To put it bluntly, helping the world and cultivating oneself, fame and obscurity—these concepts are distinct and have existed for ages. In the past, Boyi and Shuqi were able to save their lives because King Wu of Zhou was tolerant; but why were Hua Yuan and Guan Zhong not valued by Duke Tai? Those who wish to use them aim to combat corrupt officials; those who want to supervise them want to use them as examples of proper behavior. However, there have always been those who choose not to take up official positions throughout history. Boyi and Shuqi are indifferent to gains and losses. They have long forgotten these burdens. In comparison, those of noble character who promote the right path, correct social customs, and protect the people, even if their achievements seem modest, should not be overlooked! Since Shushi, the social climate has grown increasingly restless; the simple and honest customs have almost disappeared, and those who strive for fame and profit emerge in droves like the sharp edge of a blade. Those who dedicate themselves to self-cultivation, rise above the mundane, and revere ancient sages, seek like-minded friends, and pursue friendships for generations to come, they are truly remarkable! Why must we be like immortals, riding on vibrant clouds, pursuing the sun and moon, exploring the vastness of the world, in order to be considered extraordinary? Now I have collected the deeds of Sui Kua and others, and written "The Lives of Recluses."
Sui Kua, whose other name is Chang, was from Gaoyi in Zhao County. His grandfather, named Mai, served as a military advisor to King Yue of Donghai during the Jin Dynasty. He was later killed by Shi Le, who became the Inspector of Xuzhou. His father, Sui, who was styled Huaidao, was the Minister of the Imperial Secretariat for Murong Bao. Sui Kua had a broad-minded nature from a young age, unconcerned with trivial matters, absorbed in his studies, and indifferent to worldly affairs. He enjoyed drinking and was remarkable and unconventional. When he was twenty years old, his father passed away, and his hair and beard had turned white. Whenever he cried, those who heard him couldn't help but weep as well. With noble intentions, he declined to take up an official position and instead entrusted his feelings to the mountains and rivers. Li Shun, a fellow townsman, sought to befriend him, but he turned him down. At that time, not a single local official dared to disrespect him.
Cui Hao and I are best friends. After Cui Hao was appointed Situ, he recommended me to be his attendant, but I declined the position, citing illness. The local officials pressured me to accept the position, so I had no choice but to go to the capital. When I saw Cui Hao, he hosted me for a few days; we just drank and chatted, reminiscing about the past, and we didn't discuss any official business. Cui Hao tried several times to plead for me, but ultimately couldn't bring himself to do it. It was evident how much respect everyone had for me. Later, when Cui Hao wanted to submit a memorial for Kuafu (Kua Huai), he didn't speak up. Kuafu said, "Tao Jian (Cui Hao's nickname), you are already Situ, why trouble this recluse like me for this matter? I’ll be on my way now." Cui Hao thought Kuafu would return soon; at that time, Kuafu was only riding a mule, without anyone else accompanying him, so Cui Hao led Kuafu's mule to the stable, hoping to keep him there. As a result, Kuafu asked the tax collectors heading to the village to lie and say it was an official vehicle, and thus left. Upon learning this, Cui Hao sighed, "Kuafu is a recluse who walks alone; he shouldn’t have been insulted by such a minor official position. Now he has to ride a mule back, how am I supposed to apologize to him?" Court rules were quite strict back then; Kuafu returning privately could lead to punishment. Cui Hao helped him throughout, and Kuafu was able to avoid punishment. Several years later, Cui Hao returned Kuafu's original mule and gave him a horse, and included a letter of apology. Kuafu neither accepted the mule nor the horse, and he didn’t reply to the letter. After Cui Hao’s death, Kuafu wore plain clothes and accepted condolences from the villagers, taking a long time to calm down. He sighed, "With Lord Cui gone, who else can bear with me, Kuafu?" So he wrote the "Friends" piece, which was lauded by contemporaries for its eloquence and depth.
My father-in-law, Wei Pan of Ju Lu, was a renowned sage in his time. He never imposed his authority on me, and we shared a friendship like equals. Someone once said to me, "I’ve heard that talented people are bound to become officials; why do you choose to live in seclusion in the countryside?" So I wrote "On Accepting Fate" to articulate my perspective. I passed away at the age of 75. On the day of my funeral, the crowd was so large it felt like a bustling market. I left no sons.
