East Wind Melts the Ice: The Way of the New Year's Beginning and the Origination of All Things in Lichun
This article offers an in-depth interpretation of Lichun (the Beginning of Spring), the first of the Twenty-Four Solar Terms, through the multiple lenses of pre-Qin Confucian and Daoist philosophy, philology, and astronomical phenomenology. By tracing the origin of the character "chun" (萅), the image of the three yang lines ascending in the Tai hexagram, and the mythic archetype of the wood spirit Goumang, it reveals the profound significance of Lichun as the node of the year's beginning and the origination of all things, returning readers to the ancient world of the ancestors' communion between Heaven and humanity.
Chapter 4: A Confucian Perspective: Lichun and the Generation of "Ren" (Benevolence)
I. Ren Is Generation: The Correspondence between the Foremost of the Four Virtues and the Foremost of the Four Seasons
Within Confucian philosophy, the four seasons and the Four Virtues bear a profound correspondence to one another. Although this correspondence is expressed somewhat differently across different texts, its basic framework is clear: spring corresponds to ren (仁, benevolence), summer to li (礼, ritual propriety), autumn to yi (义, righteousness), and winter to zhi (智, wisdom) (an alternative version holds spring-ren, summer-li, autumn-yi, winter-xin 信, trustworthiness). Within this correspondence, "spring paired with ren" is the most central, the least disputed, and the most profoundly meaningful pairing—for ren is the foremost of the Confucian virtues, and spring is the foremost of the four seasons; their correspondence is by no means coincidental.
Why does spring alone correspond to "ren"$2 To answer this, we must first understand the essential nature of ren. Later Confucian masters, in elucidating the original meaning of ren, repeatedly pointed to one thing: ren is "generation" (生). Ren is the virtue of generating and regenerating life. This insight, in fact, was already latent within pre-Qin thought. Master Meng said: "Ren is what makes one human. Combined and spoken together, this is the Way" (仁也者，人也。合而言之，道也) (Mencius, "Jin Xin II"). Ren is the very foundation of what makes a human being human. And what is most fundamental to being human is precisely that touch of an unbearing heart, that touch of compassion and care for the lives of all things.
Spring is precisely the season in which the "virtue of generating and regenerating" of Heaven and Earth is displayed most fully, most movingly. All things sprout and vitality abounds—this "generation," in the Confucian view, is precisely the direct manifestation of the "ren" of Heaven and Earth. The "Great Treatise" (Xici zhuan) of the Zhouyi states: "The great virtue of Heaven and Earth is called generation" (天地之大德曰生). The greatest virtue of Heaven and Earth is "generation"—nurturing and generating all things, ceaselessly generating and regenerating. And Lichun is precisely the moment at which this "great virtue of Heaven and Earth" begins to operate in full, beginning to let all things "owe their beginning" to it. In this sense, Lichun is not merely an astronomical node, but a grand proclamation of the "ren" of Heaven and Earth.
II. The Heart of Compassion, the Sprout of Ren: Seeing the Origin of Ren through a Single Sprouting Bud
Among Master Meng's discussions of ren, none is more famous than his theory of the "Four Sprouts" (四端). He said: "The heart of compassion is the sprout of ren; the heart of shame and aversion is the sprout of yi; the heart of deference and yielding is the sprout of li; the heart of right and wrong is the sprout of zhi" (恻隐之心，仁之端也；羞恶之心，义之端也；辞让之心，礼之端也；是非之心，智之端也) (Mencius, "Gongsun Chou I"). The heart of compassion is the sprout, the germinal beginning, of ren.
Note the character "duan" (端, sprout). Duan means a bud, a beginning, a first thread of nascent growth. Master Meng's use of "duan" to describe the initial state of ren bears a striking structural affinity with the "sprouting" (萌) of vegetation in spring, with the "beginning" (始) of all things at Lichun. Ren is not complete and perfect from the outset; at first it is merely a faint, just-stirring seed of goodwill—like that tender yet resilient shoot that has just broken through the soil at the time of Lichun.
