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Chapter 28 of 33
庄子
Yao wished to yield the empire to Xu You, but Xu You did not accept it. He then offered it to Zizhou Zhifu, who said, "To make me the Son of Heaven would be acceptable. Only, I am suffering from a deep-seated malady of worry and am just now attending to my illness—I have no leisure to govern the empire." 🌱 The empire is the most precious thing in the world, yet he would not harm his own life for it, let alone for anything else! Only one who does not regard the empire as his personal concern can be entrusted with it.
Shun offered the empire to Zizhou Zhibo, who said, "I am suffering from a deep-seated malady of worry and am just now attending to my illness—I have no leisure to govern the empire." Thus it is said: though the empire is the greatest treasure, one would not exchange life for it. This is wherein those who possess the Way differ from worldly people.
Shun offered the empire to Shan Juan, who said, "I stand between heaven and earth: in winter I wear furs, in summer I wear coarse hemp. In spring I plough, and my body is sufficient for labor; in autumn I harvest, and my body is sufficient for rest. I rise at sunrise and rest at sunset, roaming free between heaven and earth, my heart content within itself. What would I want with the empire? Pitiful indeed—you do not understand me at all." Thereupon he would not accept, but departed and entered the deep mountains, and no one knew where he went. 🍃
Shun offered the empire to his friend, the farmer of Shihu. The farmer of Shihu said, "How diligent! The conduct of this ruler—he is a man who toils and exerts his strength." He considered that Shun's virtue had not yet reached its utmost. So the husband carried loads on his back, the wife carried things on her head, and taking their children, they went to dwell by the sea and never returned for the rest of their lives.
King Danfu dwelt in Bin, and the Di tribes came to attack. When he offered them furs and silks, they would not accept; when he offered them dogs, horses, and livestock, they would not accept; when he offered them pearls and jade treasures, they would not accept. What the Di wanted was the land. King Danfu said, "To dwell with another man's elder brother yet let his younger brother be killed, to dwell with another man's father yet let his son be killed—this I cannot bear. Do you all dwell here in peace! What difference is there between being my subjects and being the subjects of the Di? Moreover, I have heard: do not harm what is nourished for the sake of what nourishes it." So he took his staff and departed. The people followed him in unbroken succession, and finally they established a state at the foot of Mount Qi. King Danfu may be said to have known how to honor life. ⛰ One who honors life, though rich and noble, will not harm his body for the sake of sustaining things; though poor and lowly, will not burden himself for the sake of gain. Now those in the world who occupy high positions and hold noble ranks all fear losing these things. When they see profit, they lightly cast away their lives—is this not delusion!
The people of Yue assassinated their ruler three times in succession, and Prince Sou, deeply troubled by this, fled into the Cinnabar Cave, leaving Yue without a ruler. When they could not find Prince Sou, they tracked him to the cave. Prince Sou refused to come out, so the people of Yue smoked him out with mugwort. They made him ride in the royal carriage. Prince Sou, grasping the rope and climbing into the carriage, looked up to heaven and cried out, "Throne! Throne! Can you not spare me!" Prince Sou did not loathe being ruler—he loathed the calamities that came with being ruler. One like Prince Sou may be said to be one who would not harm his life for the sake of a state! This is precisely why the people of Yue wished him to be their ruler.
Han and Wei were fighting over disputed territory, and Master Zihua went to see Marquis Zhaoxi of Han, whose face wore a look of worry. Master Zihua said, "Now suppose a written contract were set before you in the presence of all under heaven, inscribed with these words: 'He who takes it with his left hand will lose his right hand; he who takes it with his right hand will lose his left hand. Yet whoever takes it shall possess the empire.' Would you take it?" Marquis Zhaoxi said, "I would not take it." Master Zihua said, "Excellent! From this we see that two arms are more important than the empire. And the body is more important than two arms. How far lighter than the empire is Han! And what you now contend for is lighter still than Han by far. Yet you fret your body and weary your spirit in sorrow."
Marquis Xi said, "Well said! Many have instructed me, but I have never heard words like these." Master Zihua may be said to have known what is weighty and what is light!
