Author: Xuanji Editorial Board

Introduction: A Passage Recited Countless Times Yet Perhaps Never Truly Understood

This article was translated from the original Chinese by AI. Nuances may differ from the source.

The eighth chapter of the Xi Ci Shang Zhuan (Great Commentary, Upper Section) of the Zhouyi states:

"The sage has the means to perceive the profundity of all under heaven, and fashions likenesses of their forms and appearances, imaging what is fitting for each thing — therefore these are called xiang (images). The sage has the means to perceive the movements of all under heaven, and observes where they converge and connect, so as to carry out the canonical rites, appending statements to determine what is auspicious or inauspicious — therefore these are called yao (lines)."

This passage has been cited and interpreted by virtually every commentator across the ages. Since the Han dynasty, scholars such as Zheng Xuan, Yu Fan, Han Kangbo, Kong Yingda, Cheng Yi, Zhu Xi, Wang Fuzhi, Hui Dong, and Jiao Xun — all who have studied the Yijing — have paused at this chapter in deep reflection. Yet precisely because its language is concise yet its meaning is rich, and because it occupies a pivotal position in the theoretical architecture of the Xi Ci Zhuan, interpretations throughout the ages have tended to seize upon one aspect to the exclusion of others: some lean toward image-and-number exegesis, others toward moral-philosophical reasoning, some confine themselves to philological glossing, while others soar into abstruse speculation. None has truly taken as its starting point the primordial thinking of the pre-Qin era — or even earlier antiquity — to ask why this passage says what it says, and what question it is ultimately answering.

This article attempts an inquiry of a different kind. We do not rush into glossing every character — though philological grounding is a necessary foundation — but instead press several fundamental questions:

First, what is "the profundity of all under heaven" (tianxia zhi ze)$1 Why must the sage "perceive" it$2Second, from ze (profundity) to xiang (image), what cognitive leap occurs$3Third, what is the relationship between "the movements of all under heaven" and "the profundity of all under heaven"$4 Why must they be spoken of separately$5Fourth, why is yao (the line) linked to "canonical rites" (dianli)$6 What ancient institutional background does this imply$7Fifth, what does the distinction between xiang and yao reveal about the inner structure of the Zhouyi$8

With these questions in hand, we begin from the roots of the characters themselves and proceed layer by layer, seeking to touch the primordial meaning of this passage.

Chapter One: Ze — The Hidden Textures of the World

I. Philology and Semantic Field of the Character Ze

Ze (赜, ze), remarkably, is not found in Xu Shen's Shuowen Jiezi. This itself is noteworthy. When Xu Shen compiled the Shuowen, he canvassed pre-Qin texts exhaustively — why would he have omitted this character$9 One possibility is that ze was not a commonly used character in the pre-Qin period; it appears primarily within the Yi Zhuan (commentarial tradition), recurring throughout the Xi Ci Zhuan:

"The sage has the means to perceive the profundity (ze) of all under heaven." (Xi Ci Shang, Chapter 8) "It speaks of what is supremely profound (zhi ze) under heaven, yet one cannot find it repugnant." (Xi Ci Shang, Chapter 8, later passage) "Probing the profound and searching the hidden, hooking the deep and reaching the distant." (Xi Ci Shang, Chapter 10)

The character is composed of "red" (chi) and "page/head" (ye) — or in some versions, "red" and "shell/cowrie" (bei). Ma Rong glossed it: "Ze means tangled and disordered." Yu Fan glossed it: "Ze means deep." Han Kangbo commented: "Ze refers to principles that are recondite and difficult to perceive." Kong Yingda's Zheng Yi (Correct Meaning) elaborated: "Ze means the utmost principles, recondite and profoundly remote."

These several glosses, though seemingly divergent, can in fact be unified. The sense of "tangled and disordered" refers to the multitudinous complexity of all things under heaven — on the surface, myriad phenomena arise with no fixed order, like tangled silk or dense stars. The sense of "recondite and deep" conveys that beneath this welter of appearances there exists a deeper order not readily captured by the senses. Taken together, the full meaning of ze should be understood as: the intricate, recondite, and difficult-to-perceive inner textures of the myriad things of the world.

This understanding is crucial. Ze is not simply "complexity," nor simply "hiddenness" — it is hiddenness within complexity, and order within hiddenness. Precisely because there is an order to be found, the sage is able to "perceive" it; precisely because this order is concealed, it requires a sage to do so.

II. Why "Perceive" (Jian) Rather Than "Know" (Zhi)$10

The text says "the sage has the means to perceive (jian) the profundity of all under heaven," using the character jian (见) rather than zhi (知). This choice is by no means accidental.

Jian in ancient pre-Qin Chinese means most basically "what the eye reaches." The Shuowen says: "Jian means to see; from 'person' and 'eye.'" It points to an intuitive, immediate, embodied mode of cognition, rather than the result of abstract reasoning.

Compare the character zhi (知). Zhi is composed of "arrow" and "mouth," its original meaning connected to speech and judgment, extending to rational cognition and conceptual grasp. In the Lunyu (Analects), the Master says, "To know what you know and know what you do not know — that is true knowing" (zhi zhi wei zhi zhi, bu zhi wei bu zhi, shi zhi ye) — here zhi already inclines toward rational judgment.

That the Xi Ci Zhuan uses jian here emphasizes: the sage's grasp of the world's profundity is, in the first instance, not a process of logical deduction but one of "intuitive insight." This kind of "seeing" was later developed in Wei-Jin metaphysics into "embodied recognition" (tiren) and "silent accord" (minghui), and in Chan Buddhism into "seeing one's nature" (jianxing). But in the primordial context of the pre-Qin, it is closer to a highly refined power of observation — the sage gazes at the heavens, examines the earth, takes from what is near at hand in his own person and from what is distant in other things, and through deep contemplation of the myriad phenomena, "perceives" the order concealed beneath them.

The Xi Ci Xia Zhuan (Lower Section) preserves the classic narrative of this process:

"In ancient times, when Bao Xi (Fu Xi) ruled all under heaven, he gazed upward to observe the images in the heavens, looked downward to examine the patterns of the earth, observed the markings of birds and beasts and what suited the terrain, took from what was near at hand in his own person and from what was distant in other things — and thereupon first created the eight trigrams, in order to penetrate the virtue of the numinous and the bright, and to classify the natures of all things."

This passage is the finest gloss on "the sage has the means to perceive the profundity of all under heaven." What Fu Xi did was "gaze upward and examine below" — that is, "perceive." What he perceived was "the profundity of all under heaven" (tianxia zhi ze) — those deep textures concealed within celestial phenomena, terrestrial patterns, birds, beasts, and grasses.

III. "Perceiving" in High Antiquity: Visual Culture from Oracle Bone to Bronze Inscriptions

If we extend our view further back to high antiquity, the significance of jian becomes richer still.

The character jian in oracle-bone script is written as a human figure with a greatly enlarged, prominently emphasized eye. The graph itself tells us that for the people of high antiquity, "seeing" was invested with extraordinary significance. In the animistic thinking of that age, "seeing" was not merely a physical process but a kind of spiritual encounter — to "see" something meant that a connection had been established between you and that thing.

In oracle-bone divination records, jian appears frequently — "The king saw a great star," "A rainbow was seen from the north" — recording what were deemed mystically portentous sightings. In this context, jian itself carried the connotation of "receiving heaven's intent."

Therefore, when the Xi Ci Zhuan says "the sage has the means to perceive the profundity of all under heaven," the character jian on its archaic semantic stratum denotes not merely "seeing" but "apprehending" — "encountering the hidden order of heaven and earth." This encounter requires extraordinary capacity — hence the subject is "the sage," not ordinary people.

IV. The Nuance of "Has the Means" (You Yi)

You yi (有以) is a common pre-Qin phrase meaning "has the method," "possesses the means." In Zhuangzi's "Nourishing the Lord of Life," Cook Ding explains: "What your servant cares about is the Way, which goes beyond mere skill" (chen zhi suo hao zhe dao ye, jin hu ji yi). Cook Ding's ability to "encounter with the spirit rather than see with the eyes" is precisely because he "has the means" (you yi) — he possesses a distinctive method and cultivation.

"The sage has the means to perceive the profundity of all under heaven" — the sage possesses method; he does not conjecture from thin air or guess at random, but follows a complete system of observation and thought. This system is what the subsequent text calls "gazing upward and examining below," "taking from what is near and what is far." But at a deeper level, you yi implies a state of cultivation — only one who has attained the sage's level of attainment "has the means" to perceive what ordinary people cannot.

This calls to mind the first chapter of the Laozi (the Most High):

"In constant nonbeing, one desires to observe its subtleties; in constant being, one desires to observe its boundaries." (Chang wu, yu yi guan qi miao; chang you, yu yi guan qi jiao.)

The "observing" (guan) of the Most High and the "perceiving" (jian) of the Xi Ci Zhuan are essentially kindred: both are modes of deep intuition transcending ordinary sensory perception. The Most High emphasizes observing from a state of "nonbeing" to perceive the "subtlety" (miao) — the delicate roots of all things; the Xi Ci Zhuan emphasizes that only the "sage" has the means to perceive "profundity" (ze) — the hidden textures of the world. Both point toward the same epistemological proposition: the deepest reality requires the highest cognition to reach.

