《陰騭文註》

This passage recounts the multiple incarnations of Lord Wenchang (a Daoist deity overseeing literary fortune and official success) and the origins of the Text of Hidden Virtue (Yinzhi Wen).

Though Heaven does not speak, it silently protects the people in unseen ways. The Dao of Heaven manifests through the Five Phases (Wuxing) of Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth, which correspond to human behaviors: appearance, speech, observation, contemplation, and action. Aligning with Heaven's Dao brings five blessings—longevity, wealth, health, virtue, and peaceful death—while opposing it invites six calamities: premature death, illness, sorrow, poverty, wickedness, and decline. Thus follows the principle: harmony with Dao brings auspiciousness, opposition invites misfortune, with karmic retribution as inevitable as a shadow following form.

Lord Wenchang claims to have undergone seventeen reincarnations as scholar-officials. According to the Book of Transformations (Huashu): His first incarnation was as Zhang Shanxun during King Wu of Zhou's reign, serving as physician and royal advisor before becoming ruler of Junshan Mountain and guardian of Dongting Lake. The second incarnation during King Xuan of Zhou's reign was Zhang Zhongsi (courtesy name Zhong), who rose from guardian official to grandee before becoming Immortal of Snow Mountain and King of Northern Gate Mountain in Shu, commanding the Five Mighty Warriors. The third incarnation as Liu Ruyi, Prince of Zhao in the Han dynasty, ended with him becoming Dragon King of Qiongchi. The fourth incarnation during Emperor Zhang of Han was as Zhang Xun, magistrate of Qinghe County. The fifth during Emperor Shun of Han was as Zhang Xiaozhong. The sixth in the Hebei region saw him as Deng Ai's assistant and military strategist before returning to heaven to receive the Ruyi scepter. The seventh during Emperor Wu of Jin was as Zhang Ya (courtesy name Pangfu), recalled by heaven to Qiqu Mountain, later serving as scholar-official under Zhang Gui while befriending Yao Chang. The eighth during Emperor Wen of Sui was as Wang Tong (the Cultured Master), later appearing as a Confucian scholar before Emperor Xuanzong of Tang to become Left Chancellor, and finally enfeoffed as Prince Jishun under Emperor Xizong. The ninth during Emperor Gaozong of Song was as chancellor Zhang Jun. Additionally, the Celestial Genealogy (Tianhuang Puxi) records divine posts held across incarnations: Zhang Xun as Great Deity of Jianmen, Zhang Xiaozhong as Mountain God of Shujian, and Zhang Lie as Mountain God of Jinma—likely representing three posthumous divine appointments.

In his commentary, Jiang Yupu noted that Zhu Gui (courtesy name Shijun) of Daxing revealed during the Jiazhi year through spirit writing (a Daoist divination practice) that the "nine births and eight transformations" account contained errors—Lord Wenchang had actually manifested during King Wu of Zhou's reign under the name "Zhang Yi Liuguang."

This passage recounts the multiple incarnations of the Divine Lord of Zitong (a Daoist deity overseeing literary fortune and official success), who manifested as various historical figures across dynasties. These include Zhang Shanxun, a recluse of the Western Han; Zhang Xiaozhong of the Eastern Han; Zhang Ya (styled Pangfu) of the Jin dynasty; Wen Zisheng of the Northern Wei; Wang Tong of the Sui dynasty; and Zhang Gongyi of the Tang dynasty—totaling seventeen incarnations. Notably, Zhang Ya dreamed of riding a white horse guided by celestial officials into a cave, later manifesting divine presence at Qiqu Mountain in Zitong.

The text then discusses principles of governance: Treat the people as one's own children, remembering that officials are human too. When officials act with benevolence, the people naturally gravitate toward them—why resort to cruelty? When administrators remain incorruptible, subordinates naturally revere them—what need is there for harsh punishments?

On rescuing those in peril, it quotes Mencius: "Anyone seeing a child about to fall into a well would feel compassion." To witness danger without acting is no different from committing murder. The narrative cites the Song dynasty official Zhou Bida as an example: While overseeing the Liji Bureau in Hangzhou, a fire broke out under his jurisdiction—an offense punishable by death for those responsible. Zhou asked his subordinates, "What would be the penalty if an official caused the fire?" They replied, "Dismissal." He declared, "How could I preserve my post by condemning a dozen lives?" Accepting blame, he spared the others though it cost him his position. Later, his father-in-law heard ghosts reciting a poem at night: "Sweeping snow to greet the prime minister." The next day brought heavy snowfall, and the visitor was none other than his dismissed son-in-law. Ultimately, Zhou Bida rose to become prime minister and was enfeoffed as Duke of Yi.

Gao You's Military Officer Zhang (a Ming dynasty military position) was traveling to Huai'an when he saw a small boat tossing in the river waves, with someone clinging to its deck desperately calling for help. He immediately offered ten taels of silver to hire a fishing boat for rescue. When pulled ashore, the drowning man turned out to be his own son.

During the Zhengde era of the Ming dynasty, a tsunami struck coastal regions, claiming countless lives. As the tide receded, scavengers on rafts salvaged floating valuables. One man spotted a woman clinging to a bamboo chest amid the waves. Just as she neared shore, he greedily pushed her underwater to seize the chest. Upon opening it, he found only marriage documents - realizing too late he'd drowned his own betrothed. Such karmic retribution proves eerily precise.

On the 23rd day of the third lunar month in the fifth year of the Shunzhi reign (Qing dynasty), Muslim restaurateur Ha Jiu of Nanjing's Hanxi Gate found fifty taels left behind by a customer from Jiangpu. Ha Jiu chased after the traveler to return the silver. Grateful, the man departed for home. Mid-journey, witnessing a capsized boat, he reflected: "Had Ha Jiu kept my money, how could I now use it to save lives?" He immediately offered fishermen five taels per rescue. Amid the frantic rescue efforts, the last person pulled from the river was Ha Jiu's son - retribution manifesting with startling immediacy.

Feng Shang of the Song dynasty, childless for years, purchased a concubine who wept bitterly. Upon questioning, he learned her father had sold her to cover grain transport debts. Feng Shang not only sent her home but burned the debt contract, demanding no repayment. Months later, his wife conceived. Neighbors dreamed of ceremonial guards delivering a zhuangyuan (top scholar) to the Feng household - a prophecy fulfilled when Feng Jing (later renowned Northern Song chancellor who achieved the rare "triple first" in imperial exams) was born.

Yangzhou's Cai Lian established an Infant Care Society where four members jointly supported one abandoned child, each contributing 1.5 qian silver monthly. Foundlings were given to wet nurses at six qian per month. On the 15th of each month, infants underwent health inspections with wet nurses rewarded or penalized based on the babies' weight. After three years, children were placed with adoptive families. This economical system saved countless orphans.

When Jiangzhou Prefect Zhongli Jin prepared his daughter's dowry, he purchased a maidservant. The girl wept while sweeping the courtyard, recognizing it as where she'd played ball as a child - her father having served as county magistrate there before her parents' death at age five left her to be raised by a clerk. Zhongli Jin verified her identity with elderly clerks, canceled her servitude contract, and provided full dowry as for his own daughter when arranging her marriage.

This passage recounts several true stories about accumulating virtue through good deeds and treating others with tolerance, illustrating the core Daoist concept of "Yinzhi" (secret virtue accumulated through hidden acts of kindness).

The first story tells of Li Jin, who, upon purchasing a maidservant, discovered she was the daughter of a former county magistrate. He immediately arranged a dowry for her. Later, he dreamed of a deity expressing gratitude, and indeed his official career flourished, living to the ripe old age of ninety-eight.

The second section discusses principles for interpersonal conduct: Holding oneself to the same standards one expects from others reduces mistakes, while forgiving others as one would forgive oneself prevents resentment. Examples include the famous ministers Lü Mengzheng and Fu Bi. When publicly mocked, Lü pretended not to hear; when Fu was directly insulted, he claimed the insults were meant for someone else with the same name. Such magnanimity commands admiration.

The third part explains "Yinzhi": The Wenchang Emperor (a Daoist deity overseeing literary fortunes) constantly encourages goodness, and these secretly accumulated virtues can move Heaven. The Ming Dynasty official Minister Ying heard ghosts plotting to claim a replacement soul, so he secretly sold land to reunite a family, thwarting the ghosts' plan. When the ghosts threatened revenge, they learned Heaven had already granted him the title "Minister of Secret Virtue" for his good deeds. Ying later rose to become a minister with illustrious descendants.

These stories collectively demonstrate that tolerance and hidden kindness not only resolve conflicts but accumulate hidden virtue, ultimately earning divine protection and blessings for descendants. Daoism considers such discreet good deeds more valuable than public charity, as their motivation remains purer.

This scripture expounds two core teachings: the relationship between inner nature and cosmic principle, and the concept of accumulating hidden virtue (Yinde) through the story of Yu Gong from the Han Dynasty.

Regarding spiritual cultivation, it reveals: The human heart mirrors cosmic principle, and cosmic principle is none other than the Dao. Confucius taught that Heaven assists those who follow the Dao, while people help those who are sincere and trustworthy. Thus, those under Heaven's protection will find all endeavors flowing smoothly. Shao Yong (a Northern Song Dynasty Neo-Confucian scholar) observed: "To refrain from wrong speech is easy; to avoid wrong actions is harder; but hardest is to prevent wicked thoughts from arising in the heart." This represents the higher demands of moral cultivation. Beginning with the easier practice of careful speech and conduct, then progressing to the more challenging refinement of one's inner nature, one may gradually attain sagehood.

The second part recounts the story of Yu Gong, a prison official from Donghai Commandery during the Han Dynasty. His fair judgments earned him such respect that even the condemned bore him no resentment, prompting locals to build a living shrine in his honor. There was a filial widow without children who devotedly cared for her mother-in-law. When the elderly woman took her own life to relieve the burden, the widow was falsely accused by her sister-in-law. Yu Gong argued vehemently for justice but failed, eventually resigning in protest. Later, a new governor overturned the wrongful conviction, whereupon Heaven sent down abundant rain. When Yu Gong rebuilt his family gate, he insisted it be wide enough for a four-horse carriage, believing his accumulated hidden virtue would bring honor to his descendants. Indeed, his son Yu Dingguo later rose to become Chancellor.

Through these two teachings, the scripture demonstrates that "preserving goodness in heart and deed inevitably brings blessings." Though Heaven remains silent, it instructs humanity through manifold signs. If sacred texts are merely recited without sincere belief and practice, one's innate goodness gradually fades until reaching irreversible degradation. Therefore, deities employ methods like "Flying Phoenix Manifestations" (a Daoist revelatory practice) to awaken people to the law of karmic retribution, inspiring repentance and reformation. This pedagogical intention mirrors the compassionate heart of ancient sages.

This passage discusses the principles of cautious punishment that ancient officials should follow when adjudicating cases and administering penalties. It consists of three main parts:

First, it enumerates prohibitions regarding punishment. Five types of people should never be beaten: the elderly, young children, the sick, those living in poverty, and those who were struck first by the opposing party. Five types of people require cautious punishment: imperial relatives and nobles, officials, scholars, government messengers sent by superiors, and women. Punishment should be temporarily suspended in five situations: when the involved parties are emotionally agitated, intoxicated, ill, when the case details remain unclear, or when the official cannot make a definitive judgment. If someone has already undergone the three punishments of finger-pressing (zanzhi), leg-squeezing (jiagun), or cangue (jiashuo), no additional penalties should be imposed. Three circumstances warrant mercy and exemption from punishment: during extreme cold or heat, on festive occasions, or when the other party is grieving.

Next, it explains three situations where punishment would normally apply but should be waived: when elders who deserve punishment are in disputes with juniors, when commoners who deserve punishment are in disputes with government personnel, and when artisans or merchants who deserve punishment are involved in procuring personal items for officials. It also prohibits three methods of punishment: the use of heavy canes, striking the lower body, and the use of illegal punishments by deputy officials.

Finally, it cites the cautious punishment views of Yuan Liaofan, a Ming Dynasty official. He recounted that during his tenure in Baodi County, he regarded punishment as a last resort—even ordinary caning required repeated deliberation, and he found it unbearable to lightly employ cruel punishments like the leg-squeezing device. He empathized by imagining: if his own legs were clamped in such an instrument, he would endure excruciating pain while pleading for his life, preferring to confess falsely rather than endure the torment. In reality, cruel punishments often force the innocent to confess under torture, while true villains may stubbornly resist. When using the leg-squeezing device in trials, only two or three out of ten cases might reveal the truth, while seven or eight would result in wrongful convictions. All people are made of flesh and blood—the official seated in judgment and the prisoner kneeling below are fundamentally no different.

