The ancestry of King Goujian of Yue can be traced back to the illustrious descendants of Yu the Great of the Xia dynasty. His forefather was an illegitimate son of Emperor Shaokang, and Shaokang’s son was enfeoffed in Kuaiji, where he dutifully maintained the ancestral rites inherited from Yu. These early progenitors bore intricate tattoos, kept their hair cropped, cleared the wild undergrowth, and established fortified settlements. Over the course of more than twenty generations, the lineage passed to Yunchang. During his reign, Yunchang became embroiled in bitter hostilities with King Helu of Wu, with each side launching attacks against the other. Upon Yunchang’s demise, his son Goujian ascended the throne, thus becoming the King of Yue.
In the first year of Goujian’s reign (496 BC), upon learning of Yunchang’s passing, King Helu of Wu mobilized his forces against Yue. In response, King Goujian dispatched a cadre of dauntless warriors, willing to sacrifice their lives, to confront the Wu army. Arrayed in three ranks, these valiant soldiers charged into the enemy lines, boldly declaring their intent to slay themselves on the spot. The Wu troops, struck dumb with astonishment, were caught off guard as the Yue forces launched a swift counterattack at Zhilǐ, inflicting a crushing defeat and wounding King Helu with a volley of arrows. In his final moments, King Helu earnestly warned his son Fuchai, “Never, under any circumstance, forget Yue.”
Three years later (496 BC), when Goujian heard that King Fuchai of Wu was rigorously drilling his soldiers day and night—poised to exact retribution for past slights—he resolved to seize the initiative before Wu could fully mobilize. His trusted advisor Fan Li counseled against such rashness, remarking, “It is unwise! I have learned that weapons are but instruments of misfortune, and that warfare is an act contrary to virtue. To act precipitously is the lowest of deeds; to conspire in unethical acts, to revel in the use of deadly arms, and to personally engage in ignoble exploits will assuredly provoke the disfavor of the Heavens. Such conduct is unequivocally ill-advised.” But Goujian, resolute in his decision, ordered an advance into Wu. The Wu King, upon receiving word of this move, deployed the nation’s elite forces to intercept the Yue army and, at Fu Jiao, delivered a severe defeat. Only five thousand remnants of the Yue forces could be gathered, and they were forced to retreat to Kuaiji, where Wu’s victorious troops pursued and encircled them.
Addressing Fan Li, the embattled King Goujian lamented, “It is because I did not heed your counsel that we have fallen into this predicament—what shall we do now?” Fan Li replied with measured wisdom, “One who can preserve his accomplishments must emulate the natural principle of fullness without excess; one who can avert collapse understands that human affairs exalt humility; and one who governs wisely adapts to circumstances by adhering to the way of the earth. Now, you must exhibit humility and courtesy before the Wu King by sending him lavish gifts. Should he refuse, then you must personally go to serve him, even pledging yourself as collateral to the state of Wu.” Conceding, Goujian agreed. He then sent the minister Zhong to negotiate a peace with Wu. Upon arriving, Zhong knelt and advanced while kowtowing, proclaiming, “Your Majesty, I bring you a bold message from your fallen subjects in the ruined state—King Goujian humbly requests that you permit him to serve as your slave, and his wife to become your concubine.” The Wu King was about to accede when Zi Xu interjected, cautioning, “The Heavenly Emperor has bestowed the state of Yue upon Wu; do not yield to his plea.” Returning to Yue, Zhong apprised Goujian of these developments. In a moment of despair, Goujian contemplated executing his wife and children, destroying his ancestral treasures, and personally leading his remaining forces in a do-or-die battle. Yet Zhong dissuaded him, saying, “The Prime Minister of Wu, Tai Zai Pi, is exceedingly avaricious; we can surely tempt him with a generous bribe. Allow me to covertly negotiate with him.” Accordingly, Goujian ordered Zhong to present Tai Zai Pi with a sumptuous offering of beautiful women, exquisite jewels, and fine jade. Pleased with the gifts, Tai Zai Pi introduced Minister Zhong to the Wu King. Once again, Zhong knelt and implored, “May your Majesty pardon King Goujian’s transgressions; our state of Yue will bestow upon you all the treasured heirlooms passed down through the ages. But should you deny us clemency, know that Goujian will execute his wife and children, raze his ancestral treasures, and lead his five thousand soldiers in a fight to the death against you— for which you shall pay an equal price.” Seizing the opportunity, Tai Zai Pi urged the Wu King, “The King of Yue has already submitted himself as a vassal; pardoning him would be to the benefit of our nation.” Just as the Wu King was again inclined to agree, Zi Xu warned, “If you do not vanquish Yue today, you will surely regret it. Goujian is a sagacious ruler, and both Minister Zhong and Fan Li are men of exceptional ability; if he is allowed to return to Yue, he will undoubtedly incite further rebellion.” Ignoring Zi Xu’s counsel, the Wu King ultimately pardoned King Goujian and withdrew his forces back to his own domain.