Chapter Two: From Ze to Xiang — A Great Cognitive Leap

I. "Fashioning Likenesses of Their Forms and Appearances" — Simulation and Abstraction

The next step in the text is critical: "and fashions likenesses of their forms and appearances" (er ni zhu qi xingrong).

Ni (拟), according to the Shuowen: "Ni means to measure." Duan Yucai annotates: "To measure — to regulate, to plan." In the pre-Qin context, the basic meaning of ni is "to compare," "to simulate," "to liken." As in the Liji (Quli Shang): "When comparing people, one must compare those of the same class" (ni ren bi yu qi lun).

Xingrong (形容) in the pre-Qin was not a single word but two juxtaposed concepts. Xing is outward form or shape; rong is bearing, aspect, countenance. Together they denote the outward, visible, describable features of things.

Thus "fashioning likenesses of their forms and appearances" means: taking those recondite, difficult-to-perceive deep textures (ze), and comparing them to the outward forms (xingrong) in which they manifest, so as to simulate and express them.

This is a profoundly important cognitive step. Ze is concealed and cannot be directly presented, yet it invariably reveals itself through the xingrong of the myriad things. For example: the operation of heaven is hidden and invisible, yet the rising and setting, waxing and waning of sun, moon, and stars are visible; the vitality of the earth is hidden and invisible, yet the flourishing and withering of plants and the rise and fall of rivers are visible. What the sage does is approach the directly unpresentable ze through these visible xingrong.

In the language of modern epistemology, this process is grasping essence through phenomena. But the distinctive quality of pre-Qin thinking is that, unlike later Western philosophy, it does not sharply oppose phenomena and essence. Rather, phenomena are themselves the "manifestation" of essence — xingrong is the outward expression of ze, and ze is the inner ground of xingrong. The two are inseparable; the only distinction is between "manifest" and "hidden."

II. "Imaging What Is Fitting for Each Thing" — Image-Taking and Appropriateness

"Imaging what is fitting for each thing" (xiang qi wu yi) is the second step immediately following "fashioning likenesses of their forms and appearances."

Xiang (像) here is a verb meaning "to portray," "to depict," "to take an image of." In ancient texts, xiang (像) and xiang (象) are interchangeable. The Shuowen says: "Xiang (象) — the great beast of the southern regions," extending to anything with visible form. But xiang (像) emphasizes the action of "resembling" or "comparing."

Wu yi (物宜) — a phrase well worth investigating. Wu is "things" or "the myriad creatures"; yi is "fitting," "suitable," "appropriate." Combined, wu yi refers to the suitable states, proper positions, and fitting relationships of the myriad things. The Zhouli (Diguan, Dasitu): "By the method of what suits the soil, distinguishing the products of the twelve kinds of terrain." Here "what suits the soil" (tu yi) means the products each kind of land is suited to grow. By extension, wu yi means the laws of existence and relational patterns that suit each of the myriad things.

Thus "imaging what is fitting for each thing" means: using the method of image-taking to depict the suitable states and relationships of the myriad things.

Understanding "fashioning likenesses of their forms and appearances" and "imaging what is fitting for each thing" together: the sage first compares the outward forms of things (xingrong), then further depicts the inner fitting relationships of things (wu yi), and ultimately produces — xiang (image).

This process reveals a profound epistemological principle: xiang is not a simple imitation of any single concrete thing, but a "typified expression" abstracted through the comprehensive comparison of the forms and fitting relationships of the myriad things.

Consider an example: the image of the Qian hexagram corresponds to heaven, the firm, the vigorous, the sovereign, the father, the horse, the head, metal, jade. Why are these seemingly unrelated things grouped under a single xiang$11 Because they share the same wu yi — firmness, sovereignty, the position above, ceaseless motion. The sage "perceived" this common texture (ze) concealed within heaven, the sovereign, the father, the horse, and other disparate things; through "fashioning likenesses of their forms and appearances" (comparing their respective outward features) and "imaging what is fitting for each thing" (depicting their shared suitable states), he ultimately fixed this common texture by means of the single character "Qian" and the symbol "☰." This is the birth of xiang.

III. "Therefore These Are Called Xiang" — The Solemnity of Naming

"Therefore these are called xiang" (shi gu wei zhi xiang) — this is not a casual definition but a solemn act of naming.

In pre-Qin thought, naming was by no means arbitrary. The Most High (Laozi), Chapter 1: "A name that can be named is not the constant name" (ming ke ming, fei chang ming). The Lunyu, "Zilu": "If names are not correct, speech will not be in order" (ming bu zheng, ze yan bu shun). A name is a form of grasping and fixing the essence of a thing. To name something is to confirm that human cognition of that thing has reached a degree that permits articulation.

"Therefore these are called xiang" — because the product of this entire process (perceiving profundity, fashioning likenesses of forms, imaging what is fitting) is "xiang."

But we must press further: why the name xiang, and not something else$12

The original meaning of the character xiang (象) is "elephant." In oracle-bone script, xiang depicts an elephant in profile — long trunk, large ears, thick legs. In the Shang dynasty, wild elephants did indeed roam the Central Plains; xiang was the largest land animal people of that time could see.

From the original meaning of "elephant," xiang extends across several semantic layers:

First layer: Image, appearance. Because the elephant is enormous in form and strikingly visible, xiang extends to all visible forms. Second layer: Sign, indication. Wherever an elephant passes, it leaves enormous footprints; so xiang extends to traces and omens left by things. Third layer: To model after, to take an image. As a verb, xiang means "to imitate the form of something." The Shangshu (Shundian): "Using images to display the punishments" (xiang yi dian xing).

All three layers are simultaneously present in "therefore these are called xiang": xiang is both the image the sage created (hexagram image), and the sign of heaven and earth and the myriad things (indication), and something modeled after the myriad things (emulation).

Han Kangbo commented: "Image (xiang) means likeness (xiang)." Kong Yingda glossed: "It means imaging what is fitting for things." Cheng Yi wrote in his Yi Zhuan: "The sage established hexagrams to image the affairs of all under heaven — this is what taking images means." Zhu Xi wrote in his Zhouyi Benyi: "Xiang includes the upper and lower bodies of the hexagram, as well as the statements appended by the Duke of Zhou."

Each scholar emphasizes a different facet, but the core is consistent: xiang is the great product by which the sage transforms the profundity of all under heaven into a cognitive form that is visible, transmissible, and applicable.

IV. The Archaic Roots of Xiang-Thinking

If we extend our view to the deeper past of high antiquity, the roots of xiang-thinking become even clearer.

In the early stages of human cognition, before abstract concepts were well developed, the fundamental way our ancestors understood the world was through "taking images" — grasping abstract, imperceptible principles through concrete, palpable forms. This is not a "primitive" mode of thinking; on the contrary, it is humanity's most ancient and most vitally enduring cognitive method.

Archaeological discoveries show that Neolithic painted-pottery patterns, jade carvings, and rock-art designs are all products of xiang-thinking. The human-face-and-fish painted-pottery basin of the Banpo site, the jade pig-dragons and C-shaped dragons of the Hongshan culture, the deity-and-beast-face motifs of the Liangzhu culture — these designs are not mere decoration, but the ancestors' xiang-based expressions of the ze (profundity) of heaven and earth and the myriad things.

The image of the dragon is a classic case. The dragon is not any single real animal, but a composite xiang formed by synthesizing, abstracting, and recombining features of the snake, fish, bird, deer, horse, and other creatures. It "fashions likenesses of" the "forms and appearances" of various animals, "images what is fitting for" the natural forces of water, cloud, thunder, and lightning, and ultimately becomes a comprehensive xiang representing the supreme life force and the power of transformation. How closely this process parallels the Xi Ci Zhuan's "the sage has the means to perceive the profundity of all under heaven, and fashions likenesses of their forms and appearances, imaging what is fitting for each thing — therefore these are called xiang"!

The eight trigrams are the same. "☰" — three unbroken horizontal lines — takes its image from the completeness and flawlessness of heaven, the vigor and ceaselessness of yang energy; "☷" — three broken horizontal lines — takes its image from the earth's capacity to bear and contain, the suppleness and receptiveness of yin energy. These symbols, pared to the utmost simplicity, condense the ancestors' insight into the deepest textures of heaven, earth, and the myriad things.

As Wen Yiduo pointed out in his Zhouyi Yizheng Leizuan, the formation of the eight-trigram symbol system was the inevitable product of human symbolic thinking reaching a certain stage of development — it marks the point at which humanity could employ radically simplified symbols to encompass radically complex worldly experience.

V. A Further Question: Why Xiang Rather Than "Concept"$13

This question merits deep reflection. Western philosophy, already in the age of ancient Greece, set out on the path of "conceptualization" — grasping the essence of things through logical definition. Plato's "Forms" (eidos) and Aristotle's "Categories" (kategoria) both build cognitive systems through abstract concepts.

But pre-Qin Chinese thought took a different path — "image-taking." This was not because pre-Qin thinkers were incapable of logical reasoning (the logicians of the School of Names, such as Hui Shi and Gongsun Long, possessed formidable analytical powers), but because they profoundly recognized that concepts sever the organic connections between things, while xiang preserves them.