I have served in Baodi (present-day Baodi District of Tianjin) for many years. Have there never been occasions that called for severe punishment? Yet in the end, I could never bring myself to apply cruel penalties lightly, and the sentiments of the people never spiraled out of control—nor was I ever mocked for having the "compassion of a woman."

The key lies in transforming others through sincerity and benevolence, patiently and meticulously interrogating them again and again, employing every method to uncover hidden truths, and taking the time to observe the shifting circumstances of each case. When I exhausted my own energy in this way, wrongdoers could no longer conceal their crimes, and the wrongfully accused could always obtain justice—as if guided by unseen spirits. Punishment need not be applied frequently; cases naturally resolved themselves fairly. My experience proves that the crux of judicial work does not lie in extracting confessions through harsh torture, but in moving hearts with genuine sincerity.

Since the Gengchen year (a cyclical year in the traditional calendar), when I was appointed as the Grain Intendant of Fujian, I temporarily served as the chief administrator of the provincial capital for one year and later as the Provincial Judicial Commissioner. Over six years, I adjudicated no fewer than a thousand cases, large and small, easy and difficult—yet I never dared to apply corporal punishment lightly, let alone the even harsher "three wooden instruments" (ancient torture devices). Whenever I encountered a difficult case or a cunning suspect who refused to confess despite prolonged interrogation, if I pressed on late into the night, the accused would often kowtow and admit guilt, swearing not to retract their confession after signing it. I found that cases in which confessions were retracted invariably involved forced admissions obtained through torture.

I once admonished my subordinates: "The ankle-squeezer (a torture device) is like the violently potent medicinal herb dahuang (rhubarb). Even in cases of epidemic disease, it must only be used if the illness has settled in the lower jiao (a concept in traditional Chinese medicine referring to the lower body), and even then, it greatly depletes vital energy. If applied too soon, it can kill. When handling cases of homicide or theft, you must never resort to the ankle-squeezer lightly." Yet I have heard that some county and prefectural officials even use torture in civil disputes over property and marriage—how baffling! Can such men truly be called capable officials?

Sitting in the courtroom to adjudicate cases, reasoning through the circumstances with logic and empathy—what case could remain unresolved? If one maintains integrity, discerns matters clearly, and works diligently, who would not respect and trust them? Why must one rely on intimidation? Moreover, once in office, some indulge in food and drink, spoil their wives and concubines, and go through the motions like puppets—how can they face their own conscience? Imagine lying beneath warm silk curtains in the fifth watch of the night (just before dawn) and examining your heart: are all those prisoners in jail, suffering scorching heat and bitter cold, hunger and pain, wailing and screaming, truly deserving of their fate?

I have also heard that the abuse in county detention cells is more brutal than hell itself, with the dead piling up like mountains. Whose sin is this? As for those who twist the law and treat human life as worthless—how cruel their hearts must be!

This passage recounts two stories about accumulating virtue (De) through good deeds:

The first story concerns Dou Yujun (of the Dou clan) from Yuyang during the Five Dynasties period. At age thirty without sons, he dreamed of his grandfather warning: "Your fate decrees no offspring and early death—you must cultivate virtue (De) and perform good deeds." Already kind-hearted, Dou redoubled his benevolent acts. He burned servants' indentures and provided for their daughters, returned lost gold and silver to owners, funded impoverished clansmen's funerals and weddings, and established academies for poor scholars. Later, his grandfather reappeared in a dream: "Your immense merit has registered you among the immortals, adding thirty-six years to your life, with descendants destined for greatness." Indeed, Dou eventually became Imperial Advisor, lived to eighty-two, and saw all five sons ("Dou's Five Dragons") pass the imperial exams, with eight grandsons achieving distinction.

The second story involves Song Jiao and Song Qi, brothers during the Song dynasty. A physiognomist predicted the younger Song Qi would top the exams, while the elder Song Jiao would also succeed. Later, the astounded diviner observed Song Jiao's transformed countenance—as if he'd saved millions of lives. It emerged that during a storm, Song Jiao had built bamboo bridges for migrating ants. When exam results originally placed Song Qi first, Empress Dowager Zhangxian intervened, declaring elder brothers shouldn't follow younger ones—making Song Jiao the top graduate instead. Both tales illustrate how hidden virtue (Yin De)—good deeds performed quietly—can alter destiny, proving the Daoist principle that "virtue begets blessings."

This passage presents several stories and principles about accumulating virtue through good deeds:

In the state of Chu, a young Sunshu Ao once encountered a two-headed snake. Fearing others might see it and suffer misfortune, he killed and buried the creature. Returning home in tears because of the saying "those who see a two-headed snake will die," his mother comforted him: "I've heard those who accumulate hidden virtue (performing good deeds unknown to others) will surely receive blessings. You shall prosper in Chu." Sunshu Ao later indeed became the prime minister of Chu.

The key to accumulating blessings lies in cultivating the heart. The human mind resembles the sacred field of sages - preserving one's innate goodness enables wishes to manifest. Zhu Xi taught that heaven, earth and all things originally form one body; when human hearts are upright, the righteous Qi of heaven and earth flows smoothly. Yet only those who truly understand these principles and practice them can deeply comprehend this truth.

One should perform convenient kindnesses at all times, doing various good deeds unknown to others. Maintaining good intentions, speaking kind words, and performing virtuous acts gradually benefit both self and others. Some today refuse good deeds, always making excuses, though speaking kindly costs nothing yet often meets with stinginess. Kind words harm none even if they don't help others, and often benefit both parties.

Hidden merit (unseen good deeds) values sincerity without hypocrisy. During the Daguan era of Northern Song, a man saw his deceased father who advised him to emulate Ge Fan. This Ge Fan performed daily good deeds - four or five at minimum, ten or twenty at most - never ceasing for forty years. This teaches us that perseverance in virtue matters more than the scale of deeds.

This passage explains the concrete practices and principles of accumulating virtue (De) through good deeds.

Opportunities to perform good deeds are present everywhere in daily life. For instance, when seeing objects placed haphazardly that obstruct others' paths, one can simply straighten them; when encountering someone hungry, offer a meal; when meeting someone thirsty, provide a cup of water. Whether through words or actions, any beneficial act toward others—regardless of their social status or wealth—can be performed anytime, anywhere. The key is seizing the immediate opportunity.

The Northern Song thinker Cheng Hao (known as Master Mingdao) once remarked that even minor officials could surely help others if they maintained benevolent hearts. During the social upheavals of Wang Anshi's reforms, Shao Yong (Shao Yaofu) lived in seclusion in Luoyang while many of his official friends considered resigning. Shao advised them: "This is precisely when virtuous people should exert their influence. Though the new laws are harsh, if you can soften their implementation even slightly, the people will suffer less. What good would resigning do?" From Shao Yong and Cheng Hao's words, we see that with a mind inclined to benefit others and all things, good deeds can be performed at any time or place—how much more so for those in positions of power?

Performing good deeds itself brings the greatest joy, and virtuous actions naturally attract blessings. Virtue and fortune nourish each other—when good deeds are continuous, blessings become inexhaustible.

The Ming dynasty scholar Yuan Liaofan recalled: In his youth, after losing both parents, he initially planned to study medicine to support himself while helping others. At Ciyun Temple, he encountered an elderly man of transcendent demeanor (who claimed the surname Kong, hailed from Yunnan, and mastered Shao Yong's Huangji numerology). The man predicted Yuan should pursue scholarship and official service instead. He calculated Yuan's fate: fourteenth in county exams, seventy-first in prefectural exams, ninth in provincial exams—all later verified. He further foretold Yuan would become a tribute scholar in a certain year, serve as Sichuan county magistrate for two and a half years before retirement, and die at fifty-three on the fourteenth day of the eighth month during the Chou hour (1–3 AM), unfortunately without heirs. Yuan recorded all these predictions, and every subsequent exam result matched perfectly. The sole discrepancy occurred when he was approved for tribute scholar status after receiving seventy-some dan of rice instead of the predicted ninety-one dan and five dou. Though initially rejected by an official surnamed Yang, Examiner Yin eventually promoted him exceptionally after reviewing his papers.

This passage records a profound dialogue between Yuan Huang (styled Liaofan) of the Ming Dynasty and Master Yungu, revealing deep truths about destiny and self-cultivation.

Originally, Yuan Huang firmly believed his fate had been predetermined by Mr. Kong’s divinations, convinced that his scholarly achievements, official rank, and even the lifespan of his descendants were all fixed by destiny. During a three-day meditation retreat at Qixia Mountain, where he sat with Master Yungu without a single distracting thought, the master pointed out: Ordinary people are bound by fate, but those who perform great good or great evil can transcend it. Just as Yuan Huang had been confined by his predetermined fate for twenty years—precisely the mark of an ordinary man.

The master then imparted this teaching: Destiny is actually in one’s own hands. Buddhist scriptures clearly state, "Seek wealth and honor, and you shall obtain them; seek longevity, and you shall attain it"—these are not empty words. When Yuan Huang reflected on why he supposedly should not have passed the imperial examinations or had descendants, the master helped him recognize his own flaws: arrogance, quick temper, reluctance to help others, harsh speech, and late-night habits that drained his vitality—all these vices were depleting his blessings. Just as fertile soil must be rich and impure to nurture life, excessive purity makes it difficult to accommodate others; harmony fosters vitality, while anger severs it.

The core of this dialogue lies in the principle that while destiny follows a certain course, it can be transformed through abandoning vice and cultivating virtue. Yuan Huang later practiced methods of self-reform and not only passed the highest imperial exams but also gained descendants, proving the truth that "destiny is self-determined." This embodies the Daoist philosophy of "my fate lies with me, not Heaven," emphasizing the power of accumulating virtue, performing good deeds, and refining one’s character to reshape destiny.

This passage recounts the story of Yuan Liaofan (originally named Yuan Huang) who transformed his fate through virtuous deeds. Initially, fortune-teller Master Kong predicted he would have no sons and fail the imperial examinations, but after encountering the Chan master Yungu, he realized the truth that "fate is self-determined."

The text explains: The past is like yesterday, already dead; the future is like today, newly born—this is the reborn body attained through virtuous actions. Can such a morally renewed self fail to move Heaven? The Book of Documents (Shangshu), in the chapter "Tai Jia," states: "Heaven-sent calamities may still be avoided, but self-inflicted misfortunes are inescapable." Master Kong’s prediction of my examination failures and childlessness was Heaven’s decree, yet I could alter it through virtuous deeds. By diligently accumulating good deeds and virtue now, I cultivate my own blessings—how could such efforts go unrewarded?

The Book of Changes (Yijing) teaches how to pursue auspiciousness and avoid misfortune. If fate were truly unchangeable, what would be the point of such guidance? Its opening principle declares: "Families that accumulate goodness will have abundant blessings." The truth is clear—it only depends on whether one believes it. Accepting this teaching, I repented my past wrongdoings before Heaven and Earth, first seeking success in the examinations and vowing to perform three thousand good deeds. Master Yungu gave me a "merit-and-fault ledger" to record daily actions. Originally styled "Xuehai" (Ocean of Learning), I renamed myself "Liaofan" that day—meaning "one who understands the principles of altering fate," refusing to remain an ordinary man. From then on, I remained vigilant, feeling profoundly different from my former muddled self. Even in solitude, I feared offending Heaven, Earth, and the spirits. When others disliked or slandered me, I accepted it calmly.

The following year in the examinations, Master Kong had predicted I would place third, yet I ranked first—his prophecy began failing. Later, however, I realized my virtue was still impure: sometimes I acted halfheartedly, hesitated when helping others, spoke carelessly despite good intentions, and maintained self-control when sober but indulged when drunk. Offsetting merits with faults, I wasted much time. From the year Jisi to Jimao, it took over a decade to complete the three thousand good deeds. Later, I vowed for a son and pledged another three thousand deeds—by the year Xinsi, my son was born. For each good deed, my wife marked a red circle on the calendar with a goose quill, sometimes over ten in a day. By the eighth month of Guiwei, after completing the second set of three thousand, I vowed to pass the highest imperial examination (jinshi) and pledged ten thousand good deeds. Before finishing, in the year Bingxu, I succeeded and was appointed magistrate of Baodi. Assuming office, I prepared a Record of Cultivating the Heart to document daily conduct, noting even minor acts, and reported them nightly to Heaven with incense. My wife remarked: "At home, performing good deeds was convenient, but now as an official..."