The ruler of Lu heard that Yan He was a man who had attained the Way, and sent someone beforehand with gifts of silk and coin. Yan He lived in a humble alley, wearing coarse hemp clothing and feeding the oxen himself. When the ruler's envoy arrived, Yan He received him in person. The envoy asked, "Is this the house of Yan He?" Yan He replied, "This is the house of Yan He." The envoy presented the silks. Yan He said, "I fear you may have heard wrongly, and that this would bring blame upon the envoy—better to go back and verify the matter." The envoy returned, verified repeatedly, and came back to find him—but he was already gone! Thus one like Yan He truly loathed wealth and honor.
Therefore it is said: the true essence of the Way (the fundamental principle governing all things in the universe) is used to cultivate oneself; its surplus is used to govern the state; its dregs are used to rule the empire. From this we see that the achievements of emperors and kings are but the spare business of sages—not the means by which one preserves the body and nourishes life. Now the vulgar gentlemen of the world mostly harm their bodies and cast away their lives in pursuit of external things—is this not lamentable! Whenever sages act, they must examine the purpose and the reason. If a man were to use the pearl of Marquis Sui to shoot at a sparrow at a height of a thousand ren, the world would surely mock him. Why? Because what he uses is precious while what he seeks is trifling. And is life not far more precious than the pearl of Marquis Sui?
Liezi was very poor, with hunger showing in his face. Someone said to the prime minister of Zheng, Ziyang, "Lie Yukou is a man of the Way. Dwelling in your state yet living in poverty—will you not earn the reputation of failing to nurture worthy men?" Zhengzi Yang thereupon ordered officials to send grain to him. Liezi received the envoy, bowed repeatedly, and declined to accept. After the envoy departed, Liezi entered the house, and his wife, beating her breast, said, "I have heard that the wife and children of a man of the Way all enjoy ease and contentment. Now you have hunger in your face, and the ruler sends grain, yet you refuse it—is this not our fate?" Liezi smiled and said, "The ruler does not know me of himself—he sends grain because of another man's words; if he should come to punish me, it will also be because of another man's words. This is why I do not accept." Later, the people indeed rose up and killed Ziyang.
When King Zhao of Chu lost his state, the sheep butcher Shuo followed the king into exile. After the king regained his state, he wished to reward those who had followed him. It came to the turn of the sheep butcher Shuo. The sheep butcher Shuo said, "When the king lost his state, I lost my trade of butchering sheep. When the king regained his state, I also regained my trade of butchering sheep. My rank and emolument are already restored—what more is there to reward?" King Zhao said, "Press him to accept." The sheep butcher Shuo said, "When the king lost his state, it was not my crime, so I dare not accept punishment; when the king regained his state, it was not my merit, so I dare not accept reward." King Zhao said, "Let him come see me." The sheep butcher Shuo said, "The laws of Chu require that one must have rendered great service deserving heavy reward before being granted an audience. Now my wisdom is insufficient to preserve the state, and my strength is insufficient to slay the enemy. When Wu's army entered Ying, I shrank from danger and fled the enemy—I did not deliberately follow the king. Now the king wishes to cast aside the laws to see me—this is not a principle I would have spread throughout the world." King Zhao said to Sima Ziqi, "The sheep butcher Shuo, though in humble station, is able to set forth great righteousness. Go on my behalf and invite him to accept the position of the Three Dukes." The sheep butcher Shuo said, "The position of the Three Dukes—I know it is more honorable than the butcher's stall; the emolument of ten thousand zhong—I know it is richer than the butcher's income. Yet how could I, for the sake of rank and emolument, bring upon my ruler the name of indiscriminate favor? I dare not accept. I wish to return to my butcher's stall." Thereupon he would not accept.
Yuan Xian dwelt in Lu, in a house of only four walls, roofed with thatch, with a door of brambles in utmost disrepair, a mulberry-wood pivot, broken jars as windows, two rooms sealed with coarse cloth, leaking above and damp below—yet he sat upright, strumming and singing. Zigong rode in a grand carriage drawn by tall horses, wearing robes of blue and crimson within and white without, his great carriage unable to enter the alley, and came to visit Yuan Xian. Yuan Xian wore a tattered cap...
