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Volume 80a: Biographies of Writers 1

Chapter 89 of 後漢書 · Book of Later Han
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Chapter 89
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1
Du Du, whose courtesy name was Jiya, came from Duling in the metropolitan region of Jingzhao. An ancestor, Du Yannian, had served as Imperial Counselor during the reign of Emperor Xuan. As a young man Du Du read widely, scorned petty propriety, and won no respect from the people of his district. While living in Meiyang he associated with the county magistrate and often tried to secure favors through him; when those efforts failed, the two grew mutually resentful. The magistrate, infuriated, had Du Du seized and escorted to the capital under arrest. Just then Grand Marshal Wu Han died, and Emperor Guangwu summoned the literati to mourn him in verse. From his cell Du Du submitted a dirge that surpassed the rest; the emperor admired it, rewarded him with silk, and released him without sentence.
2
Du Du argued that Guanzhong's ring of mountains and rivers and the old seat of the former emperor made it wrong to relocate the capital to Luoyang; he therefore submitted a memorial embedding his rhapsody Discourse on the Capital (Lun Du Fu), which begins:
3
姿
I have heard it said that knowledge stacked upon knowledge is mere redundancy. What I might say you already grasp, Sire, so I sketch only the gist and do not presume to rehearse every detail. Long ago Pan Geng forsook luxury and embraced austerity when he ruled from Bo. The Zhou reached their zenith when they established the royal seat at Luoyang in the central plain. Each age chose its seat of government; no capital was meant to endure unchanged forever. Even among sage counsels some designs prove sounder than others. The vision of a true king stands utterly apart from that of a mere hegemon. Guarding a realm aims at one end yet travels many roads. Some rulers forsake defensible heights for open terrain. Others hug mountains and rivers until they absorb every rival kingdom. Some, rich and longing for home, forget they may be attacked from the rear. Some exploit an undefended gap, bursting out of Hanzhong so swiftly that the court rolls forward in a day on one strategist's plan. Some see the wiser course yet cling for years to bleak soil. I would not presume to settle which approach is correct. I recall how Sima Xiangru and Yang Xiong crafted rhapsodies to counsel their rulers—examples I earnestly wish to emulate. Kneeling, I offer this essay titled On the Capital (Lun Du), sealed and laid before you as follows.
4
西 怀 <> 西
In Jianwu 18, on the day jiachen of the second month, the Son of Heaven rode out from Luoyang to inspect the Western Marchmount. He aligned the journey with Heaven's seasons, tracked the pole star through Changhe Gate into Hangu, studied the defiles of Xiao and Min, and traced the perilous terrain of Long and Shu. That third month, on dingyou, he reached Chang'an. He toured the palace grounds, mourned the fallen glory of the former capital, ordered Jingzhao and Fufeng to prepare rites, and with solemn fasting announced his presence at the ancestral tombs. He was stirred by thoughts of his forebears and sighed over the grandeur the Central States once knew. Then, as if heaven wheeled overhead, he launched vessels on the Wei and bent his course north along the Jing River. Thousands of chariots squared their tracks and myriad horsemen filled the roads; the columns swept Qi and Liang and stretched east across the Yellow River. He buried offerings to the Earth Spirit at the suburban altar and performed the suburban rites; the graph for Heaven is missing in the received text. In the fourth month of that year he turned back toward Luoyang, the eastern capital. The following year an order reopened Hangu Pass and raised the Grand Procession Hall, guest residences for the royal princes, and tall-chariot stables at Chang'an. Workers repaired the eastern capital's gates, spanned the Jing and Wei with bridges, and patched lookout towers along the way. To the east lay Ba and Chan; to the west, Kunming Pool; climbing Changping in the north they traced Longshou Hill, walked Weiyang and Pingle, and measured Jianzhang Palace against the sky.