This passage recounts the story and reflections of Ming Dynasty official Yuan Huang (also known as Liaofan), who documented how he changed his fate through virtuous deeds. While serving as a magistrate in Baodi County, he accumulated merit through several practical actions:

First, upon meticulously examining tax records, he discovered instances of false reporting and embezzlement. He petitioned superiors to reduce the land tax from 0.0237 taels per mu to 0.0146 taels, significantly alleviating the people's burden. During floods, he organized citizens to dredge waterways and reinforce dikes, preventing greater disasters. He paid special attention to judicial cases, exonerating the wrongly accused and saving many lives.

Later, he dreamed of a deity informing him that the merit from tax reduction alone had already perfected his virtue. Though fortune-tellers had predicted a great calamity at age 53, he passed that year peacefully without deliberate prayer, and remained healthy when writing this account at 69. From this, he realized destiny isn't fixed—human fortunes and misfortunes stem from one's own conduct.

He proposed a self-cultivation method: Even if destined for prominence, maintain humility; in prosperity, remember adversity; when respected, stay reverent; with profound learning, consider it shallow. Daily, reflect on ancestors' kindness and rectify parents' shortcomings; above, consider repaying the nation; below, contemplate family prosperity; outwardly aid those in distress; inwardly guard against wicked thoughts. The key is to "recognize faults daily, correct them daily"—any day without discovering shortcomings means no progress was made.

The text cites Sima Guang's example in Luoyang: Through personal integrity, he transformed local customs—youths would warn each other, "Don't misbehave, lest Minister Sima finds out." Finally, it emphasizes uprightness as Dao's foundation for governing heaven—only by rectifying oneself can one teach others, while benevolence forms the root of serving nation and people.

The state regards its people as the foundation, and aiding the people is the Dao (the Way) to strengthen this foundation. When Gao Yao (a virtuous minister of Emperor Shun) praised Emperor Yao, he said that his benevolent virtue toward the people was deeply rooted in their hearts. The Book of Zhou records: "The virtuous never feel they have enough time to do good, and it is precisely because of their compassion that they attain blessings." Those who exploit the people to satisfy their selfish desires, such as Shen Buhai and Shang Yang, are precisely what Mencius called "enemies of the people."

During the Han Dynasty, Liang Tong submitted a memorial requesting harsher punishments, but the emperor rejected it. Later, Liang Tong dreamed of a deity warning him: "The underworld has already recorded your transgressions. Your intent to harm others with cruel laws will bring retribution upon your descendants." Indeed, his sons Liang Song and Liang Song both met untimely deaths, and his lineage ultimately perished.

In the Song Dynasty, the renowned general Cao Bin never slaughtered innocents during his military campaigns. When he captured Suizhou, his officers wanted to massacre the city, but he firmly stopped them. Upon discovering captive women, he helped them reunite with their families. During the siege of Jinling, he burned incense and vowed to prevent his soldiers from harming civilians, saving countless lives. In contrast, Cao Han, after capturing Jiangzhou, was enraged by the city's resistance and ordered a massacre. As a result, Cao Bin's eight sons all became high-ranking officials, and his descendants flourished magnificently. Yet within thirty years of Cao Han's death, his descendants were reduced to beggars at sea.

During the Ming Dynasty, Lin Xiyuan proposed key principles for disaster relief: The two major challenges were appointing the right personnel and accurately assessing the extent of the disaster. Three methods of relief were distributing grain to the destitute, money to the moderately poor, and loans to the slightly poor. Six emergency measures included feeding the starving with porridge, sending the sick to doctors, providing grain to the recovering, burying the dead, adopting abandoned infants, and showing leniency to prisoners. Three expedient strategies were borrowing government funds to stabilize grain prices, providing work in exchange for relief, and lending oxen and seeds. Five prohibitions were against embezzlement, looting, hoarding grain, price suppression, and slaughtering oxen. Three admonitions were against delay, rigid adherence to rules, and dispatching ineffective officials.

On loyalty: Heaven nurtures all people, and without rulers to govern them, chaos would arise. Quelling desires and restoring order are the virtues of rulers. Ensuring the ruler's rectitude and sincerity is the loyalty of ministers; diligence in duty is the loyalty of officials; support and affection are the loyalty of scholars and commoners; sharing hardships unto death is the loyalty of martyrdom. Whether it is a woman's loyalty to her husband or a servant's loyalty to their duties, the essence of loyalty remains the same. As for those who flatter and curry favor, they are merely false loyalists.

This passage recounts several stories about loyalty and virtue, which I will explain section by section:

Those flattering expressions are the mannerisms servants and eunuchs use to please others; those underhanded acts of exposing private matters are the typical tricks of petty people - these must all be clearly distinguished. But what's more important is first cultivating oneself properly.

Speaking of loyalty: when a minister wishes to admonish his ruler, if he cannot first hold himself to strict standards, then his advice lacks sincerity - how could it possibly move the ruler? If one cannot extend the same standards to others, how could such principles truly be practiced? Therefore, to make the ruler a sage-king like Yao or Shun, the minister must first become someone like Gao Yao or Boyi (virtuous ministers of antiquity) to earn the ruler's trust.

Han Qi of the Song Dynasty (enfeoffed as Duke of Wei), when facing major decisions, would unhesitatingly act for the nation's benefit even when knowing the risks. Someone once advised him: "What you're doing is indeed good, but if you fail, not only will you be in danger, but your entire family may suffer consequences." Han Qi sighed: "What kind of talk is this! A minister should exhaust all efforts in serving his ruler, setting aside considerations of life and death. We should only ask whether an action should be done - success or failure lies with Heaven's will. How can we refrain from doing what's right out of fear of failure?" He served through three reigns, assisted in establishing two emperors, and mediated between Empress Dowager and Emperor Yingzong to preserve their mother-son relationship - truly the pinnacle of loyalty.

The story of An Jincang from the Tang Dynasty (a musician in the Court of Imperial Sacrifices from Chang'an): When Emperor Ruizong was still crown prince and falsely accused of rebellion, Empress Wu Zetian sent the cruel official Lai Junchen to investigate. Everyone present, fearing torture, was prepared to confess. An Jincang shouted: "If you don't believe me, I'll cut open my heart to prove the crown prince's innocence!" He then stabbed his abdomen with a knife, his intestines spilling out. Empress Wu, shocked upon hearing this, immediately ordered imperial physicians to suture the wound with mulberry bark threads. An Jincang only regained consciousness after a night. When Empress Wu personally visited, she sighed: "My son couldn't prove his own innocence - your loyalty surpasses his." Later, Emperor Ruizong was spared, Emperor Xuanzong recorded this in official histories, enfeoffed An Jincang as Duke of Dai, ordered steles erected at Mount Tai and Mount Hua bearing his name, and after death, An was honored in Emperor Ruizong's temple with the posthumous title "Loyal."

The story of Li Shan from the Han Dynasty (from Nanyang): Originally a servant of the wealthy Li Yuan. When Li Yuan's entire household died of plague, leaving only an infant grandson Li Xu, other servants plotted to divide the property and kill the baby. Li Shan carried Li Xu into remote mountains, miraculously nourishing him with his own breast milk (astonishingly, he could lactate), serving the child with the same reverence as his master, kneeling to report when coming or going. Over a decade later, he reported the evil servants to Magistrate Zhongli Yi, who had them arrested. Emperor Guangwu appointed both Li Shan and Li Xu as Palace Attendants. Li Shan later became Governor of Rinan. When passing Nanyang, he would remove his official robes a mile from Li Yuan's grave, take a hoe to clear weeds, and kneel weeping in profound grief.

Here are two stories about filial piety and virtuous conduct.

The first story concerns Qin Runfu of the Yuan dynasty. When gravely ill, he entrusted his son from a previous marriage to his current wife, Lady Chai. Later, when a murder occurred, authorities mistakenly accused the stepson. Lady Chai brought her own biological younger son to confess instead, and the younger son willingly claimed responsibility. The suspicious magistrate investigated and discovered the truth, marveling: "A wife who would sacrifice her own child to honor her husband's dying wish, and a son willing to die to fulfill his mother's intent—how could such a household produce a murderer?" They were pardoned and Lady Chai was commended. If even a wife could demonstrate such loyalty, how much more should subjects be devoted to their ruler?

The second story illustrates filial devotion. Just as parents never cease caring for their children, children should constantly hold their parents in their hearts. Whether at home or abroad, young or old, whether parents are living or deceased, one must maintain filial piety—only then can one avoid unknowingly committing unfilial acts.

Two exemplary sons follow. During the Eastern Han dynasty, Xue Bao was driven from home by his stepmother. He built a thatched hut outside the gate and paid morning and evening respects until, after over a year, his parents relented and welcomed him back. After their deaths, when his younger brothers demanded the inheritance, he yielded everything to them—taking only aged servants, worn utensils, and barren fields. Later when his brothers went bankrupt, he supported them. When Emperor An heard of his virtue and offered him office, Xue declined.

Another account tells of Wu Zhang from Wujiang in the Ming dynasty, orphaned young when his mother was selected for palace service and sent to Shaozhou with a prince. Wu abandoned his home to search for her, falling gravely ill en route—calling for his mother even in delirium. Upon reaching Shaozhou, he learned she'd been transferred to Jiangxi. He trekked barefoot to Raozhou until his feet swelled, until finally encountering a Daoist priest at a wilderness temple... (the story continues)

This passage recounts several profoundly moving stories of filial piety:

A Daoist priest (cultivator) named Jiao used miraculous medicine to heal people. A filial son was bitten by a snake while crossing mountains, and the priest reappeared to apply medicine for him. Later, when the son traveled through a blizzard, the priest praised him as "a true hero who forgets his own body for his mother," giving him food to sustain himself. When the filial son went to the prince's mansion seeking his mother but was denied entry, he rented lodging nearby and wrote the characters "longing for my parent" every day. Finally permitted to visit, he found his mother gravely ill and unconscious. He cut flesh from his own body to make congee and fed her, gradually reviving her. Deeply moved, the prince rewarded them with gold and silver to return home. Later, their descendants achieved prominence, producing two Ministers of Justice.

Yang Yi, a beggar from Wuwei Bridge in Wujin, begged for ten years to support his parents. Whatever food he obtained, he always gave to them first. When he received wine, he would kneel to offer it and dance to delight them. After his parents passed away, he pawned his clothes to buy coffins and stood guard at their graves bare-chested in the bitter cold. Later, he discovered gold by the gravesite inscribed "Heaven's gift to the filial son," which he distributed entirely to widows and the elderly. Over a month later, Yang Yi died. Xu Daozhi, who was seriously ill, saw in the underworld that Yama (Lord of the Underworld) personally welcomed Yang Yi, saying it was by the Jade Emperor's decree to summon this filial son. Xu Daozhi was consequently granted an extra year of life.

Ouyang Shi was the wife of Liao Zongchen. When her parents-in-law died of plague, leaving behind her young sister-in-law Runnian, she had insufficient breastmilk. She entrusted her own daughter to a neighbor for nursing while exclusively breastfeeding Runnian. As both girls grew up, Ouyang always treated Runnian more generously. When her biological daughter complained, she tearfully explained: "Had I only nursed you back then, your aunt would not have survived." This story illustrates that true filial piety transcends wealth or status—the brocade robes and fine food of the privileged may pale beside a life-saving mouthful of rice in poverty.

These stories collectively teach that sincere filial devotion can move heaven and earth. Genuine filial piety lies not in material abundance but in heartfelt, devoted care.

This passage recounts several stories and teachings on family ethics, with particular emphasis on the proper way for siblings to interact.

There was a woman named Ouyang who remained childless into her thirties. One day she dreamed of her deceased mother-in-law, who said: "I have petitioned the Heavenly Emperor to grant you a noble son." She later bore a son who grew to become a high-ranking official. When her two daughters reached marriageable age, many wealthy families came seeking betrothal. Yet Ouyang insisted: "First we must marry off my husband's younger sister." She prepared lavish dowries for her sister-in-law while keeping her own daughters' dowries modest. Later when Ouyang fell gravely ill, the sister-in-law prayed to the deities, offering to die in her place. Ouyang recovered, and her son achieved great distinction.

Someone asked Master Cheng (the Neo-Confucian scholar Cheng Yi): "I serve my elder brother with reverence yet fail to win his affection—what should I do?" Master Cheng replied: "Maintain sincere reverence and filial devotion—don't insist on reciprocation." Asked how to treat younger brothers, he said: "Simply fulfill your fraternal duty."

Chan Master Fazhao composed this gatha: "Brothers are like branches from one root—don't wound kinship over trifles. Each meeting marks our aging—how long lasts this brotherhood? Cohabiting siblings should practice mutual tolerance, never quarreling over small matters. The children we bear today will become brothers tomorrow—set the proper example for descendants."

Pan Zhongmou observed: "From parents' perspective, brothers share one body. Seeing siblings should evoke the same feeling as seeing parents—this natural blood connection transcends material concerns. Most fraternal discord stems from wives' instigation. As men of understanding, even we harbor selfish inclinations—how much more so women married into the family? The key lies in our steadfast resolve to influence them through proper Dao rather than being influenced."