Master Zeng dwelt in Wei, wearing a robe of tangled hemp without an outer garment, his face bloated, his hands and feet covered in calluses. Three days he would not kindle a fire, ten years he would not make new clothes. When he adjusted his cap, the clasp broke; when he pulled at his lapel, his elbow showed through; when he lifted his shoes, his heels split open. Yet he dragged his broken sandals and chanted the Hymns of Shang, his voice filling heaven and earth, like the sound of metal and stone. The Son of Heaven could not make him a subject, and the feudal lords could not befriend him. Thus one who nourishes his will forgets his body, one who nourishes his body forgets profit, and one who cultivates the Way forgets his mind.
Confucius said to Yan Hui, "Yan Hui, come here! Your family is poor and your station low—why do you not take office?" Yan Hui replied, "I have no desire to take office. Outside the city I have fifty mu of fields, sufficient to supply gruel; within the city I have ten mu, sufficient to supply silk and hemp. Strumming the zither is enough for my amusement, and the Way I have learned from you, Master, is enough for my delight. I have no desire to take office." Confucius's countenance moved, and he said, "Good indeed is the heart of Yan Hui! I have heard: one who knows contentment does not burden himself with profit; one who is self-possessed does not grieve at loss; one who cultivates his inner self feels no shame without office. I have recited these words for a long time, and now I see them realized in you—this is my gain."
Zhongshan Prince Mou said to Zhanzi, "My body dwells among the rivers and seas, yet my heart lingers beneath the court halls—what is to be done?" Zhanzi said, "Set great store by life. Setting great store by life, you will look lightly on profit." Zhongshan Prince Mou said, "Though I know this, I cannot master myself." Zhanzi said, "If you cannot master yourself, then follow along with it—let your spirit not be vexed! To cannot master oneself yet forcibly suppress oneself—this is called double injury. One who suffers double injury will not live long." Wei Mou was a prince of a state with ten thousand chariots; his dwelling in the caves and cliffs was harder than for a common man. Though he had not yet reached the level of the Way, he may indeed be said to have possessed the aspiration!
Confucius was besieged between Chen and Cai. For seven days no fire was kindled, and his wild-herb soup had not a grain of rice. His face was utterly exhausted, yet he strummed and sang within his chamber. Yan Hui was gathering vegetables, and Zilu and Zigong were discussing together, saying, "The Master was twice driven from Lu, had his footprints effaced in Wei, had a tree cut down over him in Song, encountered hardship in Shang and Zhou, and was besieged between Chen and Cai. Those who killed the Master go unpunished, and those who insulted the Master suffer no prohibition. His singing and strumming have never ceased—can a gentleman's shamelessness go so far?" Yan Hui could not answer, so he went in and told Confucius. Confucius pushed aside his zither and sighed, saying, "Zilu and Zigong are shallow men. Call them in—I will tell them." Zilu and Zigong came in. Zilu said, "As things are now, can this be called being reduced to extremity?"
Confucius said, "What words are these! When a gentleman is unobstructed in the Way, that is called 'reaching through'; when he is obstructed in the Way, that is called 'poverty.' Now I embrace the Way of benevolence and righteousness, yet encounter the calamities of a chaotic age—how can this be called poverty? Therefore, reflecting within oneself and not being obstructed in the Way, facing danger and not losing one's virtue. When the severe cold comes and frost and snow descend, it is then that I know the luxuriance of the pine and cypress. The distress of Chen and Cai—perhaps it is my good fortune." Confucius calmly returned to his zither and strummed and sang, while Zilu, stirred, took up a shield and danced. Zigong said, "I do not know how high heaven is, nor how deep the earth." The ancients who attained the Way were joyful in poverty and joyful in success—what they rejoiced in was not poverty or success itself. When virtue is cultivated to this degree, then poverty and success are like the changes of cold and heat, wind and rain. Thus Xu You found joy at Yingyang, and Gong Bo found peace in his place at Qiu Shou.
