he have escaped the open censure of later generations? Alas, judging from what came before, this was submission to power; judging from what came after, it was greed for gain. Few people can remain steadfast and undeluded when power and profit are before them. And how many others besides Zhang Yue have acted this way?”

Li Hua admired the character of Yuan Dexiu, Xiao Yingshi, and Liu Xun, and wrote the “Treatise on the Three Worthies.” He said: “Yuan Dexiu aspired to govern the world through the Dao; Liu Xun hoped to harmonize people’s hearts by means of the Six Classics; Xiao Yingshi wanted to transform his age through ancient institutions and principles. Yuan Dexiu wished to educate both the foolish and the wise. Liu Xun lamented that the myriad things had not each attained their proper place. Xiao Yingshi could humble himself and accommodate others to gain high office and generous stipends, yet he would not sacrifice even a moment of peace and calm. If Yuan Dexiu were placed in the role of tutor and guardian to the ruler, his benevolence would become clear through his courage and bearing. If Liu Xun held the position of a high minister, discussing the causes of good and bad governance with guests and friends and investigating the fundamental principles between Heaven and Earth, his subtle insight would become clear. Xiao Yingshi was like steel refined a hundred times: only when faced with the rise and fall of dynasties, choices of advance and retreat, and matters of life and death could his integrity be seen.

“Yuan Dexiu believed that when rulers composed music to make their Virtue manifest, this was the most perfect expression between Heaven and humanity; without fitting musical compositions, there was no music at all. He therefore wrote the ‘Lyrics for the Broken Formation Music’ to correct the historical accounts of the Shang and Zhou dynasties. Liu Xun believed that historians of successive eras had recorded history through the Rites, the Changes, the Documents, the Odes, and the Spring and Autumn Annals. He therefore wrote the ‘Five Discourses on Antiquity,’ tracing the origins and development of the various schools of thought in order to give a complete account of change from ancient times to the present. Xiao Yingshi criticized Sima Qian for not writing history in chronological form, but instead using the biographical form; later generations followed this practice, contrary to traditional standards. Yet each of the three also had shortcomings: Yuan Dexiu was fond of wine, Liu Xun delighted in collecting objects, and Xiao Yingshi was too quick to condemn wicked people. As for their strengths, Yuan Dexiu could shoulder great responsibility, while Liu Xun…”

Such a person can serve as a teacher to others. People regard this as a sound and fitting judgment.

The Hongdao lu says: I have observed that in ancient times, people made friends with the worthy. Later, as people began judging one another’s character, this custom gradually became superficial. The principles of friendship can, at the highest level, assist Heaven and Earth and take part in the transformation of all things; at the middle level, they can govern worldly affairs and set social order right; and at the lowest level, they can produce books and establish teachings. They are not confined to skills, abilities, and literary expression.

Zizhi (a personal name) possessed an independent integrity and aspired to make the Great Dao prevail throughout the world, so that the world would belong to all. His bearing seemed that of a figure from before the Three Dynasties. Maoting (a personal name) was so firm in principle that even the peoples beyond the borders wished to take him as their teacher—how much more so would the people of China! Jieqing’s (a personal name) family learning had already explained the way of the ancient sage kings thoroughly; how much more could later generations learn from it! Hua (a personal name) placed his trust in these principles, and had good reason to do so.

The Hongdao lu ends here.

Hongdao lu, scroll nine

Trustworthiness—Honesty Between Friends

The History of the Song records: Liu Anshi and Sima Guang were born in the same year and were close friends. After Liu Anshi passed the civil service examination, he resigned and returned to Luoyang. Sima Guang asked why he was going back. Liu replied, “I have not yet learned to be trustworthy.” Sima Guang greatly admired this answer and invited him to study with him.

One day, Liu Anshi rose from his seat and asked about the essentials of acting with wholehearted commitment and cultivating oneself, and about a principle he could follow throughout his life. Sima Guang replied, “It is probably sincerity.” Liu Anshi then asked where he should begin. Sima Guang answered, “Begin by not telling lies.” From then on, Liu Anshi kept this teaching firmly in mind and never forgot it throughout his life.

Later, Liu Anshi was appointed judicial adjutant in Zhizhou. The local household registrar was notorious for embezzlement. The fiscal commissioner Wu Shouli planned to investigate the matter and asked Liu Anshi about it. Liu Anshi said there had been no embezzlement, so Wu Shouli stopped the inquiry. But Liu Anshi felt uneasy and said, “The registrar really was corrupt, yet I did not answer truthfully. Does that not go against Lord Sima’s teaching?” Later, he read these words in Yang Xiong’s Fayan: “A gentleman avoids obstacles and thereby gains a clear understanding of the Way.” Only then did his doubts subside.