Sima Guang (Duke Wen) served his nearly eighty-year-old elder brother Bokang with the reverence due a strict father and the tenderness reserved for infants. He would frequently ask: "Are you hungry?" When slightly cold, he'd feel his brother's back asking: "Are your clothes warm enough?"

Zhou Wencan possessed innate filial devotion and fraternal love. His elder brother, an alcoholic, depended on him. Once when drunk, the brother beat him. Neighbors condemned the brother's behavior, but Zhou responded: "My brother didn't strike me—don't sow discord between us."

These stories collectively illustrate that sibling affection is natural—requiring mutual understanding and tolerance. In managing fraternal relationships, one should proactively offer sincere devotion undisturbed by external matters. As family leaders, we must exemplify proper conduct to maintain domestic harmony.

During the Xianning era of the Jin Dynasty, a great plague broke out. Yu Gun lost both his elder brothers to the disease, and his second brother Yu Pi was critically ill. As the epidemic raged, his parents and other siblings fled to safety, but Yu Gun insisted on staying to care for his brother. When his family tried to force him to leave, he declared: "Heaven has made me unafraid of illness." He kept vigil day and night at Yu Pi's bedside, maintaining even the mourning rituals without interruption. After more than three months, Yu Pi recovered fully, and Yu Gun remained unharmed.

Wang Xiang served his stepmother Lady Zhu with extraordinary filial piety, often enduring her beatings. Whenever Wang Lan, Lady Zhu's biological son, witnessed this, he would weep and shield his brother by embracing their mother. Once, when Lady Zhu poisoned wine intending to kill Wang Xiang, Wang Lan intercepted it and was about to drink it himself, startling Lady Zhu into spilling the lethal brew. Later, Wang Lan's wife treated Wang Xiang's wife with the same respect as a true sister-in-law, eventually moving Lady Zhu to become a loving mother. Wang Xiang later rose to the position of Grand Guardian, while Wang Lan's descendants held high office for nine generations.

In the Song Dynasty, Zheng Mian, wife of Zhang Mengren, lived together with Xu Miaoyuan, wife of Zhang Mengyi. Though Xu's family was wealthy while Zheng's was poor, Xu never acted arrogantly nor Zheng obsequiously. They shared a room spinning and weaving, pooling all earnings for household expenses. Gifts from their natal families were first presented to their parents-in-law, and they would request permission before using anything, never disputing ownership. When Zheng visited her parents, Xu nursed her children, and vice versa—the children couldn't distinguish their birth mothers. Once when their cat was stolen, the family dog spontaneously nursed the kittens, which people attributed to the harmonious Qi (vital energy) generated by the women's virtue. Emperor Taizong of Song specially awarded them a plaque inscribed "Two Rarities" in recognition.

The essence of friendship lies in sincerity. Choosing wise teachers and virtuous friends aids moral cultivation—this carries equal importance with the Five Cardinal Relationships, far surpassing casual acquaintance. To sustain lasting friendships, one must exercise prudence in initial associations.

When Hou Wuke was young, he formed a profound friendship with Shen Yan. Shen often remarked: "If I don't see Lord Hou for a day, I become blind to my own faults." On his deathbed, Shen Yan's eyes remained open until Hou arrived to gently close them. Having no sons nor burial funds, Hou sold his own clothes to arrange Shen's funeral. Fulfilling Shen's regret about unburied ancestors, Hou later conducted all necessary rites and raised Shen's orphaned sister until her marriage. Hou eventually became Palace Secretariat.

Zhu Wenji and Zhang Kan were fellow townsmen. When Zhang first saw Zhu at the Imperial Academy, he immediately recognized his worth, grasping his arm and saying: "I wish to entrust my wife and children to you." Zhu dared not consent at the time. They never met again, but after Zhang's death, learning of his family's poverty, Zhu personally cared for them, even sharing his own grain provisions.

This passage recounts several stories and principles about accumulating virtue (De) through good deeds and the law of cause and effect:

There was a man named Wen Ji who frequently cared for an impoverished elderly man surnamed Zhang. Zhang's son once asked him, "My father had no prior relationship with you, why do you care for him so?" Wen Ji replied, "In the past he once spoke words that touched my heart as a true friend, and I've never forgotten them." Later, Wen Ji achieved high honors in the imperial examinations.

Regarding the efficacy of Daoist star veneration rituals (specifically worshiping the Northern Dipper): During the Zhengde era of the Ming Dynasty, the Qian family of Xipu in Changshu suffered a catastrophic fire that consumed all their property except one small tower where four widowed women lived. These women had devoutly practiced the Northern Dipper worship daily. At the critical moment, they recited the Scripture of the Northern Dipper (Beidou Jing), whereupon seven red-robed deities suddenly appeared, extinguishing the flames with their sleeves, leaving only their tower standing.

On cultivating mindfulness through chanting: When someone asked Yu Yubi how to overcome distracting thoughts, he compared random thoughts to illness and chanting to medicine. He advised that during chanting, each word should be clearly articulated with full concentration, and distracting thoughts would naturally subside. The Buddhist scriptures' accounts of liberating wandering souls are not mere fables—the core purpose of all classics is to guide beings toward virtue, like awakening those who are asleep. When wronged spirits hear the Dharma, they engage in self-reflection, and their grievances naturally dissolve.

On repaying kindness: Heaven and earth, rulers, and parents nurture us with boundless grace. Though we can never fully repay such kindness, we must never forget our roots. We should maintain gratitude in daily life and nurture virtuous thoughts. Fujian's Lin Chengmei lost his father in childhood and was raised solely by his mother. An elder advised him that weeping brought no benefit—only accumulating virtue through good deeds could truly repay parental kindness. Lin took this to heart and often encouraged others toward virtue. Only those who genuinely cherish their parents' memory will spontaneously perform good deeds.

The foundation of virtuous conduct lies in filial piety, which forms the basis for practicing benevolent De (Virtue). The phrase "extensively practicing the Three Teachings" (Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism) has been interpreted by some through the lens of the Rites of Zhou, where the Minister of Education taught the people through three methods: first, the Six Virtues (wisdom, benevolence, sagacity, righteousness, loyalty, and harmony); second, the Six Practices (filial piety, fraternal love, clan harmony, trust among friends, aiding the poor); and third, the Six Arts (rites, music, archery, charioteering, calligraphy, and mathematics). However, such interpretation isn't necessary here, as the preceding text explicitly mentions Buddhism and Daoism—the Three Teachings clearly refer to Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism.

Lord Wenchang (a revered Daoist deity), throughout successive dynasties, was a master scholar thoroughly versed in Confucian learning. Having personally received the compassionate guidance and salvation from both Laozi and Śākyamuni, he attained profound experiential understanding and synthesized integration of all Three Teachings, far beyond superficial adherence.

Saving those in urgent distress resembles rescuing fish from a dried-up rut, while delivering the imperiled is like freeing birds from dense nets. According to the Yunji Qiqian (a Daoist scripture), saving lives in moments of peril extends one's lifespan by twelve years; when the rescued are virtuous people, the karmic reward doubles.

The True Martial Emperor (a Daoist deity) instructed: When ordinary people face life-threatening crises, skillfully using words to resolve danger can glorify ancestors above and bless descendants below. Fan Zhongyan (a renowned Northern Song statesman), encountering stormy waves on the Huai River, composed poetry: "A tiny boat, precarious as a leaf, strikes fear in observers' hearts. Should you later dwell in safety, remember those trapped in peril."

During the Song Dynasty, Huang Ruji, a wealthy man from Yue region, planned to bury his gold and silver when Fang La's rebellion erupted. Suddenly learning the rebels had captured over a thousand men and women—confining them in empty houses to demand ransom under threat of execution—he was moved with compassion. Retrieving two hundred catties of buried gold, he ransomed all captives, saving over a thousand lives. Later, he fathered five sons who all achieved the highest imperial examination honors.

Song general Fu Yanqing governed Daming Prefecture for years until false accusations arose. Emperor Taizu dispatched Wang You to investigate, hinting that uncovering evidence would earn him Wang Pu's ministerial position. Discovering only two of Fu's servants had abused power, Wang punished them lawfully before returning to vouch for Fu's innocence. He admonished: "The Five Dynasties rulers often slaughtered innocents from suspicion..."

This passage records several stories about accumulating virtue through good deeds, focusing primarily on two themes: "showing compassion to orphans and widows" and "respecting the elderly while pitying the poor."

The section on caring for orphans and widows emphasizes that widows are among the most vulnerable, enduring lonely hardships in empty homes, with even spirits admiring their moral integrity. It recounts the story of Shang Lin, magistrate of Wushan County: When the county captain Li Zhu fell gravely ill, he entrusted his aged mother and young daughter to Shang Lin's care. After Li Zhu's death, Shang Lin used his own salary to send the mother back to her hometown for burial and arranged for Li Zhu's daughter to marry into a scholarly family. Later, Shang Lin dreamed that Li Zhu, out of gratitude, had petitioned heaven to grant Shang Lin descendants. That very month, Shang Lin's wife conceived. During their journey home the following year, whenever they encountered dangerous rapids, it seemed as if Li Zhu was guiding them from the riverbank. When the child was born, the governor sent a box of rice as a gift, prompting them to name the boy "He" (meaning "union"), who later rose to become a minister in the Court of Judicial Review.

The section on respecting the elderly and helping the poor contains two stories: During the Yuan dynasty, Zhou Sijing treated elders like family. Once when his boat faced danger while crossing a river, a fisherman explained their survival by saying someone aboard revered the elderly (noting that the character "司" missing its left radical becomes "同" [meaning "together"]). Another tale tells of Li Dengying from Huating, who owned only two acres of land. When his tenant fell ill and had to sell his son to pay rent after neglecting the fields, Li immediately used his own silver to redeem the boy. "Though poor myself, I can still survive," Li said. "How could I watch your family be torn apart?" He personally pleaded with wealthy families until father and son were reunited.

These stories collectively illustrate how those who show kindness to the vulnerable ultimately receive blessings in return. The passage cites the "Three Locust Trees of the Wang Family"典故 (allusion) as further proof: Wang You planted three locust trees in his courtyard, prophesying that his descendants would hold the highest official positions (the "Three Dukes" of ancient times), a prediction that later came true.

This scripture illustrates the karmic rewards of accumulating virtue (De) through several parables.

The first story tells of a buyer moved by a seller’s filial piety, allowing father and son to reunite. The pair prayed daily for the buyer, surnamed Li, to attain scholarly honors. Later, Li indeed passed the imperial examinations consecutively in the years of Kangxi’s Jiazi and Yichou cycles.

The second story recounts how Feng Qi (courtesy name Zhuan’an) was born as a blessing. His father, a scholar, once encountered a man frozen stiff on a winter road. He gave the man his own fur coat and brought him home to revive him. Earlier, he had prayed to the God of the Eastern Peak for a son. That night, he dreamed the deity said, “Your sincere act of saving a life merits Han Qi as your son.” Later, he named his son Feng Qi, who rose to become a minister.

The third story describes how Luo Xun, an official without heirs, once saw seven unclaimed coffins in a temple and paid monks to bury them properly. Soon after, he fathered Luo Hongxian, who became a top scholar and renowned Neo-Confucian philosopher.

The fourth story tells of Li Ruoyu, who donated coffins to the poor for decades. His grandson Li Changzuo dreamed of hundreds thanking his grandfather’s kindness. Later, Li Changzuo earned the jinshi degree and rose to Chief Minister of the Court of Judicial Review.

The fifth story extols Fan Zhongyan (posthumously titled Duke Wenzheng), who, after achieving wealth, established charitable estates to distribute rice daily to impoverished clansmen and fund weddings and funerals. He said, “All kin are descendants of our ancestors—I cannot hoard prosperity alone.” His son Fan Chunren upheld his legacy, donating his salary to the estates. The Fan lineage flourished for generations.

The sixth story recounts how during the Ming Jiajing reign’s Hubei famine, Xiao Kui of Hanyang donated grain for relief. Childless at the time, his wife dreamed of hundreds bowing in thanks, with someone presenting two boys as repayment. Later, she bore Xiao Liangyou and Xiao Liangyu.

These tales uniformly demonstrate that virtuous deeds bring blessings—whether in descendants’ eminence or familial prosperity. Through concrete examples, the scripture exhorts readers to cultivate goodness and aid others.