Shun yielded the empire to his friend Beiren Wuze. Beiren Wuze said, "How strange is the conduct of Shun! He dwelt among the fields, yet he roamed at the gates of Yao. Not only this—he wishes to defile me with his shameful deeds. I am ashamed to see him." Thereupon he threw himself into the Clear and Cold Abyss.
When Tang was about to attack Jie of Xia, he went to consult Bian Sui. Bian Sui said, "This is not my affair." Tang said, "Who then may do it?" Bian Sui said, "I do not know." Tang then went to consult Mou Guang. Mou Guang said, "This is not my affair." Tang said, "Who then may do it?" Mou Guang said, "I do not know." Tang said, "What of Yi Yin?" Mou Guang said, "He is able to exert strength and endure humiliation—beyond that I know nothing." Tang thereupon plotted with Yi Yin against Jie of Xia, and prevailed. Then he wished to yield his place to Bian Sui. Bian Sui declined, saying, "When the ruler attacked Jie of Xia, he consulted me—he must have taken me for a cruel man; after prevailing over Jie, he yields his place to me—he must have taken me for a covetous man. I was born into a chaotic age, and a man without the Way has twice defiled me with his shameful deeds—I cannot bear to hear more of this!" Thereupon he threw himself into the Chou River and died. Tang then yielded his place to Mou Guang, saying, "The wise plan, the strong accomplish, the benevolent occupy the position—this is the way of antiquity. Why will you not ascend the throne?" Mou Guang declined, saying, "To depose a sovereign is contrary to righteousness; to kill the people is contrary to benevolence; for others to bear the hardship while I enjoy the profit is contrary to integrity. I have heard: one who is contrary to righteousness does not accept his emolument; in a world without the Way, one does not set foot on his soil. How much less to be made sovereign over it! I cannot bear to witness it for long." Thereupon he carried a stone on his back and drowned himself in the Lu River.
Formerly, when the Zhou dynasty was rising, there were two worthy men dwelling in Guzhu, named Boyi and Shuqi. The two said to each other, "I have heard that in the west there is a man who seems to possess the Way—let us go and see him." When they reached Qiyang, King Wu of Zhou heard of them and sent Shudan to meet them. He made a covenant with them, saying, "Rank increased by two degrees, office conferred of the first grade." He smeared the blood of sacrifice upon the covenant and buried it in the ground. The two looked at each other and laughed, saying, "Ha! Strange indeed! This is not what we call the Way. In former times, when Shennong possessed the empire, he sacrificed at the seasons with utter reverence yet did not pray for blessings; in his treatment of the people, he was loyal and earnest to the utmost yet sought nothing in return. Those who delighted in attending to affairs attended to affairs; those who delighted in attending to governance attended to governance. He did not exploit another's downfall to achieve his own success, did not use another's lowliness to exalt himself, did not seize private advantage upon encountering opportunity. But now Zhou, seeing the chaos of Yin, hastens to seize its governance—scheming above and bribing below, relying on arms to preserve its might, killing beasts and swearing covenants to establish trust, proclaiming virtue to please the multitudes, slaughtering and campaigning to gain profit. This is to displace one tyranny with another. I have heard that the scholars of antiquity, when they encountered an age of order, did not avoid their responsibilities, and when they encountered an age of chaos, did not seek to live at the expense of principle. Now the world is dark, and the virtue of Zhou has already decayed. Rather than mingle with Zhou and defile ourselves, better to avoid it and preserve our purity." The two went north to Mount Shouyang and ultimately starved to death there. Men like Boyi and Shuqi—had they been able to obtain wealth and honor without abandoning their integrity, they surely would not have relied on lofty virtue and singular conduct, but merely delighted in their own aspirations and did not serve the age. Such was the integrity of these two worthy men.
The entire chapter "Rang Wang" revolves around one central proposition: Life is more precious than the empire.