5
西
People east of the mountains buzzed with doubt about the court's commitment to the western capital and dreaded that the frontier gates might slam shut. Someone urged Du Du: "That muddy pool by the village well cannot float a vessel built to swallow rivers; moreover how could Luoyang's sluggish eddies sustain an emperor's train of ten thousand riders?" Xianyang is the sharp edge with which the realm is defended; leave it vacant too long and rebellion stirs. Du Du did not quite accept this, so he laid out the Han dynasty's majesty, its long reliance on Yongzhou's strengths, and the pressing reasons the court still could not leave—meant to answer his visitor. He said:
6
When all-powerful Qin first carved its realm, dominance sprang from Qi and Yong; wealth and population swelled until conquest unified the land—yet cruelty like Jie's invited revolt. Heaven ordained a sage-king and entrusted the mandate to great Han. Han laid its foundations through the merit of the Supreme Founder. He cut the white serpent, drew black clouds about him, watched five planets gather over the Eastern Well, seized the storied sword Ganjiang, and roared down the cruelty of Qin. He strode to the eastern sea, vaulted Kunlun, flashed like a comet across Xiang Yu's armies, lifted the people from disaster, and rinsed the Si and Yi clean of slaughter. Liu Jing shaped the strategy, and the capital was first settled at Chang'an. Emperor Wen inherited that tide of fortune and sustained it with humane government. He lived plainly, bent his person to kindness, took only one dish per meal, and wore undyed cloth without pattern. He fed the people through tillage and silk, taught restraint by example; painted faces did not delight his eyes, the tunes of Zheng and Wei did not reach his ears, flatterers held no seat at court and shoddy wares no stall in the market—so peace ascended and punishments nearly vanished. Prosperity spilled into the reigns of Xiaowen and Xiaojing; their achievement flowed to succeeding generations.
7
鹿 西 觿
Then Emperor Wu, drawing on overflowing treasuries, first dreamed of distant schemes—to reckon Modun's offenses and settle scores for the humiliation at Pingcheng. He charged the Swift Cavalry command and leaned hard on Wei Qing; armies swept like meteors and valor rose like hawks—deep into the steppe they shattered the royal court, rolled up the northern sands, stormed Qilian, split the Chanyu, and carved apart countless tribes. They torched yurts, seized the Chanyu consort, burned Kangju to ash, shattered whistling arrows, pinned enemy princes, raced gorges and ridges, took the Wusun ruler and boy captives, drove pack animals and rode Ferghana steeds, laying the lash to every swift mount. Borders stretched ten thousand li and terror rang through every quarter. They planted four western commanderies and anchored Dunhuang. Dependent states along the frontier were folded in so that one commandery could oversee whole regions. Marquises anchored the northern marches; inspectors watched the western Qiang. They drove Di and Bo tribes and cleared wolf-like threats from Qiong and Zuo. To the east they brushed the Wuhuan and trampled the Huimo. To the south they leashed Gouding and crossed blades with powerful Yue along the rivers. They broke the tattooed southern peoples until the seas foamed crimson. Counties stretched to Rinan and standards fluttered toward Zhuya. A southern colonel held the southeast until even Huangzhi fell within reach. Long-ear tribes and tattooed foreheads were yanked into submission—armies shattered Tian-du, hauled back elephants and rhinos, crushed shells and glass, smashed tortoise and horn ornaments. Even peoples who dwelt in caves and furs and drank river-water through their noses came barefoot to knock their heads in the dust, breathless and prostrate. Without Han's golden age, Yongzhou's abundance, and skill at ruling interior and frontier alike, who could have piled up such deeds! The line began with Gaozu, flowed through Emperor Hui, rose in virtue with Emperor Wen, spread wealth with Emperor Jing, blazed in might with Emperor Wu, ran smoothly under Emperors Xuan and Yuan, burned brightest in excess under Cheng and Ai, and shattered under young Emperor Ping. Eleven reigns spanned three centuries—power ebbed and flowed, the Way dimmed and returned—yet no ruler could drag the capital from Yongzhou or turn away from Xianyang. Palaces and tombs crowd the horizon, vast and splendid, stirring pride—nothing since Fu Xi and Shen Nong has gleamed so visibly.