At home, Liu Anshi never appeared idle or slack. Even after sitting for a long time, he did not slouch or lean; he never wrote carelessly; and he disliked sensual pleasures and the pursuit of wealth. In every word and deed, he took Sima Guang as his model.

Sima Guang once lamented that worthy men were passing away one after another, while Liu Anshi alone still lived. As a result, Liu’s reputation grew ever greater. Liang Shicheng admired his virtue and sent the minor official Wu Mo with a letter, promising him an important post. Wu Mo also urged him to consider his descendants’ prospects. Liu Anshi smiled and said, “If I had been thinking of my descendants, I would not have ended up where I am today. I hope to remain an unblemished minister of the Yuanyou era, so that when I meet Sima Guang in the underworld, I can say the same of myself.” He then returned the letter without replying.

The Hongdao lu says: Mr. Yuancheng (Liu Anshi) followed Lord Wen (Sima Guang). He suffered setbacks and fell time and again, yet never changed his course. Even as he lay dying, he still hoped to meet Sima Guang in the underworld. Why was this? Because …

The Six Second line of the “Wuwang” (“Without Recklessness”) hexagram says: “Do not act recklessly; follow the times. Without plowing, you can still reap a harvest; without clearing the land, you can still cultivate it. In this way, it is advantageous to undertake a task.” If one cannot remain true and steadfast from beginning to end, holding firmly to one’s position without changing it lightly, one will inevitably be tempted by profit and rank or swayed by power and influence.

Later, Li Guang honored Anshi as his teacher, observing the proper rites. Anshi recalled words he had heard from Sima Guang, known as Lord Wen: “Learning should begin with ‘without recklessness’: set one’s intentions right.” Hence the saying: “Without sincerity, there is nothing real.” If a person cannot trust himself, how can he earn the trust of others? If he does not trust others, how can he trust those around him? Li Guang may be said to have lived up to the teachings of the sages.

When Chen Xiang was young, he became friends with his fellow townsmen Chen Lie, Zhou Ximeng, and Zheng Mu. They were principled and steadfast, simple in manner and lofty in conduct. They encouraged and challenged one another, all aspiring to shoulder responsibility for the realm. Scholars of the time were absorbed in refining literary style, dismissing any teaching that explored the principles of Heaven and fully examined human nature as pedantic and empty talk. The four men joined in promoting this teaching along the coast. At first, those who heard them mocked them, but the four refused to change; instead, they held to their convictions even more firmly. They began by putting the teaching into practice in their own homes, then extended it to the prefectures, counties, and villages. In time, people were persuaded, and elders urged their sons and younger relatives to study with the four. Scholars in Fujian honored them as the “Four Masters.” Even those who were unruly and difficult to discipline dared not behave disrespectfully in their presence.

The Record comments: At that time, people in Fujian had not yet heard of “Min Learning.” The four masters led their communities through their own example. Though the undertaking began with great difficulty, it ultimately transformed local customs. This was Heaven opening the way for the flourishing of Confucian learning, and a sign that people across the realm were turning, without prior agreement, toward the same principle.

Xie Liangzuo, a Northern Song scholar, put what he learned into practice and held firmly to his convictions. He studied under the two Cheng brothers, Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi. One day, Cheng Hao said to him: “You all follow us only to learn words. What you think in your hearts does not match what you say. Why not put what you learn into practice yourselves?”

A year after parting from Cheng Yi, Xie Liangzuo went to see him. Cheng Yi asked, “After being apart so long, what work have you done?” Xie Liangzuo replied, “I have only cast off one word: ‘self-conceit.’” Here, “self-conceit” refers to pride and self-display. Cheng Yi asked why. He answered, “On careful examination, I found that all my faults lie here. Only by restraining this failing can I hope to make progress.”

Hu Wending asked, “Why does the word ‘self-conceit’ carry such a serious fault?” Xie Liangzuo replied, “When people act nowadays, they think only of winning acclaim in the eyes of others and pay no attention at all to their own hearts.”

Regarding putting this teaching into practice, Yichuan (Cheng Yi) said with delight, “This person may be called diligent in learning, earnest in seeking instruction, and skilled at reflecting on himself.” He also said, “Even when Heaven’s Mandate seems close at hand, one must trust it and then work at it. All things have a true Heaven’s Mandate; no amount of human calculation can change it. In my life I have never sought favors from others. Even when I held a post in the Directorate of Education, I did not go to pay visits to the ministers in power. When someone urged me to do so, I replied, ‘How could they make me what I am? I have my own Heaven’s Mandate.’ If you cannot trust Heaven’s Mandate, the slightest disturbance will give rise to fear, worry, and delight, all of which waste your strength. Only by trusting Heaven’s Mandate can you preserve your Qi and remain undaunted.”