Zhuangzi employs a chain of fables to repeatedly interrogate the same question—what is truly "weighty" and what is truly "light"? Yao and Shun yielded the empire and none would accept it—not because the empire was undesirable, but because "governing the empire" means the dissipation of life. Zizhou Zhifu declined with his "deep-seated malady of worry," Shan Juan responded with "roaming free between heaven and earth, my heart content within itself," and the farmer of Shihu simply took his family to sea, never to return. Every story says the same thing: the authentic state of life requires no external power to confirm it.
The story of King Danfu reveals even more deeply the meaning of "honoring life." Unwilling to preserve the land at the cost of his people's lives, he spoke the words "do not harm what is nourished for the sake of what nourishes it"—"what nourishes" being land, wealth, power—the means of sustaining life—and "what is nourished" being life itself. When means and ends are inverted, one becomes a sacrifice to external things. 🌊
Master Zihua's analogy of "two arms being weightier than the empire" is the sharpest blade in the entire chapter. He makes Marquis Zhaoxi see directly: no one would exchange one hand for the empire. Yet in pursuing profit, men constantly commit the folly of exchanging their lives for things far less valuable than the empire.
The closing dialogue between Confucius and Yan Hui points to the state where wherever the Way is, poverty and success are alike natural. "When a gentleman is unobstructed in the Way, that is called 'reaching through'; when he is obstructed in the Way, that is called 'poverty'"—poverty is not a description of external circumstances, but a judgment of whether one has internally departed from the Way. This provides the spiritual foundation for all that precedes: not passive withdrawal, but the active guarding of a higher order than fame, profit, and rank.
For people of the present age, this chapter is almost a mirror that exposes their true nature.
"The body is also more important than two arms. Han is far lighter than the world! What is contested now is even lighter than Han by far." — To translate this into today's language: your health matters more than your work, your life matters more than your promotion, and the things you are anxious about right now are far lighter than these. 🌱 Aren't people today using the "Marquis of Sui's pearl" to shoot at a "sparrow a thousand ren high"? Staying up late for an unimportant PowerPoint, draining your health for a bit of performance review, twisting your own pace to meet others' expectations—these are all cases of "what is used is heavy while what is sought is light."
"Rise with the sun, rest with its setting, roam freely between heaven and earth, and the heart finds its own contentment"—Shan Quan's words, in today's context, do not call for a return to agrarian society, but rather describe a state of life that seeks nothing externally. The suffering of modern people largely stems from the fact that both "rising" and "resting" are hijacked by external systems: work is driven not by the natural rhythm of life but by anxiety; rest is undertaken not from bodily need but from a compensatory psychology for efficiency.
The story of the sheep butcher is especially worth pondering for modern people. He refused the king of Zhao's reward, reasoning, "When the king lost his kingdom, it was not my fault, so I dare not accept the punishment; when the king regained his kingdom, it was not my merit, so I dare not accept the reward." This is an extremely lucid sense of boundaries: I neither suffer punishment that is not mine, nor do I take rewards that are not mine. In an era where everyone wants to "claim credit" or "hitch a ride," such restraint becomes all the more precious. What he held fast to was his "sheep-butcher stall"—in modern terms, the duty and place by which a person anchors their life.
The story of Liezi refusing grain reveals an even deeper insight: benefits that come from others' evaluations will also depart with them. When Zheng Ziyang sent grain to Liezi after hearing a retainer's remark, Liezi saw the fragility of this "evaluation system"—today they praise you, tomorrow they slander you. Relying on others' judgments as the source of one's worth is tantamount to handing one's life over to an uncontrollable external system. Later, "the people indeed stirred up trouble and killed Ziyang," confirming this judgment. This strikingly aligns with modern social psychology's critique of "external evaluation orientation."
The guidance this chapter offers for navigating life centers on recalibrating the inner scale.
First, establish a "priority of life." Zihua-zi's metaphor is an excellent thinking tool: the next time you are extremely anxious about something, ask yourself—"Would I trade my right hand for it? Would I trade my health for it? Would I trade ten years of my life for it?" The answer is often "no." Then why are you still consuming yourself over it? This simple questioning can pull a person from the vortex of emotion back to the foundation of life.