Feng Liang, known as Ling Tong, hailed from Nanyang and was the nephew of General Cai Daogong, who served under Xiao Yan. In his youth, he was an avid reader with a particular passion for Buddhist teachings. He followed Cai Daogong to Yiyang, where he happened to find himself in the midst of Prince Yingtian's attack on Yiyang, leading to Cai Daogong's capture. Prince Yingtian had long heard of Feng Liang's reputation and treated him with great courtesy. Feng Liang was a serene and humble individual. After arriving in Luoyang, he withdrew to Songgao, but he never forgot Prince Yingtian's kindness and frequently paid him visits. After Prince Yingtian's death, Feng Liang went to mourn, weeping inconsolably to convey his profound grief.
The emperor once summoned him, intending to appoint him as the commander of the Imperial Guards, concurrently holding the position of the Imperial Secretary, and even planning for him to serve as a lecturer of the Ten Grounds Sutra and other Buddhist scriptures. However, he declined all offers. The emperor also wanted him to wear official hats to attend court, but his wife pleaded for him to wear a simple cap instead, and the emperor did not force him. He returned to the mountains, where he lived for several years, chanting scriptures and practicing devotion with monks, sustaining himself on a vegetarian diet and water, with the intention of spending the rest of his days this way.
Later, the case of the rebel Wang Chang was exposed, which implicated the monks in the mountains, and Liang was also captured and taken to the Ministry of Officials. After being detained for more than ten days, the emperor issued a special pardon for him. Liang did not dare to return to the mountain and instead stayed at Jingming Temple. The court provided him with food, clothing, and funds to support him and his attendants. Later, he longed for the house he once lived in on the mountain and returned to his residence there. Liang had always loved the mountains and waters, and he was quite inventive; he built houses in the forest and thoroughly enjoyed this reclusive life, which earned him a reputation. The emperor also assigned craftsmen and laborers to him, enabling him to collaborate with the monk Tong Seng Xian and Zhen Chen, the governor of Henan, among others, to explore the remarkable scenery of Songgao Mountain and construct a secluded Buddhist temple. The mountain forests and springs were unique, and the buildings were exquisite, fully embodying the wonders of mountain living. Liang would sometimes travel to the capital.
In the winter of the second year of the Yan Chang era, he fell seriously ill, and the emperor specially sent people to carry him back to the mountain in a palanquin, where he stayed at the Songgao Daochang Temple. A few days later, he passed away. The emperor bestowed upon him two hundred bolts of cloth for his funeral. Before he died, he instructed his nephew Liang Zong to wrap his body in a shroud, hold a wooden board in his left hand and a copy of the "Classic of Filial Piety" in his right, placing the body on a stone slab in the mountains, a few miles from his home. Over ten days later, his remains were cremated in the mountains. A stupa and a scripture repository were erected at his burial site.
Initially, Liang Shi passed away in the deep winter, as heavy snow had fallen for several consecutive days. The deep mountains were damp and cold, with birds and animals starving and frozen corpses everywhere, leaving no way to protect them. Every day, Daoist Hui Xu from Shouchun visited his body, brushing away the snow and frost. Although there were many traces of birds and insects around the body, the body itself remained completely intact, and the clothes were undamaged; only the headscarf had been blown away by the wind. He placed ten chestnuts, sent by a Southern monk known to Liang Shi, in Liang Shi's hands, claiming that Liang Shi would one day reap the rewards of the ten realms. By morning, the chestnuts had been devoured by birds and insects, leaving only the shells on the ground, yet Liang Shi's body remained unharmed.
When the body was cremated, a thick white mist enveloped his body, lingering throughout the morning. Over a hundred monks and laypeople from the mountain came to assist, and everyone was left in awe.
Li Mi, whose courtesy name was Yonghe, hailed from Zhaojun. His father was the Inspector of Xiangzhou, An Shi. He loved studying since childhood, having read numerous classics and explored over a hundred schools of thought. Initially, he studied under the Confucian scholar Kong Fan. A few years later, Kong Fan returned to seek Li Mi's guidance! His classmates sighed and remarked, "The student outshines the master; it all depends on the depth of knowledge!" Later, the court sought to appoint Li Mi, the son of an official, as a writing assistant, but he declined, passing the opportunity to his younger brother Li Yu, which the Emperor approved. He was twice recommended for the position of scholar in his locality, and government departments invited him twice to take up official positions, but he turned down both offers. He preferred playing the qin and reading, with a singular desire to live as a hermit.
