《弘道錄》Vol. 5

In the first year of Emperor Wen of Han, the officials in charge asked him to appoint a crown prince as soon as possible. Emperor Wen said, “I have no particular virtue to begin with. Even if I cannot seek out the worthy and wise throughout the realm and abdicate in favor of one of them, would appointing a crown prince now not make my lack of virtue all the more apparent?” The officials persisted: “Appointing a crown prince in advance is a way to secure the ancestral temples and the state—that is, ancestral rites and political rule—and to show that the realm is not forgotten. After the ancient dynasties of Yin and Zhou were founded, the country enjoyed peace and stability, and their rule endured for more than a thousand years. This was thanks to that very practice. An heir must be one’s own son; this tradition has been established for a long time. Gaozu pacified the realm and became the founding ancestor. His descendants have succeeded him from generation to generation without interruption. It is truly inappropriate not to appoint a crown prince, but instead to raise the matter for further debate. Your eldest son, Liu Qi, is sincere and kind. Please appoint him crown prince.” Only then did Emperor Wen agree.

The Hongdao lu comments: After the Qin dynasty deposed Fusu and installed Huhai instead, the realm fell into turmoil, warfare continued without end, and the people were plunged into hardship. No period was worse. The Book of Changes says that the relationship between ruler and minister arises from the relationship between father and son. How, then, could the roles of father and son be left undefined in advance? Gaozu of Han had seen the Qin dynasty’s failings with his own eyes, yet he too hesitated over the succession. Even though people repeatedly urged him, he could not put an end to his indecision at once. This later brought about the Lü clan’s rebellion and ultimately allowed an imperial son born to a concubine to throw the court into disorder. The Han dynasty came close to repeating the Qin dynasty’s mistake.

The decision to invite Liu Heng, the Prince of Dai, to take the throne was a major turning point; the edict of Emperor Wen’s first year was another. These events laid the foundation for two centuries of Western Han rule. They concerned both the people’s hearts and the Mandate of Heaven, and they also show how the bond between father and son, once severed, was restored, and how the Way, once lost, rose again. Ah, this may well be called an act of benevolence and virtue.

When Emperor Wen lived in the Prince of Dai’s residence, Empress Dowager Bo was ill for three years. He cared for her and often stayed awake through the night without unfastening his robes. He would not let the medicine brought to her be given until he had tasted it himself. Yuan Ang therefore said, “Even Zeng Shen, Confucius’s disciple, though born a commoner, found it difficult to care for his parents in this way. Your Majesty now practices filial piety as an emperor, far surpassing Zeng Shen.”

The Hongdao lu comments: Does wholehearted care for one’s parents truly differ according to a person’s rank? Do tasks truly become harder or easier because of one’s status? The Way of filial piety and fraternal respect—honoring one’s parents and showing respect for one’s elder brothers—is part of human nature. From the Son of Heaven to the common people, people’s positions differ, but their nature does not. Follow one’s nature, and difficult things become easy; go against it, and even easy things become difficult. Is the question of whether Zeng Shen or Emperor Wen deserves greater esteem really decided by their rank?

Chunyu Yi, the Grand Granary Director of the state of Qi, committed an offense and was liable to punishment under the law. The court ordered his arrest and his transfer to Chang’an…

During the reign of Emperor Wen of Han, a young maiden named Tiying submitted a memorial stating: "When my father served as an official in Qi, all praised his integrity and fairness. Now condemned to corporal punishment for breaking the law, my grief lies in how the dead cannot return to life, nor severed limbs be restored. Even if one wishes to reform hereafter, the opportunity is lost. I beg to enter the palace as a servant to redeem my father's crimes, that he may have a chance to renew his life." Moved by her filial devotion, Emperor Wen abolished corporal punishment by decree.

This account demonstrates Emperor Wen's greater virtue compared to King Xuan of Qi. The most precious ox horns used in sacrificial rites (referring to ritual offerings) could not match the value of this maiden's remonstration. The debates of great sages often lacked the sincerity of this young girl's plea. That Emperor Wen tempered justice with mercy was no petty exchange of small loss for great gain. Those who criticize Emperor Wen—why not acknowledge this very benevolence qualified him as a true king? This was neither currying favor with the powerful nor seeking fame, nor was it fear of public opinion, but genuine excessive compassion.

Later, when Liu Bingyi (posthumously known as Emperor Xuan of Han), great-grandson of Emperor Wu, was just months old during the witchcraft persecutions, the entire household of Crown Prince Wei perished, leaving only this infant imprisoned. Bing Ji, the Commandant of Justice assigned to investigate, recognizing the crown prince's innocence and pitying the blameless child, selected a careful and kind-hearted female prisoner to nurture him. After the deposition of Prince Changyi, when regent Huo Guang and other ministers deliberated on succession, Bing Ji memorialized recommending Liu Bingyi, well-versed in classics and upright in conduct. Thus at eighteen, Liu Bingyi ascended the throne as Emperor Xuan.

This history confirms the ancient saying: "Human resolve may overcome Heaven's will, yet Heaven's principle may prevail over human affairs." Historical records describe Crown Prince Wei as magnanimous, often rectifying wrongful convictions—unlike Emperor Wu's severity. Alas, Emperor Wu's late-life patronage of occultists precipitated the witchcraft calamity. Herein we see how collective human intent can alter celestial decree, while cosmic cycles reciprocally shape mortal events.

Since Heaven’s intent was so urgent, it finally moved the emperor’s heart and brought him to his senses. He then felt even greater compassion for the people of the realm. The stones on Mount Tai can stand upright without support; the trees in the Shanglin Park grow without being summoned. This was perhaps because Heaven’s decree was destined to prevail over human effort, so events unfolded in a way that fit together like matching tallies.

Although Li did not personally possess the realm, his descendants would ultimately gain it. From this we can see that the bloodline of fathers and ancestors does not vanish or end completely. It was only because human affairs ran counter to Heaven’s intent, and the times and circumstances worked against him, that Bingyi (Liu Xun, Emperor Xuan of Han) was left without relatives to support him and without an heir to follow him. How sorrowful!

The Book of the Later Han records that Emperor Guangwu, the Founding Ancestor of the Eastern Han (Liu Xiu), was a descendant of Emperor Jing and of Liu Fa, Prince Ding of Changsha. Liu Fa fathered Liu Mai, Marquis Jie of Chunling; Liu Mai fathered Liu Xiongqu, Marquis Dai; and Liu Xiongqu fathered Liu Ren, Marquis Kao. Because Liu Ren considered the south low-lying and damp, he moved his fief to Baishui Township in Nanyang and settled there with his clan. After Liu Ren died, his son Liu Chang inherited the title. When Wang Mang usurped the throne, the Liu family’s fief was abolished.