The Hongdao Lu says: How can we tell how serious the fault of boasting is? Yu the Great was a great sage, yet he said, “If you do not boast, no one under Heaven will compete with you in ability; if you do not boast of your achievements, no one under Heaven will compete with you over merit.” Yan Hui was a great worthy, and he too said, “I hope not to show off my good deeds or make a point of my hardships.” When people think little of themselves, they are satisfied with a few words of praise and take pride in a single skill. If they indulge themselves, they fail to see their own shortcomings and imagine they excel in every way. This is a grave failing among those who study, and it ultimately keeps them from entering the Way of Yao and Shun. Alas, Shangcai’s (Xie Liangzuo’s) learning was distinguished and upright, reaching a height beyond the reach of ordinary people precisely for this reason. How can students fail to reflect on themselves and strive?

When Zhu Guangting first studied under Hu Anding (Hu Yuan), Hu told him that the foundation of learning lay in making loyalty and trustworthiness one’s guiding principles. Zhu Guangting followed this teaching throughout his life. Later, when he became a student of the two Cheng brothers, everyone was astonished, but Zhu Guangting remained unwavering in his trust, devoted himself to learning, and held firmly to his resolve. His character was as steadfast as metal and stone, fit to be sworn before the spirits. Whether serving in government or living at home, governing the people or handling affairs, responding in haste or conducting himself in daily life, he took complete sincerity as his standard. If we look back to the ancients, how many could compare with him? He upheld a minister’s integrity, with the stern and upright bearing of a historian. During the Xining, Yuanyou, and Jingguo eras, the political situation changed repeatedly. At the time, there were indeed men of nationwide renown who held high office at court and put their teachings into practice; yet, on close examination of their deeds, there was still cause for regret. A man like Master Zhuyan (Zhu Guangting), who remained steadfast in reverence and trust, put his learning into practice, and never abandoned his resolve, was truly rare.

Liu Xun studied under Cheng Mingdao, one of the two Cheng brothers, from childhood. Cheng Mingdao once said to someone, “Others may learn quickly, but it is hard to be sure they can keep it up. I have no doubts at all about this man’s resolve.” Yichuan (Cheng Yi) also said, “Many people have come to study at my school, but those who trust as steadfastly as this…”

Few people carry a task through with the steadfastness of Yan Hui, a disciple of Confucius. Perhaps he was endowed with exceptional natural ability. Before he had fully understood the principles he was studying, he was already devoting himself to probing their hidden and subtle depths, working diligently without turning his attention elsewhere. By nature he loved the good Way and was not misled by heterodox teachings, so he acted with composure. His resolve grew ever firmer, free from inner vacillation, and he therefore acted decisively.

Li Yu shared Yan Hui’s aspirations. Ever since the Cheng brothers, Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi, had brought the study of the Way to prominence, people at first met it with bewilderment and doubt. Li Yu and others did much to help scholars follow and trust in their teachings.

Lü Dajun was plainspoken and kind, upright and principled, and he took the work of the Confucian tradition as his own responsibility. Whatever he judged trustworthy and within his ability, he put into practice himself, without further hesitation or fear. For this reason, people of keen insight compared him to Jilu, the disciple of Confucius known for his boldness. Lü studied with Zhang Zai and was able to uphold his teacher’s teachings and put them into practice. He was especially fond of discussing the well-field system and military organization, believing that sound governance had to begin with such institutions. He compiled the relevant material into diagrams and records so that it could be clearly understood and put into effect. Though these ideas all derived from Zhang Zai, Lü held to them independently and worked hard to carry them out. Zhang Zai often remarked that even he could not match Lü.

Yichuan, Cheng Yi, once said, “When Heshou, Lü Dajun’s courtesy name, meets with me, I have no more doubts. After we part, doubts inevitably arise again. Yet I do not know whether he himself truly remains without doubt throughout. Nor do I know whether, after having no doubts, he later begins to doubt again.” Mingdao, Cheng Hao, then said, “Why not ask him what exactly he doubts?” He also said, “Heshou is utterly sincere and his convictions are upright, so he believes deeply and without doubt.”

The Hongdao lu comments: From the time Confucius’s school began transmitting its way of teaching, it was only now that scholars truly came to understand the sages’ teachings and feel a heartfelt longing for them. Without firm conviction and practical effort, learning is merely what is called “learning through the mouth and ears”; it does nothing to benefit the heart and body. How, then, could one be sure it would not soon be abandoned, instead of being followed throughout one’s life? This is crucial for students of the study of the Way, and it brings to mind once again the teachings that Confucius, Zengzi, Zixia, and others repeatedly expounded in the Analects.

