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《易》稱「遯之時義大矣哉」。 又曰：“不事王侯，高尚其事。” 是以尧称则天，不屈颍阳之高； 武尽美矣，终全孤竹之洁。 自兹以降，风流弥繁，长往之轨未殊，而感致之数匪一。 或隐居以求其志，或回避以全其道，或静已以镇其躁，或去危以图其安，或垢俗以动其概，或疵物以激其清。 然观其甘心畎亩之中，憔悴江海之上，岂必亲鱼鸟、乐林草哉！ 亦云性分所至而已。 故蒙耻之宾，屡黜不去其国； 蹈海之节，千乘莫移其情。 适使矫易去就，则不能相为矣。 彼虽硁硁有类沽名者，然而蝉蜕嚣埃之中，自致寰区之外，异夫饰智巧以逐浮利者乎！ 荀卿有言曰，“志意修则骄富贵，道义重则轻王公”也。 汉室中微，王莽篡位，士之蕴藉义愤甚矣。 是时裂冠毁冕，相携持而去之者，盖不可胜数。 杨雄曰：“鸿飞冥冥，弋者何篡焉。” 言其违患之远也。 光武侧席幽人，求之若不及，旌帛蒲车之所征贲，相望于岩中矣。 若薛方、逢萌，聘而不肯至； 严光、周党、王霸，至而不能屈。 群方咸遂，志士怀仁，斯固所谓“举逸民天下归心”者乎！ 肃宗亦礼郑均而征高凤，以成其节。 自后帝德稍衰，邪孽当朝，处子耿介，羞与卿相等列，至乃抗愤而不顾，多失其中行焉。 盖录其绝尘不反，同夫作者，列之此篇。
The Book of Changes says, "In the hour of Withdrawal, the meaning of timing is vast indeed." It adds, "They will not wait on lords and princes; they exalt their own calling instead." So Yao could mirror Heaven and still leave the recluses of Yingyang untroubled in their height; King Wu won perfect renown, yet he still spared the stainless recluses of Mount Guzhu. Afterward the tradition only spread: the path of withdrawal stayed one, but the motives that led men to it multiplied. Some hid to pursue a purpose; some fled to keep the Way intact; some stilled themselves against inner hurry; some quit peril for safety; some smeared themselves in the mire to steel their honor; some scorned the world to sharpen their cleanness. Yet see them content in plowed fields, worn thin along the rivers—surely it was not only love of birds, fish, and wild growth! They were simply following the grain of their own natures, nothing more. Thus men who swallowed humiliation might be cast out again and again yet never quit their homeland; while others who chose the sea's integrity could not be moved by the offer of a thousand chariots. Had you forced them to swap places, none could have stood in another's stead. A few may look stiff-necked, almost like fame-hunters, yet they shed the world's racket and walk outside its borders—far from the clever types angling for hollow gain. Xunzi said, "Refine your intent and you scorn riches and rank; weight your conduct with the Way and you think little of kings and princes." Mid-Han faltered, Wang Mang seized the throne, and every scholar's breast burned with loyal rage. Then came the wave who rent their caps and crowns and marched away together—no reckoning could count them. Yang Xiong wrote, "The wild goose vanishes into the gloom—what can the fowler's string catch?" —meaning how far they flew from harm. Guangwu turned his mat for hidden men and hunted them as if always a step behind—silk summons and rush-wheeled coaches thickly threaded the cliffs. Xue Fang and Feng Meng were called but would not appear; Yan Guang, Zhou Dang, and Wang Ba came yet could not be bowed. Each found his path, and high-minded men kept faith with humaneness—was this not the "raise the recluses and all hearts incline" of the Analects? Emperor Zhang likewise honored Zheng Jun and summoned Gao Feng to crown their resolve. Later the throne's virtue thinned, vicious favorites ruled the hall, and hermits—too proud to sit among ministers—sometimes flamed into defiance and lost the golden mean. Here I record those who shook off the dust and never looked back—true authors of their own lives—and set them in this scroll.