During his captivity in Kuaiji, a despondent Goujian once sighed, “Is this where my life shall end?” To which Zhong replied, “King Tang of Shang was once confined in Xiatai; King Wen of Zhou was besieged in Youli; Chong’er of Jin fled to Zhai; and Xiao Bai of Qi escaped to Ju—yet all eventually ascended to kingship and dominated the realm. In light of this, might not our current misfortune harbor a hidden blessing?”
After the Wu King pardoned him and Goujian returned to his homeland, he immersed himself in deep reflection and diligent statecraft. He even displayed the bitter gallbladder—an enduring reminder of past humiliation—upon his seat, so that whether seated or reclining, he might continually taste its bitterness in every moment, in his food and drink alike. “Have you forgotten the disgrace of Kuaiji?” he would chide. Living in austere simplicity, he personally toiled in the fields while his wife spun cloth by hand; their meals never contained meat, and they never donned lavish, double-layered garments. He treated virtuous men with courteous respect, accepted humiliations for the greater good, entertained guests with heartfelt sincerity, aided the impoverished, mourned the departed, and labored alongside his people. When Goujian proposed that Fan Li assume the responsibilities of state governance, Fan Li demurred, saying, “In martial matters, Zhong surpasses me; and in pacifying the nation and winning the loyalty of the people, I am inferior to Zhong.” Thus, the affairs of state were entrusted to Minister Zhong, while Fan Li and Minister Zhe Ji were sent as hostages to Wu to negotiate peace. It was only two years later that the state of Wu permitted Fan Li’s return.
Seven years after his return from Kuaiji, King Goujian of Yue steadfastly comforted his soldiers and people, all the while nurturing a burning desire for vengeance against the Kingdom of Wu. Minister Feng (Pang) Tong counselled:
“Our nation has only recently emerged from exile and is now enjoying renewed prosperity. Should we reorganize our military, Wu will undoubtedly tremble—its dread will invite catastrophe. Furthermore, just as a fierce raptor conceals itself before swooping on its prey, so too does Wu hide its true intentions. Presently, Wu’s forces are entrenched along the borders of Qi and Jin, nursing deep enmities with Chu and Yue. Although its reputation may shine throughout the realm, in reality it poses a threat to the Zhou royal house. Despite its many achievements, Wu’s moral bankruptcy renders it arrogantly overweening. If Yue truly seeks its own well-being, we should forge alliances with Qi, draw close to Chu, submit to Jin, and treat Wu with generous magnanimity. Wu’s lofty ambitions will lead it to underestimate the rigors of war; then, as we rally the combined might of these three states to assail Wu, Yue may seize the moment of its fatigue and conquer it.”
King Goujian assented, replying, “Very well.”
Two years later, as the Wu King prepared to subdue Qi, Zi Xu interjected, “That must not be allowed. I have heard that Goujian partakes only of the simplest fare, sharing both hardships and joys with his people. If he survives, he will undoubtedly become a continual bane to our state. For having Yue as a vassal is a grave internal threat, while Qi is merely a trivial nuisance—a mere blemish upon Wu’s otherwise impeccable record. I beseech Your Majesty to forgo the campaign against Qi and instead launch an assault upon Yue.”
Yet the Wu King disregarded Zi Xu’s admonitions and dispatched his forces against Qi. At Ai Ling the Wu army dealt a crushing defeat to Qi’s troops, capturing the noble families of Gao and Guo and bringing them back to Wu. The Wu King reproached Zi Xu, who retorted, “Do not celebrate prematurely!” So incensed was the king that Zi Xu nearly resorted to suicide—but his act was restrained at the last moment.