Liu Wai, the younger son of Marquis Jie of Chunling, later served as governor of Yulin. Liu Wai fathered Liu Hui, Commandant of Julu; Liu Hui fathered Liu Qin, magistrate of Nandun County. Liu Qin married the daughter of Fan Chong of Huyang, and they had three sons: Liu Yan, Liu Zhong, and Liu Xiu. Liu Xiu had a high nose bridge and a well-shaped forehead, and worked hard in the fields. His maternal aunt married Deng Chen of Xinye. Liu Xiu once passed through Rang County with Deng Chen. A local man, Cai Shaogong, who knew a great deal about prophetic texts and omens, said, “Liu Xiu ought to become Son of Heaven.” Later Liu Xiu ascended the throne and became Emperor Guangwu, the Founding Ancestor.

The Records of the Three Kingdoms records that Liu Xuande (Liu Bei), the founding ruler of Shu Han, was also a descendant of Emperor Jing, and descended from Liu Sheng, Prince Jing of Zhongshan. Liu Sheng’s son Liu Zhen was enfeoffed as Marquis of Luchengting in Zhuo County in the sixth year of the Yuanshou era. He later lost his title over an offering of gold for the ancestral rites and settled there. Liu Bei’s grandfather Liu Xiong and father Liu Hong both held posts in the provinces and commanderies. Liu Xiong was recommended as a Filial and Incorrupt official and rose to become magistrate of Fan County in Dong Commandery.

Liu Bei lost his father when he was young and made a living with his mother by weaving straw sandals and mats. At the southeast corner of their home, a mulberry tree stood by the fence, more than five zhang tall. From a distance, its dense branches and leaves looked like a carriage canopy. Passersby all thought the tree unusual, and some said that a noble person would emerge from that place. As a child, Liu Bei once played beneath the tree with children from his clan and said, “One day I will surely ride in a carriage with a canopy adorned with feathers like that.” He later rose to become governor of Yizhou. After Cao Pi usurped the throne and proclaimed himself emperor, Liu Bei ascended the throne in Shu and took the title Emperor Zhaolie.

The Record says: Whenever I read about Emperor Guangwu, the Founding Ancestor, and Emperor Zhaolie, I cannot help sighing with emotion. The Qin dynasty abolished the system of enfeoffment. After the Han dynasty was founded, seeing that the feudal lords stood isolated and unsupported, it enfeoffed members of the imperial clan on a grand scale…

Although their benefactions were profound, before long the families concerned were nearly wiped out. They not only failed to become a bulwark protecting the state; their own lineages were extinguished as well. Why did this happen?

Since the founding of the state in antiquity, the Han dynasty was the only dynasty to rise from among commoners. At first, Liu Bang’s father, brothers, sons, and nephews seized their opportunity and rose to power, but they had done little to benefit the people. Liu Bang himself had been no more than a village official in Sishui Commandery, responsible for transmitting documents and maintaining local order. When he rose in rebellion after slaying the serpent, his forceful edge was still sharp, and the momentum of his armed uprising had not yet subsided. How could he immediately bestow kindness on all under Heaven and ensure the dynasty’s lasting prosperity?

During the five or six decades of the reigns of Emperor Wen and Emperor Jing, the realm grew prosperous, ritual and righteousness flourished, customs gradually improved, and the people became simple and honest. By then, the Han dynasty’s vital energy had become secure and its lifeline complete. Afterward, unsuitable heirs from collateral branches were soon eliminated, while the influence of loyalty, honesty, and benevolence endured for a long time. Thus, the line of Changsha later produced Han Shizu, Emperor Guangwu (Liu Xiu), and the line of Zhongshan later produced Han Zhaolie, Emperor Liu Bei. When the Han house was in decline, they revived its royal enterprise; after the fortunes of the Han dynasty seemed to have run their course, they took up the imperial succession. The descendants of Emperor Hui, Emperor Wu, Emperor Zhao, and Emperor Xuan were unable to accomplish this.

Without the legacy of kindness left by Emperor Wen and Emperor Jing, the Han realm might not have endured. We can therefore see that benevolence and cruelty between father and son, and from one generation to the next, lead to sharply different outcomes; whether a dynasty continues or comes to an end depends on them. How could a person of noble character disregard this? How could they?

Empress Ma, the virtuous consort of Emperor Ming of the Eastern Han, was the daughter of Ma Yuan, the General Who Conquered the Waves. When she was young, a physiognomist saw her and said, “Her features show that she will surely attain high rank, but she will bear few sons of her own. If she raises another person’s child, the benefits she gains may surpass those of having children herself.”

When Ma became a Noble Consort, Jia, the daughter of her elder maternal half-sister, was also selected for the palace and gave birth to Han Suzong (Emperor Zhang, Liu Da). Because Emperor Ming had no son by his empress, he ordered Ma to raise the child, telling her, “One need not necessarily give birth to a son oneself. What matters is not failing to care for the child with love.”

From then on, Ma devoted herself to raising Han Suzong, and the labor and worry she expended exceeded even what she gave to her own children. Han Suzong, too, was filial and sincere, naturally benevolent, and mother and son remained close and loving throughout, without the slightest discord. Ma often worried and sighed that the imperial line had too few heirs. When she recommended and promoted those around her, she feared she had not acted quickly enough. When women from the inner palace came to pay their respects, she always comforted and welcomed them. If the emperor repeatedly favored someone, she treated that person with even greater generosity.

A note in the Hongdao lu says: “During the reign of Emperor Cheng of Han, Shi Cao Gong once gave birth to a child. Emperor Cheng and a Consort were enraged and ordered someone to give Shi Cao Gong medicine and make her abandon the child. Lady Xu also gave birth to a child…” The original text breaks off here.

Consort Zhao wept and refused to eat, and eventually died. Her son was put in a chest and buried in a secluded place. Afterward, many others drank poison to kill themselves, harmed their bodies, or induced miscarriages—too many to count. The histories recorded all these events, leaving a grievance that would endure for ages. I have often wondered: what kind of heart could do such a thing? When parents give birth to children, love arises, and with it a bond of gratitude. Even if an emperor were utterly benighted and foolish, could he not remember that bond, and remember that his own love had arisen from it? How could he bear to act in such defiance of human feeling?

Perhaps Heaven abhorred the licentious and violent conduct, and judged that the suffering of the Empress and Consort Zhao had reached its utmost limit. Had this not been so, the imperial line might not have been cut off; but in later days a son might then have killed his father, and the principle that good is rewarded with good and evil with evil would not have been made clear. Therefore, I have recorded the Empress’s story and discussed the matter further, as a warning to later generations.