This passage recounts several stories and teachings about accumulating virtue (De) through good deeds:

The first story tells of Li Jue from Guangling, who made his living selling grain to relieve famine. He conducted business with exceptional fairness, allowing customers to measure rice themselves and earning only two coins per peck. His life became prosperous as if aided by divine spirits. When the imperial chancellor Li Jue was appointed to Huainan, the grain merchant humbly changed his name to avoid sharing the chancellor's name. Later, the chancellor dreamed of entering an immortal realm where he saw Li Jue's name on a golden plaque, only to discover it referred to the grain merchant Li Kuan (original name Li Jue). Due to his fair trade and famine relief, Li Kuan lived to a hundred years and died without illness, his corpse becoming light as a cicada's shed skin—a sign of his Daoist transcendence.

Next comes a teaching about treating servants with kindness. Wealthy families often treat servants like dogs or horses, while jealous wives regard maids as enemies. Such behavior damages virtue and diminishes blessings. One should empathize with servants, as no one can guarantee their descendants won't face similar circumstances.

The narrative then cites Cheng Dazhong (father of Neo-Confucian masters Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi), who treated servants with great benevolence, constantly concerned for their wellbeing. His wife managed the household wisely, never whipping servants but treating them like her own children. She educated her children saying: "Though status differs, all are human beings. Could you have endured such treatment in your youth?" She later raised the two great Confucian scholars Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi.

Finally, the text emphasizes the importance of printing and disseminating scriptures. Even if some teachings invite skepticism, spreading a single phrase that inspires goodness makes the effort worthwhile. Special mention goes to the Treatise of the Unseen Virtues (Yinzhi Wen), showing how distributing moral texts accumulates hidden merit.

These stories collectively illustrate how fair dealings, kindness to others, and spreading virtuous teachings accumulate hidden virtue (Yin De) and bring blessings. The underlying Daoist philosophy teaches that good deeds not only bring worldly rewards but can ultimately lead to immortality.

This scripture illustrates the principle of accumulating virtue (De) through good deeds by recounting several parables. The opening passage warns that printing and disseminating immoral texts that lead people astray constitutes grave sin and must be eradicated. Several karmic reward stories follow:

Cheng Yide, though not deeply learned, persistently performed good deeds by carving and distributing moral exhortations. One night he dreamed the Heavenly Emperor informed him these acts had been recorded in heaven, and the Lord on High would bless him. His descendants later achieved prominence, producing the great Confucian scholars Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi.

Wang Jingxu wished to widely distribute engraved copies of the Taishang Ganying Pian (Treatise of the Exalted One on Response and Retribution) and Wenchang Yinzhi Wen (Lord Wenchang's Treatise on Secret Virtue), but passed away before completion. His son Wang Yuan fulfilled this legacy by funding ten thousand copies for distribution. He later dreamed of his father reporting this merit had brought blessings to their ancestors in the underworld, granted his mother longevity, and enrolled all participants in the celestial register of virtue.

As a poor student at Changbai Temple, Fan Zhongyan once discovered a cache of gold but reburied it. Years later as an official, when monks requested temple repairs, he simply wrote that treasure lay behind the main hall. They excavated exactly 42,000 taels of silver for renovations, with surplus funds building the "Lord Fan Bridge." When Fan later became prime minister, his lifetime salary totaled precisely 42,000 taels.

Xu Shuwei dreamed a deity declared he needed hidden virtue (Yin De) to pass imperial examinations. Being too poor for philanthropy, he mastered medicine to treat patients without charge. Later receiving a poetic dream prophecy about his ranking, he indeed passed as a Metropolitan Graduate.

The final tale tells of Yang Boyong, who served travelers free tea for three years despite poverty preventing marriage. An immortal gave him magical stones that grew into jade, enabling him to wed the Xu family's daughter and eventually become a high official. These narratives collectively demonstrate the Daoist principle that virtue inevitably brings its own reward.

The ancestors of the Lin family in Putian included an elderly woman who was deeply compassionate. In summer, she would offer cool herbal tea to travelers, and in winter, she distributed ginger soup to warm them. Every day, she made rice flour dumplings to give to the poor. A Daoist priest came to eat her dumplings for three consecutive years and, moved by her sincerity, told her: "I have nothing to repay you with, but behind your house lies an auspicious geomantic site. If you bury your ancestors there, your descendants will hold official positions as numerous as sesame seeds in a liter." Her son followed the priest's instructions, and indeed, for nine generations, the family produced successful imperial scholars, with descendants rising high in officialdom. To this day, Fujian still has a saying: "If no Lin descendant is on the list, it's not a proper examination result."

Some people purchase animals to set them free. Officials should strictly prohibit the slaughter of cattle and avoid flaunting culinary skills; ordinary households should refrain from killing animals unless for major occasions and should teach their children not to harm insects or birds—these acts of kindness require no money. Wang Minzhong, a Song dynasty vice-minister, was fond of releasing creatures. Someone told him that deliberate release was an attachment and that it was better to let things take their natural course. He sought advice from Master Fahua, who rebuked him: "Utterly wrong! Should you just stand by and do nothing? A block of wood has no mind—can it relieve suffering?" Wang Minzhong had a sudden realization and vowed to save a million lives. Later, when he bought dozens of bushels of clams to release, he worried they might cling to him in gratitude. That night, he dreamed of Manjushri (the Buddhist Bodhisattva of Wisdom) appearing in golden form to enlighten him: "In a past life, I too was a clam. Just remain steadfast in your resolve to relieve suffering." From then on, he wrote essays urging others to free creatures.

Han Shizheng, a grand academician of the Hanlin Academy from Changzhou, had a grandfather named Han Yongchun who lived in Lumu. Though poor, every morning he would take a broom and sweep stranded river snails back into the water, sometimes covering miles on an empty stomach. Whenever he found leftover clams or mussels in abandoned fishing nets, he would return them to the river. Before Han Shizheng took the provincial examination in the year Dingmao, he dreamed of a deity saying: "Your grandfather accumulated profound virtue; you are destined to enter the Hanlin Academy as a first-rank official." Later, he indeed rose to vice-minister and, as an envoy to Korea, was granted first-rank robes.

In the year Kangxi Bingwu, a guest of the Zhu family in Wuxi's North Gate passed by Chang'an Bridge and saw a dog-meat vendor tying up a dog. He bought and freed it, but the dog refused to leave him. Days later, when the guest took a boat to Jiangyin to sell cotton, carrying three hundred taels of silver, the host's servant conspired with boatmen to rob and kill him. Suddenly, the dog barked furiously in warning, and the would-be murderers dropped their knives and fled as soon as they drew them.

This scripture illustrates the karmic retribution of abstaining from killing and practicing virtue through several parables:

The first story tells of a man who wrapped a drunken guest in cattail leaves and threw him into water. A dog leaped ashore to alert villagers who came to the rescue, ultimately bringing the murderer to justice. This demonstrates how even animals possess spiritual awareness and can save humans from peril.

The second account describes how three generations of the Chen Xin family in Yixing abstained from killing. When plague struck, a yellow-robed figure revealed their household would be spared due to this virtue, confirming how sustained non-violence accumulates blessings.

The third narrative recounts how Chen Ju of Wuzhou unsuccessfully advised his brother against killing. Later in a dream, he saw the ledgers of merit and demerit recording his good intention despite the failed admonition. Eventually the whole family embraced non-killing, enjoying prosperity for generations.

The fourth parable follows Wu Zhaoxing of Beiping, who maintained precepts for ten years and urged others to abstain from killing without success. In a dream, he learned the disobedient would die of throat disease—a prediction fulfilled the next day, proving the merit of virtuous exhortation remains regardless of others' compliance.

The conclusion cites the adage "watch your step for insects and ants," exemplified by Hu Xi yielding to ants during imperial examinations, later achieving the jinshi degree. This shows how subtle acts of compassion bring rewards.

These stories collectively demonstrate that abstaining from killing, nurturing virtuous intentions, and encouraging goodness—regardless of immediate outcomes—accumulates hidden merit (Yinde) that ultimately yields favorable retribution. Through concrete examples, the text vividly presents the Daoist concept of "virtue begets blessings" within the framework of karmic causality.

The Story of Tang Xi: When someone was about to set fire to an anthill in an old house, Tang Xi said, "For the sake of a single night's peace for myself, I cannot bear to take hundreds of thousands of lives." So he moved back into the old dwelling. Later, when he took the imperial examination, his thoughts dried up. Suddenly, a swarm of ants crawled onto his brush tip and refused to leave. After a while, his inspiration surged like a spring, and the ants disappeared. When the results were announced, the examiner remarked that his essay seemed divinely inspired. Tang Xi knew it was the ants repaying his kindness. This story warns people against burning forests and harming living creatures.

The Retribution of Qu Zhongren: During the Tang dynasty, Qu Zhongren enjoyed setting forests ablaze for hunting. One day, he suddenly died and then revived, claiming to have met his uncle Zhang An, who served as a judge in the underworld. The judge told him his killing karma was too heavy to redeem and that he needed forgiveness from the creatures he had slaughtered. The judge then pleaded with the slain animals: "Let him return to copy ten thousand scriptures to deliver your souls." The animals angrily refused at first, but eventually agreed only after Qu Zhongren promised to let them drink his blood. After returning, Qu Zhongren spent years pricking his fingers to write scriptures in blood as atonement before passing away.

The Merit of Night Lanterns: An old saying goes that plague does not infect households that keep lanterns lit at night, for illuminating the path of travelers accumulates virtue. Another belief holds that heavenly lanterns shining on water spare fish and shrimp within a mile radius from being caught. Chen Jue and his entire family suffered from blindness due to an eye disease. A high monk told him it was retribution for deceiving the ignorant. After vowing to reform, the monk instructed him to forever keep night lanterns burning for passersby. Chen Jue did so for three years, and his family recovered without medicine. Later, when plague spread, their village remained unharmed.

The Blessings of Building Ferries: The ancestors of Grand Tutor Yang Rong made their living by ferrying people. During a great flood that destroyed homes, while other boats salvaged valuables, his ancestors focused solely on rescuing people. Others mocked them as foolish, but they later gave birth to Yang Rong, who rose to prominence. Fang Shilong took pleasure in constructing ferries, and his son Fang Yunlu eventually became the military commander of Huguang. When pursued by bandits to a riverbank, he escaped by chance on a ferry his father had built.

There was a great river without a ferry, and a man wept bitterly looking up to heaven. Suddenly an old man appeared with a boat to carry him across. The man, astonished, asked, "Where did this boat come from?" The old man replied, "It was built by your father." Upon reaching the other shore, both the old man and the boat vanished instantly. Only then did the man realize that his father had built ferries to help others during his lifetime, and now he himself was reaping the rewards of that kindness.

Do not hunt birds and beasts in the mountains. During the Han dynasty, Yang Bao (a native of Hongnong) was nine years old when he saw a yellow sparrow at the northern foot of Huayin Mountain, struck down by an owl and surrounded by ants. He took the sparrow home and placed it on a roof beam, but when it was bitten by insects and rats, he moved it into his own storage box, feeding it with yellow flowers. After over a hundred days, when the sparrow's feathers had fully regrown, a flock of sparrows suddenly flew in, circling Yang Bao's house and calling for several days before departing. Later, a child in yellow robes knelt before Yang Bao and said, "I am an envoy of the Queen Mother of the West. On my way to Penglai, I encountered many misfortunes, and I thank you for saving my life. Now I am ordered to go to the South Sea and can no longer serve you." The child wept and left behind four white jade rings, saying, "Your descendants will rise to the rank of the Three Excellencies (the highest officials in ancient times), and their virtue will be as pure as these jade rings." Indeed, Yang Bao's descendants—Yang Zhen, Yang Bing, Yang Ci, and Yang Biao—all rose to the rank of Three Excellencies over four generations, renowned for their integrity and incorruptibility.

Do not poison fish and shrimp by the water. Li Jingwen cherished life and kept all the live fish and shrimp he found in a pond. Later, when he suffered from cinnabar poisoning and was tormented to the point of death, he jumped into the pond. The fish and shrimp gathered around him as if sucking out the poison, and he quickly recovered, though the pond water grew warm from the toxins.

Yang Xu dreamed of an immortal who told him he would die in ten days, but if he could save hundreds of millions of lives, he might avert the disaster. Yang Xu said, "The time is so short—I fear it's too late." The immortal replied, "Buddhist scriptures say fish eggs can survive for three years without being salted. Why not try?" Yang Xu woke up and hurried to buy fish eggs to release into the water. He also posted the immortal's words on street notices, and from then on, people knew to abstain from killing and would release fish eggs into the water whenever they found them. Over a month later, he dreamed again of the immortal, who said, "Your lifespan has been extended." The best time to release fish eggs is in spring and summer, mixing them with mud and scattering them in places with flowing water and dense vegetation.