Meanwhile, Minister Zhong of Yue observed, “I have discerned that the Wu King governs with excessive hubris. Allow me to test his disposition: I shall request a loan of provisions from him, thereby gauging his attitude toward Yue.”
Minister Zhong petitioned the Wu King for grain. Although the king was inclined to grant his request, Zi Xu advised against it; nevertheless, Wu lent the grain to Yue, much to King Goujian’s secret delight. Zi Xu lamented, “Your Majesty refuses to heed my counsel—in three years’ time, Wu will lie in ruins!”
Upon hearing these words, Tai Zai Pi repeatedly sparred with Zi Xu over the strategy against Yue, seizing every opportunity to malign him. He declared, “Zi Xu may appear loyal on the surface, but he is in truth ruthless—he spares not even his own kin. How, then, can he be trusted to safeguard Your Majesty’s interests? When you last contemplated an assault on Qi, he vehemently opposed it; later, after your military triumph, he nurtured bitter resentment. Should you fail to guard against him, he will assuredly foment rebellion.”
Tai Zai Pi conspired with Minister Feng, and together they incessantly slandered Zi Xu before the king. Initially, the king dismissed these calumnies and sent Zi Xu as an envoy to Qi. However, when the king learned that Zi Xu had entrusted his son to the Bao family, he became enraged and exclaimed, “Zi Xu has indeed deceived me!”
After returning from Qi, Zi Xu was presented with a finely “carved” sword by order of the Wu King—a device meant to compel him to take his own life. Zi Xu laughed bitterly and declared, “I once assisted your father in his quest for supremacy and later helped enthrone you as king. At one time, you proposed to share Wu with me—a proposal I declined—and now, spurred by slander, you have chosen to execute me. Alas, no single man can found a nation on his own!”
He then ordered his envoy, “Take out my eyes and hang them upon the eastern gate of the Wu capital, so that I may witness with my own eyes the moment when the Yue army enters the city.”
In the aftermath, the Wu King placed immense trust in Tai Zai Pi, entrusting him with the reins of state.
Three years later, King Goujian summoned Fan Li and inquired, “Now that the Wu King has slain Zi Xu and the court teems with sycophants, may we now attack Wu?”
Fan Li replied, “Not yet.”
By the following spring, the Wu King journeyed to the northern region of Huang Chi to convene with the feudal lords. All of Wu’s elite forces accompanied him, leaving only the elderly, the infirm, and the crown prince to guard the capital. Once more, King Goujian consulted Fan Li about the prospect of launching an offensive against Wu. This time, Fan Li affirmed, “The moment has come.”
Accordingly, Yue dispatched a force comprising 2,000 mariners adept at naval warfare, 40,000 well-trained infantry, 6,000 highly educated imperial guards of distinguished rank, and 1,000 officers skilled in administrative and technical disciplines to assault Wu. The Wu army suffered a catastrophic defeat, and the Yue forces even slew Wu’s crown prince. Alarmed, Wu envoys hastened to report the dire news to their king, who—meeting with the lords at Huang Chi—feared that the calamity might spread throughout the realm; hence, he maintained utmost secrecy. Bound by alliances forged at Huang Chi, the Wu King soon sent envoys bearing sumptuous gifts to negotiate peace with Yue. Recognizing that he could not utterly annihilate Wu, King Goujian agreed to a truce.
For the next four years, Yue renewed its campaigns against Wu. The people and soldiers of Wu, exhausted by continuous warfare—and having lost their elite in battles against Qi and Jin—were left debilitated. Yue then inflicted a further crushing defeat upon Wu, besieging its capital for three years. Subsequently, Yue encircled the Wu King at Gusu Mountain.
In a final act of supplication, the Wu King sent Gongsun Xiong—disrobing his upper garment, exposing his arms, and kneeling as he advanced—to implore King Goujian for peace. He entreated, “I, your forsaken subject, once transgressed against you in Kuaiji and dared not defy your edicts. If you grant me peace, I shall withdraw my forces and return home. Today, as you advance with your jade-adorned feet to mete out punishment, I shall obey your every command; yet in my heart I long for the same clemency that Kuaiji Mountain once bestowed upon you!”