When Emperor Xiaozhang, posthumously known as Emperor Zhang of Han, first ascended the throne, he retained the old practices of the Yongping era. Officials continued to govern harshly, and judgments in legal cases often leaned toward severity. Chen Chong, a court official in the Secretariat, believed that a newly enthroned emperor should change the harmful customs inherited from the previous reign. He therefore submitted this memorial:

“I have heard that the former kings did not overdo rewards or abuse punishments. If one must lean toward one or the other, it is better to be somewhat generous in rewarding than too severe in punishing. In the past, cases were judged harshly and decisively to deter and punish wicked people. Once wickedness had been subdued, governance should be tempered with kindness. Governing is like tuning a zither: if the larger string is stretched too tightly, the smaller string will snap. Your Majesty should promote the Way of the former kings, sweep away cumbersome and harsh laws, and reduce the use of the rod, so that the people may live in peace. In this way, you will uphold abundant virtue and accord with Heaven’s will.”

The emperor strongly approved of Chen Chong’s advice and thereafter made every effort to govern with leniency.

Chen Chong’s great-grandfather, Chen Xian, served as a Secretariat official under Emperor Ai of Han and was well versed in laws and regulations. When Wang Mang governed on behalf of Emperor Ping of Han, he made sweeping changes to the Han system. Chen Xian privately disagreed. He was naturally kind and forgiving, and often admonished his descendants: “When deciding a punishment for someone, favor the lighter penalty and act with care. Do not charge a person with a more serious offense by analogy.” Chen Chong’s grandfather, Chen Qin, and his father, Chen Gong, also served in government. In the early Jianwu era, Chen Gong was Assistant Director of the Court of Judicial Review. Chen Chong knew the laws passed down in his family and worked with care and precision. He often said that a minister’s difficulty lay in neither fearing nor taking care. After he took up an important post at court, he turned away students and friends who sought to visit him and devoted himself entirely to public duties. The court valued him highly.

Chen Chong’s son, Chen Zhong, inherited his father’s approach. He placed even greater emphasis on kindness and caution, and revised and supplemented the laws in an orderly way, establishing standards for judging cases to reduce the problems caused by repeatedly referring cases upward for instructions and review.

The Record says: Chen Chong’s principles certainly had a lineage. By this time, the Han dynasty’s vital energy was about to change. Had there not been rulers such as Emperor Zhang and Emperor Shun above him, then…

A prudent minister receives the ruler’s commands with generosity, then brings them to fruition with a loving and benevolent heart. Do not the life-giving virtue of Heaven and Earth and the flourishing continuity of descendants come from this? Later, Emperor He had few children, and his grandson You succeeded him. Emperor Xiaochong died young, and his great-grandsons and great-great-grandsons successively inherited the throne. They all descended from Emperor Zhang’s line, and favored descendants continued for several generations without interruption. Is this not the way to endure?

The Wisdom of Brothers and Nephews

The Book of Jin records that Xie Xuan was the nephew of Xie An. Xie An devoted himself to serving the Jin court and often admonished his nephews and other young relatives. He once said, “Why should our young men involve themselves in worldly affairs? I only hope they will become people of outstanding character.” No one replied, except Xie Xuan, who said, “It is like hoping that orchids and jade trees will grow in one’s own courtyard.” Xie An was delighted to hear this.

At the time, Fu Jian of Former Qin was powerful and repeatedly invaded the frontier. The court was alarmed and sought a capable general, skilled in both civil and military affairs, to guard the north. Xie An therefore recommended Xie Xuan. When Xi Chao heard of it, he remarked, “Xie An has disregarded the opinions of others and recommended a relative out of public-spiritedness. Xie Xuan will surely live up to this recommendation; he truly has ability.”

The court then summoned Xie Xuan, appointed him General Who Establishes Might, and placed him in command of the armies north of the Yangtze. Xie Xuan marched west from Guangling, occupied Baima, engaged the enemy, and routed them.

Fu Jian personally led his army to Xiangcheng, claiming to command a million troops. He first sent Fu Rong, Murong Wei, and others to Yingkou. The court issued an edict appointing Xie Xuan commander of the vanguard and sending him to meet the enemy with eighty thousand men. Xie Xuan sent a messenger to Fu Rong, saying, “You have come a long way into our territory, yet you have drawn up your forces beside the river. It seems you do not wish to fight at once. Why not withdraw a little, so that the soldiers can deploy? Then I can watch the contest at my leisure with you all. Would that not be interesting?”

Fu Jian’s officers all said they should use the Fei River to hold back the Jin army and prevent it from crossing. Fu Jian, however, said, “Simply order the troops to withdraw and let them cross. Once they are across, I will drive them to their deaths with my elite cavalry, and victory will surely be ours.” Fu Rong agreed with this plan and waved a banner to order the army to retreat. Unexpectedly, the ranks fell into disorder and could no longer be controlled. Xie Xuan and the others led eight thousand elite troops across the Fei River and began the decisive battle. Fu Jian’s army broke and fled, trampling its own men; countless soldiers plunged into the water and drowned. At the sound of the wind or the cry of cranes, they imagined the Jin army was pursuing them and fled in panic. Exposed to the elements and suffering hunger and cold, seven or eight out of every ten died.

Afterward, Xie An submitted a memorial recommending that they take advantage of the enemy’s defeat and recover the old capital. Xie Xuan again led the army and camped at Pengcheng, and the Three Wei region surrendered. The court appointed him commander of military affairs across ten provinces—Yan, Qing, Yu, Xu, Ji, You, and Bing among them—and enfeoffed him as Duke of Kangle County.

Someone asked, “Xie An, a renowned minister of the Eastern Jin, won the Battle of Fei River, and Zhou Yu, a general of Eastern Wu, won the Battle of Red Cliffs. How did they each manage to secure victory?”

A Confucian of an earlier age once said, “He was good at conquering Qi, but not good at conquering Chu.” This shows that the moments between early and late, skillful and clumsy, advance and retreat, and speed and slowness are precisely when a gentleman plans and accomplishes his work. The strength of Wu and Wei was vastly unequal; they were no match for each other, just as Qin and Jin had once been far apart in power. At the time, one side urged an attack on the enemy, while the other feared for the foundations of the state. Without having settled a plan in advance, how could they have ensured victory?