Second, be wary of relying on "others' words as the standard." The story of Liezi reminds us: if you get excited over others' praise, you will also suffer from their criticism. This doesn't mean completely ignoring others' evaluations, but rather knowing that—others' understanding of you is always partial. Zheng Ziyang didn't truly understand Liezi, nor do today's social media platforms understand you. Tying your sense of self-worth to such misunderstanding is dangerous.
Third, learn the wisdom of "neither forcing nor resisting." Zhan Zi's advice to Prince Mou of Zhongshan—"If you cannot overcome [your desire], then follow it; will the spirit then dislike you?"—reflects a very open-minded attitude. Modern people often fall into the self-attack of "knowing I should let go yet unable to let go." Zhan Zi's suggestion is: if you can't let go, go along with it for now, but don't loathe yourself in spirit. Forcible suppression only causes "double injury"—this is, in fact, the ancient version of what psychology today calls "acceptance" and "self-compassion." 🌙
Fourth, find your own "sheep-butcher stall." The sheep butcher knew who he was—a man who slaughtered sheep. He didn't seek meaning outside that identity, nor did he let the king's rewards define his worth. Modern people cannot and should not all go "slaughter sheep," but each person needs to find that place where they feel the heart is "settled and content"—it may be their profession, their family role, or an unremarkable but grounding pursuit. Guard it, and you won't easily be swept away by external temptations and turmoil.
"Rang Wang" raises an intensely thought-provoking philosophical question: Which takes priority—the value of life or sociopolitical value?
The Zhuangzi school's answer seems clear—life comes first. But here, "life" is not merely biological survival; it is a state of authentic existence. "Those who can honor life, though wealthy and noble, will not harm their bodies with excess; though poor and lowly, will not burden their bodies with profit-seeking"—harm to the body through wealth and strain through poverty are the same problem: life alienated by external things. Thus "honoring life" is not a "survival philosophy," but an ontological claim about the wholeness of life.
Yan Hui's statement, "I have no wish to serve in office," offers another dimension: it's not that he lacks the ability to be an official, but that he considers "the Way he has learned" sufficient for contentment. This leads to a key distinction: is the Way an end or a tool? In Confucius's framework (at least the Confucius portrayed by Zhuangzi), the Way itself is the end, and wealth and rank are merely the "remnants" and "dregs" of it. But if reversed—treating the pursuit of the Way as a means to wealth and rank—that is a true inversion of priorities.
The story of Bo Yi and Shu Qi pushes the question to its extreme. Their deaths by starvation sparked enormous controversy in later ages—were they examples of "pure conduct" or of "obstinacy"? Zhuangzi's stance here is worth close attention: he says that "if they could have obtained what they wanted without compromising themselves, they certainly would not have relied on high integrity and radical acts, but would have simply taken delight in their own aspirations and not engaged with the world." In other words, if they could have achieved wealth and rank without abandoning their principles, they might not have chosen starvation. Starving to death was, under the specific historical conditions of "the world in darkness and Zhou virtue in decline," the only way to guard their aspirations. This is not praising suicide, but asking: When the entire age is doing wrong, how can a person preserve their selfhood? This question remains razor-sharp today.
Another deeper paradox is: "yielding" itself can become a performance. Zhuangzi criticizes the worldly notion of "those who take the world [for themselves]," but could those acts done in the name of "yielding the world" not become another form of courting fame? Prince Sou refusing to emerge from seclusion, Bei Ren Wu Ze throwing himself into the abyss, Bian Sui and Mou Guang dying to declare their resolve—while these extreme acts display the dignity of life, they also expose the violence inherent in "purity" itself. Zhuangzi seems to remind us: the obsession with "yielding" and the obsession with "taking" are sometimes two sides of the same coin. What truly matters is the heart's spontaneous contentment, not the formal act of accepting or refusing. 🍃
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Further Reading
This content is based on classical Daoist texts for traditional cultural study and life reflection only, and does not constitute religious, medical, or investment advice.