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No one knows where the two elders of Yewang came from. When Guangwu still hedged toward Gengshi and Guanzhong boiled, he sent Forward General Deng Yu west and escorted him along the road. On the return hunt at Yewang he met two greybeards about to shoot game. Guangwu asked, "Which way lies the quarry?" Both pointed west: "Tigers swarm there—we hunt them, they hunt us—do not ride that way, great king." Guangwu said, "With proper precautions, what fear of tigers?" The elder answered, "How wrong you are, great king! Tang seized Jie at Mingtiao, then raised mighty ramparts at Bo; King Wu struck Zhou at Muye, then ringed Jiaru with great walls. Neither king lacked deep defenses. He who hunts men is hunted in turn—how can you trust walls alone?" Guangwu understood and murmured to his attendants, "These are hidden sages." He moved to retain them, but they slipped away—none traced their path.
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Xiang Chang, styled Ziping, came from Zhaoge in Henei. He lived in reclusion, prized equipoise, and loved plumbing the Laozi and the Changes. Destitute, he lived on neighbors' gifts—taking only what he needed and sending the rest back. Wang Mang's grand minister Wang Yi summoned him; he dragged his feet for years, and when Yi tried to push him at court he refused point-blank. He sank from sight in his own house. At the Sun and Yi hexagrams he sighed, "I know wealth cannot beat poverty nor rank a humble station—but how death stacks against life I cannot tell." In the Jianwu years, once his children were wed, he commanded the household to treat him as dead and ask nothing of him. Then he wandered at will with his friend Qin Qing of Beihai across the five sacred peaks until both vanished from record.
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Feng Meng, styled Zikang, was a native of Duchang in Beihai. His home was humble; he clerked as a village headman. When the commandant passed his post, Feng greeted him, then hurled down his station shield and cried, "A grown man cannot be another man's hireling!" He left for the capital, studied, and mastered the Spring and Autumn Annals. When Wang Mang murdered his own son Yu, Feng told a friend, "The three cardinal ties are cut! Stay, and calamity will swallow us all." He hung his cap on the eastern capital gate, fled home, and sailed his family to Liaodong.
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The Beihai prefect, hearing of his fame, sent a clerk with gifts; Feng never replied. The prefect, stung, ordered his arrest. The clerk kowtowed: "All the world honors Zikang as a father—send us and we fail, only earning shame." The prefect jailed the messenger and sent another. At Mount Lao the villagers ringed Feng with bows to shield him. The officers fled bloodied. Later an imperial summons caught him; he pleaded senility, pretended to wander lost, and told the envoy, "If the court wants my counsel, it should notice I cannot find my own doorstep—how may I save the age?" Then he whipped his cart home. Further calls failed; he died in old age.
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Feng had been close to Xu Fang, Li Ziyun, and Wang Jungong—fellow students of yin-yang who prized virtue over reputation. Xu and Li each taught a thousand pupils; Wang alone stayed through the chaos, hiding as a cattle broker. Wits rhymed, "East of the wall, avoiding the age, stands Wang Jungong."
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Zhou Dang, styled Bokuang, came from Guangwu in Taiyuan. His clan owned a fortune in gold. Orphaned young, he was raised by kinsmen who robbed him; grown, they still refused his inheritance. He sued in county and commandery until the chief kin relented and restored his share. He then scattered the wealth to kin, freed every bondservant, and rode to Chang'an to study.
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A village aide had once shamed him in public, and Zhou nursed the grudge. Reading the Spring and Autumn he learned the right of blood feud, broke off classes, challenged the aide, and fixed a duel day. In the fight Zhou fell badly wounded. The aide, awed, carried him home, nursed him until he woke, then Zhou slipped away. After that he schooled himself, and the canton hailed his nobility.
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Jianwu brought a summons as remonstrance official; pleading illness he quit and moved his household to Mianchi. Called again, he donned rough cloth, a bark-fiber kerchief, and presented himself to the masters of writing. Before Guangwu he lay flat and refused the court bow, begging to keep his reclusive vow; the emperor allowed it.