Cao Cao’s march south with a million troops, and Fu Jian’s order to throw whips into the river until its waters were blocked, both showed that Qin’s plans had gone awry. Zhou Yu’s use of the east wind to launch a fire attack, and Xie An’s calm response as the enemy crossed the river, showed that their plans were sound. Those who are good at planning for the enemy say, “The enemy strikes one moment and retreats the next. Who could withstand them?” Yet the Six Dynasties—the Eastern Jin, Song, Qi, Liang, Chen, and other southern regimes—could not unite the realm. Such was the will of Heaven. For this reason, many events seem to follow the course of circumstances, yet not even the winds, birdsong, clouds over the mountains, plants, or other things of the world can alter them. Even a wise man such as Xie An could not escape the insight of those who understood.

The History of the Southern Dynasties records that Xie Zhan was Xie Hui’s elder brother. After Xie Hui became Right Guard of the Song court, his power and prestige grew ever greater. When he returned to the capital from Pengcheng, his home was crowded with guests, and the lanes at his gate were jammed. Astonished, Xie Zhan said to him, “Your reputation and rank are not yet especially high, yet people already flock to you like this. Our family has always lived quietly and modestly, taking no part in public affairs and keeping company only with relatives and friends. Now your power shakes the court and the realm. Can this really be a blessing for our family?” He then moved out and lived apart from Xie Hui, saying, “I cannot bear to see this.”

After returning to Pengcheng, Xie Zhan said to Emperor Gaozu of Song, “I was born a commoner; my father and grandfather held no office higher than that of a governor with a salary of two thousand shi. My younger brother is only thirty. His ability and learning are ordinary, yet he already holds a high position in the central government and serves in an office of great importance. When good fortune exceeds its proper measure, disaster follows. I fear the consequences will not be long in coming. I ask Your Majesty to restrain him discreetly, so that our declining family may be preserved.” Later, Xie Hui was entrusted with great responsibility because of his service in founding the dynasty, and Xie Zhan grew all the more fearful. He fell ill at his post but refused treatment, glad that he would soon leave this world. On his deathbed, he left Xie Hui a letter: “I have been fortunate to preserve my body and return it whole for burial in the mountains.”

The Hongdao lu comments: “I believe that these words of Boyi”—the figure referred to here is not identified in the original—“both before and after are enough to dispel the delusions of later generations who crave fame and profit. Zhen”—referring to Xie Zhan—“truly lived up to his reputation as the ‘Master of Confucians west of the Pass.’ Nothing is more easily revealed than what is hidden, and nothing gives clearer signs than what is minute; besides, all eyes were upon him…”

What he spoke of were all the essential teachings of Confucius and his school. And how could the “upright officials” he praised be compared with ordinary people who chase after fame? Indeed, integrity and virtue are handed down from generation to generation, and the blessings of good deeds endure for a long time. Compared with the Yuan clan, they far surpassed it; few people in later generations could measure up to them.

The histories record that Yuan Chang, a Palace Attendant, belonged to the same clan as Yuan Wei. Yuan Chang wielded power at court, while Yuan Wei’s family had served as ministers for generations and enjoyed great prestige. Yuan Chang relied on that family standing as support. Thus, for several generations the Yuan clan held high office and enjoyed imperial favor, living in wealth and luxury beyond that of other great families. They were truly exceptional.

Xun Shu, magistrate of Dangtu County, had eight sons: Xun Jian, Xun Gun, Xun Jing, Xun Tao, Xun Wang, Xun Shuang, Xun Su, and Xun Zhuan. All were highly respected, and people of the time called them the “Eight Dragons.” Yuan Kang of Bohai renamed the lane where the Xun family lived “Gaoyang Lane,” comparing them to the ancient Gaoyang clan.

Xun Shuang, whose courtesy name was Ciming, loved learning from childhood. By the age of twelve, he had mastered the Spring and Autumn Annals and the Analects. After meeting him, Grand Commandant Du Qiao praised him, saying, “He could be a teacher to others.” Xun Shuang devoted himself to studying the classics and did not answer the court’s summons. The people of Yingchuan praised him, saying, “Among the Xun family’s Eight Dragons, Ciming is without equal.”

Xun Jing, whose courtesy name was Shuci, showed exceptional intelligence from a young age and behaved in accordance with ritual propriety. Someone asked Xu Zhang of Runan, “Which is more worthy, Xun Shuang or Xun Jing?” Xu Zhang replied, “They are both fine jade. Ciming is bright on the outside; Shuci is warm and lustrous within.”

Chen Shi, magistrate of Taiqiu County, had six sons. Chen Ji, whose courtesy name was Yuanfang, was renowned for his virtue; Chen Shen, whose courtesy name was Jifang, was his equal in virtue. Since the brothers were alike in their conduct, people of the time said, “Yuanfang is hard to have as an elder brother; Jifang is hard to have as a younger brother.” The two brothers were devoted to their parents and lived in harmony at home. Younger scholars admired their example. The father and his sons were all celebrated, and people of the time called them the “Three Lords.”

Once, they went to visit Xun Shu, with no servants accompanying them. Chen Ji drove the carriage, Chen Shen followed behind it, and the young Chen Qun rode inside. When they arrived at the Xun residence, Xun Shu’s son Xun Jing came out to greet them, while Xun Shuang poured wine for the guests. The young Xun Yu sat on an elder’s lap. They all discussed learning together. At that moment, a celestial sign appeared in the sky known as the “gathering of Virtue Stars.” The Grand Astrologer reported, “Within five hundred li, worthy people have gathered.”

The Hongdao lu comments: “I observe that in the Eastern Han, a guest star appeared at the beginning, and the dynasty rose; at its end, a Virtue Star appeared, yet the Han house was moving toward decline. Can celestial signs, then, truly be trusted? The ruler is the model of an age, while worthy people carry the hopes of the multitude. Heaven does not dim the radiance of the Virtue Star because the air is veiled in mist. Likewise, the world does not prevent the birth of sages and worthies because a comet appears and calamities and anomalies occur in succession. Therefore, when we recite the line in the Book of Songs, ‘The spirits have heard; in the end there will be harmony and peace…’”

From the “Poem of the Marquis of Pingling” (the title may differ in some versions), we can see why the Ji clan’s virtue flourished. Lines such as “covering the face with tears” and “wearing the sleeves inside out” also convey the grief within the poem.

The words “I am finished” reveal the reason for the Zhou dynasty’s decline. Such circumstances did not occur only in the final years of the Han dynasty.

The Book of Jin records that Ji Shao was the son of Ji Kang, a celebrated figure of the Wei-Jin period. His father died when he was ten. Ji Shao served his mother with filial devotion and care. Because his father had been convicted of a crime, Ji Shao lived in seclusion for many years. Shan Tao recommended him to Emperor Wu of Jin, saying that his worth matched that of Que Que and that he should be summoned and honored. The court accordingly summoned Ji Shao.