A concept can only point to one class of things, and its boundaries are clear — "horse" is horse, and cannot simultaneously be "vigorous," "heaven," or "sovereign." But a single xiang can simultaneously point to multiple levels — the xiang of Qian is at once heaven, firmness, vigor, the sovereign, the father, the horse, the head. These different things are linked through the bond of xiang, forming an organic network of meaning.

This is precisely the greatness of xiang-thinking: it is not a reductive mode of thought (reducing the complex to the simple), but an analogical mode of thought (discovering isomorphic relationships among different things).

The Xi Ci Zhuan immediately after this chapter enumerates numerous instances of xiang:

"Therefore as for xiang — the sage has the means to perceive the profundity of all under heaven, and fashions likenesses of their forms and appearances, imaging what is fitting for each thing — therefore these are called xiang."

Here the text repeatedly emphasizes that the foundation of xiang lies in ze — in the fact that deep isomorphic relationships genuinely exist among the myriad things of the world. The sage is not subjectively manufacturing connections, but objectively "perceiving" these connections and then expressing them in the form of xiang.

Chapter Three: Dong (Movement) — The Generative Impulse of All Under Heaven

I. The Transition from Ze to Dong

The latter half of the passage transitions from "the profundity of all under heaven" to "the movements of all under heaven":

"The sage has the means to perceive the movements of all under heaven, and observes where they converge and connect, so as to carry out the canonical rites, appending statements to determine what is auspicious or inauspicious — therefore these are called yao."

This transition is of paramount importance, yet is often overlooked. Many commentators conflate ze and dong, treating them as mere variants of the same idea. But upon careful analysis, the two differ in essence:

Ze is static — it describes the hidden textures and deep structures of the myriad things, a question at the level of "being."Dong is dynamic — it describes the movements, changes, and interactions of the myriad things, a question at the level of "process."

In other words, ze answers "what is the world like$14", while dong answers "how does the world change$15" The former concerns structure; the latter, process. The former is expressed through xiang; the latter, through yao.

This distinction carries profound theoretical significance in the history of Yijing studies. It reveals the dual nature of the Zhouyi: the Zhouyi is simultaneously a "picture" of cosmic structure (xiang) and a "process" of cosmic change (yao).

Consider: why does each of the sixty-four hexagrams possess both a "hexagram image" and "line statements"$16 Why can there not be images without line statements, or line statements without images$17 It is because xiang describes only structure, while yao describes how that structure unfolds and changes through time. Neither can be dispensed with; together they constitute the complete Yi.

II. The Pre-Qin Semantics of Dong

Dong (动, movement) in the pre-Qin canon is a concept of extraordinarily rich content.

Its most basic meaning is "physical movement." The Most High (Laozi), Chapter 26: "The heavy is the root of the light; the still is the lord of the restless" (zhong wei qing gen, jing wei zao jun). Here "restless" (zao) is synonymous with dong. But at a deeper philosophical level, dong points to all change, all interaction, all transformation.

The Xi Ci Xia Zhuan says:

"The firm and the yielding push against each other and generate change." (Gang rou xiang tui er sheng bianhua.)

"Pushing against each other" (xiang tui) is the concrete unfolding of dong — yin and yang push against each other, the firm and the yielding push against each other, heaven and earth push against each other, and from this pushing, change is born.

The Xi Ci Shang Zhuan further says:

"The alternation of the one yin and the one yang — this is called the Way. What continues it is goodness; what completes it is nature." (Yi yin yi yang zhi wei dao, ji zhi zhe shan ye, cheng zhi zhe xing ye.)

The alternation of yin and yang is the most fundamental dong — it is not that some particular thing is moving, but that the alternation between yin and yang is itself dong.

Therefore, "the movements of all under heaven" does not mean that some things under heaven are moving while others are not, but that all the myriad things, without exception, move and change within the great rhythm of yin-yang alternation. This dong is universal, fundamental, and ceaseless.

The Lunyu (Zihan) records the Master's lament at the riverbank:

"The Master stood by the river and said: 'What passes is like this — it does not cease day or night!'" (Zi zai chuan shang yue: shi zhe ru si fu, bu she zhou ye.)

This profound apprehension of universal flux is the most direct experiential encounter with "the movements of all under heaven." The water flows without ceasing, time does not stop, all things are in the midst of change — this is the simplest contemplation of "the movements of all under heaven."

III. Why Is "Perceive" (Jian) Used for Both Ze and Dong$18

It is noteworthy that the text uses the same character jian for both ze and dong. "The sage has the means to perceive the profundity of all under heaven" and "the sage has the means to perceive the movements of all under heaven" — the two instances of jian are identical.

This tells us that in the view of the Xi Ci Zhuan's author, whether grasping the deep structure of the world (ze) or grasping its processes of change (dong), the same cognitive capacity is required — intuitive insight. The sage does not arrive at the conclusion that "the world is moving" through logical inference; rather, he "perceives" it through direct contemplation.

But after this perception, the methods of processing differ. For ze, the sage's method is "fashioning likenesses of their forms and appearances, imaging what is fitting for each thing" — image-taking. For dong, the sage's method is "observing where they converge and connect, so as to carry out the canonical rites, appending statements to determine what is auspicious or inauspicious" — a more complex process.

Chapter Four: Huitong (Convergence and Connection) — Pivot Points Amid Change

I. The Deeper Meaning of "Observing Where They Converge and Connect"

"Observing where they converge and connect" (guan qi huitong) — these four characters are exquisitely precise, encapsulating the core of the Zhouyi's philosophy of change.

Hui (会) means to come together, to converge. Tong (通) means to reach through, to connect. Together, huitong refers to the points of convergence and the pathways of connection within the processes of change.

Everything under heaven is in motion, but dong is not chaotic. Within seemingly endless change, there are always certain critical nodes — at these nodes, multiple threads of change converge (hui), forming comprehensible pathways (tong).

An illustrative analogy: a great river flows ceaselessly (dong), but within the river there are always certain notable places — forks, confluences, sharp bends, falls. At these places, the direction and force of the current change markedly; these are the river's huitong points. A skilled hydraulic engineer need not trace the trajectory of every drop of water; he need only grasp these critical huitong points to understand the river's overall behavior and put it to use.

Similarly, the sage's "observing" of the movements of all under heaven does not require knowing the details of every thing's change at every moment (an impossibility), but grasping the critical convergence points — the pivots where multiple forces concentrate and multiple trends connect.

II. Huitong and the Logic of Change in Lines and Hexagrams

Within the hexagram-and-line system, huitong manifests in the relationships among lines.

A hexagram has six lines, from the bottom (initial) to the top, representing the complete process of a thing from inception to conclusion. Within this process, each line occupies a specific position (wei) and stands in specific relationships with the other lines — ying (correspondence: first and fourth, second and fifth, third and sixth), bi (adjacency: neighboring lines), cheng (riding: an upper line upon a lower), cheng (supporting: a lower line beneath an upper). These relationships constitute the huitong within the hexagram.

Take the Qian (Heaven) hexagram as an example. Its six lines:

Initial Nine: A submerged dragon — do not act. Nine in the Second: A dragon appearing in the field — it is beneficial to see a great person. Nine in the Third: The noble one is ceaselessly active all day; vigilant in the evening — perilous, but no fault. Nine in the Fourth: Perhaps leaping over the abyss — no fault. Nine in the Fifth: A flying dragon in the heavens — it is beneficial to see a great person. Top Nine: An overreaching dragon — there will be regret.

From "submerged" to "appearing" to "ceaselessly active" to "perhaps leaping" to "flying" to "overreaching" — this traces a complete process of change: yang energy from latency, to manifestation, to striving, to ascent, to soaring, to excess. Each transition is a point of huitong. The reason the Nine in the Third is "ceaselessly active all day; vigilant in the evening" is precisely because it stands at the critical juncture (hui) between the lower and upper trigrams; with care, it can connect upward (tong); with carelessness, it may fall. This is how huitong manifests in concrete line imagery.

The Master offered an exceedingly apt reading. The Wenyan Zhuan (Commentary on the Words of the Text) records:

"Nine in the Third: doubly firm yet not in the center — above, not yet in heaven; below, no longer in the field. Therefore he is ceaselessly active, watchful according to the time, and though in danger, incurs no fault."

"Doubly firm yet not in the center" — Nine in the Third is a yang line in a yang position (doubly firm) but not in the central position of the second or fifth (not in the center), hence its precarious situation. "Above, not yet in heaven; below, no longer in the field" — it can neither rest securely in the high station of the flying dragon of Nine in the Fifth, nor settle in the central position of Nine in the Second, but instead stands at a transitional, unstable huitong point. Precisely because it stands at such a critical node, it must be especially vigilant. This is the concrete application of "observing where they converge and connect."

III. The Pre-Qin Intellectual Background of the Huitong Concept

The concept of huitong finds wide resonance in pre-Qin thought.

The Lunyu (Weizheng) records the Master's words:

"To review the old and know the new — this qualifies one to be a teacher." (Wen gu er zhi xin, ke yi wei shi yi.)

"Reviewing the old" is grasping accumulated experience; "knowing the new" is connecting to future changes. Bringing past and future into convergence and connection (huitong) — this is the way of the teacher.

The Zhongyong (Doctrine of the Mean), Chapter 1:

"Before the feelings of pleasure, anger, sorrow, and joy are aroused, this is called equilibrium (zhong). When they are aroused and all attain due measure, this is called harmony (he). Equilibrium is the great foundation of all under heaven; harmony is the universal way of all under heaven."