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Erudite Fan Sheng attacked him: "Yao needed neither Xu You nor Chao Father to rule the world; Zhou needed neither Bo Yi nor Shu Qi to perfect the royal Way. Yet Taiyuan's Zhou Dang, Donghai's Wang Liang, and Shanyang's Wang Cheng soaked up imperial grace and only mounted the coach after three embassies. At court they sprawled without bowing—proud, rude, and gone together. They wield neither brush nor blade for the throne—only angle for empty fame and dream of the three excellencies. Let me sit them beneath the Cloud Terrace and test their statecraft. If I lie, I accept the charge of slander. Privately trading on hollow renown to dazzle the throne is grave disrespect." The emperor circulated Fan's memorial among the high ministers. The edict read, "Every wise king has guests who refuse to bend. Bo Yi and Shu Qi spurned Zhou grain; Taiyuan's Zhou Dang spurns our stipend—each follows his star. Gift him forty bolts of silk." Zhou Dang hid at Mianchi, wrote a two-part book, and died. His townsfolk judged him worthy and built him a shrine.
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Wang Ba, styled Ruzhong, came from Guangwu in Taiyuan. From youth he kept his conduct stainless. When Wang Mang seized the throne he shed cap and sash and broke with every official tie. Summoned in Jianwu to the masters of writing, he used his personal name in court and refused the title "your subject." The clerks demanded an explanation. Wang Ba answered, "Even the Son of Heaven has men he will not own as ministers; even lords have men they will not claim as friends." Hou Ba, the Minister of Education, offered to yield his office to Wang Ba. Yan Yang smeared him: "Taiyuan loves cliques, and Ruzhong reeks of it." The matter was consequently dropped. Pleading illness he went home to a rush gate and thatched roof, guarding his vow. He was repeatedly summoned but never appeared, and eventually died at an advanced age.
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Yan Guang, styled Ziling—also called Yan Zun—hailed from Yuyao in Kuaiji. In youth he was already famous and studied abroad with the future Guangwu. When his friend became emperor, Yan changed his name and vanished from sight. The emperor missed his virtue and sent agents to hunt him by description. Qi commandery later reported a man in sheepskin angling in the reeds. Guangwu guessed it was Yan Guang and sent a cushioned coach and black silk to fetch him. The envoy went back and forth three times before he came. They quartered him in the Northern Army camp. The court gave him a bed and daily meals from the imperial kitchen.
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Minister Hou Ba, an old friend, sent a letter by courier. The courier said, "His Lordship burns to call on you at once. Duty chains him—he cannot slip away. He begs the favor of a twilight talk." Yan said nothing, tossed Hou a scrap, and dictated: "Junfang, you stand as one leg of the ruling tripod—well done. Nourish benevolence and aid the right, and the world smiles; flatter power and your throat meets the blade." Hou sealed the note and forwarded it to the throne. The emperor laughed, "There is the wild friend I remember." That day the imperial carriage rolled to his door. Yan feigned sleep; Guangwu sat on his couch, patted his belly, and said, "Ziling, Ziling—will you not help me rule?" Yan kept his eyes shut, then opened them slowly: "When Yao shone with virtue, Chao Father still washed the taint from his ears. A scholar keeps his own star—why hound him!" Guangwu sighed, "So even I cannot bend you?" He climbed into his carriage, sighed, and rode away.
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He brought Yan in again; they talked of the past for days on end. Once he asked lightly, "How do I measure against my old self?" Yan answered, "You are a bit improved on the young man I knew." They shared a couch; Yan stretched his legs across the emperor's belly. Next morning the grand astrologer reported a stray star pressing the throne. The emperor laughed, "Only my old friend Yan Ziling slept beside me."