Do not slaughter plow oxen. Chengzi (Cheng Yi) once lamented while discussing governance with a guest, "How lacking in virtue (De) petty men are! They use oxen when they are strong for labor, then slaughter them when they grow old." The guest replied, "Old oxen can no longer work, and selling them recovers half their value, which can be used to buy strong oxen. Otherwise, how could we plow the fields? Besides, how could we afford to feed useless oxen?" Master Cheng said, "Yours is a calculation of profit, not virtue."

This scripture recounts several stories illustrating the hidden virtue (yin De) and karmic retribution associated with abstaining from beef and cherishing written paper (paper bearing written characters).

First, it explains the special status of oxen: they embody the essence of the Northern Dipper (Xuanwu, the collective name for the seven northern constellations) and symbolize the grand sacrifice (Tailao, the highest-grade offering) in human rituals. Except for state ceremonies honoring celestial deities, ordinary people should not slaughter or consume them indiscriminately. Oxen correspond to celestial phenomena and constellations, aid in plowing, and greatly benefit agriculture—offering immense service to humanity without harm. Those who kill oxen face legal punishment, while those who eat beef invite retribution from the underworld. The character for "prison" (牢) includes the radical for "ox" (牛), and the character for "jail" (狱) includes the radical for "dog" (犬). Abstaining from beef and dog meat can thus avert imprisonment. Oxen only graze on grass, posing no threat to humans, whereas humans consume all things—making it even more imperative to refrain from eating beef and dog meat.

Next, three historical cases are recorded:

1. During the Ming dynasty, Zhu Zhifan attained the highest imperial examination rank (zhuangyuan) due to his family’s three-generation abstention from beef—a hidden virtue. Upon learning this, his father immediately burned incense and vowed to abstain, and the prediction came true that very year.

2. In the Jiajing era, Vice Minister Lin Jun fell into a trance at a banquet and was led by a youth to the underworld, where he witnessed beef-eaters being tortured with nails through their hands and feet. Because he had once issued a ban on ox slaughter as a county magistrate, his life was extended.

3. During the Qing dynasty’s Kangxi era, a man surnamed Ma from Jinling, who abused his concubines, saw one of them struck by lightning—her hand still clutching torn fragments of new shoes, revealing signs of mistreatment.

Finally, the text emphasizes the merit of cherishing written paper:

In the Ming dynasty, Xu Zijun dreamed before the provincial examination that he had been a monk in a past life who collected discarded paper with writing. Due to this hidden virtue, he passed the imperial exams with distinction.

These stories demonstrate that seemingly minor acts of virtue—such as abstaining from beef or treasuring written words—silently accumulate into blessings.

This passage expounds on the principles of cherishing written words and accumulating virtuous deeds (De), divided into several sections:

Regarding the value of words, it emphasizes extraordinary care when writing. Zhou Lingong's Proper Interpretation of Cherishing Characters lists twelve situations requiring particular caution: words affecting others' lives must be written carefully; words impacting reputations demand prudence; writings that might hinder others' prospects require caution; texts sowing discord among family members should be handled carefully; writings involving private matters or damaging marriages must be treated with care; self-serving words at others' expense need caution; texts bullying the vulnerable require prudence; documents abusing power for personal gain or ruining reputations demand care; writings stirring trouble or drafting false accusations for others need caution; words distorting truth and causing injustice require prudence; erotic poetry or satirical verses targeting others should be written carefully; texts exposing private matters that cause lifelong regret must be treated with utmost caution.

The text then recounts a merchant named Yang who conducted business in Huaiyang. A Shaanxi customer left a thousand taels of silver with him, unclaimed for three years. Upon learning of the customer's death, Yang buried the silver in a flowerpot and later returned the full amount to the man's son. When the son hesitated to accept, Yang insisted it rightfully belonged to his father. Subsequently, Yang's own son Yang Pu rose to become Grand Preceptor.

Ding Qinghui, a Ming dynasty official, composed a poem observing: Though green mountains remain beautiful, ancestral lands ultimately pass to descendants. Yet descendants shouldn't rejoice prematurely, for future generations will become new owners.

Finally, the narrative describes Deng Jizeng during the Jiajing reign. As prefect of Huizhou, a censor relative recounted encountering a self-proclaimed "wealth guardian" spirit during his Yunnan inspection. The spirit revealed hidden silver beneath his seat, explaining the censor could claim it by burning a written pledge. Later in the capital, when a colleague offered two hundred taels for promotion, only eight hundred taels arrived during ancestral sacrifices - the spirit explained the missing portion had been previously taken by that same colleague.

These stories collectively illustrate how rejecting ill-gotten gains, using words judiciously, and understanding life's impermanence constitute essential methods for accumulating hidden virtue (yin De) - the quiet cultivation of benevolent deeds.

This passage recounts several cautionary tales about karmic retribution and moral exhortations:

There was a man named Lu Wen who seized his neighbor Zheng's land to build a garden, leaving only one tree standing. Later, he fathered a mute son. One day, the child suddenly pointed at the tree and said, "The tree remains," before reverting to muteness. When grown, this son squandered the family fortune. People believed he was Zheng reincarnated to collect the debt.

Do not envy others' talents. Each person has different capabilities and should learn from others' strengths. Two scholars were preparing for imperial examinations together. One, jealous of his companion's superior learning, secretly chewed the bristles off the other's writing brush. Miraculously, during the exam the damaged brush repaired itself, only to become bald again afterward. Ultimately, the envied scholar topped the exam list.

The text particularly emphasizes lust as the root of all evils. When seeing others' wives or daughters, maintain the same respect you'd expect for your own family members. In solitude, guard against improper thoughts—better to die of thirst than drink poisoned wine, better to starve than eat arsenic. Visualize lustful thoughts as swords, prisons, or other dreadful consequences to purify the mind. Preserving others' wives and daughters from disgrace constitutes immense merit (De).

Finally, a Tang dynasty scholar's story is told: When a woman tempted him by poking holes in his window paper, he repaired it and inscribed a poem (the exact verses aren't recorded). These stories collectively illustrate the principle that good and evil inevitably receive their due recompense, and the importance of maintaining moral purity.

This scripture recounts several stories about upholding virtue, resisting temptation, and receiving heavenly blessings as a result.

The first tale tells of a monk passing by a household with a plaque honoring a top scholar, flanked by lanterns inscribed with the couplet: "Paper windows are easily mended, but damaged virtue is hardest to restore." Later, this family indeed produced a top scholar. It then recounts how Luo Lun (posthumously titled Duke Wenzheng) dreamed of Fan Zhongyan (also Duke Wenzheng) visiting him en route to imperial examinations, predicting his success the following year because Luo had once resisted a woman's advances in a tower—a virtuous act that moved heaven. Luo subsequently achieved first place in the exams.

The second narrative describes Lu Rong (courtesy name Gongmei) from Taicang, an elegant scholar who, while taking provincial exams in Nanjing, was visited at night by an innkeeper's enamored daughter. Pleading illness, Lu refused her advances and composed a poem declaring his moral resolve. That autumn he passed the provincial exams, became a metropolitan graduate at twenty-four, and eventually rose to high office.

The third account concerns Tang Pin during the Shunzhi reign of the Qing dynasty, who fell gravely ill during provincial exams. In an out-of-body experience, Guanyin Bodhisattva guided him to pay respects to Confucius and the God of Literature. Checking the Register of Blessings (luji), deities discovered Tang had once resisted a beautiful maiden's seduction aboard a boat, thus granting him recovery. The gods explained that in these times of moral decline, celestial scrutiny intensifies—success and fortune now depend entirely on present virtuous conduct. Tang later passed the highest civil examinations.

The fourth story tells of Wang Hua from Yuyao, who while tutoring in a wealthy home, refused nighttime advances from a concubine. When she produced her master's note reading "I wish to borrow your seed," Wang appended "Lest I startle the celestial gods" in refusal. Later, a Daoist priest performing rituals saw these very words inscribed beside Wang's name on the heavenly list of top scholars. Wang indeed achieved first place and rose to Minister of Rites. His son became the renowned philosopher Wang Yangming.

A brief final episode describes a certain Mr. Cao from Songjiang who, when propositioned by a woman during Nanjing exams, immediately fled his lodgings.

These narratives collectively illustrate how maintaining moral integrity and resisting sensual temptation invites celestial favor, bringing scholarly success and blessings. The text employs Daoist concepts like "hidden virtue" (unde, accumulated through secret good deeds) and the "Register of Blessings" (luji, recording human fortune), reflecting Daoist teachings on virtue cultivation and moral education.

These accounts document several true stories illustrating the principle of karmic retribution.

The first tale tells of a man named Huohedao who overheard underworld officials reading the list of new examination graduates in an ancient temple. When the sixth name was announced, a clerk remarked this candidate had been disqualified for moral failings and needed replacement. A divine voice declared, "Cao, who never violated another's wife or daughter, possesses commendable virtue and shall fill the vacancy." When results were published, a certain Cao indeed placed sixth.

During the Xuande reign of Ming dynasty, county clerk Cao Nai encountered a beautiful woman while apprehending thieves at a relay station. Nearly succumbing to temptation, he immediately wrote "Cao Nai must not" on paper, burned it, and kept vigil all night. At dawn, he located her family and returned her safely. Later during palace examinations, a slip bearing "Cao Nai must not" suddenly floated before him—inspired, he composed brilliant essays and became the top graduate.

At Ming's end, scholars Zhang and Zhou took refuge in mountains where they met a maiden. Zhou attempted assault at night but was firmly stopped by Zhang, who escorted her home at daybreak. Zhang later married a Huang family daughter with generous dowry, recognizing her as that same maiden. Their three sons all earned jinshi degrees.

When top graduate Zhao Bingzhong's father served as county clerk, he saved a wrongly accused officer who offered his daughter in marriage. The clerk repeatedly refused, exclaiming "This won't do!" Years later as Zhao traveled for examinations, someone tapped his sedan chair saying "The 'won't do' one will place first"—a prophecy fulfilled.

Another account concerns prodigy Lu Zhongxi, who at seventeen lodged in the capital with tutor Qiu opposite a beautiful maiden. Their frequent stolen glances bred improper thoughts. The tutor suggested divination at the City God Temple. That night Lu dreamed of being reprimanded by the City God, who consulted the Register of Fortunes to show Lu's original destiny as top graduate in 1594 had been revoked, while Qiu faced worse—having his intestines drawn out. Awakening, Lu learned Tutor Qiu had died suddenly of intestinal convulsions. Lu indeed lived out his days in poverty.

These narratives collectively demonstrate: Heaven observes human actions. Good and evil ultimately receive their due recompense, with deities watching from just overhead. Those upholding moral boundaries ultimately receive blessings, while harboring wicked thoughts and committing misdeeds inevitably brings retribution.

This precept is of utmost importance: Those who have never violated it must vow to uphold it for life; those unfortunate enough to have transgressed must repent wholeheartedly and pledge to perform ten thousand good deeds to atone. Otherwise, the severity of the karmic retribution would be too dreadful to describe. Do not dismiss my words as pedantic.

Never instigate lawsuits for others. Legal disputes are inherently perilous—what we call "forgetting one's own safety in momentary rage," bringing calamity upon relatives. This is the height of foolishness. Moreover, those who incite lawsuits often meddle in affairs unrelated to them for personal gain. The mortal realm has its laws, and the underworld its divine justice. Such people must repent earnestly, while others should not foolishly fall into their traps and incur sin.

In the Tang dynasty, the Lei family maintained a tradition of loyalty and kindness from their ancestor Lei Shu down to the eleventh generation with Lei Fu, never once dragging others to court. Lei Fu later earned the jinshi degree and rose to become Grand Preceptor of the Crown Prince.

During the Song dynasty, Xue Fu of Yongfu County made his fortune by drafting legal petitions for others. One day, he invited Daoist priest Zheng Falin to perform a ritual. The priest remained prostrate before the altar for a long time before rising to announce: "The celestial decree states: 'Household wealth to be claimed by the Fire Department; life to be claimed by the Water Department.'" Ten days later, a fire indeed consumed all his property. When Xue attempted to cross the river to restart his business elsewhere, the mast snapped midstream, and he drowned.

Never undermine others' fame or fortune. Su Dazhang of Sanshan, a scholar of the Yi Jing (Book of Changes), dreamed before the provincial examinations in the wuwu year that he ranked eleventh—a prediction he shared. A fellow examinee reported to the magistrate, claiming Su's certainty proved collusion with examiners. When results were posted, the eleventh-ranked candidate did study the Yi Jing. The magistrate confronted the chief examiner: "Given these rumors, how do you explain this?" The examiner publicly swapped the eleventh-ranked candidate from the main list with someone from the supplementary list. Upon inspection, the promoted candidate was Su Dazhang, while the demoted one was his accuser. All marveled at heaven's precise and ingenious justice.