When Yang Wanli first met Zhang Jun, posthumously titled Zhongxian, Zhang urged him to study the Way of rectifying the heart and making one’s intentions sincere. Yang respected this teaching and never forgot it. He even named his study “Sincere Studio.” When an earthquake occurred in the twelfth year of the Chunxi era, Yang Wanli submitted a memorial saying, “I have heard that speaking of what might happen when all is at peace does not diminish one’s loyalty; but when the realm is in crisis, to say nothing about its affairs is deeply suspect of treachery. The affairs of the realm have roots as well as branches. What I presented earlier concerned only the branches. The root is that the ruler must not act solely on his own wishes or make decisions arbitrarily.”

If one speaks only of putting principles into practice but does not hold ministers accountable, then there will surely be no end to disorder in the affairs of state. Gaoming hoped Yang Wanli would give further thought to what is called the fundamental Way. Yang Wanli was later reassigned as a reader in the Eastern Palace, an official who tutored the crown prince. He often admonished the prince on specific matters, and the prince held him in great respect.

After Emperor Gaozong died, Emperor Xiaozong intended to observe mourning for three years. He also established a council chamber and ordered the crown prince to take part in deciding state affairs. Yang Wanli submitted a memorial strongly urging him to reconsider. Before Gaozong had been buried, Hanlin Academician Hong Mai, without waiting for a collective discussion, took it upon himself to submit the names of Lü Xihào and others as candidates to accompany the emperor in the rites. Yang Wanli sent up a sternly worded memorial condemning him, even saying that his act was no different from “calling a deer a horse.” Xiaozong said angrily, “What kind of ruler does Yang Wanli take me for?” He then sent Yang out of the court and appointed him prefect of Junzhou.

After Han Tuozhou came to power, he sought to recruit renowned scholars from across the realm. He had once built the Southern Garden and asked Yang Wanli to write an account of it, promising him a post close to the emperor. Yang Wanli replied, “I can decline the post, but I cannot write the account.” Later, as Han Tuozhou’s abuse of power grew ever more severe, Yang Wanli became ill with grief and anger. His family knew the cause of his illness and stopped bringing him the court gazette, the official notices and reports on government affairs. One day, a nephew from another branch of the family arrived from out of town and hurriedly told him that the court’s military campaign had brought disaster. Yang Wanli immediately broke down in tears. He called for paper and wrote: “A treacherous minister disregards his sovereign, starts a war, harms the people, and plots to endanger the state. Though my head is large, I have had no chance to serve my country; I can only die with my heart full of grief and indignation.” He then wrote fourteen characters to bid farewell to his wife and children. As soon as he put down his brush, he died.

Emperor Guangzong once wrote the two characters “Chengzhai” in his own hand. Scholars therefore called Yang Wanli “Master Chengzhai.”

Editor’s comment: Zhang Zhongxian’s relationship with Chengzhai was like Fan Wenzheng’s with Hengqu. This is often how people of old helped those who came after them to succeed. If such words are merely written in one’s study but never truly put into practice in one’s own life, are they not wasted? Today, when we read Yang Wanli’s opinions submitted in response to an imperial edict, we see how earnestly he explained the principle that “when matters are prepared for in advance, they succeed; when they are not prepared for, they fail.” In his memorial concerning the crown prince governing in the emperor’s absence, we see how urgently he emphasized that “heaven has no two suns, and the people have no two kings.” As for the way the powerful minister Han Tuozhou defiled the government and led the state astray through crooked methods, Yang Wanli was willing to devote himself to opposing it even at the point of death. Did he not persist to the very end of his life? The name “Chengzhai” truly suited him.

He Ji held Huang Gan in deep esteem. When He Ji’s father, Bo □, was serving as assistant magistrate of Linchuan County, Huang Gan happened to be in charge of the local silk-weaving affairs. After Bo Mei met Huang Gan, he became his student. Huang Gan told him, “You must have sincere resolve and work hard; only then can you make progress.” He Ji respectfully and humbly accepted this teaching.

Accordingly, he always guided people patiently in light of the circumstances, helping them grasp the subtle origins and development of learning. He studied deeply and reflected repeatedly, waiting calmly for understanding to dawn. He never mixed in his own opinions or deliberately advanced eccentric views to appear clever. Even when accommodating others’ opinions, he rarely shifted his own position. Whenever he read, he made marks and annotations. The principles in a book might be clear and its meaning plain; some things could be seen naturally without explanation.

He once said that in pursuing learning, one’s resolve should be firm, and one’s vision and scope should be broad. What one learns should be put into practice in everyday words and actions, and upheld to the end of one’s life. When reading the Book of Songs, one should first clear away preconceptions, then recite it repeatedly and savor its meaning from every angle. One should absorb it calmly and patiently, allowing oneself to be moved by it; only then has reading poetry yielded something. When reading the Book of Changes, one should set aside rigid, narrow, and fragmented interpretations and make the mind clear and pure. One should carefully ponder its subtle principles, immerse oneself in them, and grasp their fundamental source; only after that should one gradually examine the images and meanings of the hexagrams and their lines.