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除为谏议大夫，不屈，乃耕于富春山，后人名其钓处为严陵濑焉。 建武十七年，复特征，不至。 年八十，终于家。 帝伤惜之，诏下郡县赐钱百万、谷千斛。
Offered the remonstrance post, he refused and farmed Mount Fuchun; posterity named his fishing pool the Yan Rapids. Jianwu 17 brought another extraordinary summons; he stayed away. He died at home at eighty. The emperor mourned and ordered a million cash and a thousand hu of grain for his house.
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Jing Dan, styled Dachun, came from Mei in Fufeng. He studied the Five Classics at the Imperial Academy and shone in debate—hence the capital rhyme: "The Five Classics in glorious tangle—Jing Dachun." Proud and aloof, he never paid social calls.
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Late in Jianwu the five princes, including Prince Liu Fu of Pei, lodged in the Northern Palace; all loved hosting guests and in turn sent to invite Jing Dan, but could not bring him. Yin Jiu, the empress's brother, boasted to the princes for ten million cash that he could deliver Dan—then had him ambushed and dragged in. Cornered, Jing arrived; Yin served plain wheat porridge and scallions to humiliate him. Jing pushed the bowl away: "I came thinking a marquis could feast a guest—why this beggar's fare?" Yin laid out a rich table; only then did Jing dine. When Yin rose, attendants wheeled up a litter. Jing laughed, "I heard Jie of Xia used men for chariots—is this that?" Every guest blanched. Yin had to send the litter off. After that he barred his gate to the world and died in old age.
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Liang Hong, styled Boluan, was from Pingling in Fufeng. His father Liang Rang, under Wang Mang, was colonel of the gates, enfeoffed Baron Xiuyuan to sacrifice to Shaohao, then moved to Beidi and died there. The boy lived in chaos and buried him with only a mat for coffin.
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Later he studied at the Imperial Academy—poor but principled, widely read, scorning pedantic glosses. When school ended he herded swine in the imperial Shanglin preserve. Once he lost a cooking fire that leapt to neighbor huts. He tracked every victim, tallied their losses, and paid in pigs. The neighbors still called it insufficient. Liang said, "I own nothing else—I will work off the debt with my labor." The landlord agreed. He toiled without slack from dawn to dusk. Elders saw he was no common laborer, scolded the landlord, and hailed Liang as a gentleman. Ashamed, the landlord returned every pig. Liang refused the herd and walked home.
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Great houses courted him with daughters; he turned down every match. A Meng girl in his county—plain, dark, strong enough to hoist a mortar—rejected every suitor until thirty. Her parents asked why. She said, "I will marry only a worthy like Liang Boluan." Liang heard and sent matchmakers. She asked only for homespun robes, hemp shoes, loom, basket, and spindle. On her wedding day she arrived in full paint and silk finery. Liang spoke not a word to her for seven nights. She knelt by the couch: "I know your honor has sent away many wives; I too have spurned many men. Chosen at last, I beg to know my fault." Liang answered, "I sought a woman in leather and homespun to vanish with me into the hills. Yet you come painted and robed in gauze—is that what I had in mind?" She said, "I dressed to read your heart. I keep rough clothes for the life we mean to lead." She rebraid her hair, donned homespun, and stepped forward to work. Liang exulted, "This is the wife of Liang Hong. She can serve my reclusion!" He gave her the style Deyao—her name was Meng Guang.
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Soon she asked, "You always meant to flee the world—why sit idle now? Do you mean to bow and take office after all?" Liang said, "You are right." Together they fled to Mount Baling, farmed and wove, chanted the Odes and Documents, and played the zither for joy. He honored ancient recluses and wrote hymns for twenty-four worthies from the Four Hoaryheads onward. East through the passes he passed Luoyang and sang his "Song of Five Sighs": "I climb the northern ridge—ah! I turn and gaze on the royal city—ah! Palaces rear against the sky—ah! The people labor endless—ah! Boundless, the palace unending—ah!" Emperor Zhang heard the song, took offense, and hunted Liang Hong in vain. He therefore changed his surname to Yunqi, his personal name to Yao, and his courtesy name to Houguang, and hid with his wife between Qi and Lu.