Zhong is the state before arousal; he is the state of arousal in due measure. In the transformation from zhong to he, "due measure" (zhongjie) is itself a huitong — how feelings are transformed from inner to outer, expressed at the right moment in the right way: this is "observing where they converge and connect" as it unfolds in the domain of cultivating the emotions.

The Mengzi (Wanzhang Xia) records Master Meng's characterization of the Master (Confucius) as "the sage of timeliness":

"The Master may be called the one who gathered all into grand completion. To gather all into grand completion is to sound the bronze bell and conclude with the jade chime. Sounding the bronze bell is the beginning of orderly pattern; concluding with the jade chime is the completion of orderly pattern. The beginning of orderly pattern is the work of wisdom; the completion of orderly pattern is the work of sageness."

The connection (huitong) between "beginning of orderly pattern" and "completion of orderly pattern" is "grand completion." The Master was revered as the supreme sage precisely because he could bring together the changes of past and present and the strengths of all schools into an organic whole through huitong.

From this we can see that huitong is not merely a technical term in Yijing studies, but a fundamental characteristic of pre-Qin thinking as such. Pre-Qin thinkers attended not to static "being" but to dynamic "process"; not to isolated "nodes" but to the "connections" among nodes. "Observing where they converge and connect" is grasping the critical connections and turning points amid the torrent of change, thereby comprehending change's laws.

Chapter Five: Dianli (Canonical Rites) — The Foundations of Institution and Order

I. How Should "To Carry Out the Canonical Rites" Be Understood$19

The text continues: "so as to carry out the canonical rites" (yi xing qi dianli). This sentence has long been interpreted in divergent ways.

First interpretation (Han Kangbo, Kong Yingda): Dianli means "rites of canonical constancy" — the norms and institutions governing human affairs. "To carry out the canonical rites" means that after the sage has observed the convergent patterns of the world's movements, he establishes and implements the canonical institutions and ritual protocols of human society.

Second interpretation (Zhu Xi): Dianli refers to "constant principle" (changli); "to carry out the canonical rites" means the sage, after observing huitong, implements behavioral standards conforming to constant principle.

Third interpretation (some modern scholars): Dianli refers to the rites of divination — the ceremonies of casting milfoil stalks to derive hexagrams. "To carry out the canonical rites" means the sage makes decisions through the rites of divination.

All three have their grounds, but if we return to the primordial pre-Qin context, the first interpretation is likely closest to the original meaning. The reasons are as follows:

Dian (典) in the pre-Qin fundamentally means "canon," "constant standard," "standing law." The Shangshu (Yaodian): "Thus examining the ancients, the Emperor Yao..." — here dian carries the meaning of "canonical constancy," recording the standing laws of the sovereign. The oracle-bone form of dian depicts two hands holding a book or tablet — its original meaning is important documents and regulations.

Li (礼, rites) in the pre-Qin is a concept of vast scope — from sacrificial ceremonies to daily deportment, from state institutions to personal cultivation, virtually any regulated behavior can be called li. The Liji (Liyun): "As for rites, the former kings used them to embody the Way of Heaven and to govern the feelings of the people; therefore one who loses them perishes, and one who attains them lives."

Dianli together means "rites of canonical constancy" — those constant, fundamental norms and institutions.

Thus "to carry out the canonical rites" means: after the sage has observed the convergent patterns of change in all under heaven, he establishes and implements the fundamental institutions and norms of human society on that basis.

II. Why Are "the Movements of All Under Heaven" Connected to "Canonical Rites"$20

This connection may seem abrupt, but it is profound.

Everything under heaven is changing (dong), yet human society cannot simply drift with the current; humans must establish order (dianli) amid change so that life has something to follow. But this order cannot be artificially imposed in violation of the Way of heaven and earth — it must accord with the inner patterns (huitong) of the world's movements if it is to endure.

In other words, dianli are not human inventions but the institutional expression of the inner laws of "the movements of all under heaven." Heaven has the order of the four seasons, so humans have seasonal rites; the earth is divided into nine regions, so humans have differentiated ranks of service; yin and yang wax and wane, so humans have distinctions of rank and station. These dianli were not dreamed up by the sage from nothing, but are what the sage produced by "observing" the huitong of the world's movements and translating them into human order.

This thought is amply corroborated in the pre-Qin canon.

Liji (Yueji):

"Great music is in harmony with heaven and earth; great rites are in rhythm with heaven and earth. Through harmony, the myriad things do not lose their way; through rhythm, sacrifices are offered to heaven and earth."

"Great rites are in rhythm with heaven and earth" — the greatest ritual institutions are synchronized with the rhythms of heaven and earth. Is this not another expression of "the sage has the means to perceive the movements of all under heaven, and observes where they converge and connect, so as to carry out the canonical rites"$21

Liji (Liyun):

"Therefore the sage takes heaven and earth as his reference and aligns with the spirits and gods in governing. He dwells in the place that sustains — this is the sequence of rites. He takes delight in what brings joy — this is the governance of the people."

The sage "takes heaven and earth as his reference" — he models the ritual system upon the Way of heaven and earth. This is entirely consistent with "observing where they converge and connect, so as to carry out the canonical rites."

The Zuozhuan (Duke Zhao, Year 25) preserves a celebrated statement by Zi Chan on rites:

"Rites are the warp of heaven, the rightness of earth, and the conduct of the people. The warp of heaven and earth, and the people take them as their standard. They model themselves on the brightness of heaven, accord with the nature of earth, produce the six vital breaths, and employ the five phases."

"Rites are the warp of heaven, the rightness of earth" — the ritual system is the earthly projection of celestial and terrestrial order. This is the finest gloss on "the sage has the means to perceive the movements of all under heaven, and observes where they converge and connect, so as to carry out the canonical rites."

III. The Unity of Ancient Ritual Institutions and Divination

If we push our view back to the earlier period of high antiquity, the relationship between dianli and divination becomes even more intimate.

In ancient society, virtually all major ritual activities — sacrifices, military campaigns, marriages, funerals, construction, hunts — had to be preceded by divination. The oracle-bone inscriptions preserve vast numbers of divination records documenting exactly this: the Shang people's divination before every kind of ritual activity.

For example:

"Inquiry: Shall the king hunt at Qin — will there be a catch$22" (Zhen: wang qi tian yu Qin, huo$23) "Inquiry: Will it rain tomorrow$24" (Zhen: yi ri yu$25) "Inquiry: Will the Lord on High grant us a good harvest$26" (Zhen: Di shou wo nian$27)

These inscriptions tell us that in the worldview of the ancients, all human activities (dianli) had to be coordinated with the patterns of heaven and earth's movements, and divination was the means of confirming whether this coordination held.

Therefore, the phrase "to carry out the canonical rites" may, in the archaic context, carry a richer meaning than later commentators understood: it says not only that the sage established human order by modeling it upon the Way of heaven, but also that the sage, through the special dianli of divination, grasped the patterns of the world's movements and thereby guided all human affairs.

From this perspective, the emergence of yao was not merely an epistemological event (how to express change) but an event in institutional history (how to establish order). The emergence of yao made it possible to incorporate the patterns of the world's movements into the framework of canonical rites, thereby grounding human order in the Way of heaven and earth.

Chapter Six: Appending Statements to Determine Auspiciousness and Inauspiciousness — The Determinative Function of Yao

I. "Appending Statements to Determine What Is Auspicious or Inauspicious"

The final critical link in the passage: "appending statements to determine what is auspicious or inauspicious" (xi ci yan yi duan qi jiXiong).

"Appending statements" (xi ci) means attaching explanatory words beneath the hexagrams and lines. These words are what we see today as the hexagram statements and line statements.

"Determining what is auspicious or inauspicious" (duan qi jiXiong) — judging whether the course of events will turn out well or ill. This is the ultimate purpose of the entire process.

Here we must ask: why does the sage need to "determine auspiciousness and inauspiciousness"$28 What is the necessary connection to the preceding "perceiving profundity," "fashioning images," and "observing convergence"$29

The answer lies in the fact that the Zhouyi is fundamentally a "book for resolving doubt" — it arose from the anxiety and coping strategies of the people of high antiquity as they confronted uncertainty. The world's profundity is recondite and difficult to see; the world's movements shift in an instant. Amid all this, humans perpetually face dilemmas of choice — at such times, a reliable system of guidance is needed to assist in decision-making.

Chapter 11 of the Xi Ci Shang Zhuan states clearly:

"Therefore the Yi is images (xiang). Images are likenesses. Tuan (Judgment) is the assessment of materials. Yao (lines) are what model the movements of all under heaven. Therefore auspiciousness and inauspiciousness arise, and regret and disgrace become manifest."

"Yao are what model the movements of all under heaven" — the essence of yao is to "model" (xiao) — to simulate, to emulate — the movements of the world. The world's movements bring benefit and harm; human affairs involve gain and loss. The sage, through yao, simulates these trends of change and then, through appended statements, renders a judgment of "auspicious" or "inauspicious."

Here lies a profound insight: auspiciousness and inauspiciousness are not subjective judgments external to change, but intrinsic properties of change itself. If one follows certain trends of change, the result is "auspicious"; if one goes against them, the result is "inauspicious." When the sage "appends statements to determine auspiciousness and inauspiciousness," he is not making a moral evaluation but revealing the objective direction of trends of change.