Moved by compassion, King Goujian was inclined to relent. But Fan Li interposed, saying, “The debacle at Kuaiji was Heaven’s decree—Yue was granted to Wu, only for Wu to spurn it. Now, Heaven has bestowed Wu upon Yue; how can Yue contravene such divine mandate? Moreover, have you not attended court morning and evening solely because of Wu? We have plotted an assault on Wu for twenty-two years—how could we now forgo our designs? Remember, when Heaven bestows a gift and it is rejected, punishment is inevitable. As the adage goes, ‘When felling timber to craft an axe handle, the form of the handle is ever before you.’ Have you forgotten the agony of Kuaiji?”
King Goujian responded, “I wish to heed your counsel, yet my heart cannot bear to dismiss his envoy.”
At that moment, Fan Li sounded the drum to signal the advance and declared, “Your Majesty has entrusted the governance of the state to me. Wu’s envoys, depart at once, or I shall be forever in your debt.”
Bereft and sorrowful, the Wu envoy wept as he departed.
King Goujian, moved by pity, sent word to the Wu King: “I shall relegate you to Yongdong, where you will govern a mere hundred households.”
The Wu King demurred, replying, “I am too old now to serve you,” and, uttering these words, took his own life. In his final moments, he covered his face and lamented, “I cannot bear to show my face before Zi Xu!”
King Goujian then solemnly interred the Wu King and ordered the execution of Tai Zai Pi.
After conquering the State of Wu, Goujian dispatched his troops northward across the Yellow River. In Xuzhou, he convened with the lords of Qi and Jin, and together they presented tribute to the Zhou royal family. In response, King Yuan of Zhou sent emissaries bearing sacrificial meats to Goujian, bestowing upon him the honorific “Bó.” After leaving Xuzhou, Goujian crossed the Huai River heading south. He ceded the Huai River basin to the State of Chu, restored to the State of Song the territories that Wu had usurped, and allotted to the State of Lu an expanse of land equivalent to a hundred circular miles east of the Si River. At that time, the Yue forces traversed unimpeded east of the Yangtze and Huai Rivers; the various lords came forth to celebrate, and the King of Yue proclaimed himself hegemon.
Subsequently, Fan Li distanced himself from the King of Yue and received a letter from Minister Zhong sent from the State of Qi. The letter read: “When the birds have flown, the fine bows are put away; when the cunning hares are dead, the hunting dogs are boiled. The King of Yue is like a long-necked bird with a hooked beak—one who is fit only for sharing hardship, not for sharing in joy. Why do you not depart?” After reading the letter, Zhong declared himself ill and refrained from attending court. Some insinuated that Zhong was about to incite a rebellion, prompting the King of Yue to reward him with a sword, remarking: “You taught me seven strategies to conquer the State of Wu; I needed only three to defeat it, while the remaining four still lie with you—go now and present these to our ancestral sovereigns!” Consequently, Zhong ended his own life.
Goujian passed away thereafter, and his son Wang Yao Shí ascended the throne. After his demise, his son Wang Bùshòu succeeded, followed by his son Wang Wēng, and then by his son Wang Yì. Upon Wang Yì’s death, his son Wang Zhīhóu took over, and following his demise, his son Wang Wúqiáng assumed power.