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有顷，又去适吴。 将行，作诗曰：
Soon he moved on toward Wu. Before leaving he wrote:
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I quit my homeland for a distant road, bound to roost in the southeast. Grief tugs my heart; my purpose flickers high and low. I long to ride free, yet loathe a world that trades in malice. The crooked win office while the upright fall; toadies lead while worthies choke. I am not ashamed to stand alone—I trust another land may prize the good. I drift awhile for sport, following Confucius's wide road. If clouds should please me, I will quit the cart and trust myself to the flood. I call at Jizi's Yanling; I seek Lu Zhonglian on the shore. Though I cannot see their faces, the gods at least grant me peace. Late spring on the blooming hill—wheat swelling toward the ear. I mourn the good years racing by; I pity sweet scent turning stale. My heart wins nothing it longs for—this knot—where will it end! The crowd mocks my voice; who, trembling, will remain with me?
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He reached Wu, lodged with magnate Gao Botong under the eaves, and earned his keep grinding grain. Each night his wife served supper without lifting her eyes, raising the tray to her brows in respect. Gao Botong marveled: "A laborer whose wife honors him so is no common man." He moved the couple into his hall. Liang Hong shut himself in and wrote a dozen essays. Dying, he told his host, "When Jizi of Yanling buried his son between Ying and Bo he did not send the corpse home—do not let my son haul my bier back to Fufeng." At his death Gao and friends buried him beside Yaoli the martyr in Wu. All agreed: "Yaoli died for honor; Boluan lived in purity—they should lie side by side." When the rites ended, his family went home to Fufeng.
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Gao Feng, styled Wentong, came from Ye in Nanyang. His family farmed, yet he read day and night without pause. His wife once spread grain in the yard for drying and told him to guard it from hens. A cloudburst came; Gao stood reciting with his staff until the runoff swept the grain away. When she returned and asked, he woke to what had happened. He became a renowned teacher in the West Tang hills.
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邻里有争财者，持兵而斗，凤往解之，不已，乃脱巾叩头，固请曰：“仁义逊让，奈何弃之！” 于是争者怀感，投兵谢罪。
When neighbors brawled over land with weapons, he intervened; when they would not yield, he tore off his cap, kowtowed, and cried, "Will you throw away humaneness, right, modesty, and yield?" The fighters dropped their arms, ashamed, and begged pardon.
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In old age he never slackened his purpose; his name spread far. The prefect summoned him relentlessly; to escape office he claimed shaman ancestry unfit for clerking and even feuded in court with his widowed sister-in-law over land. Mid-Jianchu the architect Ren Wei nominated him as blunt and upright; he reached the coach office, pleaded sickness, and bolted home. He signed his estate over to his brother's orphan. He hid among anglers and died at home.
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Comment: My late father, Marquis Xuan, while teaching the Way, set his heart on these tales of recluses. At the Life of Gao Wentong he paused, moved, and judged him a true recluse, then wrote: "Ancient withdrawers set a high tone. At Yingyang they washed their ears, shamed by talk of yielding the throne; on Mount Guzhu they starved rather than taste Zhou grain. Some fled aloft to escape the world; some scorned things to steel their purity—different paths, one refusal. Such men aim above the clouds yet hide in the mire—name and heart half-seen—what grudge or bond could snare them? How far from those who drown themselves or tune a lute to count the days!"
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Tai Tong, styled Xiaowei, came from Ye in Wei commandery. He lived in a cave on Mount Wu'an and made his living gathering herbs. Mid-Jianchu the province called him; he stayed away. When the inspector toured the commandery he sent an aide with a visiting card. Tai rode a sick-cart to apologize. The inspector brought gifts and said, "Xiaowei, this life is bitter—why endure it?" Tai answered, "I am lucky to finish my span, nursing spirit in peace. You who trumpet edicts and lose sleep over every duty—are you not the one in pain?" He left and was never seen again.