After studying the 'Record of Rites' and 'The Great Dai's Record of Rites: The Chapter on Virtue,' he noticed inconsistencies in the ancient Mingtang system, prompting him to write an essay titled "On the Mingtang System." The essay states:
I said, to comment on issues and discern truths, one should seek a valid basis from classical texts; when citing evidence to resolve doubts, it must align with the teachings of Duke Zhou and Confucius. Only then can it be considered accurate. However, now the rituals and institutions are incomplete, and most of the sages' sayings have been lost. Who can restore the system of the Ming Tang to its proper state? Thus, later generations argue endlessly, each expressing differing opinions, and regarding the Five Emperors and Nine Kings, everyone believes in their own accustomed interpretations. There are no standards for right and wrong, and gains and losses are equally divided. Therefore, throughout the ages, there has been chaos, and a correct basis cannot be found. Pei Wei said: "Now the Confucian scholars argue incessantly and attack each other. Even if they can depict the shape of the Ming Tang, its true purpose in rituals remains unclear to anyone; it is merely a decoration. Moreover, the practices established during the Han dynasty regarding the four cardinal directions cannot be properly aligned. I believe that the rituals for honoring ancestors and aligning with heaven are clearly defined; however, the system of temples lacks clear reasoning and foundation. Only the construction of halls for grand ancestral worship should be retained, while all other complexities and trivialities should be discarded." Is it not due to the contradictions among the Confucian scholars' statements that they deviate from the truth? It is truly unfortunate that the rituals and institutions are incomplete, and a basis cannot be found! Therefore, he abolished the systems of windows and doors, applying these ideas to politics, uncertain whether they would lead to political prosperity; from a rational standpoint, it fails to explain why this must be the case. Alas, such a pity! Confucius once said: "Zi, you love sheep, I love rites." I believe that for political prosperity to be achieved, rituals must be emphasized—it's about much more than just that sheep! By analogy, the sages place great importance on rituals, while Pei Wei regards them with indifference. In this light, Pei Wei is even inferior to Confucius! Thus, it is evident that the reason the descendants of the Pei family do not understand the essence of rituals is precisely this.
Although I may be underrating my abilities, I do have some shallow insights. I seek truth through reason, striving to find the facts, valuing opinions that reflect the consensus, and avoiding blind faith. Therefore, I rely on the annotations of the "Book of Rites," examine interpretations, widely incorporate the teachings of earlier sages, and collect the viewpoints of renowned scholars. I assess their validity, compare their similarities and differences, discard their shortcomings, absorb their strengths, explore meanings, and investigate patterns to infer their original intent. I don't claim that my conclusions are necessarily correct; I merely express my own thoughts.
Many people have studied the Ming Hall system, but generally speaking, there are two main perspectives. One suggests that the hall has five rooms, based on the "Zhou Li: Kao Gong Ji," which represents the Zheng Kangcheng school; the other suggests that the hall has nine rooms, based on the "Da Dai Li Ji: Sheng De Pian," which is the Cai Yong school’s perspective. While their records may not be completely accurate, they are nonetheless quite commendable, written by ancient scholars with profound knowledge and broad insights. However, earlier Confucian scholars also struggled to clarify which viewpoint is correct, each clinging to their learned views, resulting in endless mutual attacks. How can this be seen as a conclusion reached by genuinely knowledgeable individuals?
The Lesser Dai's Book of Rites consists of forty-nine chapters and is also referred to as the "Book of Rites." Although it may not be completely accurate, it captures many essential points and holds its own against earlier scholars. The "Monthly Regulations," "Jade Grass," and "Position of the Ming Hall" chapters in the "Book of Rites" provide relatively detailed explanations of the Ming Hall system. Therefore, I referred to these two interpretations and combined them with the "Monthly Regulations," concluding that the Ming Hall should consist of five rooms. The central room is called the Grand Ancestral Hall, the eastern room is called Qingyang, the southern room is called the Ming Hall, the northern room is called Zongzhang, and the western room is called Xuandang. Next to these four rooms, there are side rooms referred to as left and right side rooms, totaling thirty-six rooms and seventy-two windows. The appearance of these rooms resembles the east and west structures in front of palaces today, which are remnants of it. The character "个" denotes the small rooms adjacent to the sleeping palace. However, the purposes of the Ming Hall and the sleeping palace are different, so the meanings of "房" (room) and "个" (small room) can vary based on context. I will sketch a simple diagram to illustrate my ideas; you can look at the diagram to get a general understanding.