Wang Bo, a scholar who lived at the turn of the Song and Yuan dynasties, held firmly to his teacher’s instruction. He studied the principles of the classics in depth and sought to express them concisely and practically. He had studied under He Ji, a Neo-Confucian philosopher. Wang Bo was perceptive and forceful in thought, broad in argument and sharp in analysis. He often questioned others repeatedly on difficult issues. At times he would discuss the same matter back and forth ten times, without changing his view, until the other person’s judgment had been settled. He once said, “In studying the classics, one should be cautious and steadfast, and ponder them carefully. There is no need to raise too many questions or offer too many arguments. If one is to explain these principles to younger learners, one must be all the more cautious.”

The compiler of the Hongdao lu says: Confucius spoke of “being steadfast in faith and loving learning.” Those who have explained this phrase hold that without steadfast faith, one cannot love learning. Yet if one is steadfast in faith but does not love learning, what one believes may be mistaken. It was for this reason that the scholarly lineage of the four masters He Ji, Wang Bo, Jin Lüxiang, and Xu Qian did not lose its roots. Alas, even those who personally received the teachings of the sages could see the purpose of the Xihe school gradually depart from its original course among their later followers—how much more so with the false learning that was strictly forbidden at the time! This is why they took such care, debated repeatedly, and did not change their views lightly, waiting until their judgments were settled.

Wang Bo’s grandfather, Wang Shiyu, had studied the Book of Changes and the Analects under Yang Shi. Wang Shiyu later associated with Zhu Xi, Zhang Shi, and Lü Zuqian. Wang Bo’s brothers also studied under these masters. In his youth, Wang Bo admired Zhuge Liang’s character and gave himself the style name “Changxiao,” meaning “Long Whistle.” The source of the name “Er Yu” is not clear in the original text. Only at the age of thirty did he learn the origins of his family’s learning. Awakening to this, he lamented, “Long Whistling is not a mode of self-cultivation especially esteemed by the sage’s school.” He therefore changed his style name to “Luzhai.”

Someone told Wang Bo that He Ji had received Zhu Xi’s teachings, so Wang Bo went to study under him. He Ji taught him the principles of setting one’s resolve and maintaining reverent attention—that is, remaining focused and respectful without slackening. Wang Bo was inwardly convinced and applied himself earnestly. Whenever he had a question, he would seek He Ji’s guidance. Wang Bo once said, “Fuxi drew the Eight Trigrams based on the Yellow River Chart, and King Wen elaborated on them…”

The trigrams of the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) accord with the Hetu (River Chart) and form the foundation of both the Earlier Heaven and Later Heaven traditions of the Changes. The Hetu arranges odd and even numbers separately in their respective positions, while the Later Heaven Bagua takes odd and even numbers as wholes and organizes them together. The positions of the four generating numbers remain fixed, while the four completing numbers are arranged above and below them, with even numbers above and odd numbers below. All these arrangements arose naturally.

Some also say that Yu the Great obtained the Luoshu (Luo River Writing) and used it to set out the “Nine Categories”—the nine great principles for governing the realm. Jizi obtained the Nine Categories and passed them on to King Wu of Zhou, where they took the form of the “Great Plan,” a chapter in the Book of Documents. The numerical arrangements in the Great Plan happen to correspond closely with the numerical principles of the Hetu and Luoshu. Might the Great Plan, too, be a foundation of the classics and traditions? The sixty-five characters beginning with “First: the Five Phases” are the main text of the Great Plan. The sixty-four characters beginning with “The Fifth is the Supreme Standard” explain the Supreme Standard. These are important instructions handed down through generations of rulers, not Jizi’s own words.

Some also ask whether all three hundred poems in the Book of Songs as it circulates today were selected and finalized by Confucius himself. Perhaps some of the poems he selected had already been lost; Han Confucian scholars gathered poems from other sources and added them, thereby establishing the Book of Songs. They moved “How Lush She Looks” and “Sweet Pear Tree” out of the “Airs of the Domains” section, deleted “In the Wilds Lies a Dead Doe,” and excluded poems from the Zheng and Wei regions that describe men and women eloping.

Some also say that the chapter on “Extending Knowledge through the Investigation of Things” in the Great Learning was once lost and later restored, and that the chapter on “Knowing Where to Stop” should come before the chapter on “Hearing Lawsuits.” They also maintain that the Doctrine of the Mean originally had two parts in ancient times, and that “Sincerity and Understanding” could serve as its guiding principle but should not stand alone as a separate section. Accordingly, they divided the material on “sincerity” and “understanding” in the Doctrine of the Mean into eleven chapters each. There are many other examples of such remarkable insight and independent judgment.