II. The Archaic Origins of the Concepts of Auspiciousness and Inauspiciousness

The concepts of ji (auspicious) and xiong (inauspicious) were already deeply rooted in high antiquity. Oracle-bone script contains abundant instances of both characters. The oracle-bone form of ji depicts "scholar" (shi) above "mouth" (kou); its original meaning may be "a weapon placed safely in its case," extending to security and good fortune. The oracle-bone form of xiong depicts a pit or hollow (sometimes with an "X" inside); its original meaning is "trap" or "cavity," extending to danger and adversity.

In Shang-dynasty divination records, ji and xiong constitute the most basic classification of divination results. Every divination ultimately reduces to a verdict of ji or bu ji (not auspicious, i.e., xiong). This tradition continued directly into the Zhouyi.

But the Zhouyi's judgments of auspiciousness and inauspiciousness are far more nuanced than those of Shang divination. Shang divination typically had only two outcomes — ji or xiong (bu ji) — whereas the Zhouyi's line statements employ many gradations: ji (auspicious), xiong (inauspicious), hui (regret), lin (disgrace), wu jiu (no fault), li (beneficial), bu li (not beneficial), and more.

The Xi Ci Shang Zhuan offers a brilliant summary:

"Auspicious and inauspicious are images of loss and gain. Regret and disgrace are images of worry and concern." "Therefore: what ranks the noble and the base resides in the positions; what equalizes the great and the small resides in the hexagrams; what distinguishes the auspicious and the inauspicious resides in the statements."

"What distinguishes the auspicious and the inauspicious resides in the statements" — the discrimination of auspicious and inauspicious is accomplished through the line statements. This circles back to "appending statements to determine what is auspicious or inauspicious" — the purpose of appending words is to judge auspiciousness and inauspiciousness.

III. The Weight of the Word "Determine" (Duan)

Duan (断) in pre-Qin Chinese fundamentally means "to cut off." By extension it means "to decide," "to determine." The Hanfeizi (Nan San): "In affairs there is no constant teacher; the key is that the ruler excels at deciding" (shi wu chang shi, zhu shan wei duan).

The character duan in "appending statements to determine what is auspicious or inauspicious" emphasizes "definitive judgment" — not a vague intimation, not an ambiguous metaphor, but a clear determination that can serve as the basis for action.

This is also an important distinction between yao and xiang. Xiang provides figurative intuition — seeing an image, one may arrive at multiple understandings and associations. But line statements provide determinative judgments — "auspicious," "inauspicious," "it is beneficial to see a great person," "it is not beneficial to cross the great stream" — these are directives that can directly guide action.

From an epistemological perspective, xiang is open-ended; line statements are convergent. Xiang displays a rich field of meaning; line statements make concrete selections within that field. Together, the two constitute the Zhouyi's complete cognition-and-decision system.

Chapter Seven: "Therefore These Are Called Yao" — The Naming and Essence of the Line

I. The Etymology of Yao

Yao (爻, yao) — no confirmed instance of the character has been found in oracle-bone script. But Xu Shen's Shuowen Jiezi glosses it: "Yao means 'crossing.' It depicts the interlocking heads of the six yao of the Yi." Duan Yucai annotates: "Yao means 'to model' (xiao) — to model the movements of all under heaven."

The character yao consists of two "X" (crossing) marks stacked vertically. This form quite directly conveys the meaning of "crossing" — upper and lower intersect, yin and yang interlace.

From an etymological standpoint, yao is closely related in sound and meaning to xiao (效, to model) and jiao (交, to cross/interact). In Old Chinese phonology, yao belongs to the xiao rhyme group with a velar initial, xiao (效) likewise to the xiao rhyme group with a velar initial, and jiao (交) to the xiao rhyme group with a velar initial — all three share the same rhyme category with closely related initials, strongly suggesting a common etymological origin.

Thus the character yao itself contains three layers of meaning:

1. Crossing — intersection, interaction: the interlaced arrangement of yin and yang lines.
2. Modeling — emulation, patterning: modeling the patterns of the world's movements.
3. Change — transformation, alternation: the changing of a line (changing yao) is the basic unit of hexagram transformation.

II. Why Are There Six Lines$30

A hexagram has six lines. Why six rather than five, seven, or eight$31

This question has long been debated. The Xi Ci Xia Zhuan offers a classic explanation:

"As a book, the Yi is vast and complete. It contains the Way of Heaven, the Way of Humanity, and the Way of Earth. It doubles the Three Powers — therefore six. Six is nothing other than the Way of the Three Powers."

The "Three Powers" (san cai) — heaven, earth, and humanity. "Doubling the Three Powers" — each power has both a yin and a yang aspect, so three times two equals six.

The first and second lines represent the "Way of Earth" (yielding and firm); the third and fourth lines represent the "Way of Humanity" (benevolence and rightness); the fifth and sixth lines represent the "Way of Heaven" (yin and yang).

This explanation is elegant, but we may press further: why "double the Three Powers"$32 Why not "triple the Three Powers" to get nine$33

The answer likely resides in the fundamentality of yin-yang thinking — all things can ultimately be resolved into yin and yang aspects. Heaven has yin and yang (moon and sun), earth has yin and yang (mountain and marsh), humanity has yin and yang (female and male). "Doubling" is not a mathematical operation but reflects a fundamental ontological conviction: every level of the cosmos is yin-yang dyadic.

The six-line arrangement enables a hexagram to fully express the yin-yang changes at each of the three levels — heaven, earth, and humanity — and their mutual interactions. This constitutes a complete model of "the movements of all under heaven." The auspiciousness or inauspiciousness of each line is intimately related to its "position" (wei) within this model and its "relationships" with the other lines (correspondence, adjacency, riding, supporting). This returns us to "observing where they converge and connect" — the convergence and connection among lines determine each line's destiny.

III. The Essentially Dynamic Nature of Yao

Xiang is a static, structural expression; yao is a dynamic, processual expression. This distinction is confirmed in the actual operation of hexagram casting.

When we use the milfoil method to cast a hexagram, we obtain a "primary hexagram" and one or more "changing lines." The overall image of the primary hexagram is xiang; the specific changing lines are yao. The position of the changing line marks the critical node where change is currently occurring in the present situation.

For example, suppose we obtain the Tai hexagram (Earth over Heaven, ☷☰), with Nine in the Third as the changing line. The xiang tells us: the current situation is one of mutual communication between heaven and earth, harmonious accord of yin and yang — an image of peace and flourishing. The changing line (Nine in the Third) tells us: within this overall picture of peace, change is occurring at the third position — specifically, yang energy is rising from the highest position in the lower trigram and about to enter the domain of the upper trigram. The line statement for Nine in the Third reads: "No plain without a slope, no going without a return. Persevere through difficulty — no fault." This means: there is no road that stays level forever, no journey that goes only outward — within the peace already lie the seeds of reversal.

This is the subtlety of yao: it tells you not only the current configuration (xiang), but also where and how that configuration is changing (yao), and whether the trend of that change is auspicious or inauspicious (the statement).

Chapter Eight: The Unity of Xiang and Yao — The Complete Architecture of the Zhouyi

I. Xiang Is the Foundation of Yao; Yao Is the Unfolding of Xiang

In this chapter's passage, xiang is discussed before yao, and this order is deliberate.

Xiang grasps the profundity of all under heaven (deep structure); yao grasps the movements of all under heaven (the process of change). Epistemologically, we must first understand a thing's structure before we can understand its change — for change always occurs within a structure. Without structure, change has nothing to attach to; without change, structure has no vitality.

Chapter 2 of the Xi Ci Shang Zhuan says:

"The sage established the hexagrams and observed the images, appended statements to make clear the auspicious and inauspicious, and the firm and the yielding pushed against each other to generate change."

"Establishing hexagrams and observing images" is the first step — constructing structure. "Appending statements to clarify auspiciousness and inauspiciousness" is the second step — describing change and its trends. "The firm and the yielding pushing against each other to generate change" is the third step — revealing the motive force behind change.

It also says:

"Therefore what the noble one dwells in with ease is the sequence of the Yi; what he delights in and studies are the statements of the lines. Therefore, at rest the noble one observes its images and studies its statements; in action he observes its changes and studies its prognostications."

"At rest, observe the images" — in stillness, contemplate the hexagram images to grasp the overall configuration. "In action, observe the changes" — when acting, attend to the changing lines to grasp the specific direction. This is precisely the division of labor and coordination of xiang and yao in practical use.

II. Xiang as Substance, Yao as Function

In the terminology of Song-dynasty Neo-Confucians, xiang pertains to "substance" (ti) and yao to "function" (yong). But this is not a simple ti-yong dichotomy — in the Zhouyi, substance and function are mutually encompassing.

Every xiang contains within it the possibility of change (substance contains function); every yao presupposes the framework of structure (function contains substance). The xiang of Qian is heaven, yet Qian's six lines from submerged to flying to overreaching display the complete process of heaven's operation — the image has come alive within the lines. Conversely, the auspiciousness or inauspiciousness of each line depends on its position within the hexagram image's overall structure — the line finds its orientation within the image.

