Be wise in dealing with people and clever in doing things.

Author: Han Shi (Compiler)
Publisher:
Publish Date: April 1, 2007
Features: This book does not discuss moral issues or philosophical questions. We explore the universal social problems—how people survive, thrive, and succeed in society, and more specifically, the wisdom and skills of human interactions, including how to behave, handle affairs, communicate, and navigate social dynamics. Since ancient times, strategy has been called cunning and treachery when used by petty individuals, and wisdom and strategy when used by noble ones. Everyone has strategies, and everyone uses them, but some use them subtly, flawlessly, and unpredictably, manipulating opponents with ease, resolving conflicts, dilemmas, and crises from behind the scenes, and are praised as outstanding figures or timeless strategists. Others, however, use strategies in a sly, clumsy, and manner, leading to disastrous consequences and being condemned as despicable villains. In reality, whether one uses strategies or succeeds in doing so has nothing to do with morality. Morality only examines the motives and purposes behind the use of strategies. Strategies are not guilty; they are reasonable. Therefore, use them freely. The 21st century is an era where wisdom prevails. In such a contradictory, hypocritical, and treacherous society, are you to remain resentful, frustrated, and worried, continuing to be a person without strategies, or to reflect, introspect, and examine yourself, optimistically accepting reality, seeking enlightenment, and becoming a person who uses strategies? The choice is yours. We will repeat one more time: strategies have nothing to do with morality.
The Weaknesses of Human Nature
What are strategies? They are the adaptive responses of the human heart, largely serving as instinctual reactions for survival, defense, and attack. They are inherent to human nature. However, in social life, people insist on linking strategies to morality, ethics, policies, laws, and human relationships, making the already enigmatic "heart" even more complex and ambiguous. But we must remember one thing: human nature has both noble and base aspects. As long as there are people in the world, there will be stories, and stories inevitably reflect the of the human heart.
During the Western Jin Dynasty, there was a man named Zhou Chu from what is now Jiangsu Province. He was strong and courageous, a man of great potential. However, since his father died young and he had no guidance, he became a notorious troublemaker in his hometown. An old man sighed that there were three evils in the area, and Zhou Chu, filled with determination, promised to eliminate them for the sake of his fellow villagers. The old man told him that the first evil was a fierce tiger in the western mountains, which often descended to attack people. Zhou Chu went to the mountains and killed the tiger. The old man then told him about the second evil—a giant crocodile in the nearby waters that frequently capsized boats. Zhou Chu went into the water and beheaded the crocodile. He asked about the third evil, and the old man, initially too afraid to speak, finally mustered the courage to say, "The third evil is you!" Struck by this blunt rebuke, Zhou Chu had a profound realization. Some said the old man was a deity who came to enlighten Zhou Chu. If this were true, and if the old man were a local resident, wouldn’t he be an incredibly formidable figure? He could almost be said to have eliminated the three evils single-handedly. Yet historians forgot to ask for his name. Perhaps the storyteller intentionally exaggerated his role to make the tale more compelling, portraying him as a divine dragon that appeared and vanished in an instant.
Zhou Chu’s father was a renowned scholar, though he died young, leaving a lasting influence on his son. Therefore, Zhou Chu knew what to do. He studied diligently under the famous scholar Lu Yun and later entered official service, holding both military and civilian positions. Zhou Chu’s story was included in textbooks, adapted into radio dramas, and even turned into movies, making it widely known. Yet, the story as commonly told ends there—the storytellers only shared the first half. They deliberately concealed the second half.
It turned out that Zhou Chu rose to the position of Imperial Censor () during the Jin Dynasty. He was a loyal and upright official, bringing the spirit of eliminating evils to the court. However, he soon realized that eliminating evils in the mountains was easy compared to eliminating them in the court. As a result, he offended the powerful. One year, when a rebellion broke out on the borders, the court sent Prince Liang Sima Xun to suppress it, and Sima Xun specifically demanded Zhou Chu’s participation. Some people knew Sima Xun’s sinister intentions and advised Zhou Chu to stay away, but Zhou Chu believed that the country needed people and that he could not shirk his duty.
Alas, on the battlefield, Sima Xun took revenge. He sent Zhou Chu to a desperate position without providing support, and as a result, Zhou Chu fought bravely and died, with his entire army destroyed. Zhou Chu refused to avoid the powerful and helped the Sima family defend the realm, but the Simas did not see it that way. They were willing to suffer a defeat to eliminate a loyal subject, undermining morale and public support, without hesitation. As for the five thousand infantrymen who perished, who does not have parents, brothers, or worldly desires? Who does not have the right to survive? They paid taxes and served as soldiers, respecting officials—what had they done wrong for the Jin Dynasty? The Simas, of course, would never think that way.