During the reign of Wúqiáng, the State of Yue launched northern expeditions against the State of Qi and western campaigns against the State of Chu, vying with the central plains’ states for supremacy. In the era of King Wei of Chu, when Yue attacked Qi, an envoy of Qi admonished the Yue king: “If Yue refrains from attacking Chu, it cannot claim kingship on a grand scale nor hegemony on a minor one. The likely reason Yue does not confront Chu is that it lacks the support of Han and Wei. Han and Wei would not normally attack Chu—should Han engage, its armies would be decimated and its generals slain, imperiling Ye and Yangzhai; the same holds true for Wei, endangering Chen and Shangcai. Thus, by allying with Yue, Han and Wei avoid catastrophic losses and their strenuous labors go unrecognized. Why, then, do you so cherish their support?” The King of Yue replied, “My demand from Han and Wei is not to engage in close combat with the Chu, fighting to the death or besieging cities. I expect the Wei forces to muster beneath Daliang and the Qi troops to train in Nanyang and Ju, gathering along the borders of Chang and Tan. In this way, Chu forces outside Fangcheng will cease their southern advance, those between the Huai and Si Rivers will not move eastward, and the Chu garrisons in Shang, Yu, Xi, Li, and Zonghu—covering the western passage to the central plains—will be insufficient to guard against Qin. Moreover, Chu forces along the rivers of Jiangnan and Si will be inadequate to repel Yue. Consequently, the four states of Qi, Qin, Han, and Wei could then achieve their territorial ambitions in Chu without the need for battle or cultivation.” The envoy further observed, “Now, Han and Wei are embroiled in mutual conflicts between the Yellow River and Huashan, thereby becoming instruments for both Qi and Qin. With such strategic missteps, how can we rely on them for kingship?” A messenger from Qi retorted, “Yue has narrowly escaped annihilation. I do not hold in high regard the use of mere cunning; it is like an eye that can discern a hair’s breadth yet cannot see its own eyelid. Today, your majesty recognizes Han and Wei’s blunders but remains oblivious to your own faults—truly, as the saying goes, an eye that sees a hair but misses its own eyelid. Your expectation of Han and Wei is not for their martial prowess or joint military campaigns, but solely to disperse the Chu forces. Now that the Chu are already scattered, why seek further aid from Han and Wei?” The King of Yue then inquired, “What course shall we take?” The envoy replied, “Three high-ranking Chu officials have already partitioned their armies to encircle Quwo and Yuzhong, extending to Wujia Pass—a defensive line stretching 3,700 li. The Jingcui forces have gathered in the northern territories of Lu, Qi, and Nanyang, and their numbers exceed what can be described as dispersed. Moreover, your strategy is to incite conflict between Jin and Chu; if they do not clash, and Yue refrains from intervening, your plan collapses entirely. In light of these considerations, I judge that the King of Yue neither aspires to be a king on the grand stage nor a hegemon on a minor one. Furthermore, with Chóu, Páng, and Changsha—regions of abundant grain in Chu—and Jiezeling, famous for its timber, if Yue opens the passage at Wujia Pass, these areas will no longer be able to furnish Chu’s capital with provisions and materials. I have heard that one who plots for kingship may fail to attain it, but might still achieve hegemony. However, if hegemony is unattainable, the royal mandate is irretrievably lost. Therefore, I earnestly advise you to turn your aggression towards Chu.”
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Thus, the State of Yue abandoned its campaign against Qi and set its sights on Chu. King Wei of Chu mobilized his forces to meet the Yue army, inflicting a crushing defeat, killing Wúqiáng, and capturing all the territories from the former State of Wu stretching to present-day Zhejiang. Simultaneously, in Xuzhou, the Qi forces suffered a significant defeat. As a result, the State of Yue disintegrated into warring factions; its princely heirs competed for power, with some proclaiming themselves kings and others lords. Those residing along the southern coast of the Yangtze found themselves compelled to pay tribute to Chu.
Seven generations later, the throne passed to Min Jun Yao, who aided the lords in overthrowing the Qin Dynasty. Emperor Gaozu of Han later reinstated Yao as the King of Yue, perpetuating the state’s ancestral worship. Both Eastern Yue and Min Jun trace their lineage back to the State of Yue.
For over twenty years, Fan Li served King Goujian of Yue with austere dedication and unflagging perseverance. Together, they meticulously devised strategies that eventually led to the annihilation of the State of Wu and the redemption of Kuaiji’s shame. As the Yue army advanced northward to the Huai River—its forces pressing to the borders of Qi and Jin—they issued commands throughout the Central Plains, extolled the ancient Zhou house, and, with Goujian’s rise to supremacy, Fan Li was elevated to the rank of supreme general.
Upon returning to his homeland, Fan Li perceived that under the weight of his illustrious reputation no state could remain secure indefinitely. Moreover, while King Goujian was capable of sharing in tribulations, his nature rendered him unfit to partake in the comforts of peace. In a farewell letter to Goujian, Fan Li wrote,
“I have heard that when a sovereign laments, his subjects must labor; when a ruler is disgraced, his attendants are doomed to perish. In the past, you suffered humiliation in Kuaiji, and I survived solely to avenge that dishonor. Now that our disgrace has been expiated, I beseech you to sentence me to the death befitting your own ignominy at Kuaiji.”