Wang Bi, in his Zhouyi Lüeli ("Summary of the Principles of the Zhouyi," section Mingxiang — "Clarifying Images"), wrote:

"Images are what bring forth meaning. Words are what make images clear. Nothing expresses meaning as fully as images; nothing expresses images as fully as words. Words are born from images; thus one may trace the words to observe the images. Images are born from meaning; thus one may trace the images to observe the meaning. Meaning is fully expressed through images; images become manifest through words. Therefore words are the means of making images clear — having grasped the image, forget the words. Images are the means of preserving meaning — having grasped the meaning, forget the images."

Wang Bi's passage is often simplified to the thesis "grasp the meaning and forget the image" (de yi wang xiang). In reality, he precisely describes the progressive relationship among three levels: "meaning → image → words" (i.e., "ze → xiang → statement"). "The profundity of all under heaven" is meaning (the deepest textures); xiang is the imaging of meaning; "statements" (appended words) are the articulation of images. The three are interlinked; none may be neglected.

III. Different Emphases in Successive Eras

The Han-dynasty image-and-number school (Meng Xi, Jiao Yanshou, Jing Fang) emphasized xiang. They developed elaborate systems of hexagram-qi, najia (stem-branch correlation), and hidden-and-manifest lines, vastly expanding the xiang system to map virtually all of heaven, earth, and the myriad things into hexagram correspondences. This school may be seen as the extreme development of the first half of the passage: "the sage has the means to perceive the profundity of all under heaven, and fashions likenesses of their forms and appearances, imaging what is fitting for each thing — therefore these are called xiang."

The Wei-Jin moral-philosophical school (Wang Bi, Han Kangbo) emphasized "meaning" (yi), advocating "grasping meaning and forgetting images" and "sweeping away images to return to moral significance." They held that excessive fixation on image-and-number exegesis obscured moral-philosophical meaning, and urged direct apprehension of the moral-philosophical content of hexagrams and lines. This school, in a sense, stressed the latter half of the passage: "appending statements to determine what is auspicious or inauspicious" — the statements (moral-philosophical meaning) are the ultimate purpose; images are merely instrumental.

The Song-dynasty Neo-Confucians (Cheng Yi, Zhu Xi) sought a balance between image-and-number and moral-philosophical approaches. Cheng Yi's Yichuan Yi Zhuan prioritizes moral-philosophical meaning without discarding images; Zhu Xi's Zhouyi Benyi prioritizes the original purpose (divinatory use) while incorporating moral-philosophical meaning — each has its emphasis, but both attempt a synthesis.

The Qing-dynasty evidential scholars (Hui Dong, Jiao Xun, Zhang Huiyan) returned to the image-and-number path, using rigorous philological methods to reconstruct the Han-dynasty image-and-number system and correct the Song Confucians' tendency toward vague moral-philosophical speculation.

These different approaches to the Yijing are in fact developments of different facets of this chapter of the Xi Ci Zhuan. If we return to the passage itself, we find: the text's design gives equal weight to xiang and yao, to structure and process, to contemplation and decision — any reading that leans to one side at the expense of the other will lose the passage's complete meaning.

Chapter Nine: A Deeper Inquiry — What Question Is This Passage Ultimately Answering$1

I. The Purpose of the Xi Ci Zhuan

To understand the deep meaning of a passage, we must know what question drove its composition.

The Xi Ci Zhuan (upper and lower sections) is the most philosophically profound text within the Yi Zhuan. Unlike the Tuan Zhuan (Judgment Commentary) and Xiang Zhuan (Image Commentary), which explain hexagram by hexagram and line by line, it stands at a higher vantage point to discuss the fundamental principles of the Zhouyi as a book. The Xi Ci Zhuan may be said to answer the questions: "What is the Yi$2 Why does it work$3 How did it come into being$4"

The xiang and yao discussed in this chapter are the core of the answer to "What is the Yi$5" The Xi Ci Zhuan's author (whether the Master himself or his later disciples) here tells us:

The essence of the Yi consists of two complementary symbol systems — the xiang system and the yao system. The xiang system expresses the deep structures of the myriad things; the yao system expresses their processes of change. Together, they constitute a complete cognition-and-decision tool.

II. Why Are Two Systems Needed$6

This returns us to the distinction between ze and dong.

We might imagine: if the world contained only ze but no dong — that is, if things had deep structure but did not change — then xiang alone would suffice. A fixed structural diagram would be enough to describe the entire world.

But the world does contain dong — things change at every moment. A fixed xiang alone cannot capture the richness and directionality of change. Hence the need for yao — the need to introduce the dimensions of time and change atop the foundation of image.

Conversely, if the world contained only dong but no ze — things changing ceaselessly with no deep structure — then change would be chaotic and utterly beyond grasp or prediction. But in fact, though change is multitudinous and complex, it possesses an inner order (huitong), and this order is the manifestation of ze.

Therefore ze and dong, xiang and yao, are mutually presupposing and inseparable paired concepts. Xiang provides the structural framework for understanding change; yao displays the concrete pathways of change within that framework.

This is a supremely refined theoretical design whose philosophical depth is in no way inferior to any cognitive system produced by any civilization.

III. Reflections in Comparison with Ancient Greek Philosophy

If we extend our view to the field of comparative philosophy, we find that the xiang-yao dual framework established in this chapter of the Xi Ci Zhuan bears striking correspondences to certain core propositions of ancient Greek philosophy.

Heraclitus said, "Everything flows" (panta rhei). This corresponds to "the movements of all under heaven." Parmenides said, "Being is one, unmoving and unchanging." This corresponds to "the profundity of all under heaven."

In Greek philosophy, the opposition between Heraclitus and Parmenides is regarded as the fundamental tension of Western metaphysics — change versus eternity, the many versus the one, flux versus being. Plato attempted to reconcile this tension with the "Forms" (eidos): Forms are eternal and unchanging (ze), while the phenomenal world is in ceaseless flux (dong); Forms are manifest in phenomena through "participation."

But pre-Qin Chinese thought adopted a wholly different mode of reconciliation — not using abstract "Forms" to subsume change, but using xiang to capture profundity and yao to model movement, allowing both to coexist within the single structure of a hexagram. This reconciliation requires no positing of a "world of Forms" separate from phenomena; instead, it grasps the unity of structure and change directly within phenomena.

In this sense, the "ze-xiang / dong-yao" framework established in this chapter of the Xi Ci Zhuan is an epistemological construction more austere and more closely rooted in experience than Plato's "Theory of Forms," yet equally profound.

Chapter Ten: Historical Cases — The Practical Use of Xiang and Yao

I. Divination Examples in the Zuozhuan

The Zuozhuan is one of the richest repositories of pre-Qin divination cases. By analyzing these cases, we can see how xiang and yao were used in concert in actual divination.

Case One: Zuozhuan, Duke Zhuang, Year 22 — The Birth of Duke Li of Chen

"A Zhou historian who possessed the Zhouyi visited the Marquis of Chen. The Marquis had him divine, and obtained Guan (Contemplation) changing to Pi (Stagnation). He said: 'This is called "Contemplating the light of the state — it is beneficial to be received as a guest by the king." Shall his descendants rule a state in place of Chen$7 Not in this place but in a foreign state; not in his own person but in his descendants. Guang (light) means brilliance reaching from afar. Kun is earth; Xun is wind; Qian is heaven. Wind becoming heaven above earth — that is a mountain. Having the timber of a mountain and illuminated by the light of heaven, he thus stands upon the earth. Therefore the text says "Contemplating the light of the state — it is beneficial to be received as a guest by the king." The courtyard is filled with a hundred offerings, presented with jade and silk — the beauties of heaven and earth are complete. Therefore the text says "It is beneficial to be received as a guest by the king."'"

Analysis: In this case, the diviner obtained the primary hexagram Guan (☴☷), with Pi (☰☷) as the changed hexagram.

At the level of xiang: the image of Guan is "wind moving over the earth," with the hexagram statement "Hands washed but the offering not yet made — there is sincerity, solemn as one gazing upward." The diviner took the xiang of Guan — wind moves over the earth, displaying an image of contemplation and gazing upward.

At the level of yao: the changing line is at the fourth position (Six in the Fourth), with the line statement "Contemplating the light of the state — it is beneficial to be received as a guest by the king." Based on this line statement, the diviner judged that the descendants of the Marquis of Chen would receive honor in a foreign state.

The diviner then further analyzed the symbolic meanings of the upper and lower trigrams — Kun is earth, Xun is wind, Qian is heaven — synthesizing these xiang to infer the specific circumstances.

This case perfectly demonstrates the coordinated use of xiang and yao: first grasping the overall configuration from the hexagram image, then determining the specific direction from the specific line statement, and finally synthesizing image and statement to make a judgment. This is exactly the practical embodiment of "the sage has the means to perceive the profundity of all under heaven (xiang) ... has the means to perceive the movements of all under heaven (yao)."

Case Two: Zuozhuan, Duke Xi, Year 15 — The Battle of Han between Qin and Jin

"Earlier, Duke Xian of Jin had divined about marrying off Bo Ji, and obtained Guimei (The Marrying Maiden) changing to Kui (Opposition). The historian Su interpreted it: 'Inauspicious. The oracle says: The man slaughters the sheep, yet there is no blood. The woman bears the basket, yet there is no gift. The western neighbor presses his suit with words that cannot be repaid. Guimei changing to Kui — it is as though there were no mutual aid.'"