8
西 鸿 西 便 退
Yongzhou is where emperors cultivate destiny and hegemons magnify achievement—the crucible where soldiers wrestle fate. The "Tribute of Yu" ranks its soil at the top of the scale. Rich fields extend a thousand li; wetlands roll away on every side. The five grains grow in abundance; mulberry and hemp thrive in neat rows. Braced against the Southern Mountains and belted by Jing and Wei, it is styled the inland sea where countless creatures thrive. Catalpa, citrus, sandalwood, and mulberry yield fruit in due season. Sluices scour silt while springs feed the plots; moisture spreads into branching streams until rice ripens far and wide. The earth is so fertile that land sells for a pound of gold the acre. Farmland rolls without end; farmers hoe among the groves. Fire-clearing and scattered sowing ask little labor yet yield richly. With granaries full, four ramparts hem it in—Long and Shu on the west, Hanzhong on the south, Gukou on the north, sheer cliffs on the east. Hangu's steep barrier chokes the road; eastern approaches dead-end here. Camps along the Qian and Long valleys bottle up the western Rong. Guarding Bao and Xie seals the country south of the divide. Seal the passes and cut the ferries and the northern marches have no easy crossing. The Hong and Wei rivers run straight into the Yellow River. Ten thousand barges shuttle grain in endless trains. To the east lies the sea's harness; to the west the drifting sands are gathered in. From north to south a single rule holds; the Hua lands rest at peace. Walls soar a hundred feet; fortresses choke every vital gap. Ravines and bridges pinch the roads like belt-straps. Raise one traction trebuchet and a thousand attackers stall. A single warrior swinging a ji can rout three armies. The ground favors defense at hand and offense at a distance; mail and helm breed fierceness. Troops win shelter readily; men fight fully armed instead of baring their breasts in despair. Twelve provinces in sum—this is the empire's larder. Use brute strength and you swallow rivals; seize the advantage early and your achievement stands apart. Pursue culture and treasure accumulates; wield arms and soldiers answer like a drawn cord. Good government lifts custom upward; once usurpation appears, rebels prove hard to root out. Strike outward and victory follows; draw inward and reserves remain—this is the emperor's park and the nation's sword.
9
便 姿 西
When Xin fell and Han tottered, Wang Mang lurked in that same fertile basin, stole the regalia and mocked Heaven's charge, trusting only convenience—yet even he could not finish the ruin he began. Eighteen years into his reign, retribution arrived out of the capital. Heaven raised up Emperor Gengshi, yet no hand could steady the traces. Slipshod guarding drew marauders and summoned the Red Eyebrows anew. The empire seethed like storm clouds; the Central States verged on collapse. Contenders rose like rival dragons; no one knew which cause was just. Then our sage lord revealed awe-inspiring might, shouldered the mandate of Heaven and humanity, and embodied a presence beyond common kings. He took his mandate from on high and won help from the spirits. He proclaimed his reign from Gaoyi and planted standards on every front. The counselors who framed the opening moves devised stratagems no one foresaw; Behind them came armies that howled with rage; fierce as tigers and hornless dragons. Wherever those hosts marched, nothing stood uncut. Not even the oldest tales of burning fish and slicing serpents equal such speed. Their war cry east of the mountains rattled the sands beyond the frontier. He belted Longyuan, raised Moyé, called on the White Planet to rise, and shot on foot toward Bow and Wolf. To the south he trapped Gongsun Shu; to the north he threw back the steppe riders; to the west he quieted Long and Ji; to the east he anchored the seat at Luoyang. He swept the world clear, snatched the common folk from ruin, secured the multitude's well-being—one graph missing here—and thus restored the Han house.
10
忿 西 便
The empire is only just stable; the scars of siege are still fresh, yet the throne worries about the marches, bristles at stubborn Jiameng, and cannot spare breath for capital polemics while Yongzhou slips from mind. He pours his own counsel into governing the heartland, steadies renowned commanders, pushes the frontier outward, lets punitive awe speak for itself, and flaunts force even in the outer wastes. From tattooed chiefs with bored ears to skirted lords in far provinces—one character is damaged here—southeastern peoples outside the norm and northwestern neighbors beyond easy rule: every one sent interpreters, delivered tribute, and asked to serve as outer subjects. The Son of Heaven stays modest and refuses to trumpet battlefield glory. He judges worthless prisoners a bad bargain beside citizens who can feed the realm; grabbing sterile frontier acres matters less than tending the breadbasket heartland; rescuing the ruined far away cannot match protecting what still breathes close at hand. The state walks the moral path openly, seasons policy with mercy, lets generous edicts soak every district, and lets honest winds blow everywhere. Its aim is steady fairness and tangible good for the black-haired masses; any measure that truly helps the throne, the sage accepts. Why so? Pour from any vessel and it empties; lift any doctrine and it shifts; thriving yang rolls onward, filling yin withdraws—so remember doom in days of peace and name danger in times of calm; even under humane rule, ramparts remain necessary.
11
西
Your guest says the realm's sword cannot hang unused and the west still matters—must we therefore quit Luoyang's sheltered basin?