Goujian replied, “I shall partition the Kingdom of Yue equally between us; otherwise, you will incur even harsher penalties.” To which Fan Li responded, “Your Majesty may enforce your decree, yet I shall continue to follow the dictates of my own conscience.” With that, he carefully gathered his delicate jewels and precious treasures, and, accompanied by his retinue, set sail by sea—never to return to Yue. In recognition of his service, Goujian bestowed upon him the fief of Kuaiji Mountain.
Sailing onward, Fan Li reached the State of Qi, where he assumed a new name and identity, styling himself “Chī Yízǐ Pí” (with “Chī” pronounced as in the original). There, he toiled on the seashore, engaging in humble agriculture with steadfast endurance, while he and his son jointly managed their modest enterprise. In a short span, their accumulated fortune amounted to tens of thousands in value. The people of Qi, recognizing his exceptional talent and virtue, appointed him Prime Minister. Yet Fan Li lamented,
“To remain at home is to amass a fortune worth thousands of gold coins; to hold office is to rise only to the exalted rank of minister—the highest position attainable for commoners. To long enjoy such an illustrious title is, in truth, inauspicious.”
Thus, he relinquished his official insignia and distributed all his wealth among like-minded friends, fellow countrymen, and neighbors. Laden with his treasures, he departed in secret to settle in Taodi—a place he deemed the center of the world, where the thoroughfares of commerce ran clear and where enterprise promised great fortune. There, he assumed the title of Tao Zhu Gong. Moreover, he resolved that he and his son should both engage in agriculture and animal husbandry, patiently awaiting opportune moments in trade to secure a profit of ten percent on every transaction. Soon enough, their family fortune swelled to astronomical proportions, and the world extolled the name Tao Zhu Gong.
While residing in Taodi, Tao Zhu Gong had a younger son. When this younger son reached maturity, an incident arose: his second son committed murder and was apprehended by the State of Chu. Tao Zhu Gong remarked, “For the slayer, retribution is inevitable—that is the law of nature. Yet I have heard that in a family with a son worth a thousand gold coins, no son should be slain amidst the bustle of the marketplace.” Accordingly, he instructed his younger son to visit the incarcerated sibling. He then arranged for one thousand units of gold—meticulously packed in brown vessels and transported by an ox cart. Just as he was about to dispatch his younger son, the eldest son, the family’s head, insisted on going. Tao Zhu Gong objected. The eldest son declared, “As the firstborn, I am the family’s leader; now that my brother has transgressed and Father chooses to send the younger instead of me, it signifies that I am unworthy.” Overcome with despair, the eldest son even contemplated suicide. His mother interceded on his behalf, saying, “If we send the younger son, we might not save the second son’s life and, in doing so, lose the eldest—what shall we do?” Reluctantly, Tao Zhu Gong sent the eldest son, enclosing a letter to be delivered to his old friend Zhuang Sheng, and instructed him, “Upon your arrival in Chu, deliver the thousand gold coins to Zhuang Sheng’s household and comply with his directions without engaging in any disputes.” As the eldest son departed, he secretly carried with him several hundred additional units of gold.
Upon reaching Chu, the eldest son discovered that Zhuang Sheng’s modest residence lay near the outer walls of Chu’s capital—concealed by wild grasses that one had to part to reach its door. Although Zhuang Sheng lived in severe poverty, the eldest son opened the letter and dutifully presented the thousand gold coins, exactly as his father had instructed. Zhuang Sheng urged, “Depart immediately—do not tarry here! When your brother is released, do not ask the reason.” The eldest son then left, never to revisit Zhuang Sheng; yet he clandestinely remained in Chu, distributing the additional gold he had brought to influential officials and dignitaries in the service of Chu.
Despite his humble abode in a rustic hamlet, Zhuang Sheng was renowned throughout Chu for his incorruptible integrity and upright character; from the king downwards, all revered him as a sage mentor. When Tao Zhu Gong’s gold was offered, Zhuang Sheng accepted it not for personal gain but with the intention of returning it once his task was complete—thus demonstrating his unwavering trustworthiness. After receiving the gold, he confided to his wife,
“This is Tao Zhu Gong’s wealth. It shall be returned to him in full at some indeterminate future date—just as one cannot foretell the day one might fall ill. Under no circumstances must it be expended.”
Alas, the eldest son misunderstood Zhuang Sheng’s intentions, believing that bestowing such wealth upon him would bear no consequence.