The Hongdao lu comments: Wang Huizhi was able to examine himself and follow principle, and truly deserves to be called a diligent student. In the end, he was praised for the clarity of his organization and the distinction of his insight. Was this not because he achieved the saying, “The dull will surely become perceptive; the weak will surely become strong”? He wrote many works, and his discussions and exchanges were extensive; his learning was not without foundation. Thus, what matters in study is grasping the essentials: once you grasp them, you can seize the main points; once you seize the main points, you can understand a broad range of knowledge.

Yet long whistling, too, chiefly depends on calming the mind. Without a calm mind, it is difficult to investigate deeply and explore the subtle principles of human nature. Studying principle, strengthening one’s resolve, and maintaining reverence may seem like three separate things, but in fact they are connected.

The History of the Yuan records that Jin Lüxiang followed the Lianxi and Luoyang schools from childhood—the Song Neo-Confucian traditions associated with Zhou Dunyi and the Cheng brothers, Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi. He once asked his fellow townsman Wang Bai for advice on how to study. Wang Bai told him: “To study, first establish your aspiration, so that it rises above ordinary affairs. Reverence, meanwhile, must be put into practice in the midst of daily affairs.” This is an important method of study.

By then, the Southern Song’s fortunes could no longer be reversed. Jin Lüxiang therefore gave up the pursuit of official distinction and withdrew to Mount Jinhua. He devoted himself to the clouds and moon, and to composing poems and whistling; worldly turmoil held little sway over him.

When he lived alone, his expression remained solemn throughout the day. This was what it meant to uphold and establish one’s aspirations with a respectful heart. Taking □ as the foundation was indeed the right approach; in his dealings with others, he was warm and agreeable.

He taught his younger students with earnest care and never tired of doing so. He once said that Liu Shu’s Outer Records did not rely on the Classics, yet accepted the claims of the various schools of thought. Its judgments and errors conflicted with the words of the sages, so it could not be trusted as a reliable account. The events before Yao had never been reviewed by Confucius; their accounts were already sketchy and difficult to verify. In the Spring and Autumn Annals, events were recorded only when envoys from the feudal states came and went bearing jade and silk as gifts. Text that had been edited and settled by a sage should not be casually supplemented.

He therefore followed the formats of Shao Yong’s Classic of the Supreme Principle for Ordering the World and Hu Hong’s Great Chronicle of Emperors and Kings. He abridged, supplemented, and assessed the material, taking the Documents as his principal source and drawing also on the Odes, the Rites, and the Spring and Autumn Annals, as well as old histories and the writings of the various schools. He arranged the events chronologically, beginning with Tang Yao and carrying the narrative forward to the period before Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Government. The resulting work was titled Earlier Compilation for the Comprehensive Mirror. He explained every source he cited to clarify its meaning, and many of his insights had not been articulated by earlier Confucian scholars.

When the book was complete, he gave it to Xu Qian. Xu said, “The subtle teachings and good deeds of the flourishing age of the Two Emperors and Three Kings are models for rulers of later generations. The harsh laws and disruptive governance of Shen Buhai and Shang Yang during the Warring States period are warnings for them. This book therefore had to be written.” At the time, someone remarked: “Jin Lüxiang, known by the style name Renshan, was upright, incorruptible, sincere, and honest, like Yin Hejing. Bai [the name may be corrupt in the source] was perceptive and resolute, like Xie Shangcai. Lüxiang received personal instruction from these two elders and made both their qualities his own.”

The Hongdao lu comments: “In my view, Renshan’s account of the origins of the Way falls short of Sima Qian’s. The Grand Historian clearly said that the Documents records events only from the time of Yao onward. The various schools’ accounts of the Yellow Emperor are not written in sufficiently elegant language, making them unsuitable as a basis for argument among scholar-officials. If so, how could such material be added to history? The accounts of the Celestial Emperor, the Terrestrial Emperor, the Human Emperor, Nüwa, Suiren, and Pangu differ in a jumble of ways; Jin Lüxiang was the one who started this. Later, Hu Hong, known by the style name Wufeng, and Xu Qian, known as Shuangfeng, were called Confucian scholars, yet their accounts remained confused and misguided. That the Qin dynasty’s Erudites and Emperor Wu of Liang did this is one thing; but the history compiled by the Shaowei family school even places the six figures including Pangu first, followed by the eight figures including Fuxi, for a total of fourteen, without making clear who the Three Sovereigns and who the Five Emperors were. All this material should now be removed, and the Earlier Compilation for the Comprehensive Mirror treated as the definitive text.”

[The original phrase “with □ as its foundation” has a missing character. The name Bai and some other wording may also be corrupt; the translation follows the sense of the passage.]

Xu Qian once studied under Jin Lüxiang. Jin Lüxiang said to him, “Reading and learning are like blending the five flavors. Add only sourness, saltiness, and the other seasonings, and the taste changes at once. Yet now you come to see me looking just as you did before. Could it be that my learning has made no impression on you?” Xu Qian was deeply stirred by these words. Several years later, he fully grasped the essential teachings Jin Lüxiang had passed on to him.