12
Du Du later held the post of commandery Literary Instructor. Eye trouble kept him away from the capital for over two decades.
13
On his mother's side his great-grandfather was Xin Wu-xian, General Who Subdues the Qiang, celebrated for strategic daring. Du Du would sigh: "My clan excels at humane rule, yet I am no magistrate; the Xin clan pairs integrity with martial readiness, yet I shrink from responsibility. Five generations on—by my time the spark has guttered out!"
14
西
A younger sister wed into the Ma family of Fufeng. In Jianchu 3 Ma Fang, General of Chariots and Cavalry, struck the western Qiang and named Du Du senior attendant; Du Du died fighting at Shegu Mountain.
15
He left fu, laments, memorial essays, letters, praises, 《Seven-Character Lines》, 《Admonitions for Women》, and assorted prose—eighteen titles altogether. He wrote fifteen chapters more under the title 《Discourse on the Manifest Age》.
16
His son Shuo lived boldly and made a name in commerce.
17
西
Wang Long, called Wenshan, hailed from Yunyang in Pingyi commandery. In Wang Mang's day he became a gentleman cadet by hereditary privilege; when turmoil rose he escaped to Hexi and served Dou Rong as left protector general. Under Emperor Guangwu he governed Xinji county. He excelled at letters and left poems, fu, inscriptions, and essays—twenty-six pieces.
18
Near Wang Mang's fall, Shi Cen of Pei—style Zixiao—won notice as a writer; Mang named him court usher, and he produced hymns, laments, 《Return of the Spirits》, and 《On Illness》—four compositions.
19
Xia Gong, known as Jinggong, came from Meng in Liang. He mastered the 《Han Shi Poetry》 tradition and the 《Meng Lineage Changes》 school and routinely taught over a thousand students. When Wang Mang collapsed, bandits swarmed and seized county seats. Xia Gong earned loyalty through humane dealing; he kept his men steady and alone preserved his district. Emperor Guangwu admired his steadfast courage, called him to court as a gentleman, and twice raised him to Taishan commandant. He soothed the populace and truly earned their hearts.
20
He wrote fu, songs, verse, and 《Encourage Study》—twenty works. He died on duty at forty-nine; Confucian scholars honored him posthumously as Lord Illustrious Bright.
21
His son Ziya trained at home and left forty fu, songs, eulogies, and laments. Recommended as filial and honest, he died young; locals dubbed him Master Literary Virtue.
22
Fu Yi, called Wuzhong, came from Maoling in Fufeng. As a boy he read widely. In the Yongping era he parsed classics at Pingling and drafted his 《Poem Expressing Resolve》, which opens:
23
Hear me, all you scholars—use this moment and press onward. The sun and moon never pause—who would claim they ever return! I pity these labors—my sinews fail the task. Beset by weakness I find nowhere to raise a lasting stand.
24
Great our forebear, famed throughout Yin. Twin pillars like Yi Yin—shining through his standard. King Wuding lifted Shang anew; Yi lineage ministers became the royal limbs. They served as arms and legs; every state fell under their rule.
25
Virtue flowed generation after generation until my honored father. He guarded gentle excellence and walked that path onward. At Han's midpoint talents stood ranked like the Yin kings; order echoed their house and lit our lineage.
26
I am but a weakling, too base to match them. I dread our ancestral fire guttering out at my feet. Who will scour this murk and wash me pure? Who will light this gloom and wake my boyish ignorance?
27
Forebears left counsel—I probe it and accept their charge. They chart noble work and urge wide study. So I band with friends to recover old standards. Night and day in earnest union—may I never slack or stumble.
28
Grand designs lie ordered; norms bind every pattern. Without zeal nothing shines; without singleness nothing sounds. Farmers who never idle reap grain and beans—who says harvest needs no effort at the hearth?
29
Two aims wreck the work and sap my strength. Like open highways they never reach a bound. Both goals unmet—so my heart tires. Like hearing every side at once—only noise remains.
30
Alas, good men—never sink into ease. Years stream away; rest is rare. The journey halts repeatedly—how can one ever finish. Work dawn to dusk—then beginning matches the close.
31
Fu Yi felt Emperor Ming courted talent too timidly and scholars stayed hidden, so he wrote 《Seven Exhortations》 to needle the throne.