Master Meng continues: "All who possess these Four Sprouts within themselves know to expand and fill them out, like a fire just kindled, like a spring just breaking forth. If one is able to fill them out, this suffices to secure the Four Seas; if one is unable to fill them out, this is insufficient even to serve one's parents" (凡有四端于我者，知皆扩而充之矣，若火之始然，泉之始达。苟能充之，足以保四海；苟不充之，不足以事父母) (Mencius, "Gongsun Chou I"). The Four Sprouts of ren are like a flame just kindled, a spring just welling forth; if one can "expand and fill them out," one can secure the Four Seas; if not, one cannot even properly serve one's own parents.
This metaphor—"a spring just breaking forth"—corresponds especially closely to the image of Lichun. A spring just welling up from the earth, beginning to flow—is this not precisely a depiction of Lichun's "east wind melting the ice," "yang qi first breaking through"$3 In winter, the spring's source is frozen, lying dormant beneath the earth; at Lichun, the solid ice melts, and the spring water begins to well forth and flow. The sprouting of ren is precisely like this early-spring spring water—it originates in the depths of the heart, and at a certain moment breaks through its obstruction, beginning to flow outward. Lichun marks the moment nature's vitality moves from hibernating concealment toward sprouting growth, and in the same way reminds us that the benevolent virtue within the heart ought also, in this season when all things sprout, to begin its own stirring and growth.
III. The Master's Teaching on "Timeliness" and the Awareness of "the Intent to Live"
The Master held an extremely profound apprehension of "timeliness" (时). The Analects, "Yang Huo," records:
"What does Heaven ever say$4 The four seasons proceed in their course, the hundred creatures are born and grow—what does Heaven ever say$5" (天何言哉？四时行焉，百物生焉，天何言哉？)
Does Heaven say anything$6 The four seasons proceed as always, the myriad things grow as always—does Heaven say anything$7 This is the Master's most concise and yet most profound expression of the Way of Heaven. Heaven need not speak; it displays its will through the operation of the four seasons and the growth of all things. And Lichun is precisely the beginning of this "proceeding of the four seasons, growth of the hundred creatures"—it is the first "word" that Heaven "speaks" again after a winter's silence. When the east wind blows, the solid ice first melts, and hibernating creatures first stir, Heaven is proclaiming, in wordless speech, that a new cycle of life has begun. If a person wishes to understand the will of Heaven, they must, at this very moment, observe, apprehend, and resonate with it.
The Master was honored by later generations as "the sage of timeliness" (圣之时者) (Mencius, "Wan Zhang II"). A person who truly understands "timeliness," as Lichun approaches, ought likewise to undergo a corresponding transformation in their inner state—from winter's introversion and stillness, toward spring's unfolding and generative growth. This is not something deliberately contrived, but a natural, spontaneous resonance. Confucians speak of "observing the vital atmosphere of Heaven and Earth generating things" (观天地生物气象)—in spring, and especially at the moment of Lichun when vital qi first sprouts, quietly contemplating the "intent to live" (生意) of all things between Heaven and Earth, poised to stir yet not quite stirring, about to sprout yet not quite sprouted, is itself a cultivation of the highest order. From the sprouting of a single blade of grass or tree, one apprehends the benevolent heart of Heaven and Earth; and from the benevolent heart of Heaven and Earth, one turns back to reflect upon and cultivate the benevolent virtue within one's own heart—this is precisely where the Confucian effort of "investigating things and extending knowledge" and "according one's virtue with Heaven and Earth" lies.
IV. "The Painter's Work Comes after the Plain Ground": Lichun and the Principle That All Ornament Begins from Simple, Unadorned Substance
The Analects, "Ba Yi," records a dialogue between the Master and Zixia. Zixia asked: "'Her artful smile, with its dimples! Her beautiful eyes, so clear! The plain ground for the colors!' What does this mean$8" The Master replied: "The painter's work comes after the plain ground." Zixia said: "Does ritual propriety, then, come after$9" The Master said: "It is Shang Zixia who awakens my thought! Now I can begin to discuss the Odes with him" (巧笑倩兮，美目盼兮，素以为绚兮。何谓也？……绘事后素……礼后乎？……起予者商也，始可与言诗已矣).
"The painter's work comes after the plain ground" (绘事后素)—the work of painting comes after the plain white ground (that is, the plain white ground must exist first, before the five colors can be applied). This saying originally addresses painting, but concerns the relationship between ritual and musical ornamentation and benevolent virtue: all the ornamentation (绚) of ritual and music must be founded upon the plain, simple root of benevolent virtue (素); without this foundation of ren, even the most magnificent ritual and musical ornamentation would be a tree without roots.