Therefore, in terms of the number of rooms, my interpretation is consistent with the "Record of Crafts"; regarding the number of rooms and windows, my interpretation aligns with the account in the "Great Dai's Book of Rites, Chapter on Virtue"; regarding function, my interpretation aligns with the record in the "Monthly Regulations"; and concerning the leap month system, my interpretation is consistent with the "Rites of Zhou" and "Jade Grass." My interpretation conforms to the systems of the Xia, Shang, and Yin dynasties, along with those of the Zhou and Qin dynasties. While it differs from the interpretations of many Confucian scholars, perhaps my interpretation is the more accurate one.
In the "Record of Examination of Crafts," it is said: "The Mingtang of the Zhou Dynasty is measured using mats that are nine feet wide. Nine mats are placed in the east-west direction and seven mats are placed in the north-south direction. The height of the hall is one mat. There are five rooms, each room is two mats wide. The size is measured with tables in the rooms and with mats in the hall." I believe that the description of the five rooms in the "Record of Examination of Crafts" is accurate, but there are inaccuracies in the description of the Mingtang's length and width. Why do I say this? Let's reason through this and see if it conforms to the actual situation of ancient and modern times.
The main purpose of the Mingtang is to report on the first day of the month, issue decrees, sacrifice to King Wen, and sacrifice to the Five Emperors. However, the construction specifications of the Mingtang should naturally be designed and built according to practical considerations. Therefore, the idea that each of the Five Emperors has a room is reasonable. In addition, seasonal sacrifices are performed according to direction. Furthermore, reports and decree issuances can also take place on the first day of each month. Therefore, it meets both governance needs and record-keeping requirements, making it reasonable. The "Record of Examination of Crafts" states: "The Zhou people's Mingtang is measured with mats of nine feet, nine mats in the east-west direction, seven mats in the north-south direction, and the hall is one mat high. There are five rooms, each room is two mats wide. The size is measured with tables in the rooms and with mats in the hall."
Zheng Kangcheng, a great Confucian scholar from the late Han Dynasty, is revered by later scholars. When he explained the directions of the five rooms, he stated that earth is in the center, while wood, fire, gold, and water are located in the four directions. However, the arrangement of these rooms does not match the standard directions, and the rituals for observing the new moon do not align with reality. He overlooked the left and right rooms, instead offering peculiar explanations to justify, embellishing with clever phrases, stating that the forces of water and wood converge in the northeast, wood and fire in the southeast, fire and earth in the southwest, and gold and water in the northwest. Since his basis was the theory of the five elements, from which classic text did these descriptions of converging forces come? This can be said to be an exploration of unorthodox paths, seemingly well-reasoned but ultimately misleading, which is certainly not what we would hope for from the ancient Confucians! The "Book of Rites: Jade Grass" states that the emperor "observes the new moon outside the southern gate; during a leap month, he closes the left door and stands in the middle." Zheng Xuan's commentary explains: "The temples where the emperor conducts sacrifices and the road sleeping quarters operate under the same system as the Ming Hall. The Ming Hall is located to the south of the state, and every month, he goes to the hall to observe the new moon. After the ceremony, he returns to the road sleeping quarters to rest, similarly. A leap month is not a regular month; he observes the new moon at the entrance of the Ming Hall and then stays in the road sleeping quarters until the end of the month." In the "Book of Construction," regarding the "Ming Hall of the Zhou people," Zheng Xuan's commentary explains: "Sometimes it refers to the king's sleeping quarters, and sometimes to the Ming Hall; these two explanations are to illustrate that their systems are the same." These statements about the identical systems all come from Zheng Xuan's commentaries. Therefore, there is no distinction between the Ming Hall and the road sleeping quarters. However, the "Book of Documents: Instructions of Gu" states: "To welcome Zizhao outside the southern gate, and to extend into the side room." This side room refers to the road sleeping quarters. It further states, "The large shell drum is in the western room," and "The heavy bamboo arrows are in the eastern room," indicating that the road sleeping quarters include left and right rooms, which is recorded in both historical texts and classical literature. The "Book of Rites: Great Mourning" states, "The lord's wife passed away in the road sleeping quarters," and during a minor mourning period, "the woman ties a hemp cord in the room." Zheng Xuan's commentary explains: "This is the ritual of the feudal lords; tying a hemp rope in the room is in the southwest." Zheng Xuan's commentaries record both the left and right rooms of the emperor and feudal lords.