32
Midway through Jianchu, Emperor Zhang called literati widely—named Fu Yi to the Orchid Terrace, made him a gentleman, and paired him with Ban Gu and Jia Kui to collate the canon. Fu Yi argued that Emperor Ming's deeds topped every predecessor yet lacked a temple hymn, so he echoed 《Qing Temple Ode》 in ten 《Hymns for Emperor Ming》; afterward his style dominated court letters.
33
Ma Fang, General of Chariots and Cavalry and favored kinsman, took Fu Yi as army chief of staff and honored him like a mentor. When the Ma fell from power he lost office and went home.
34
簿
Yongyuan 1 saw Dou Xian, Grand General, recall Fu Yi as chief clerk and name Cui Yin registrar. When Dou rose to Grand General, Fu Yi returned as army major while Ban Gu guarded headquarters. Dou's headquarters boasted the age's finest prose.
35
Fu Yi died young, leaving verse, fu, laments, songs, prayers, 《Seven Exhortations》, and linked pearls—twenty-eight works.
36
Huang Xiang, called Wenqiang, came from Anlu in Jiangxia. He lost his mother at nine; grief wasted him until mourners feared he would follow her; neighbors praised his utmost filial devotion. When he was twelve, Administrator Liu Hu summoned him and named him filial attendant at his residence—everyone cherished him. His family was destitute, without maids; he shouldered every hardship himself and nursed his father with utter devotion. He went on to master the canon and Daoist arts and to write brilliantly; the capital nicknamed him "the unrivaled Huang boy of Jiangxia."
37
殿 殿 宿
His first post was gentleman; in Yuanhe 1 Emperor Zhang sent him to the Eastern Pavilion to devour texts he had never opened. After he took leave and came back to Luoyang, the heir of Qiansheng was capped; at the Zhongshan hostel the emperor gathered the princes, called Huang Xiang forward, and told them: "Here is your 'matchless Huang lad of Jiangxia.'" Everyone nearby revised his opinion at once. He was next called to Anfu Hall for statecraft debates, made a Masters of Writing gentleman, spoke bluntly on policy, and watched stipends swell. He slept on duty in the terrace offices and barely stepped outside the palace gates; the throne praised such zeal.
38
使
In Yongyuan 4 he became Left Assistant. His tour qualified him for advancement, yet Emperor He held him back with a higher stipend. By year six he had climbed to Prefect of the Masters of Writing. Named Dong commandery administrator, he memorialized to refuse: "I am a nobody from the Yangzi-Huai region, a raw student—one character is damaged in the text—with no record of learning or conduct worth citing." Living under universal peace on inherited luck, he was plucked while still young, climbed step after step, and ended atop the Masters of Writing. I had not a hair’s breadth of achievement; dying for the throne would barely repay it—I never dreamed of such grace. Now I am thrust into honors I never sought—openly named to a neighboring province ruling a thousand li. They say grant office to fit the man and no portfolio sits idle; award fiefs for real labor and wise and plain men each find their place. I am a nobody who once merely studied; commanding a commandery is beyond my strength. I dread collapse—the manuscript leaves a gap—and would stain heaven’s favor. The nerve center of policy is too august for me to clutch forever. The summons leaves me shaking; I cannot choose what to do. I am still in vigorous mid-life—fit only to run errands. Let me stay a spare hand, give me some nagging clerk’s duty, pile on palace busywork—that would satisfy my insect-small ambition; I could die content; ash on my name would feel like glory. The emperor valued his competence and intimate knowledge of routine, kept him as Prefect of the Masters of Writing, bumped his rank to two thousand shi, and handed him three hundred thousand cash. From then on he steered the machinery of state and won deep trust; Huang Xiang too—one character missing—threw himself into paperwork and treated the realm like kin.
39
In year twelve Dongping and Qinghe reported charges linking Qing Zhongliao and others until nearly a thousand names tangled in the net. Huang Xiang parsed each dossier and kept countless people alive. Whenever a province sent up ambiguous cases he leaned toward lenient clauses, guarding lives and easing distress. He knew border affairs and weighed army logistics so decisions always fit circumstances. The throne saw his grind and showered extra gifts. Sickness brought court messengers and imperial physic. He promoted throngs of talent and soaked up favor until gossip called him over-lucky.