Zhuangzi seized an opportunity to enter the palace and meet with the King of Chu. He announced, “A certain celestial body has shifted its course, and this change portends imminent danger for the state of Chu.” The king, who had always placed great trust in Zhuangzi, inquired, “What course of action do you recommend?” Zhuangzi replied, “Only by embracing benevolence, righteousness, and moral rectitude can we avert this calamity.” The king, without further hesitation, declared, “There is no need for additional counsel—I shall act accordingly.” He then dispatched an envoy to seal off the granary that stored precisely three qian of provisions.
Soon, high-ranking officials and nobles of Chu, astonished, informed the eldest son of the magnate Zhu Gong, “The King of Chu is about to issue a general amnesty.” Curious, the eldest son asked, “What makes you so sure?” A noble explained, “Whenever the king enacts an amnesty, he first orders the sealing of the granary containing three qian of supplies. Just last night, his envoy was sent to do so.” Concluding that a general pardon would surely result in his younger brother’s release—and that a thousand measures of gold had been squandered at Zhuangzi’s establishment without yielding any benefit—the eldest son returned to see Zhuangzi.
When Zhuangzi beheld him, he exclaimed in surprise, “You have not departed?” The son responded, “I have remained. I originally came concerning my brother’s fate, and now that Chu is deliberating an amnesty, my brother will naturally be set free. Hence, I have come to take my leave.” Perceiving that his true intent was to reclaim the gold, Zhuangzi replied, “Then kindly proceed to your private chamber and retrieve your gold.” The eldest son obeyed, entering the room to collect the gold, and departed while privately rejoicing over its recovery.
Deeply shamed by the treachery of the younger generation, Zhuangzi later returned to the palace to meet with the King of Chu once more. He remarked, “Previously, when I mentioned that celestial omen, you vowed to counteract its ill effects with virtuous deeds. Now, I have heard from the common folk that the wealthy magnate of Tao, Zhu Gong, has seen his son imprisoned in Chu for murder—and that his family has lavishly bribed the king’s attendants. Thus, Your Majesty’s decree of amnesty is not born of genuine compassion for your subjects, but is rather compelled by the machinations of Zhu Gong’s son.”
Enraged, the king thundered, “Though I may be lacking in virtue, how could I ever bestow grace upon Zhu Gong’s son through acts of charity?” In his fury, he ordered that the son be executed immediately, and only the following day was the edict of amnesty promulgated. In a most grievous twist, Zhu Gong’s eldest son returned home carrying his slain brother’s body.
Upon arriving home, while his mother and neighbors were overcome with sorrow, Zhu Gong himself smiled and commented, “I always knew the eldest would never succeed in saving his brother! It is not that he does not love his sibling, but rather that he cannot bear to relinquish wealth. Having grown up with me and endured countless hardships, he has come to prize money above all else and is loath to spend it. Conversely, the younger brother—born into luxury, accustomed to riding the finest carriages, commanding prized steeds on endless journeys, and enjoying lavish hunts in the countryside—never questioned the origins of our fortune and thus regarded money with utter frivolity, discarding it without hesitation. I had intended for the younger son to be entrusted with this task, for he is willing to part with riches; however, the eldest’s inability to forsake wealth has ultimately doomed his own brother. This outcome, as natural as it is, should not be mourned. In truth, my heart has long yearned, day and night, only for the corpse of my second son to be returned.”
It is said that Fan Li relocated his household on three distinct occasions, each time achieving renown wherever he settled. He did not leave arbitrarily—his name accompanied him as a banner of excellence. Ultimately, he died in Tao, and hence he is forever remembered by the people as Tao Zhu Gong.
The Grand Historian records: “Yu the Great’s accomplishments were monumental—he tamed nine great rivers and brought stability to the vast expanse of the Nine Provinces, ensuring that peace prevails to this day. His descendant, Goujian, through relentless toil and profound foresight, succeeded in vanquishing the mighty state of Wu, advanced northward into the Central Plains, and paid homage to the Zhou dynasty, earning the title ‘Overlord.’ Can one truly deny his competence? Surely, the spirit of Yu the Great endures in him. Likewise, Fan Li’s three celebrated relocations have enshrined his legacy in glory for all posterity. If both ministers and monarchs can achieve such feats, how could their eminence be in any way diminished?”