Xu Qian read widely. When he encountered something he did not understand, he did not dare to force an explanation; when he felt something was unsound, he did not casually agree with it. He often told those who came to study, “In learning, one should take the sages as one’s standard. But first one must grasp what was in the sages’ hearts; only then can one learn from what they did.”

When he read the Book of Songs, he compiled Corrections on Names and Things, examining the things named in the poems, their pronunciations and meanings, and also investigating related terms and institutions. He supplemented what earlier scholars had left unsaid, preserved uncommon interpretations, and consulted sources from far afield, before concluding with his own understanding.

In his study of histories, he watched for the subtle signs by which good government turned to disorder. Following the historical format of recording events by year and organizing them by state, he compiled a record of historical events from the time of Taihao, a legendary ruler of antiquity, to the death of Sima Guang during the Yuanyou era of the Song. He believed that after Sima Guang’s death, China’s governance could no longer regain its former flourishing. This, he said, was the crucial sign that the country was turning from order to disorder.

He also wrote A Record of Self-Examination. Each night he recorded what he had done during the day; if there was anything he felt unable to write down, he refrained from doing it. He opened his doors to teach, and people traveled long distances to learn from him: from Youzhou, Jizhou, Qi, and Lu in the north, and from Jingzhou, Yangzhou, Wu, and Yue closer by.

Xu Qian taught with sincerity and care, explaining principles thoroughly from their inner roots to their outward expression. He once said, “When you understand something yourself and help others understand it too, is that not a joy?” If someone asked a question or took part in a debate but struggled to express their thoughts, he would put into words what they were trying to say and dispel their confusion. Teacher and students discussed and explained matters from morning to night, and he never grew tired. He could guide those who were rough and careless toward close, careful understanding, helping his listeners take in the teaching with full attention; his explanations also grew ever more vivid and concrete. He roused the indolent, tempered those whose ardor ran too high, put the reserved at ease, and taught the undisciplined restraint. By teaching each person according to their abilities, he helped everyone gain something.

Yet he alone refused to teach people how to write essays for the civil service examinations, because he believed that this was where the path of learning for its own sake parted from the pursuit of personal gain.

Xu Qian placed great importance on filial respect for parents and affection among siblings, and his conduct far surpassed that of ordinary people. In the way he lived, he neither clung rigidly to ancient customs nor followed the crowd. During the Dade era, when the Planet of Blazing Fire, as Mars was called in antiquity, entered the Southern Dipper constellation, Xu Qian thought that disaster might strike the regions of Wu and Chu and felt profound private concern. That year a severe famine broke out, and he grew thinner by the day. Someone asked him, “Could it be that you don’t have enough to eat?” Xu Qian replied, “The government and the people are both short of resources now, and people are dying of hunger all along the roads. How could I eat my fill alone?” Such, for the most part, was the spirit with which he lived among others.

When I read of the concerns of Xu Baiyun (Xu Qian, styled Baiyun), I find that what troubled him is the same as what troubles us today. We must neither cling rigidly to ancient ways nor drift with worldly custom. If we cling to ancient ways, the calamities brought by the abnormal course of the planet Yinghuo (Mars, as the ancients called it) will amount to more than a serious disturbance. If we follow worldly custom, the disasters in the regions of Wu and Chu may not fall on us alone.

A Confucian’s mind should see no barrier between the myriad things of Heaven and Earth, China and the peoples beyond its borders. The Way of Heaven and human affairs are both subjects our learning must investigate; they cannot be understood by those who concern themselves only with examination essays and the study of the civil service examinations. Confucians care about the relations between China and the peoples beyond its borders, and quietly take part at crucial points in the nation’s rise and decline, order and disorder. Their duty to uphold the world and restore its fundamental principles and institutions is closely bound up with a deep examination of the teachings of Buddhism and Daoism. They are therefore fit to shoulder the great responsibility of safeguarding orthodox learning, and the safety or peril of individuals among them bears on the rise or decline of the right Way.

In the early Ming, Zhao Kaogu (personal name Huiqian) was a sixth-generation descendant of the Prince of Qin of the Song dynasty. After his father, Zhao Heng, entered the Yuan, the family did not serve in government for several generations. Master Zhao inherited the tradition of learning from the distant source at Zhusi and Si River, where Confucius taught, and drew more recently on the scholarly traditions of the Guanzhong and Heluo regions. Firm in his faith in the Way, he was diligent and earnest in study. Early in the Hongwu era, he was invited to the capital. After returning home, he built the Kaogu Terrace and wrote the hundred-volume Comprehensive Account of Sounds and Writing, explaining at length the teachings of the Six Classics and the various schools of thought. He believed that his book contained subtle principles and mysteries linking humans and spirits, but people of his time did not accept it.