40
Yanping 1 moved him to Wei commandery administrator. The prefecture once leased palace gardens inside and out, sharecropping them for thousands of hu a year. Huang Xiang cited 《Field Ordinance》: merchants do not till; 《Royal Regulations》: officers do not hold the plough—salary men must not squeeze the people. He handed every plot to the people and taxed the harvest fairly. When floods brought lean years he split stipends and gifts to feed the needy; rich families poured charity grain into state relief and refugees lived. Flood paperwork cost him his post; months later he died at home.
41
He left five pieces: fu, memoranda, memorials, letters, and orders. His son Huang Qiong receives a separate biography.
42
Liu Yi belonged to Prince Jing of Beihai’s house. He began as Marquis of Pingwang but Yongyuan stripped him for a crime. Even young he was known for rhetorical skill. Yuanchu 1 saw him submit twelve chapters titled 《Discourse on Han Virtue》 and 《Discourse on the Charter》. Liu Zhen, Deng Dan, Yin Dui, and Ma Rong praised him in a joint memorial; Emperor An gave thirty thousand cash and made him a counselor.
43
广
Li You, called Boren, came from Luo in Guanghan. He won notice young on the strength of his prose. Emperor He’s attendant Jia Kui likened him to Sima Xiangru and Yang Xiong; summoned to the Eastern Lodge for commissioned fu, he became Orchid Terrace clerk. Promoted stepwise, he served Emperor An as remonstrance counselor and joined Herald chief Liu Zhen to compile 《Han Records》. When the heir was demoted to prince of Jiyin, Li You protested in writing. Emperor Shun raised him to Le’an chancellor. He died at eighty-three. He left twenty-eight works: verse, fu, inscriptions, laments, songs, 《Seven Laments》, and 《Canon of Lament》.
44
His townsman Li Sheng wrote well too, served as an Eastern Lodge gentleman, and left dozens of fu, laments, hymns, and essays.
45
Su Shun, styled Xiaoshan, hailed from Baling in Jingzhao. Between Emperors He and An he was celebrated for scholarship. He pursued longevity arts and hid in the hills to cultivate Dao. He entered service late as a gentleman and died on duty. Sixteen pieces survive: fu, essays, laments, dirges, and miscellany.
46
The capital surrounds brimmed with talent—Cao Zhong of Fufeng, called Boshi, wrote four laments, letters, and treatises.
47
Another Cao Shuo, birthplace unknown, penned four chapters of 《Han Eulogy》.
48
便
Ge Gong, styled Yuanfu, came from Ningling in Liang. Emperor He knew him for crisp paperwork. He was bold and blunt, stronger than most. Emperor An’s Yongchu term brought a filial-incorrupt nomination, a stint as imperial kitchen aide, four policy memos, and the Tangyin magistracy. The Grand Commandant called him in, but illness blocked the appointment. Provincial abundant-talent nomination landed him the Linfen magistracy. Both postings earned glowing reviews. Twelve works remain: essays, fu, stele inscriptions, laments, correspondence.
49
Wang Yi, called Shushi, was from Yicheng in Nan commandery. Early Yuanchu brought him up as chief clerk for the accounts survey, then collator. Emperor Shun named him palace attendant. His 《Chu Lyrics with Commentary》 circulated widely. Twenty-one pieces survive: fu, laments, letters, essays, and scraps. He added 123 chapters titled 《Han Verses》.
50
寿 殿 寿
His son Wang Yanshou, styled Wenkao, burned bright. Young, he studied in Lu and wrote 《Hall of Spiritual Light Fu》. Cai Yong later tried the same theme, saw Yanshou’s draft, marveled, and quit. A nightmare spurred him to compose 《Dream Fu》 as self-warning. He drowned before thirty.
51
涿
Cui Qi, styled Ziwei, from Anping in Zhuo, shared descent with Jinbei chancellor Cui Yuan. He read in Luoyang and passed for omnivorously learned. Filial-incorrupt nomination made him a gentleman. Henan governor Liang Ji courted his friendship. Liang Ji swaggered past law; Cui Qi warned him with historical parallels until Ji refused to listen. So he wrote 《Admonition for In-laws》. It opens.
52
Splendid are the imperial in-laws—glory dazzling the court. Emperor Shun’s virtue shone through his Ying and Huang consorts. The Zhou house leaned on three royal mothers; Youxin ladies lifted Tang. King Xuan of Zhou lingered in bed until Queen Jiang pulled her pins. Duke Huan of Qi craved song—Lady Wei of Wei withheld her zither. Each aided her lord with ritual, steadied him with kindness, lifted worthy men, and walked by righteousness.