When Ji Shao first arrived in Luoyang, someone said to Wang Rong, “Yesterday I saw Ji Shao among a crowd. He stood out with such bearing that he seemed like a wild crane among chickens.” Wang Rong replied, “You have not yet seen his father.” Pei Wei, the Deputy Director of the Secretariat, also held Ji Shao in high regard.

At the time, Jia Mi, a young imperial attendant who had risen to high office through his maternal relatives, was surrounded by followers such as Pan Yue and Du Bin. Jia Mi hoped to befriend Ji Shao, but Ji Shao refused to associate with him. Later, Jia Mi was executed. The emperor issued an edict praising Ji Shao for refusing to attach himself to the powerful, enfeoffed him as the Viscount of Yiyang, and promoted him to Attendant Cavalier.

When the political situation had first begun to settle, Ji Shao submitted a memorial: “I hope Your Majesty will not forget the calamity at Jinyong, when the emperor was imprisoned in Jinyong Fortress; that the Grand Marshal will not forget what happened at Ying Shang; and that the Great General will not forget what happened at Huangqiao. If these lessons are kept in mind, the seeds of disorder will not take root.” Later, Sima Yong, Prince of Hejian, and Sima Ying, Prince of Chengdu, raised troops and advanced on the capital, claiming that they meant to punish Sima Ai, Prince of Changsha. The emperor’s entourage camped east of the city, and Sima Ai announced to the assembly, “Today we march west to punish the rebels. Who will command the Six Armies?” The troops all replied, “We want Attendant Ji Shao to lead them.”

At that time, the emperor was in danger, and Ji Shao obeyed the summons to go to his side. The imperial forces were defeated at Dangyin. Officials and guards scattered in flight, but Ji Shao alone remained composed, wearing his ceremonial cap, and stood to protect the emperor. As the opposing armies fought, arrows fell like rain. Ji Shao was killed beside the emperor, and his blood splashed onto the emperor’s clothes. The emperor was deeply grieved. Once the crisis had passed, attendants wanted to wash the blood from the clothes. The emperor said, “This is the blood of Attendant Ji. Do not wash it away.”

As Ji Shao was setting out, Attendant Qin Zhun asked him, “You are going to face danger today. Do you have a good horse?” Ji Shao answered gravely, “If the emperor’s carriage falls into enemy hands, a minister’s duty is clear. What would I need a fine horse for?” Everyone who heard this admired him.

The Hongdao lu comments: “According to the Jin History, Ji Shao stands as an exemplar of loyalty and integrity. Why, then, is he placed here in a section on the benevolence and righteousness of fathers and sons? The Book of Changes says, ‘Carrying on a father’s unfinished work: though there is danger, the end is auspicious.’ Ji Kang, the Central Secretariat official, was a criminal who corrupted the moral teachings meant to endure for ten thousand generations. Ji Shao, the Attendant, was an outstanding loyal and steadfast man of his age. The deaths of those people in former times were not only as light as a feather; they were also so vile that…”

The histories record: Today, Bian Hu’s death is considered not only weighty as Mount Tai, but radiant as the sun and moon. In the past, people praised him merely as a worthy man comparable to Xi Que. Now, however, they would surely praise his whole family as generations of loyal and steadfast servants. He had lost his father in childhood and served his mother with filial devotion and care; this was simply his nature. An old saying goes, “Seek loyal ministers in the households of filial sons.” The duty between ruler and minister and the affection between father and son are grounded in the same principle.

Bian Hu applied himself diligently to government affairs and handled them with ability. In office, he upheld fairness, sought to correct public conduct, and refused to agree with others merely for the sake of convenience. Emperor Ming valued him and relied on him more than on any other minister. Ruan Fu often remarked that Bian Hu was always tense and solemn, never at ease. Bian Hu replied, “You gentlemen prize lofty virtue and elegant freedom. If anyone is stubborn and uncouth, who could it be but me, Bian Hu?” At the time, many young men from powerful families admired Wang Cheng and Xie Kun, considering them broad-minded and unconstrained. Bian Hu said gravely, “Nothing is more grievous than violating the rites and corrupting instruction. The collapse of the court was caused precisely by this.”

At the time, Yu Liang was preparing to campaign against Su Jun. Bian Hu firmly urged him not to, saying, “Su Jun has troops and holds his position. Many lawless men are hidden among his followers, and he is close to the capital. If anything goes wrong, we could easily be forced into a disadvantageous position. We must think carefully and plan for the long term; we must not act rashly.” Yu Liang did not heed him. Later, Su Jun did indeed raise an army in rebellion. An imperial edict ordered Bian Hu to lead troops against him. Though ill, Bian Hu did his utmost to rally his soldiers. He fought fiercely west of the Ling River and ultimately died in battle. His two sons, Zhen and Xu, also went with their father to fight the rebels, and they were killed alongside him.

After Su Jun’s rebellion was put down, the Minister of the Secretariat Hong Ne submitted a memorial: “In serving one’s parents, the highest virtue is filial devotion; in serving one’s ruler, the highest principle is loyalty. Only through filial devotion can one give one’s full respect, love, and sincerity; only through loyalty can one give one’s life in times of peril. These are the foremost principles governing human relationships, such as those between ruler and minister and parent and child, and the highest duties a subject must fulfill. Bian Hu served three rulers in succession, assisting them wholeheartedly and offering advice with all his strength. In an age of hardship, the state’s survival or ruin depended on him. When Su Jun rebelled, he exerted himself to suppress the uprising, personally braving a hail of arrows and facing the enemy’s front several times. In the end, he and his sons gave their lives for the state. He may be said to have sacrificed his household for the country, holding fast to his principles and fulfilling his duty to the end. Above, he may be compared to Xu Mu; below, to Ji Shao.”

The court then appointed Bian Hu posthumously to the offices of Attendant-in-Ordinary, General of the Agile Cavalry, and Grand Marshal with the same ceremonial rank as the Three Ministers. It granted him the posthumous title “Loyal and Steadfast” and offered him a grand sacrifice with a bull, a ram, and a boar. Zhen was posthumously appointed Attendant Gentleman of the Palace, and Xu, Commandant of the Imperial Carriage. Bian Hu’s wife, Lady Pei, held his body and wept: “The father was a loyal minister, and the sons were filial children. What regret could I have?” The recluse Zhai Tang also said, “The father died for his ruler, and the sons died for their father. The ways of loyalty and filial devotion came together in this family.”