In this case, the divination yielded Guimei (☳☱) changing to Kui (☲☱). The historian Su's judgment synthesized the hexagram images (Guimei changing to Kui — from "a young woman marrying" to "estrangement and opposition," symbolizing an unfavorable marriage) and the line statements ("The man slaughters the sheep, yet there is no blood" and other specific descriptions), ultimately judging it "inauspicious."

At a deeper level, the historian Su was able to make this judgment precisely because he "observed where they converge and connect" — he saw the trend of transition from Guimei to Kui, perceived the meaning of "estrangement" implicit in this transition, then "carried out the canonical rites" (offered counsel on state affairs accordingly) and "appended statements to determine what is auspicious or inauspicious" (explicitly judging it "inauspicious").

II. The Master and the Zhouyi

The relationship between the Master (Confucius) and the Zhouyi is a major topic in the history of Yijing studies. The Shiji (Kongzi Shijia) records:

"In his later years the Master came to love the Yi. He arranged the Judgments, the Appended Statements, the Images, the Discussion of the Trigrams, and the Words of the Text. He read the Yi until the leather thongs binding the bamboo strips wore through three times. He said: 'Give me a few more years — if so, I shall have a thorough command of the Yi.'"

The Master "came to love the Yi in his later years," indicating that his deep study of the Zhouyi was conducted late in life. "The leather thongs wore through three times" (wei bian san jue) — the ox-hide cords binding the bamboo strips broke three times, testifying to his diligent study.

The Mawangdui silk manuscript Yao (Essentials) preserves an important passage of the Master's discourse on the Yi:

"The Master said: 'With the Yi, I set aside its use for prayer and divination; I observe its moral significance, that is all. To penetrate subtly and reach to number, to understand number and reach to moral power — and then to practice it with benevolence and carry it out with rightness. One who penetrates subtly but does not reach to number — for him it becomes the work of a spirit-medium. One who understands number but does not reach to moral power — for him it becomes the work of a scribe.'"

This passage is of great importance. The Master says he studies the Yi not for divination but to observe its "moral significance" (de yi). Yet he does not deny the importance of "number" (image-and-number) — he emphasizes "penetrating subtly to reach number, understanding number to reach moral power," that is, arriving at moral significance through deep understanding of image-and-number.

This is entirely consistent with the Xi Ci Zhuan's framework: first "perceiving profundity" (understanding deep structure), then "fashioning images" (expressing through images), then "observing convergence" (grasping the patterns of change), and finally "determining auspiciousness and inauspiciousness" (making value judgments). The Master simply elevated "auspiciousness and inauspiciousness" to the level of "moral significance" — auspicious and inauspicious are not merely judgments of personal advantage, but discernments of moral good and evil.

III. Master Xun on "One Who Is Good at the Yi Does Not Divine"

The Xunzi (Dalüe) records:

"One who is good at the Yi does not divine." (Shan wei Yi zhe bu zhan.)

This saying is often cited to demonstrate the Confucian emphasis on moral-philosophical reasoning over image-and-number. But understood within the framework of this chapter of the Xi Ci Zhuan, Master Xun's meaning becomes clearer.

"One who is good at the Yi" — one who truly understands the Yi. He "does not divine" — he does not need the specific ritual of divination to make his judgments. Why$8 Because he has profoundly "perceived" "the profundity of all under heaven" and "the movements of all under heaven," can already "observe where they converge and connect," and can already "carry out the canonical rites" and "determine what is auspicious or inauspicious" on that basis. For such a person, the principles of the Yi have been internalized as wisdom; no external ritual is needed to activate them.

This is not a denial of divination, but rather says that divination is a stairway to wisdom — once one has reached the summit, the stairway may be set aside. Just as Wang Bi's "grasping the meaning and forgetting the image" does not mean images are unimportant, but that the ultimate aim is "meaning"; once meaning has been grasped, xiang as an instrument has fulfilled its mission.

Chapter Eleven: A Survey and Reassessment of Interpretations by Earlier Scholars

I. Zheng Xuan's Interpretation

Zheng Xuan, the great Han-dynasty classical scholar who drew on both image-and-number and moral-philosophical approaches in his study of the Yi, left commentary on this chapter that is largely lost. But glimpses survive through Kong Yingda's Zheng Yi:

Zheng Xuan glossed ze as "mixed/miscellaneous" (za), emphasizing the surface aspect — the manifold variety of the myriad things. This gloss highlights the surface meaning of ze — intricate complexity — but relatively neglects its deeper meaning: recondite hiddenness.

II. Han Kangbo's Interpretation

Han Kangbo, continuing Wang Bi's moral-philosophical line, commented:

"Ze refers to principles that are recondite and difficult to perceive. Through deliberation and comparison, their changes and transformations are brought to completion."

Han's gloss directly elevates ze to the level of "principle" (li) — not merely "tangled and hard to see" but "recondite principles." This interpretation set the direction for the later moral-philosophical school.

III. Kong Yingda's Interpretation

Kong Yingda's Zhouyi Zhengyi offers a thorough subcommentary:

"'The sage has the means' says that the sage possesses wondrous principle by which to perceive the utmost principle of deep profundity under heaven. 'Fashioning likenesses of their forms and appearances' means using this principle of deep profundity to estimate the forms and appearances of things. 'Imaging what is fitting for each thing' means that when the sage drew the hexagrams, he imaged what was fitting for the myriad things. 'Therefore these are called xiang' means that because they image the forms and appearances of the myriad things, they are called xiang."

Kong's subcommentary is characteristically meticulous and systematically layered, clarifying the logical relationships of the text with great care. Its limitation is over-rationalization — he interprets "perceive" as "perceive by means of wondrous principle" and ze as "utmost principle," which is already at some distance from the pre-Qin original sense of "intuitive insight."

IV. Cheng Yi's Interpretation

Cheng Yi's Yichuan Yi Zhuan does not directly comment on the Xi Ci Zhuan, but his method of interpreting hexagrams and lines everywhere reflects his understanding of this chapter. A core principle of Cheng Yi's approach to the Yi is "substance and function share a single source; the manifest and the subtle are without gap" (ti yong yi yuan, xian wei wu jian — from his preface to the Yi Zhuan). This is another way of expressing the relationship between ze and xiang: the deep principle (subtle/ze) and the outward image (manifest/xiang) are two faces of the same reality, "sharing a single source" with "no gap" between them.

Cheng Yi's reading of each hexagram begins with the hexagram image (substance, xiang), proceeds to analyze the auspiciousness and inauspiciousness of line statements (function, yao), and concludes with a moral-philosophical lesson. This method of interpretation fully accords with the logical sequence of "perceiving profundity → fashioning images → observing convergence → determining auspiciousness and inauspiciousness."

V. Zhu Xi's Interpretation

Zhu Xi's Zhouyi Benyi comments on this chapter:

"Xiang includes the upper and lower bodies of the hexagram, as well as the statements appended by the Duke of Zhou. This says that the sage in creating the Yi took images that already existed and appended statements to them."

Zhu Xi's interpretation has one important characteristic: he emphasizes "taking images that already existed" (yin yi you zhi xiang) — the sage did not create images out of nothing; rather, because images already existed in heaven and earth (that is, the outward manifestations of ze), the sage merely discovered and expressed them. This view is consistent with our earlier analysis: xiang is not a subjective construction but an objective discovery.

Zhu Xi also particularly emphasized the divinatory function of the Zhouyi. In his Yixue Qimeng he stated: "The Yi is fundamentally a book of divination." In his view, "appending statements to determine what is auspicious or inauspicious" is the Yi's original purpose; moral-philosophical meaning is derived from divination, not the reverse. Though this position has been criticized by some later scholars, from the standpoint of the Yi's actual situation in high antiquity, Zhu Xi's judgment has merit.

VI. Wang Fuzhi's Interpretation

Wang Fuzhi (Chuanshan), the great Confucian of the late Ming and early Qing, in his Zhouyi Neizhuan and Zhouyi Waizhuan, achieved a philosophical distillation of the Yi of exceptional depth. On this chapter, Wang Fuzhi particularly emphasized the ontological status of dong:

"The movements of all under heaven cannot be exhausted from any single vantage." (Zhouyi Waizhuan, juan 5)

In Wang Fuzhi's view, "the movements of all under heaven" is the fundamental mode of existence of the cosmos — it is not that there is first stillness and then movement, but that movement itself is the most fundamental reality. Ze is not a static structure separate from dong; rather, dong itself intrinsically contains ze (order).

This interpretation performs a crucial reversal of the relationship between ze and dong: it is not that structure (ze) comes first and change (dong) follows, but that change (dong) itself contains order (ze). This "movement-as-root" position stands in sharp contrast to the Cheng-Zhu school's "principle-as-root" position, and has provided important intellectual resources for subsequent Chinese philosophical inquiry.