When discussing Lu Qian, it is noted that it has two rooms on either side, but when discussing the Ming Hall, the two rooms on either side are overlooked. This same institutional explanation is contradictory. How could this esteemed Confucian's annotations be so inconsistent? Those studying the Nine Rooms have invested significant effort in debate; isn't it because their understanding of the room positions is flawed?
Second paragraph:
Therefore, Zheng Kangcheng's explanation is contradictory, making it difficult to understand. On one hand, he emphasizes the similarity between the Mingtang and Luchin systems, but ignores the clearly recorded left and right rooms in the scriptures, while the left and right rooms of the Mingtang disappear in his own explanation. Isn't this self-contradictory? In order to argue unreasonably, he actually abandons the clear records in the scriptures and instead uses some far-fetched explanations to cover up the facts, which is truly unacceptable. As a master of his generation, the presence of such glaring flaws in his annotations misleads future scholars, which is truly regrettable. Imagine if he had taken the records in the scriptures seriously and carefully pondered the details; perhaps such errors would not have occurred. His approach undoubtedly causes significant challenges for future research and also raises questions about the rigor of ancient scholars. Perhaps this neglect of details is precisely why future scholars have faced numerous disputes and disagreements in studying the Nine Rooms issue. This inevitably leads us to reflect that in studying ancient classics, we should not only focus on the big picture but also pay attention to the scrutiny and verification of details to avoid making similar mistakes. After all, academic research is all about rigor, and even the smallest deviation can lead to errors.
The book records: There are nine banquets in the east and the west, and seven banquets in the north and the south. Each of the five rooms has two banquets. Placing the five rooms in this hall, even if architectural masters like Ban Gu and Lu Ban come to design and plan, they cannot avoid three rooms occupying the north and south sides. As a result, the three rooms occupy six banquets of space, leaving only four feet five inches in the hall outside the room walls. How could there possibly be only four feet left outside the doorways? The place where the emperor handles political affairs and issues decrees, the hall where King Wen is honored and offerings are made to God, and the place where the Duke of Zhou assists the emperor in governing and meets with vassals, how could there possibly be only four feet left outside the doorways? Even if we’re talking about frugality, this is just too bare-bones! From the perspective of architectural layout, it doesn’t meet any reasonable standards; logically, it is also unreasonable, and this is the first glaring inconsistency.
I am concerned about the followers of the Zheng School, who deliberately fabricate differing interpretations to attack and belittle each other in pursuit of victory. They say that the "two banquets" refer to the narrow doors and windows on the east and west sides of the room. I therefore elaborate as follows: "If there are two banquets on each side, there would be a distance of three zhang and five chi outside the entrance of the room. The same logic applies to the north and south sides, so each side of the three rooms would only measure two zhang. The Book of Rites states: 'In a four-room house, there are windows on both sides.' If the door is three chi wide and the window is two chi wide, there would only be one chi between the door and the window. This arrangement is even less practical than a simple thatched hut, let alone a grand palace. If you want to make it smaller, the wall widths on all four sides would be inconsistent, with the east and west being wider and the north and south being narrower, compromising the structural integrity of the house. This is utterly impractical and cannot be calculated. Furthermore, if each room only has two banquets, which corresponds to a space of one zhang and eight chi, then there would be less than two chi between the door and the window. The Book of Rites states: 'The Son of Heaven holds an axe and a battle-axe, facing south.' Zheng Xuan notes: 'The axe and battle-axe are placed between the door and the window.' The Zheng family's "Illustrated Book of Rites" describes the dimensions of the axe and battle-axe as: 'Eight chi in length and width, with axe and battle-axe patterns on top, similar to a modern screen.' It is simply impossible to place an eight chi wide axe and battle-axe in a space that is only two chi wide, which is immediately obvious, requiring no expert judgment. Moreover, if the room with two banquets has a door that is four chi wide, then each side of the door would only be seven chi, rendering it impossible to fit everything inside, let alone the space between the door and the window. This highlights a second unreasonable aspect. This passage mainly examines the dimensions of ancient architecture, where the author challenges certain historical records.