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Han Kang, styled Boxiu—also called Tianxiu—was from Baling in Jingzhao. His clan was an old great house. He gathered drugs on famous peaks and sold them in Chang'an at a fixed price for thirty years. A woman tried to haggle; Han would not budge from his price. She snapped, "Are you not Han Boxiu? Is that why you never change your price?" Han sighed, "I meant to hide my name—now even girls know me—why sell herbs?" He vanished into the Baling hills. Erudite office and coach summons piled up unanswered. Emperor Huan sent black silk and a cushioned coach. The envoy cornered him; Han grudgingly agreed. He refused the state coach, hitched a farm cart, and slipped away before dawn ahead of the escort. At a relay station the chief, expecting the summoned gentleman, was drafting peasants and oxen to mend the bridge. Seeing a cart and plain kerchief, he mistook Han for a farmer and seized his ox. Han unyoked the beast and handed it over. Soon the envoy arrived and learned the peasant was the summoned recluse. The envoy wanted the station chief executed. Han said, "I gave him the ox myself—what fault is the chief's?" The matter dropped. Han escaped halfway to the capital and died in old age.
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Jiao Shen, styled Zhongyan, came from Maoling in Fufeng. In youth he loved Huang-Lao, lived in a cave, and studied the breath arts of the immortals Chisong and Wangzi. He was Ma Rong's and Su Zhang's contemporary; though Ma won fame for breadth and Su for honesty, both deferred to Shen as their senior.
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Zhongyan, you live hidden while others ride high—whenever the west wind blows I sigh for you. Huang-Lao speak of mounting void and hiding far away—yet their teaching can also order states and nurture the people. But mountaintop exile shows no spirit-sign; no man sees its proof. I urge you to take the workable path—what say you? Yi Yin did not clutch the Way waiting for a Yao or Shun. Today the sage shines and the seas are open—Chao and Xu need not idle on Ji Ridge; Bo and Yi would rue Shouyang. If you can ride dragons among the clouds, no fox or sparrow may counsel you.
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His townsman Ma Yao hid on Mount Qian and lived by snaring hares. His village mended its ways and dubbed him the Horse-Shepherd Master.
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Dai Liang, styled Shuluan, came from Shenyang in Runan. His great-grandfather Dai Zun, styled Zigao, served as palace attendant censor under Emperor Ping. Wang Mang's coup sent him home feigning sickness. His clan was rich, open-handed, and chivalrous—three or four hundred retainers sat at his gate. Wits rhymed, "East of the passes the great blade—Dai Zigao."
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Young Dai Liang flouted small rules: his mother loved donkeys' bray, so he brayed to cheer her. At her death his brother Boluan took the hut and thin gruel; Dai ate meat and drank wine, wept only when sorrow struck—yet both wasted their faces with grief. Critics asked, "Is this mourning by the book?" Dai said, "Yes. Ritual only reins runaway feeling. When feeling never strays, what need of ritual talk! Fine food tastes ashes—that is how grief hollows the face. If your mouth knows no flavor, you may still eat." None could answer him.
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His genius was high, his talk outrageous—he shocked the crowd. His townsman Xie Jixiao asked, "Whom in the empire do you match?" Dai answered, "Were I Confucius in eastern Lu or Yu rising from the western Qiang, I would walk the world alone—who could pair with me!"
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Nominated filial and incorrupt, he stayed home. Twice the Minister of Works called; he dodged a year, then pretended to comply, marched his family along the road, and bolted into the Jiangxia hills. He roamed free, never served, and died old.
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初，良五女并贤，每有求姻，辄便许嫁，疏裳布被、竹笥木屐以遣之。 五女能遵其训，皆有隐者之风焉。
His five daughters were all virtuous; at every match he agreed at once, dowering them with homespun, bamboo boxes, and wooden clogs. Each daughter kept his teaching and bore a hermit's bearing.