The Hongdao lu comments: “When I consider the period between the two Jin dynasties, there were indeed men like Bian Hu and his sons…”

To “rise above one’s peers” is to surpass those of one’s generation and outdo the crowd. When Huan Xuan rebelled, Zhuge Liang (the original text says “Liang”; the person meant depends on the context) was summoned to serve; he could have died. Hu De (a personal name, as given in the original) knew this course was impossible, yet went to his death all the same. Why? Perhaps because seeking fame and following one’s nature while remaining true to oneself are two paths separated by a vast distance.

The younger generations of the Wang and Xie families (eminent aristocratic clans) prized fame. Wang Zhi (a personal name) took pride in his own abilities. Those who seek fame care about bearing and decorum, and polish their speech. When their words happen to suit the moment, they are as frivolous as mayflies; when events demand action, they refuse to take responsibility, treating tranquility and emptiness as the highest state. They are no different from ordinary people, except that they settle for doing what they themselves consider appropriate.

Practical people, by contrast, are resolute in temperament and steadfast in their views. When circumstances arise, they can stand by and look on, as though their enemy were right before them; when danger comes, however, they flee to save themselves, as if they had been tainted by something filthy. In ordinary times, they make it their wish to carry out their resolve without fail. Others therefore esteem them, while they themselves do not realize what consequences this may bring. Thus, in the end, they often avoid death because they cannot think only of themselves.

Yet when they can give up their lives to fulfill benevolence, they make the integrity of their principles all the more evident. Zifu (a personal name) sought benevolence and attained it, preserving his reputation for loyalty and filial devotion. His name will endure as long as Heaven and Earth and shine as brightly as the sun and moon. Compared with them, how many times over do those celebrated for their elegance and style fall short? Ah, they may truly be called benevolent.

Tao Qian (Tao Yuanming) wrote in a letter to Yan and the others:

“To Yan, Si, Fen, and Sitong: Heaven and Earth grant life to human beings, and whoever is born must one day die. Since ancient times, which sage or worthy has escaped death? Zixia once said, ‘Life and death are decreed by fate; wealth and honor depend on Heaven.’ The four companions of Confucius heard their teacher say this with their own ears. Was he not saying that poverty and success cannot be forced, and that the length of one’s life cannot be sought from outside oneself?

“I am past fifty. I was poor from my youth and often had to hurry from place to place because my household lacked the means to get by. My temperament is blunt and my abilities meager, so I have often been at odds with worldly ways. I judged that, if I were to seek my own advantage, I would inevitably bring trouble upon the world. I have now left this life against my will, leaving you to suffer hunger and cold from childhood. I once recalled the words of the worthy wife of Ru Zhong: ‘Wrapping oneself in worn-out batting—what wrong is there in that toward one’s son?’ That, too, is something to consider.

“My only regret is that I did not have a wife like the two Zhong brothers’ wives, and that our household had no Lai woman (a wife said to be renowned for her filial conduct). With this concern in my heart, I truly feel ashamed, alone. In my youth I studied music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, and sometimes delighted in a quiet, peaceful life. When I grasped something in a book, I would joyfully forget to eat. Seeing trees whose interlaced branches cast deep shade, or hearing birdsong change with the seasons, also made me glad.

“I often say that in the fifth or sixth month, when I lie beneath the north-facing window and a cool breeze happens to blow, I feel as though I were living in the age of Fuxi (the legendary sage king of high antiquity). My thoughts are shallow and my understanding limited, so people consider this claim unconvincing. The days and months pass swiftly, and worldly intrigues are hard to put aside. To seek out the distant past is a futile, uncertain endeavor! Since falling ill, my body has gradually…”

Though I am now frail, I have not grown distant from my relatives and friends. Whenever they try to help me with advice and support, I worry that my life may soon be over. You are still young and your family is poor; you often have to toil at cutting wood and carrying water. When will you be free of such hardship? I keep these thoughts in my heart, but do not know how to speak of them.

Though you are brothers born of the same parents, you should also remember the principle that “within the four seas, all are brothers.” Bao Shuya and Guan Zhong shared their wealth without the slightest suspicion of one another. Gui Sheng and Wu Ju spread out a mat of reeds in the land of Jing and spoke of their old friendship. They were both able to turn setbacks into success and establish accomplishments through failure. Others could do this—how much more should you, brothers of the same father, be able to do so?

Han Yuanzhang of Yingzhou was a celebrated man of the late Han dynasty. He held high office and lived to the age of eighty. He and his brothers lived together until the end of their lives. Si Zhichun of Jibei was a man of noble character in the Jin dynasty. Seven generations shared the family property, and no one in the household harbored resentment. The Book of Songs says, “The high mountain inspires our gaze; the great road invites our steps.” I may not be able to equal these men, but I admire them deeply. You should act with care. Beyond this, I have nothing more to say.

The Record says: In conducting oneself as a person, the Three Bonds—the ethical principles governing ruler and subject, father and son, and husband and wife—should come first. Tao Yuanming, whose courtesy name was Yuanliang and whose title was Jingjie, lived without anything in his conduct to be ashamed of. He grasped what was genuine without relying on words to express it, and followed the transformations of nature without forcing them; he could almost be said to have been in accord with the Dao. Some may wonder whether this old man, in leaving such admonitions, was overly concerned with what would happen after his death. In truth, nothing could be further from the case. The bond of affection between father and son arises from nature itself; how could it be cast aside? This letter is sincere and heartfelt from beginning to end. Even a thousand years later, we can still imagine his loving care, generosity, and earnest kindness. His concern was not only for honor or disgrace after death, nor only for hardship or comfort in the present. How could those who feign obscurity and strangeness, seeking only to keep themselves pure while disrupting the vital bonds of human relationships, be compared with him?

Wu Yin-zhi was upright and incorruptible from a young age. His father died when he was in his teens. He often wept until tears streamed down his face, moving those around him to tears as well. He served his mother with filial devotion and care. During the mourning period for his father, his grief went beyond the customary rites. Once, after tasting salted meat and finding it delicious, he immediately picked it up and threw it away.

He observed mourning alongside Han Kangbo, the Grand Master of Ceremonies. Han Kangbo’s mother was Yin Hao’s sister, a virtuous woman. Whenever she heard Wu Yin-zhi weeping, she would stop eating and set down her chopsticks, grieving and shedding tears for him. Later she said to Han Kangbo, “If you are ever in charge of selecting officials, you should recommend a man like this.” Han Kangbo later became Minister of Personnel, and Wu Yin-zhi gradually rose to positions of distinction and trust.