First, the author said that the architectural styles varied across different dynasties. The palaces and halls of the Xia Dynasty were sized "two sevens," while those of the Shang and Zhou Dynasties paid attention to decoration. This contradicts the accounts of Xia Yu's frugality and the grandeur of the Zhou Dynasty's palaces, so the first point is unreasonable. Furthermore, the literature records "one feast for a hall," with a base height of nine feet, while the walls and doors are only four feet five inches. This does not make sense according to architectural standards, so the second point is unreasonable. Additionally, the literature alternates between saying "the room is measured in 'ji,' the hall is measured in 'feast'," and "each room has two 'feasts'," which is contradictory and renders the third point unreasonable. Therefore, the author believes that these records are incorrect.
The "Shengde Chapter" records that the Mingtang had nine rooms, thirty-six doors, seventy-two windows, with a round top and square bottom, nine ren in the east and west, seven 'feasts' in the north and south, and a hall height of three feet. The author believes that the "Shengde Chapter" is correct in its record of the number of doors and windows, but the assertion of nine rooms is incorrect. This is because in a five-room structure, side rooms flank both sides, each equipped with doors and windows, so the number of doors and windows is natural. The assertion of nine rooms does not align with the records of the Five Emperors, is incorrect in terms of time, and is unreasonable in terms of orientation, so it is not plausible. Additionally, according to the recorded dimensions, if the Mingtang measures only sixty-three feet, subtracting the four feet five inches for the walls leaves insufficient space for nine rooms, each room only being one zhang, which cannot accommodate doors and windows, forcing the emperor to turn sideways to enter—an absurdity.
The author believes that the reason the "Shengde Chapter" mentions nine rooms is possibly because the author only saw thirty-six doors and seventy-two windows, without knowing the specific layout, and simply assumed that each room had four doors and windows, thus deducing nine rooms. Although Cai Bojie of the late Han Dynasty knew that the dimensions of the Mingtang were incorrect, he did not realize that the assertion of nine rooms was wrong. He simply adjusted the dimensions while retaining the assertion of nine rooms, which is a way of concealing the error and is quite regrettable.
As I reflect on myself in my interactions with others, I always strive to do good, hoping to understand everyone's inner thoughts, rather than deliberately trying to stand out. However, the past and present are different; this is the common sentiment of society; we tend to love what is distant and dislike what is close, which is a universal phenomenon in the world. Yet here I am, discussing ancient systems centuries later, and such shocking remarks will naturally attract much criticism. If there are those who truly appreciate my work, perhaps they will understand my thoughts after reading my articles.
I don’t drink, but I enjoy music and love nature; my appreciation for these sophisticated tastes has only deepened with age. Once I encounter something I admire, I forget to go home. Thus, I wrote an essay titled "The Ode to the Divine Scholar," which sings: "Confucius valued Confucian education, while Zhuangzi and Laozi advocated for governance through non-action. Although these two paths seem different, they actually lead to the same destination. If life is unsatisfying, what good is fame after death? It is enough to be at peace, to find joy in oneself, ultimately not to be swayed by others. If someone wants to understand my aspirations, that’s about it." In the fourth year of Yan Chang, I died at the age of thirty-two, and people from near and far lamented for me.
That year, Dr. Kong Fan of the Four Gates Academy, along with 45 other scholars, jointly petitioned the court, saying: "We have heard of Li Mi from Zhao County and his deeds: he lost his father at the age of ten, crying so much that even the neighbors felt his sorrow. From a young age, he served his elder brother Li Zhang, exhibiting great filial piety and dedication. By thirteen, he had read through the "Classic of Filial Piety," "Analects," "Book of Songs," and "Book of Documents," and was particularly skilled in the study of calendars, with the villagers referring to him as a prodigy. At eighteen, he went to school, and his teacher at that time was Dr. Kong Fan. Li Mi studied diligently, thoroughly exploring every aspect, from fundamentals to details, and his teachers praised him highly.