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Fa Zhen, styled Gaoqing, was a native of Mei in Fufeng and son of Nan commandery prefect Fa Xiong. He studied everywhere, mastered inner and outer classics, and became the greatest teacher west of the pass. Hundreds of pupils—Fan Ran of Chenliu among them—trekked to his door. Calm and desireless, he shunned the world's traffic. The prefect asked an audience; Fa came in plain kerchief. The prefect said, "Duke Ai of Lu was no sage, yet Confucius called himself his minister. I am a shallow man—I would name you merit clerk to help the throne—will you?" Fa answered, "You receive me with courtesy, so I may sit as a guest. Make me a clerk and you will find me north of North Mountain or south of South Mountain—gone." The prefect blanched and said no more.
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Summons from the high ministers and worthy nominations alike went unanswered. Tian Ruo wrote: "Fa Zhen unites the four callings, plumbs the classics, lives hidden in joy, and forgets sorrow. He will follow Laozi's high path and spurn imperial silk. Add him to the high ministers and he will lead the Clear Temple hymn and summon the phoenix of peace." When Emperor Shun toured the west, Tian Ruo recommended him again. The emperor emptied his pride and summoned him four times. Fa said, "I cannot vanish like a ghost—shall I then mimic ear-washing hermits?" He buried himself deeper and never bowed. Guo Zheng said, "You hear Fa Zhen's name but never see the man—shun fame and it hunts you—he is a teacher for ages!" They carved a stone ode and named him Master Profound Virtue. He died at eighty-nine in Zhongping 5.
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No one knows the old man of Hanyin's home. Emperor Huan, touring Jingling and Yunmeng, halted on the Han—every soul crowded the bank save one greybeard who kept plowing. Secretary Zhang Wen of Nanyang sent to ask why he alone would not look up? The elder laughed and said nothing. Zhang left his carriage and walked a hundred paces to speak alone. The greybeard said, "I am a bumpkin—I do not grasp fine speech. Tell me—was the Son of Heaven raised because the world was in chaos? Or because it was well ordered? Was he made father to the realm? Was the realm yoked merely to pleasure the throne? Ancient sages ruled from thatch and bark—yet the people rested easy. Now your master exhausts the folk to indulge his tours without limit. I blush for you—how dare you ask them to gawk!" Zhang burned with shame. He asked the elder's name; the man walked off in silence.
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The Chenliu elder's origins are lost. When the partisan proscriptions began, Waihuang magistrate Zhang Sheng resigned and met a friend on the road; they sat on bundled grass to talk. Zhang said, "When Zhao slew Mingdu, Confucius turned back from the river; overturn the nest and drain the pool—dragons and phoenixes will not stay. Now eunuchs daily wreck the state and trap the good—must worthies flee the hall? If virtue fails and we lack allies, how shall we save our necks?" They clung together weeping. An old man strode by, planted his staff, and sighed, "Ah! Why do two ministers weep so hard? Dragons do not hide scales, phoenixes do not hide plumes—with nets set high, where will you flee? Tears come too late!" They called after him; he never turned, and none traced his path.
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Lord Pang lived in Xiangyang in Nan commandery. He farmed south of Mount Xian and never crossed the city wall. He and his wife honored each other like guests. Inspector Liu Biao summoned him in vain, then rode to his field. Liu said, "Saving yourself—how does it weigh against saving the realm?" Pang laughed, "The goose nests in the tall wood and finds rest by dusk; the great turtle burrows in the deep and sleeps by night. A man's choices of stay or go are only nests and burrows. Each finds his own roost—the realm is not ours to save." He dropped his plough on the ridge while his wife hoed in front of him. Liu pointed at the field: "You toil in mud and spurn salary—what legacy for your sons?" Pang answered, "The world leaves children danger; I leave them peace. The gifts differ—yet both are inheritances." Liu sighed and rode away. Later he led wife and children up Mount Lumen gathering herbs and never came down.
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赞曰：江海冥灭，山林长往。 远性风疏，逸情云上。 道就虚全，事违尘枉。
Verdict: Rivers and seas swallow men; mountains and forests are the long road away. Their natures ran wide as wind; their hearts rode higher than cloud. The Way fills the void whole; the world they left was dust and bend.