This sequence of "the plain ground first, ornament after" corresponds profoundly to the sequence of the four seasons, and to the significance of Lichun for the year as a whole. Lichun stands to the year as the "plain ground" stands to a painting—it is that initial, unadorned "ground," upon which no ornamentation yet exists. At the time of Lichun, all things have not yet flourished; there is none of summer's deep green, none of autumn's abundant harvest, still less the resplendent brilliance of a hundred flowers; there is only a plain, unadorned vitality just beginning to stir. And yet, it is precisely this plain, unadorned vitality that is the root and starting point of all the flourishing splendor to come. Without Lichun's "plain ground," there could be no "ornament" of Lixia's "growth" or Liqiu's "harvest."
This reveals to us a profound truth: the beauty of all things, the accomplishment of a human life, must both proceed from a plain, authentic beginning. What Lichun represents is precisely such a beginning—one that "returns to the root, to plainness" while yet "containing pattern, harboring ornament"—plain and unadorned in itself, yet containing within it the possibility of an entire year's splendor. Confucianism prizes "the root"—"the noble person attends to the root; once the root is established, the Way is generated" (君子务本，本立而道生) (Analects, "Xue Er"). This principle that "once the root is established, the Way is generated" accords precisely with the spirit of Lichun's "founding that generates growth."
V. "The Plan for the Year Is Made in Spring": The Confucian Admonition of Lichun and the Beginning of Human Affairs
Lichun, as the year's beginning, carries extremely practical and pressing significance within the Confucian tradition's this-worldly spirit that emphasizes human affairs. A maxim handed down through the ages—"the plan for the year is made in spring" (一年之计在于春)—is precisely the condensed expression of this spirit. The planning, deliberation, and resolutions for the whole year must be established in spring. Lichun is the optimal moment for "establishing plans" and "establishing resolve."
Why must "plans" be established in "spring"$10 Because spring is "the beginning." Confucianism places extreme weight on "beginnings"—being cautious at the start and reverent at the end. The Book of Rites, "Jingjie" (经解), states: "The noble person is cautious at the beginning; an error of a mere hair's breadth may lead to a discrepancy of a thousand li" (君子慎始，差若毫厘，缪以千里). The noble person values the beginning above all, for if the beginning is off by even a hair's breadth, the outcome will diverge by a thousand li. The beginning of the year lies at Lichun; the resolve one establishes, the plans one sets, and the virtue one spreads at Lichun will determine the direction of the entire year that follows. The farmer plans their sowing and reaping in spring; the scholar-official hones their virtue and vocation in spring; the ruler spreads virtue and dispenses beneficence in spring—everything proceeds from this "beginning."
This also resonates with the Master's own sequence of learning. The Master said of himself: "At fifteen, I set my heart upon learning" (吾十有五而志于学) (Analects, "Wei Zheng"). The growth of a human life begins with "resolve" (志)—the setting of one's intent. And this "setting one's heart upon learning" is precisely the "Lichun" of a human life. If a person cannot, in their youth, establish the resolve to pursue learning and goodness, it is as if the year could not have its Lichun—having lost that generative beginning, no matter how much effort follows, it will in the end remain a tree without roots. The "li" of Lichun and the "li" of "at thirty, I stood firm" (三十而立) are, in spirit, one and the same—both refer to standing one's life upright and dignified at a certain critical beginning.
VI. Master Xun on "The Operation of Heaven Has Its Constancy" and the Governance of the Year's Beginning
Master Xun (Xunzi) offers the most clear-eyed and rational discussion, among pre-Qin thinkers, of the relationship between Heaven and humanity. He said: "The operation of Heaven has its constancy; it does not exist for the sake of Yao, nor perish for the sake of Jie. Respond to it with good governance, and there is good fortune; respond to it with disorder, and there is misfortune" (天行有常，不为尧存，不为桀亡。应之以治则吉，应之以乱则凶) (Xunzi, "Discourse on Heaven"). The operation of the Way of Heaven follows its own fixed laws; it does not exist because of the sage-king Yao, nor does it cease to exist because of the tyrant Jie. To respond to it with reasonable governance brings good fortune; to meet it with disorderly conduct brings misfortune.