53
忿
Later ages slid toward ruin. The queenly order unraveled like slanting fish on a string; the nine inner ranks stumbled. Jin’s doom began with Lady Li Ji. 'The house is undone.' 'The hen crows dawn.' They hoard favor, flaunt themselves, and shut others out. They browbeat elders, cut old bonds, and tear even flesh and blood. Shared standing with the heir and rival consorts brought Chen to ruin through wanton women. Mediocre men gained the summit—Fan rose to Minister of Education. They wore rank like porters on fine horses and drew rents from great cities. The Odes skewer such houses—virtue practiced yields no careless peace. King Zhou of Shang drowned in a woman's flattery and deafened himself to every warning. His heart was bat-foul and viper-vicious; he poured cruelty on the innocent. He murdered fathers and brothers and ripped open women big with child. Heaven and earth burned with rage; living men and angry spirits closed the net. At gray dawn on the day jiazi his trunk and skull went separate ways. Yesterday Son of Heaven; today plaything under another's claw.
54
The vice reached beyond rouged chambers—dowager intrigues matched them. They spurned ritual leadership for the naked scramble after leverage. They began in laughter and ended in howls—ruin and maiming were the close. The dynasty guttered out; ancestral halls turned to ash. Mojie drowned Xia, Baosi broke Zhou, Daji sank Yin, and King Ling of Zhao wasted away at Shaqiu. Concubine Qi was carved into a human pig; the Lu house crashed. Empress Chen's sorcery earned exile and a lonely death. Empress Huo plotted poison for the crown prince and lost her own throne.
55
So the maxim runs: cry 'noble' all you like—Heaven still pulls you down. Never bank on a pretty face—the bloom always thins. Never cling to favor—it always ebbs. Boast 'I am able' and Heaven and the crowd wheel against you. Disaster grows from moral slack; luck hangs on a careful hinge. The sun never parks at zenith; the swollen moon must hollow. Tread the Dao and you root deep; ride brute force and you tip. I, least among ministers charged with kinsmen—here is my warning.
56
使鹿
Ignored by Liang Ji, Cui Qi wrote 《White Swan Fu》 to needle him obliquely. Liang Ji called him in: everyone has an office; gossip runs everywhere—why blame only us? Why cut so deep with satire! Cui Qi answered: Guan Zhong serving Qi thirsted for delicate warnings. Xiao He serving Han assigned clerks to write down missteps. You have been the dynasty's backbone for generations—weight like Yi Yin or the Duke of Zhou—yet no humane rule appears and the people burn in misery. You neither recruit good men to stop collapse nor open your ears—you would gag every tongue until truth inverts like swapping horse for deer? Liang Ji had nothing to say and dismissed him.
57
怀 怀
Named magistrate of Linji, he refused the post and laid down his ribbons. Liang Ji then sent killers after him. A killer found him behind the plow with a book at his breast, chanting each time he rested. The assassin pitied him and admitted the contract—yet honor stayed his hand. Flee at once—I vanish as well. Cui Qi fled, but Liang Ji caught him in the end and put him to death.
58
He left fifteen works: fu, songs, stele texts, laments, warnings, elegies, essays, 《Nine Consultations》, and 《Seven-Character Lines》.
59
便便 便便
Bian Shao, styled Xiaoxian, came from Junyi in Chenliu. His prose won renown and his lecture hall held hundreds. Quick with words, he once dozed in daylight; pupils whispered: 'Bian Xiaoxian's belly sticks way out.' 'Too lazy to read—only wants to sleep.' Bian Shao heard and answered: 'Bian names the clan, Xiao the style.' 'That belly—it's a granary for 《Five Classics》.' 'Wanting sleep—chewing on the canon.' 'Asleep I bargain with the Duke of Zhou; awake in silence I match Confucius.' 'If masters may be mocked, what classic permits it?' The hecklers shrank away ashamed. His repartee always landed like this.
60
Emperor Huan made him tutor to the marquis of Linying, then Grand Palace Grandee composing at the Eastern Lodge. He rose to Beidi administrator and later Prefect of the Masters of Writing. His last post was Chen chancellor; he died on duty. Fifteen pieces remain: verse, songs, stele inscriptions, essays, letters, and memorials.
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