The Record says: Wu Yin-zhi drank from the Spring of Greed without allowing his resolve to change. He did so in order to establish himself in the Way and pass his reputation down to later generations, thereby bringing honor to his parents. This does not mean that—

If someone can remain independent and steadfast from childhood, and deeply mourn and miss their own family, how could they easily change their resolve? That grief might damage their health, even beyond the limits prescribed by ritual, had its reasons. Kang Bo possessed clear judgment—that is, insight into people—and Han’s mother was skilled at recognizing character. They shared not only the same interests and aspirations but also the same native place. Such a fine story of the ancients choosing their neighbors!

Let these events be recorded and passed down to later generations who esteem virtue.

The Book of Wei records: Gao Yun, Duke of Xianyang and Grandee of Imperial Splendor, served five emperors in succession and spent more than fifty years entering and leaving the three central government offices—the Secretariat, Chancellery, and Department of State Affairs—without ever being reprimanded. He was kind, forgiving, plain, and composed. Though he held high office, he treated others as he would ordinary people. He always had a book in his hands and read day and night. When teaching others to do good, he was gentle, patient, and tireless. He valued new acquaintances, remembered old friends, and never lightly cast anyone aside.

He once served as General Who Stabilizes the East and governor of Huaizhou. One autumn, while inspecting his jurisdiction and asking about the people’s hardships, he came to a county and saw that the shrine to the Duke of Shao had fallen into ruin. He said, “The Duke of Shao was virtuous, yet his shrine is dilapidated and neglected. If he is not honored in this way, what hope can people who do good have?” He then submitted a memorial to the court requesting that the shrine be repaired. Though he was nearly ninety at the time, he still urged the people to read and study, and his efforts to improve local customs met with considerable success.

Later, during the Zhengguang era, Chang Jing, a Secretariat Drafter, commemorated Gao Yun. He led the elders of the region in building a shrine and erecting a stele for him south of the city of Yewang, recording his virtue. After Emperor Xianzong pacified the Qing and Qi regions, he moved Gao Yun’s clanspeople to Dai. At that time, many scholars had been driven far from home, most of them suffering hunger and cold; many were also related to Gao Yun by marriage. Gao gave away all his family’s wealth to support them and attended to their needs with great care. Everyone was grateful for his benevolence.

Gao Yun’s mother was advanced in years. She once said to someone, “When my son served in the Secretariat, he accumulated hidden merit by doing good and saving people’s lives. If good deeds are rewarded, I should live to a hundred.” When she died, she had indeed reached the age of ninety-eight.

The Record comments: Life and death are great matters in human life. Gao Bogong (Gao Yun) held fast to his original resolve without doubt, and in the end both mother and son lived long lives. Those who understand Heaven’s mandate need not be forever rushing about in pursuit of things. Yet even an official of low rank, if he cherishes people and all things, will surely be of help to others. How much more so when he holds an important post such as one in the Secretariat! Gao Yun served five emperors in succession and spent more than fifty years in the three central offices; he was not like the “Old Man of Longle,” Feng Dao, who earned that name by serving many dynasties. For this reason, gentlemen did not reject him.

The Book of Tang records: In the twelfth month of the twentieth year of the Zhenguan era, Emperor Taizong said to Changsun Wuji and the others, “Today is my birthday. People commonly celebrate such occasions with music. But when I think that even celebrating may…”

A ruler may govern all beneath Heaven and possess the four seas, yet be unable to serve his parents at his side and bring them joy through filial devotion. The chance to do so will never come again. This is why Zilu, Confucius’s disciple, carried rice to support his parents and still felt regret. The Book of Songs says, “Alas, alas, my parents, who bore me with such toil.” After parents have labored so hard to raise their children, how can those children, once their parents have spent a lifetime in hardship, simply indulge in feasting and pleasure?” At this, he shed several tears, and those around him were moved to sorrow.

The Hongdao lu comments: These words of Emperor Taizong of Tang show the insight of someone who understands how things truly are. Wishing a ruler boundless longevity has long been a conventional expression of reverence among subjects and children. A subject may use it to express a heartfelt wish to serve faithfully, and that is understandable. But if one puts oneself in the parents’ place, how could the pleasure brought by empty words of blessing cover the sorrow bound up in family affection? This shows that Emperor Taizong was endowed with fine qualities. Had he further enriched himself with the learning of the sages, what would have kept him from becoming a sage ruler like Yao or Shun?

Di Renjie, a Tang official, calmly said to Wu Zetian, “Between an aunt and her nephew, and between a mother and her son, which bond is closer? If Your Majesty names your son as heir, then after your long life he will be enshrined alongside you in the ancestral temple, and the imperial line can continue from generation to generation. If you name your nephew as heir, I have never heard of a nephew who became emperor later enshrining his aunt in the ancestral temple.” Wu Zetian was somewhat moved by his words. She recalled Li Xian, Prince of Luling, and ordered him to come to the imperial residence while she was on tour. In the ninth month, she made Li Xian crown prince.

The Hongdao lu comments: The words of Duke Liang, Di Renjie’s title, were truly sincere and steadfast, expressing the fullest measure of natural principle and human relationships. He saw not only what was plain to view, but also the principle concealed beneath it. The bond between son and father arises from nature and is of one bloodline; the bond between aunt and nephew crosses different surnames, and the degree of closeness is far apart. Though tigers and wolves are fierce, they still know the affection between parent and child, for their desires have not yet grown excessive. When people give free rein to desire, their original heart becomes obscured. Once it is obscured, ties to relatives of another surname may come to outweigh the natural bond of family affection. Yet even such a person remains human in the end; how could they be entirely without concern for their own interests? Di Renjie’s proposal that Wu Zetian be enshrined in the ancestral temple as an aunt truly stirred the benevolence that had not yet died out in her. His counsel on affairs of state had the power to turn the tide. Was it not people like Duke Di who gave rise to that saying?

At the beginning of his career, when Duke Liang served as a judicial officer in Bingzhou, his parents lived in Heyang. He climbed Mount Taihang and looked back to see a lone white cloud drifting in the distance. He said to those beside him, “My parents live beneath that cloud.” He gazed toward it wistfully for a long time, and did not continue on until the cloud had drifted away. Those with him were all moved.

The Hongdao lu comments: Everyone knows Duke Di was wise, but few know that he was also virtuous and filial. An ancient book says, “Because one serves one’s parents with filial devotion, one can transfer that same loyalty to serving one’s ruler.” It was precisely for this reason…

A minister need not worry that his remonstrances will go unheeded; he should worry only that he has not truly carried out what he ought to do. When a task is difficult, he need only worry that his sincerity is insufficient. Li Jingye, relying on his father Li Ji’s reputation, raised an army in rebellion before even a handful of earth had dried on his father’s grave. Where, then, was his young son? How could such a struggle fail to end in swift defeat?