This statement, though seemingly unrelated to Lichun, in fact profoundly reveals the essential nature of Lichun and indeed of the entire system of solar terms—the arrival of Lichun is the objective result of the operation of the Way of Heaven, dependent upon no one's will. Whether the ruler is wise or foolish, Lichun will arrive on schedule regardless; what humanity can do is not to change the Way of Heaven, but to "respond to it with governance"—to accord with the Way of Heaven through reasonable human conduct. Master Xun goes further: "Heaven has its seasons, Earth has its resources, humanity has its governance—this is what is called being able to form a triad with Heaven and Earth" (天有其时，地有其财，人有其治，夫是之谓能参) (Xunzi, "Discourse on Heaven"). Heaven has its seasons, Earth has its resources, humanity has its governance; when humanity is able to match its own "governance" to Heaven's "seasons" and Earth's "resources," this is called "being able to form a triad"—being able to participate in the transformative nurturing of Heaven and Earth.
At the moment of the year's beginning, Lichun, this spirit of "responding with governance" and "forming a triad" is especially urgent. What Lichun provides is Heaven's "season"—the season of generation and growth; what the earth provides is Earth's "resources"—arable soil, growable things; and what humanity must do is, through appropriate "governance"—not violating the farming season, spreading virtue and dispensing beneficence, lightening labor and taxation—match this favorable timing and terrain, thereby "participating" in this year's transformative nurturing. Master Xun's attitude—neither blindly worshipping Heaven nor arrogantly defying it, but clear-headedly "responding to Heaven" and "forming a triad with Heaven"—may be described as the most mature Confucian stance toward Lichun and toward the solar terms in general.
VII. "Without Learning Ritual, One Cannot Stand": The Structural Affinity of Two Instances of "Li"
The "li" of Lichun bears a profound structural affinity with the character "li" in one of Confucianism's central propositions—the Master's saying, "Without learning ritual propriety, one cannot stand" (不学礼，无以立) (Analects, "Ji Shi"). Without learning ritual, a person cannot stand upright and dignified in the world. This "li" is one and the same character, and one and the same spirit, as the "li" in "at thirty, I stood firm" (Analects, "Wei Zheng"), and as the "li" in "Lichun."
Let us appreciate the affinity among these three instances of "li." The "li" of "Lichun" is the season of spring, the quality of generation, standing dignified and erect between Heaven and Earth. The "li" of "at thirty, I stood firm" is a person's virtue and the foundation of their standing in the world, established dignified and erect through learning and tempering. The "li" of "without learning ritual, one cannot stand" points to the fundamental path by which a person's "standing" is achieved—only through learning ritual propriety (that is, learning the codes of conduct that accord with the order of Heaven and Earth) can a person truly "stand." These three instances of "li"—one speaking of the establishment of a season, one of the establishment of character, one of the path to establishment—together point toward a single spirit of "standing erect," "establishing," and "founding a beginning."
This structural affinity is by no means a mere coincidence of language, but reveals a deep consistency between Heaven and humanity on the matter of "standing." Heaven and Earth have their own "standing"—each of the four seasons has its own "beginning" (the Four Beginnings), marking the dignified establishment of each season's qi; humanity too has its own "standing"—each stage of human life has its own "standing" (such as setting one's heart on learning at fifteen, standing firm at thirty), marking the dignified establishment of the foundation of one's character. And whether it be Heaven's "standing" or humanity's "standing," each requires a "beginning," a "founding," a moment of standing erect at a critical juncture. Lichun, as the beginning of Heaven and Earth's "standing" for the year, may precisely illuminate humanity's own "standing"—it reminds each person that, just as spring's vital qi must stand dignified and erect at this "beginning" of Lichun, so too must a person's virtue and vocation, their resolve and aspiration, stand up dignified and resolute at some "Lichun" moment of their own life. "The noble person attends to the root; once the root is established, the Way is generated" (君子务本，本立而道生) (Analects, "Xue Er")—this "li" in "once the root is established, the Way is generated" is precisely the highest echo of the spirit of Lichun within the cultivation of human character: only by truly "standing" at the root can "the Way" (the great direction of one's life, the great accomplishment of one's being) be generated therefrom. Lichun is the most solemn moment of "standing" that Heaven and Earth demonstrate for us—the moment when, the root established, the Way is generated.