Only Song Jinglian (Song Lian) had his son Zhongheng become Master Zhao’s student. Song Tianhe, known as Jizi, and Lin Gongfu of Jiangxi, as well as Tang Yushi Xin from the same commandery, also recognized the worth of his learning. Hou Yong, Vice Minister of Personnel, treated him with the respect due a teacher and recommended him for service in the capital. The ministers at court all said that in the regions overseas, people had never heard of the learning of the sages, and that a true Confucian should be sent to teach and transform them. Zhao Kaogu was therefore appointed professor at the Qiongzhou Prefectural School. After taking up his post, he wrote Model for Teaching at Qiongtai and taught the Illustrated Discourse on the Ordering of Creation. He collected and supplemented the works of sages and worthies of earlier ages, recording matters as they arose and making the revival of Confucian learning his charge. Even local people who carried weapons admired his example and moral teaching; students came from afar, undeterred by mountains to cross and seas to traverse. Zheng Shangbin of Sanshan, Wang Zhongdi of Hefei, Zhu Boshao of Putian, Sun Zhongyue of Fengyang, Wu Wenxiang of Qiongtai, and others all honored his teaching.

Duke Qiu Wenzhuang (Qiu Jun) was especially convinced by Zhao Kaogu’s learning. It was only after Zhao Kaogu that the people of Qiongzhou began to understand the learning of the sages. Qiu Wenzhuang, in turn, began gathering Zhu Xi’s subtle teachings from commentaries of every kind…

The recorded sayings of scholars were difficult to gather in full, so the most essential and practical passages were selected and compiled into twenty chapters under the title Xue de (Principles of Learning). The book focused on clarifying which dynasties belonged to the legitimate line of succession: accounts of the late Qin and Sui could not simply be removed, while accounts of the early Han and Tang could not be casually included in orthodox histories. A further work, Shishi Zhenggang (The Correct Principles of Dynastic History), was then compiled.

Although Family Rites embodied the aim of honoring fundamentals and attending to practical matters, it omitted some details of ritual. Family Rites: Ceremonial Procedures was therefore compiled to supplement it. The Extended Meaning of the Great Learning did not fully explain the principles of governing the state and bringing peace to the world, so materials were gathered from the Classics, commentaries, writings of the masters, and histories, and the author’s own views were added in Supplement to the Extended Meaning. His writings on the Four Books were his largest undertaking.

While serving at the Imperial Academy, the highest school in ancient times, he followed completely the rules left by Duke Li Zhongwen and arranged its affairs with meticulous care. People judged that even Duke Li Zhongwen could not surpass him. In high office, he sought to guide the emperor through magnanimity and bring a spirit of loyalty and sincerity to the scholars. Whether appointing or dismissing officials, or advancing or abolishing policies, he consistently followed the institutions handed down by the ancestors.

He had earlier taken part in compiling the Veritable Records of Emperor Yingzong, the official history of that emperor’s reign. At the time, he firmly argued that Yu Qian had been falsely accused. Only then did others begin to believe the charge was unjust, and Yu Qian’s achievements were eventually recorded truthfully.

When the Ministry of Personnel assessed officials, it often treated a high number of dismissals as proof of impartiality. Those dismissed did not dare appeal, even when they had been wronged. Aware of this problem, he told the emperor, “In the times of Tang Yao and Yu Shun, officials’ performance was reviewed every three years, and promotion or demotion was decided only after three such reviews. Today, some officials have served for less than half a year, yet are to be dismissed on the basis of what others say. Such reports are not necessarily true.”

The emperor agreed wholeheartedly. Just then, the Ministry of Personnel submitted a list of officials slated for dismissal, numbering nearly two thousand. The emperor ordered that no one be dismissed if they had served for less than three years, or if, despite having undergone three reviews, there was no solid evidence of corruption or abuse. This was precisely the adoption of his advice.

The author of Hongdao lu comments: “I have read about Zhao Kaogu. Proud of his status as a member of the imperial clan of the previous dynasty, he refused to serve after entering the Yuan. He believed that his books had reached the finest subtleties of principle and the loftiest realms, but the world did not recognize them. Without the great clarification of the political order that came later, when the court honored genuine Confucians and promoted the learning of the Dao, how could people have come to trust him fully?

“From then on, a single cultural tradition was shared and upheld throughout the realm. Before long, Wenzhuang appeared. He deeply understood and firmly believed these principles, used them to examine his own nature, and put them into practice in government, helping the Great Ming rule the state. This shows that the previous dynasty, the Yuan, had been unable to take part in this cultural inheritance, while the realm came to enjoy a mild and enlightened order. Such a state of affairs did not arise without cause.”