Li Sheng, a renowned Tang general, lost his father when he was still a child. He served his mother with filial devotion and care. Brave and resolute, he was exceptionally gifted. Whenever he went into battle, he wore a brocade robe, embroidered garments, and a hat, and rode at the head of his troops, directing and leading the soldiers to display his distinction. Zhu Ci seized the capital, while Li Huaiguang was also plotting rebellion. Li Sheng therefore undertook a major reorganization of the army and said to his officers and soldiers: “The state is beset by calamities, and rebellions follow one after another. The emperor’s entourage has gone west toward the Guanzhong region, and the capital has no ruler. You who are young have received the state’s favor; when danger comes, you should be ready to die for honor and duty. That is a minister’s proper role. At a time like this, if we cannot destroy the treacherous rebel leaders, we are no heroes. Weishui Bridge spans the great river and can sever the enemy’s forces from one another. Let us join our strength, choose the right moment to advance, restore the state, and accomplish a feat without precedent. What do you say?” The soldiers of all three armies answered through their tears: “We will follow your command in all things.”

When Li Sheng reached Tonghua Gate with his army, he considered the plan: “If we first seize the wards and streets, the lanes will be narrow and full of residents. Should the enemy lie in ambush and fight, the people will panic and flee. This is no good plan. The rebel forces’ main body is stationed in the imperial park. If we attack directly through the park and strike at their vital point, they will be too busy fleeing to resist. The palaces can then be preserved, and the city streets left undisturbed. This is the best strategy.” All the generals agreed. Li Sheng then led cavalry and infantry and, under cover of night, had men break through more than two hundred paces of the park’s outer wall. His forces entered by several routes at once. Drums thundered through the army, and morale soared. Pressing their advantage, they pursued the enemy all the way to Baihua. Zhu Ci and Yao Lingyan fled with their troops. Li Sheng’s army entered the capital and took up position before Hanyuan Hall. He issued an order: “The people of Chang’an have long been under rebel control. If they suffer even the slightest disturbance, that would violate the principles of punishing the guilty and comforting the people. Tell them that everyone should remain in their homes and that no one may be harmed or intruded upon. Not even the smallest thing may be taken.” The people in the city were all grateful and delighted. Some who lived in remote districts did not learn until the next day that the imperial army had entered the capital.

When the victory report reached the emperor, he said: “In ancient times, people often performed great deeds and recovered capitals. But never, since the Three Dynasties, has anyone managed to leave the ancestral temples undisturbed and the city’s everyday life unchanged, so that the people of Chang’an did not even see the banners or hear the war drums. Heaven brought Li Sheng into the world for the state and its people, not for me.” Later, Li Sheng’s son Li Su also became a commander. On one occasion, he set out in the midst of a heavy snow.

At night, Li Su broke into Wu Yuanji’s residence outside the inner city. Officials from Caizhou came to report, “The city has fallen!” Wu Yuanji refused to believe them. Soon he heard the orders of Li Su’s troops and only then asked his officers, “How has Attendant He come here?” He then hurried with his attendants to the inner citadel to resist. From atop the city wall, Wu Yuanji asked to surrender. The soldiers set up a ladder for him to climb down and sent him to the capital in a prison cart.

More than twenty thousand troops from Shenzhou and Guangzhou, along with forces from various commands, came over to surrender one after another. After capturing Wu Yuanji, Li Su did not kill a single person. Those under Wu Yuanji who had managed affairs, as well as those who worked in the accounts office, kitchen, stables, and other places, were all restored to their former posts. Li Su had his troops camp on the polo grounds while awaiting Pei Du and Li Sheng. Li Sheng and his son Li Su were both renowned and distinguished for their achievements, and it is difficult to compare one with the other.

The Record comments: When Tang of Cheng conquered Ge, he used an invincible army to bring about the kingly way. The people of Ge had never experienced war, so they were easily brought to submission. Li Sheng and his son put down a rebellion for the Tang court with limited forces, stemming a calamity that was spreading like a flood. They faced cities already plunged into warfare: the tide had turned, and the task was arduous. Had Li Sheng heeded the other generals’ advice and allowed the troops to prey upon the people, he might not have achieved the work of purging the rebellion. Had Li Su believed the military officials and killed only Li You, he could not have won the victory of breaching the city walls. Thus it was said, “The Prince of Xiping has such a son, and I have such a minister.” The benefits of father and son joining forces in service to the state were far-reaching.

The court historian praised Li Guangbi: He came from a family of Rong people and was composed, resolute, and principled. Born into troubled times, he was entrusted with military command beyond the usual rank. He excelled at planning and securing victory, and his rewards and punishments were clear. His officers and soldiers competed to fight, and he truly had the bearing of a great general of antiquity. When mourning his father, he did not enter his wife’s room; he also served his stepmother with great filial devotion. In these respects, he was unlike ordinary people and common soldiers.

People often say that Duan Taiwei (Duan Xiushi) was probably just a military man, thinking that he merely showed courage in a moment of danger, feared no death, and sought fame through it. This view is mistaken. Duan Xiushi was gentle and modest. He often lowered his head and clasped his hands, and his walk and speech were humble and mild. He never treated others with disdain in his expression and looked like a scholar. When he was six, his mother fell ill. For seven days he refused food and drink, and would not eat until her condition improved. People at the time called him “the filial child.”

Li Xun’s younger brother, Li Jian, once lived away from home in Jingzhou with his elder brother. Their mother cherished his filial care and often said, “When Jian’er urges me to eat, I feel full at once; when he brings me medicine, I feel that I am nearly well.” The people of their hometown were moved by his example: when disputes arose, they did not go to the authorities, but sought Li Jian’s help in settling them. Emperor Dezong promoted Li Jian to Left Reminder and Hanlin Academician. Later, he served as governor of Lizhou, was summoned back to court, and appointed Vice Minister of Punishments. After his death, he was posthumously awarded the title of Minister of Works.

Xue Fang once said: If people can honor their parents and show kindness to others, their vital energy will resonate with theirs and bring harmony and peace. Thus, even those born among foreign peoples, those of lowly status such as soldiers, and those living as sojourners in another land may establish worthy achievements, uphold their integrity, and earn a good name. All these accomplishments have filial devotion and kindness as their foundation.

How much more should this principle be understood by those as distinguished as princes and nobles, as highly placed as the people of the Central Plain—here meaning the central region of China—and as accomplished in virtue and learning as scholar-officials. Surely they need no further argument to grasp it. This record benefits both the writing of history and the moral instruction of the world; it must not be omitted.

With this, the Hongdao lu comes to an end.