Chapter Twelve: General Discussion — The Position of This Chapter Within the Xi Ci Zhuan and the Entire Yi Zhuan

I. The Theoretical Structure of the Xi Ci Zhuan

The Xi Ci Shang Zhuan comprises twelve chapters (following Han Kangbo's division), with a theoretical structure roughly as follows:

• Chapters 1-3: On the Way of Heaven and Earth and the Substance of the Yi (the simplicity of Qian and Kun, the Way of Change)
• Chapters 4-6: On the Sage's Application and the Function of the Yi (statement, change, image, prognostication; exalting virtue and broadening enterprise)
• Chapters 7-9: On the Essence of the Yi and the Meaning of Image and Line (the present chapter, Chapter 8, is the core)
• Chapters 10-12: On the Application of the Yi and the Virtue of Spiritual Illumination (probing the profound and searching the hidden, plumbing the deep and investigating the incipient)

This chapter (Chapter 8) occupies the central position in the entire treatise. It formally defines xiang and yao, the two fundamental concepts of the Yi. Before it, the preceding chapters have laid the groundwork from various angles — the Way of heaven and earth, the principle of change, the virtue of the sage. After it, the subsequent chapters, building on the foundations of xiang and yao, further develop discussions of the Yi's methods of application and ultimate realm.

It may be said that this chapter is the theoretical pivot of the Xi Ci Shang Zhuan — it links the ontological groundwork that precedes it to the methodological development that follows.

II. Resonances Between This Chapter and Other Chapters of the Xi Ci Shang Zhuan

This chapter is not isolated; it forms close resonances with other chapters of the Xi Ci Shang Zhuan.

Resonance with Chapter 1:

"Heaven is lofty and earth is lowly — thus Qian and Kun are established. Lowly and high are set forth — thus the noble and the base are positioned. Movement and stillness have their constancies — thus the firm and the yielding are determined."

Chapter 1 establishes the basic framework of the order of heaven and earth (lofty and lowly, noble and base, firm and yielding) — this is the macroscopic manifestation of "the profundity of all under heaven." The present chapter explains how the sage transforms this framework into xiang.

Resonance with Chapter 4:

"The Yi is commensurate with heaven and earth; therefore it can encompass the Way of heaven and earth. Gazing upward, one observes the patterns of the heavens; looking downward, one examines the patterns of the earth — thus one knows the reasons for the dark and the light."

Chapter 4 explains that the Yi can "encompass the Way of heaven and earth" because it is "commensurate" (zhun) with heaven and earth. The present chapter concretely explains how this commensurability is achieved — through "perceiving profundity and fashioning images" and "perceiving movement and modeling lines."

Resonance with Chapter 10:

"The Yi contains four aspects of the Way of the sage: those who would speak value its statements; those who would act value its changes; those who would fashion instruments value its images; those who would divine value its prognostications."

Chapter 10 summarizes the Yi's four functions — statements, changes, images, prognostications. Among these, "statements" and "images" correspond to the present chapter's xiang (fashioning likenesses of forms, imaging what is fitting), while "changes" and "prognostications" correspond to the present chapter's yao (observing convergence, determining auspiciousness and inauspiciousness).

Resonance with Chapter 12:

"The Yi — it is how the sage plumbs the deep and investigates the incipient. Only through depth can one penetrate the aspirations of all under heaven; only through the incipient can one accomplish the affairs of all under heaven."

Chapter 12 discusses the ultimate realm of the Yi — "plumbing the deep and investigating the incipient." "Deep" (shen) corresponds to ze (principles recondite and difficult to perceive); "incipient" (ji) corresponds to dong (the germinations and trends of change). The sage, through "plumbing the deep," grasps ze; through "investigating the incipient," grasps dong. This is the cognitive process discussed in the present chapter restated at a higher plane.

III. The Position of This Chapter Within the Entire Yi Zhuan

If we extend our view to the entire Yi Zhuan (the Ten Wings), the prominence of this chapter becomes even more striking.

The Tuan Zhuan (Judgment Commentary) explains the hexagram statements and pertains to the level of xiang. The Xiang Zhuan (Image Commentary — Great Image and Small Image) explains hexagram images and line images, also pertaining to the level of xiang. The Wenyan Zhuan (Commentary on the Words of the Text) offers deep explication of the Qian and Kun hexagrams, addressing both xiang and yao. The Shuogua Zhuan (Discussion of the Trigrams) systematically explains the image-taking of the eight trigrams, belonging exclusively to the level of xiang. The Xugua Zhuan (Sequence of the Hexagrams) explains the arrangement of the sixty-four hexagrams, involving the logical relationships among xiang. The Zagua Zhuan (Miscellaneous Hexagrams) briefly summarizes the meanings of hexagrams, pertaining to the level of xiang and "meaning."

The Xi Ci Zhuan, by contrast, provides the theoretical summation and philosophical elevation of all the above. This chapter, as the core chapter of the Xi Ci Zhuan, in effect furnishes the theoretical foundation for the entire Yi Zhuan — it explains what xiang and yao are, why they exist, and how they came into being, thereby providing a metatheoretical grounding for all specific commentaries and elaborations.

Conclusion: The Primordial Code of Image and Line

Let us return at last to the passage itself:

"The sage has the means to perceive the profundity of all under heaven, and fashions likenesses of their forms and appearances, imaging what is fitting for each thing — therefore these are called xiang. The sage has the means to perceive the movements of all under heaven, and observes where they converge and connect, so as to carry out the canonical rites, appending statements to determine what is auspicious or inauspicious — therefore these are called yao."

After the deep inquiry above, we may offer the following comprehensive understanding:

All things under heaven are multitudinous, complex, recondite, and difficult to perceive, yet within them there lies a deep order and texture (ze). The sage, through an intuitive insight (jian) surpassing that of ordinary people, grasps these deep textures. He compares the outward forms of things (ni zhu qi xingrong), depicts the inner fitting relationships of things (xiang qi wu yi), and condenses these textures into a system of symbolic expression — this is xiang.

All things under heaven are, moreover, in ceaselessly changing movement (dong). The sage, with equally profound insight, grasps the critical convergences and pathways (huitong) within the process of change. He establishes the fundamental order and norms of human society (dianli) in accordance with these patterns, and appends words beneath the hexagrams and lines to judge the auspiciousness or inauspiciousness of trends of change (xi ci yi duan qi jiXiong) — this is yao.

Xiang and yao — one still and one moving, one substance and one function, one structure and one process — together constitute the two great cornerstones of the Zhouyi, that magnificent classic. They are not subjective inventions of the sage, but the sage's profound discovery and exquisite expression of the objective order of heaven, earth, and the myriad things.

At a yet deeper level, this passage reveals a core secret of human cognition: we cannot directly present the full reality of the world (ze/dong), but through image-taking and the appending of statements, we can construct a symbol system to approximately grasp, express, and apply it. This symbol system is not reality itself, but it is the most reliable bridge to reality.

This is "the primordial code of image and line" — not some mystical celestial revelation, but the fruit of human reason and intuition cooperating at their highest level. It was born from the great practice of the ancient sages' gazing upward and examining below, matured through the deep reflection of pre-Qin thinkers, and through thousands of years of transmission and development, it remains to this day one of the most distinctive and most profound cognitive legacies of Chinese civilization.

Chapter 12 of the Xi Ci Shang Zhuan offers a single statement as the most fitting summation of the entire treatise:

"The Master said: 'Writing does not exhaust speech; speech does not exhaust meaning.' Then can the sage's meaning never be perceived$9 The Master said: 'The sage established images to exhaust meaning, established hexagrams to exhaust the true and the false, appended statements to exhaust speech, changed and connected them to exhaust benefit, drummed and danced them to exhaust the numinous.'"

"Establishing images to exhaust meaning" — using images to fully express meaning. "Establishing hexagrams to exhaust the true and the false" — using hexagrams to fully express truth and falsehood. "Appending statements to exhaust speech" — using statements to fully express what can be said. "Changing and connecting to exhaust benefit" — using change and connection to fully realize advantage. "Drumming and dancing to exhaust the numinous" — using inspiration to fully realize the numinous.

These five uses of "exhaust" (jin) are the ultimate tribute to the functions of xiang and yao as discussed in this chapter — they are not crude instruments, but great creations capable of "exhausting meaning," "exhausting the true and the false," "exhausting speech," "exhausting benefit," and "exhausting the numinous."

The profundity of all under heaven is made visible through xiang; the movements of all under heaven are made knowable through yao. This is the primordial code of the Zhouyi, and the fundamental way in which Chinese civilization apprehends the world.

End of Article

Author: Xuanji Editorial BoardApproximate word count: 12,000 words (original Chinese)

References:

1. Zhouyi Zhengyi, annotated by Wang Bi Wei, with subcommentary by Kong Yingda Tang, Zhonghua Book Company
2. Zhouyi Benyi, by Zhu Xi Song, Zhonghua Book Company
3. Yichuan Yi Zhuan, by Cheng Yi Song, Zhonghua Book Company
4. Zhouyi Neizhuan and Zhouyi Waizhuan, by Wang Fuzhi Ming, Yuelu Press
5. Zhouyi Jijie, by Li Dingzuo Tang, Zhonghua Book Company
6. Zhouyi Yizheng Leizuan, by Wen Yiduo, Shanghai Classics Publishing House
7. Mawangdui Boshu Zhouyi Jingzhuan Shiwen, by Zhang Zhengrang et al., Zhonghua Book Company
8. Zuozhuan, annotated by Du Yu Jin, with subcommentary by Kong Yingda Tang, Zhonghua Book Company
9. Shuowen Jiezi Zhu, by Duan Yucai Qing, Shanghai Classics Publishing House
10. Lunyu, Mengzi, Laozi, Zhuangzi, Xunzi, Liji, and other pre-Qin texts