Later, he collected various scriptures, carefully proofread them, and referenced examples from the three versions of the "Spring and Autumn Annals" to write the twelve-volume "Spring and Autumn Jungle." Kong Fan and others helped him analyze the difficult points in the book, amounting to over a hundred. The explanations were very detailed, not overlooking any detail, neither exaggerating nor downplaying, never contradicting the original text of the scriptures, nor distorting the principles. His writing was powerful, and readers found it invigorating. He often said, "A true gentleman reads ten thousand books; why must he become a local lord?" Thus, he secluded himself and shut the door to read, renounced his family estate, and devoted himself to writing, personally revising and eliminating over four thousand instances of repetition. He also extensively collected various materials, comparing different opinions, reading until dawn in winter and until daybreak in summer. Just as Dong Zhongshu never left his home, like a gentleman reading behind closed doors, like a high scholar living independently from the world, and Zhang Heng's dedication to study, when compared to Li Mi, seemed less remarkable. Li Mi once visited the former Grand Minister Liu Fang to consult on some phonetic and semantic issues and also discussed the reasons for the rise and fall of dynasties. Liu Fang sighed, saying, "If he had encountered Emperor Gaozu, he could have held positions like Minister of the Interior or Grand Minister." The former Governor of Henan and Palace Attendant Zhen Chen also greatly admired him, and both the court and the public regarded him with newfound respect. At that time, many who knew him wanted him to help them secure an official position, but he replied, "Li Mi of Zhao County is fully devoted to learning, upholding integrity, and is untroubled by the affairs of officialdom; it is just that the time has not yet come. Why are you all so eager for quick success?"
He said to his son, "In the past, Zheng Xuan and Lu Zhi traveled thousands of miles to visit Ma Rong. Now your teacher is nearby; why not go and study?" He also said to the officials in the court, "Zhen Chen's behavior is understandable, but he did not recommend Li Mi, which is a dereliction of duty towards the court." Later, Li Mi built a house on the edge of a cliff, dug a stone room, and was planning to cultivate students and spread the classics, hoping that the academic atmosphere of Xihe could be revived and the literary style of Beihai could continue. Unfortunately, his wish was not fulfilled, as he suddenly fell ill and died. The whole country mourned his death, and scholars were deeply saddened. Especially we students, some of us received his teachings, and some heard his explanations; how can we forget the bond between teacher and student?
After the memorial was presented, the emperor ordered, "Li Mi repeatedly declined the court's summons, with noble aspirations and high morals; he is a true Confucian recluse, truly commendable. He can be compared to Emperor Hui and Emperor Kang, and like Mr. Xuan Yan, he shall be posthumously named 'The Virtuous and Serene Recluse,' and his family shall be honored with the name 'Wende' to recognize his noble character." Thus, envoys were dispatched to bestow the title, and his hometown was named 'Xiaoyi.'
Zheng Xiu was from Beihai. When he was young, he secluded himself in a valley south of Qishan, built a small house by the cliff, and lived a simple life alone, away from the world, keeping to himself, growing his own food, drinking mountain spring water, wearing coarse clothes and a straw hat. He had a passion for studying the classics and was deeply interested in metaphysics. Several times before, the prefect summoned him, but he always declined. The governor of Qizhou, Wei Lan Gen, sent people to invite Zheng Xiu many times, and Zheng Xiu reluctantly came down the mountain to meet Wei Lan Gen, quickly returning to the mountain afterward. Wei Lan Gen even specifically recommended Zheng Xiu in a memorial, and Emperor Suzong ordered the governor of Yongzhou, Xiao Baoyin, to investigate and report back to the court. However, just as Xiao Baoyin was preparing to report, he rebelled, leaving the matter unresolved.
The historical records say: Those ancient hermits were not merely hiding away from others, nor were they silent, and they certainly did not hoard their own talents. In fact, they were all individuals with a calm and simple heart, not showing off nor deceiving, going with the natural course of life, and not competing for fame and fortune with the outside world. Individuals like Sun Kua have all renounced official titles and wealth, with a singular desire to return to the countryside. Some hermits, although they live in seclusion, do not disregard filial piety and are not entirely cut off from the secular world; some hermits may not directly instruct others, but can influence them through their actions, seeming elusive yet carrying profound significance. If one lacks innate purity of character, who can attain such a state?