Never sabotage marriages. When Cheng Xiaolian, a juren from Huizhou who lived by a stream, rescued a drowning woman, he had his wife accompany her overnight before sending her home. Hearing of this, the woman's in-laws declared, "A maiden spending the night elsewhere damages her reputation," and sought to annul the marriage. Only after Cheng personally intervened was the wedding preserved. The woman later became a widow raising her posthumous son, whom she taught while weeping: "If you achieve distinction, never forget Scholar Cheng's kindness." The son earned his juren degree at twenty. During the bingchen metropolitan examinations, seated beside Cheng, he completed seven exemplary essays—only for a lamp spark to burn them. As he wept bitterly, Cheng said, "If you're willing..."

These accounts document several true stories of karmic retribution from Chinese history:

During the Ming dynasty, a young scholar who had passed the imperial examinations went to thank examiner Cheng, asking what virtuous deeds (De) the official had performed in secret to deserve the honor of recognizing his talent. Cheng recalled saving a drowning woman twenty years prior. The young man knelt in shock—the woman had been his mother.

In Ningbo, Ge Dingnai as a youth would bow to the temple deity each day crossing Brick Bridge Temple. The temple keeper dreamed the god said: "Next year a top scholar named Ge will pass here—his constant bows make me uneasy." Later, the keeper dreamed the god canceled preparations because Ge had drafted a divorce document for neighbors, forfeiting his scholarly honors. Horrified, Ge helped reconcile the couple. He eventually only achieved provincial-level rank.

During Qing Emperor Shunzhi's reign, Zhejiang scholar Zheng helped a friend frame his wife with adultery rumors and drafted the divorce papers. At the imperial examinations, these very notes fell from Zheng's brush case, exposing his crime and revoking his degree.

On not sowing discord between brothers:

Song dynasty magistrate Lü Tao adjudicated a case where three Pang sisters seized their younger brother's inheritance. After repeated failed petitions, the brother became a laborer. Lü exposed the truth, prompting the sisters' confession. When the grateful brother offered half the land to a temple, Lü advised dividing it among his sisters instead, reconciling the family. Lü later rose to vice-chancellorship.

Mi Xinfu of western Zhejiang, a cunning man, instigated inheritance litigation between brothers, colluding with officials to ruin both families. Twenty years later, imprisoned Mi encountered torturers resembling the brothers he'd destroyed—one at county jail like the younger brother, another at prefecture like the elder. His entire family died in prison.

On not destroying father-son bonds for profit:

Wealthy Xu Chi coveted Xu Ba's property. When refused, Xu Chi lured father and son into gambling until they lost everything.

This passage recounts several Daoist stories and admonitions about karmic retribution and proper conduct in human affairs:

The first story tells of the feud between the Chi and Xu families. The Chi family seized the Xu family's house, causing Xu Ba and his son to die with bitter resentment. Later, three generations of the Chi family fell seriously ill. Their ancestor appeared in a dream, revealing this was Xu Ba's vengeful spirit at work. Terrified, the Chi family prayed at the City God Temple, where they witnessed a beggar accusing them of swindling his son and ruining his family fortune. Ultimately, the entire Chi lineage perished—a warning against bullying good people through power and influence.

The second story concerns Tao Shixing (Tao Kan). In his impoverished youth during winter, he and his mother could only wear tattered hemp clothes. After attaining wealth and status, his mother still sewed a patch of that old hemp cloth into his sleeve, reminding him never to forget his humble origins, to serve the nation wholeheartedly, cherish the people, and protect the virtuous.

The third is Jin Wentong's admonition: While in office, he warned his descendants, "For every less act of self-satisfaction you commit now, there will be one less disappointment for you after my retirement." Feng Zuan'an added: "When we reach the height of satisfaction, someone else must be experiencing extreme dissatisfaction."

The fourth story describes the kindness of Tu Yingshun from Jiaxing. When a neighbor repaid his son's debt with ancestral burial land, Tu not only returned the property but helped restore the graves. Consequently, his descendants enjoyed prosperity for generations—teaching that the wealthy must never oppress the poor.

The fifth section extols the benefits of befriending virtuous people. Fu Bi (Duke Fu Zheng) in middle age was profoundly influenced by Shao Yong (Master Shao), declaring, "Had I not met Shao Yong, I'd have remained but a village rustic." Liu Anshi studied under Sima Guang, cultivating the virtue of "sincerity" (cheng) to become a renowned statesman.

Finally, the importance of avoiding wicked company: When Chen Jingzong served as Nanjing's Sacrificial Director during the Ming dynasty, the powerful eunuch Wang Zhen sought his friendship. Chen sent him Cheng Yi's "Four Admonitions" but refused all gifts, ultimately preserving his integrity by avoiding association with corrupt officials.

These stories collectively teach: Draw near to the virtuous to cultivate De (Virtue), and shun the wicked to avoid calamity; when prosperous, never forget one's roots nor abuse power to oppress others; for good and evil inevitably meet their just retribution.

This passage expounds the principle of concealing faults while promoting virtue in human conduct, emphasizing the alignment of words and deeds. Through multiple historical anecdotes, it illustrates the cosmic law of retribution for good and evil deeds.

A man named Gong Wei served as a sacrificial officer (an ancient academic post) for eighteen years and gained a reputation for longevity due to his noble virtue. Those who truly comprehend the Dao draw close to noble individuals and distance themselves from petty people, emulating good behavior while correcting their own shortcomings—this is the solemn path taught by sages. One should always remember to conceal others’ faults while promoting their virtuous deeds.

Wang Shaohu explained that the hearts of sages are filled with compassion, fearing that people might commit evil. Thus, they refrain from speaking of wicked deeds to avoid planting harmful thoughts in others’ minds. Instead, they frequently discuss virtuous acts to inspire admiration and emulation. Ma Yuan once admonished his nephew, saying, "When you hear of others’ faults, treat it like hearing your parents’ names—your ears may listen, but your mouth must not speak of them." Han Qi (posthumously titled "Loyal and Devoted"), when serving as prime minister, would personally seal any documents exposing private matters upon seeing them. When witnessing even minor acts of kindness, he would respectfully praise them, saying, "Even I, Han Qi, could not achieve this."

During the Wanli era of the Ming Dynasty, a scholar participated in revising the Jiangyin County Annals. Finding the records of two chaste widows too brief, he deleted them entirely. Later, the temple keeper of the City God Temple dreamed of two lanterns guiding two women—one entering through the main gate, the other through a side gate—as the City God personally welcomed them. The women protested, saying, "We remained chaste our entire lives, yet this scholar erased our names without investigation." The deity declared, "This man was originally destined to pass the imperial examinations, but because he disregarded chastity and righteousness, his scholarly honors have been revoked." It turned out that one of the women was an officially honored widow, while the other was a commoner who had remained virtuous.

A person must never speak one thing while harboring another in their heart: those whose words drip with honey while concealing daggers in their hearts are sinister schemers; those who feign obedience in person but defy behind one’s back are weak and cowardly; those who indulge in empty flattery without sincerity are frivolous braggarts. If such habits persist without shame, wicked thoughts will flourish. One must reflect daily and correct such tendencies.

Yu Daoji suffered from a prolonged illness and held a jiao (a Daoist sacrificial ritual) to seek divine protection. The deity judged, "Yu Daoji’s entire life has been marked by duplicity—he lacks genuine virtue. How can flattering the gods spare him from calamity?" In the end, he died of his illness. He Qing was both deaf and mute, yet whenever he saw thorns blocking a path, he would clear them away. During summer and autumn, he would also weed narrow paths to prevent dew from wetting travelers’ clothes and shoes. Later, he dreamed of a yellow-robed figure who said, "In your past life, you delighted in gossiping about others, hence this retribution. Now that you provide convenience for others, Heaven will grant you convenience in return." Upon waking, his deafness and muteness were completely cured.

These stories all demonstrate the same truth: clearing thorns from the road or removing tiles and stones (metaphors for acting kindly toward others) may seem trivial, yet they are deeply connected to the principles of Heaven.

In Xin'an (modern-day She County, Anhui), there lived a man named Lu Shize with a benevolent heart who would always clear away broken tiles or shattered bowls whenever he encountered them on the road. He often told people, "Imagine how terrible it would be if the elderly, children, the sick, or the blind stumbled over these things on a dark and windy night." At sixty-seven, he fell ill and passed away, but his soul arrived before vermilion gates where a judge consulted the register of life and death, confirming his allotted lifespan had ended. Then a divine official in purple robes intervened: "This man always considered others' convenience while walking—he deserves twenty-four additional years." Thus Lu Shize returned to life, thereafter redoubling his acts of kindness and ultimately passing peacefully at ninety-one.

Zhang Anren of Jinhua had stockpiled thousands of bushels of grain. During a famine, someone urged him to sell at inflated prices. He replied, "How could I exploit others' desperation for profit?" Instead, he opened his granaries for relief and hired workers to repair 180 li of public roads and build over 40 li of embankments. Local people flocked to these jobs for survival, while travelers and residents alike benefited. He later lived to ninety-three, with descendants successively passing imperial examinations.

The grandfather of Yu Yongning from She County made his living trading timber. When locals planned a stone bridge budgeted at 4,000 taels, he resolved to fund it alone—though this equaled his entire capital, already invested in timber piled on mountains. Rushing to sell, he unexpectedly found timber prices had doubled, completing the bridge without losing his principal.

After Jiang Xingzhong of Songjiang earned his jinshi degree, authorities proposed an honorary archway. Noting the inconvenient ferry at Ying Lake (modern Songjiang, Shanghai), he declared, "Better to benefit my hometown than glorify my family," diverting the archway funds to build a stone bridge instead.

Bao Manshu observed: "Persuading one person toward goodness adds a virtuous person to the world; transforming a wrongdoer removes one evildoer while adding a virtuous one. These may then influence others, multiplying goodness exponentially. Recording such teachings in books extends their impact across generations, perpetuating seeds of virtue."

When Liu Yuanxiang contracted consumption with no cure in sight, he hand-copied a thousand copies of the "Song of Heart and Destiny" for distribution. Later he dreamed of the scarlet-robed Director of Destinies accompanied by an elder who said: "The Heavenly Emperor, moved by your dissemination of virtuous teachings, sends a celestial physician to cure your terminal illness. Your original lifespan of forty years is extended by twenty-four." He recovered and lived to sixty-four.

These stories share a common thread: Building bridges and repairing roads accumulates hidden virtue (Yin De); encouraging goodness and aiding distress alters destiny. Using wealth to facilitate others' wellbeing surpasses mere charity—like mending century-old mountain paths or constructing bridges traversed by multitudes, such merit resonates most profoundly.

When Fan Zhongyan (Duke Wenzheng of Fan) was stationed in Huaiyang, a scholar named Sun came seeking assistance. The Duke provided him with a thousand coins. The following year, Scholar Sun returned for help again, and the Duke gave him another thousand coins, inquiring why he was in such dire straits. With sorrow, Scholar Sun replied, "I have no means to support my elderly mother. If I could just earn a hundred coins daily, I could provide her with decent meals." The Duke said, "Let me arrange a teaching position for you. With a monthly income of three thousand coins to support your mother, you can then focus on your studies in peace, can't you?" Scholar Sun was overjoyed. A decade later, a renowned scholar named Sun Mingfu gained fame for his teachings on the Spring and Autumn Annals and his moral integrity, eventually being summoned to serve at court—this was none other than the same Scholar Sun who had once sought help. The Duke sighed, "Poverty burdens people so heavily that even a talent like Sun Mingfu nearly went unrecognized. How much more so for those of lesser ability?"

Fan Chunren (son of Fan Zhongyan) was sent by his father to collect five hundred shi of rent wheat from the Jiangdong region. Along the way, he encountered his father's old friend Shi Manqing and learned that Shi had three unburied coffins in his family. Without hesitation, Fan Chunren gave him the entire boatload of wheat. Upon his return, Fan Zhongyan asked about his journey, and Fan Chunren mentioned Shi Manqing's plight in Danyang. Fan Zhongyan asked, "Why didn’t you offer him the boatload of wheat?" His son replied, "I already gave it all to him." Hearing this, Fan Zhongyan was deeply pleased.

Han Qi (Duke Wei of Han), while serving as prime minister, spent three hundred thousand coins to purchase a concubine named Zhang. After the contract was signed, Zhang wept incessantly. When Han Qi asked why, she explained, "I was originally the wife of Guo Shouyi, an official. When he served in Hunan, he was falsely accused by a superior and dismissed. Now my family is on the verge of starvation in the capital, forcing me to sell myself to save them." Han Qi immediately sent Zhang home with the money and instructed Guo Shouyi, "If you have been wronged, you may appeal to the court." Later, the injustice was rectified, Guo was reinstated, and Zhang returned as agreed. Han Qi sent a message: "As prime minister, how could I take another man’s wife as my concubine? The money from before must have been spent by now—here is the marriage contract and two hundred taels of silver to support your journey to your post." Zhang tearfully bowed in gratitude before departing.

One must act in accordance with the principles of Heaven (tianli). "Heaven" is principle itself; by following it, one understands destiny and remains content with their lot. Xu Heng (Xu Luzhai) said, "Disobeying one’s parents is unfilial, disobeying one’s ruler is disrespectful—then what of those who disobey Heaven’s will? Are they not accountable?"

Zhao Bian (Duke Qingxian of Zhao) would burn incense every evening as if silently praying. When asked about it, he said, "At night, I report to Heaven all that I have done during the day. This is how I discipline myself strictly. With such reverence in my heart, I dare not speak words I shouldn’t or commit acts I ought not."

Speech must align with the hearts of the people.

Speech is the expression of one's inner self. If words do not align with the heart, one's true intentions become evident. The Book of Changes (Yijing) states: When a noble person speaks virtuous words at home, they resonate a thousand miles away; when harmful words are spoken, opposition arises even from afar—how much more so from those nearby? Nowadays, people often speak carelessly, with harsh and artificial words, dismissing them as mere passing winds, unaware of the deep harm they cause. Yan Junping (a Han Dynasty recluse) spoke of filial piety to his son, loyalty to his ministers, and brotherly love to his younger siblings—this is the proper way.

Chen Meigong (a Ming Dynasty scholar) remarked: Sometimes a single word can disrupt the harmony of heaven and earth, and a single act can diminish a lifetime of blessings—thus, one must be especially cautious and self-reflective.

One should emulate the ancients, who constantly looked to sages as their models. The Book of the Later Han: Biography of Li Gu records that Emperor Shun saw the shadow of Emperor Yao in his soup while eating and his image on the wall while sitting, embodying reverence for the sages. Zhang Jiucheng (a renowned Song Dynasty official) could silently recite the Six Classics by age eight. At fourteen, while studying at the county school, he often stayed indoors all day. A neighboring student peeked through a gap and saw him sitting upright, studying texts as if facing the gods (Shen). Later, he became a top scholar and a distinguished official, saying: "When exiled to Lingnan with no one to converse with, I feared my faults would go uncorrected and my learning would stagnate. So, I placed images of Confucius and Yan Hui in my study, later adding portraits of Tao Yuanming and other sages throughout history. Morning and evening, I gazed upon them with solemn reverence. The slightest sense of shame felt like being publicly whipped in the marketplace."

Even in solitude, one must maintain discipline. A noble person does not feel ashamed before their blanket when sleeping alone, nor before their shadow when walking alone—this is the cultivation of "vigilance in solitude" (shendu), a practice of self-honesty. Zhu Xi said: An elder who sought to purify his mind placed two containers by his seat—dropping a white bean for each virtuous thought and a black bean for each harmful one. At first, black beans outnumbered white, but over time, white surpassed black until even white beans became unnecessary. Yet this is merely a mechanical method. If combined with the effort of studying to clarify principles (mingli), what difficulty remains in eliminating improper thoughts? This is the true cultivation practice of Song Dynasty Confucians, one that can withstand the scrutiny of spirits (Shen). Later Confucians neglected the discipline of vigilance in solitude—even studying principles became mere intellectual indulgence.

In summary: refrain from all evil, and practice all good.

The Book of Changes states: "Without accumulating good deeds, one cannot establish a virtuous reputation; without accumulating evil deeds, one will not bring about self-destruction." This aligns with Mencius' concept of "accumulating righteousness." A noble person may perform a hundred good acts, but a single evil deed can still bring misfortune—thus the importance of thoroughly eliminating wrongdoing. Conversely, a petty person may commit a hundred misdeeds, yet one virtuous act can redeem them—hence the value of courageous reformation.

The recorded instances where certain individuals received blessings for specific good deeds are not calculated with the precision of weighing gold and silver. Observing a single virtuous act in someone allows us to infer their overall benevolent character. Moreover, these are merely the visible good deeds—countless unseen acts of hidden virtue remain unrecorded. Thus, celestial retribution arrives as swiftly as an echo. Some people plant trees in the morning and expect shade by evening; when disappointed, they claim virtue is useless. But is it truly useless? One must simply persist in doing good.

When virtuous conduct is maintained, calamitous stars will never descend, and auspicious spirits will always offer protection.

During the Shunzhi era's eighth year (1651), when plague ravaged Jinling (modern Changzhou, Jiangsu), Gu Cheng's family of eight fell ill. His daughter-in-law, née Qian, was visiting her parents when she heard the news and insisted on returning to care for them. Despite her parents' objections, she declared: "My husband married me to serve his parents. If I abandon them in their illness, how am I better than a beast?" As she entered the sickroom, Gu Cheng witnessed demons whispering: "All benevolent deities have come to protect this filial daughter-in-law—we must retreat or face severe punishment." Miraculously, all eight family members recovered.

Another account tells of Yuan Zishi, who plotted at dawn to kill the treacherous Miao. Passing a small temple, the abbot Xuanyuan Weng saw dozens of demonic spirits armed with blades following him. When Yuan returned later, the demons had transformed into radiant deities wearing golden crowns and jade pendants, bearing auspicious banners. Questioned at daybreak, Yuan confessed: "I intended murder, but upon remembering his elderly mother and children, I restrained my anger." Xuanyuan Weng clasped his hands: "The deities have witnessed your change of heart—great blessings await you." Indeed, Yuan later attained wealth and longevity.

Karmic retribution manifests visibly in this very life.

When the impoverished Pei Du once consulted a physiognomist, he was told: "Your extraordinary features portend either greatness or starvation." Later at Xiangshan Temple, he found valuable jade and rhinoceros belts. Unable to locate the owner that day, he returned at dawn to find a weeping woman: "These were meant to secure my imprisoned father's release—their loss dooms him!" Returning them immediately, Pei's subsequent rise to high office fulfilled the prophecy of his destined nobility.

This passage recounts several stories and principles about karmic retribution.

When Ouyang Xiu's father Ouyang Guan served as an official, he would often pause and sigh while reviewing legal documents by lamplight at night. His wife Lady Zheng asked why, and he explained it was a capital case where he had tried in vain to find grounds to spare the prisoner's life. He said: "If I exhaust all possibilities to find justification for mercy yet fail, neither the deceased nor I would have regrets. Moreover, sometimes such justification can indeed be found. Precisely because it's sometimes possible, I know those who impose death sentences without truly seeking such justification leave the deceased with grievances." Pointing to young Ouyang Xiu, he sighed: "Fortune-tellers say I'll face great calamity in the Year of the Dog. If true, I may not live to see my son grow up. You must tell him my words." Later, when Ouyang Xiu rose to become Vice Grand Councilor, he posthumously honored his father as Duke Chong and wrote in the tomb inscription: "No good deed goes unrewarded—it's only a matter of time. This is cosmic principle."

Zhu Jiantang commented: When people say good and evil sometimes go unpunished, they misunderstand the mechanism—if virtuous conduct doesn't bring prosperity, it's because ancestral misfortunes haven't been exhausted; when they are, blessings will manifest. If wickedness goes unpunished, it's because ancestral virtue hasn't been depleted; when it is, calamity must follow. During this transitional period, observers mistakenly perceive no retribution. When good people suffer, it's because their original fate was worse—their virtue mitigated greater disasters. When evil people prosper, their original fortune was greater—their wickedness diminished what could have been greater blessings. Those who don't trace the root causes think there's no retribution.

Karmic consequences are like shadows cast by a pole—the longer the time, the more pronounced the effect. They're like loans accruing interest—the longer the term, the greater the yield. Short-term observers again perceive no retribution. Human affairs may seem chaotic, but celestial principles operate with perfect subtlety—sudden misfortune may conceal hidden blessings, perhaps Heaven's way of tempering you; unexpected fortune may harbor latent disaster, perhaps Heaven intensifying punishment. Those lacking foresight once more assume no retribution. Reputation's glory and shame also manifest fortune and misfortune—minor virtues that earn major praise may exhaust one's blessings prematurely, while minor faults that incur disproportionate infamy may actually lessen the coming retribution.

[Note: The "Treatise on Secret Virtue" (Yinzhi Wen) is a Daoist morality text emphasizing how hidden good deeds accumulate celestial merit. "The Year of the Dog" refers to astrological timing in fate calculation systems.]

This passage addresses common misconceptions about karmic retribution and the proper approach to accumulating virtue (De) through good deeds.

Some people perform minor acts of kindness and immediately demand rewards. When they don't see instant results, they conclude that virtuous actions are useless. In truth, the same soul traverses past and present lives—just as both the ghost slayer and the slain ghost experience pain. Ordinary people, with their impure minds and unopened wisdom eyes, often mistake good for evil and evil for good, blaming the Dao of Heaven for injustice while themselves confusing right and wrong.

Those who perform superficial good deeds while committing numerous evils in secret are thoroughly recorded in the underworld's ledgers (ming si), though worldly eyes cannot see this accounting. Remember: even thread-thin or millet-sized acts of good and evil in the human realm receive retribution—the Dao's cycles are impeccably precise.

Cultivated individuals (shi junzi) conducting themselves in the world should correct past mistakes at the earliest opportunity. Though fate appears capricious, heavenly principle remains constant. Using this constant principle to regulate fickle fortune—isn't this precisely how one masters their own destiny? Those blessed with converging fortunes and gathering auspicious signs actually receive these from secretly accumulated hidden virtue (yin zhi).

Someone might ask: which is superior—unintentional good deeds or deliberate ones? The former is undoubtedly nobler, but we must guard against people using "non-action" (wuwei) as an excuse to avoid doing good. Rather than empty talk about nobility without action, practical virtue is preferable. When we explain the benefits of good deeds, it's not to encourage reward-seeking, but to prevent discouragement from delayed results. Taking goodness as one's constant teacher, persisting until becoming a true junzi—isn't this admirable?

Scriptures (Jing) clearly state: good deeds bring auspiciousness, evil invites misfortune. Yet people refuse to believe, claiming virtue doesn't necessarily bring blessings nor vice guarantee calamity—such thinking severs the roots of goodness for oneself and others. In truth, every good thought plants a virtuous seed; continuous cultivation makes these roots flourish. While one cup of water may poorly extinguish a cartload of burning firewood, declaring goodness useless because of this is the ultimate lack of humaneness.

We must seize time for diligent cultivation, remembering Heaven and Earth observe us constantly, while spirits test us continuously. Those who practice intermittently—three days fishing, two days drying nets—will find evil easily accumulates while virtue proves difficult. When regret comes, it will be too late. Most crucial is nurturing one's heart-mind. As Guanzi said: treating others with goodness creates bonds closer than blood brothers; approaching them with anger wounds more sharply than blades.

This passage discusses the varying levels and effects of accumulating virtue (De) through good deeds. Ge Nanhua (a Daoist figure) states: Nothing harms people more than human willfulness. When will acts upon external matters, if one rushes for results before the goal is achieved, it disrupts natural harmony instead.

Those with true cultivation maintain a peaceful and lively original mind, undisturbed by restless Qi (vital energy). They naturally show filial piety to parents, kindness to all things, decisiveness in doing good, and restraint in anger. Whether dealing with people or situations, their hearts brim with vitality—this benevolent heart fills the space between heaven and earth, embodying what is called "excelling in goodness that benefits the world."

The rewards of good deeds vary in timing. Plants like the willow sprout quickly, growing by morning if planted at night, while pines and cypresses take ten years to mature and a century to provide shade, standing resilient through wind and frost. Once fully grown, they become towering pillars between heaven and earth. This is the enduring principle set by the Creator.

Disseminating morality books (texts encouraging virtue) carries immense merit: Copying and preserving them counts as ten good deeds if one in ten readers is inspired toward goodness; sharing with one person equals ten merits, with ten people equals a hundred. Persuading the wealthy and influential to do good is akin to a thousand merits, while ensuring a book's eternal circulation elevates the merit to ten thousand. Continuously encouraging virtue can even influence commoners and women—such virtuous connections and blessings are immeasurable.

Historically, Sun Simiao (the Tang dynasty's renowned physician and Daoist) attained immortality by compiling the Essential Formulas for Emergencies (Qianjin Fang), while Zhou Chi (a Daoist figure) escaped famine through preaching the Tract of Actions and Retributions (Ganying Pian). Clearly, where are the limits to the merit of good deeds?