For over thirty years, I have navigated the treacherous waters of official life, witnessing the endless twists…
For over thirty years, I have navigated the treacherous waters of official life, witnessing the endless twists and turns of fortune and fate. Those scholarly purists, who once prided themselves on unblemished virtue, have long since been banished to forgotten corners, while someone like me—pragmatic, clear-eyed, and adaptable—has steadily climbed the ranks.
Today, in a rare moment of clarity, I commit the hard-won truths of my life to these pages. To whoever finds and truly heeds them, I promise a future radiant and full of promise.
First, the art of speech lies in adaptability.
Never bind yourself to a single stance; always leave a margin for retreat.
When factions clash, begin by acknowledging, "Both sides have their merits." Then, in private, gently confide to Party A that Party B can be overbearing, and to Party B that Party A is somewhat harsh. But be careful never to leave words that could be twisted against you. When the dust settles and power shifts, you can easily align yourself with the new victor, moving like water conforming to every shape.
Side note: ...
Second, tolerate small faults to prevent larger ones.
Allow minor, harmless transgressions under your watch—they will serve you well later.
Let a subordinate collect small bribes. When your superior arrives unannounced, feign shock and sorrow: "I have failed my duty and allowed corruption to spread!" Then, with feigned heartache, root out a minor, insignificant official and make a public example of him. Once your superior's anger subsides, seize the moment to praise his wisdom: "Thanks to your keen oversight, the vermin were uncovered." In doing so, the dignity of your superior remains intact, and your own position strengthens. Pruning twigs does not harm the tree—instead, it makes the trunk appear all the more robust.
Side note: Seems to make sense, doesn't it?
Third, pursue gain, avoid blame, and protect your reputation.
Be the first to claim success; the last to admit failure.
If a task falls apart and you face accusations, begin by expressing heartfelt regret. Wipe away tears, choke back emotions, then lament, "Everyone made mistakes," subtly casting blame on others without ever implicating yourself. Thus, someone else will shoulder the burden.
Fourth, accept gifts under a veil of refinement.
If you must receive gratuities, cloak them in culture and grace.
When a merchant offers a "family heirloom painting," respond solemnly, "Such a treasure belongs in the public collection." If a wealthy patron presents a rare manuscript, sigh and say, "I will safeguard this precious volume for now." Should inquiries arise, point to your shelves full of "items held in trust," earning you a reputation for nurturing talent instead of greed.
Side note: Ah, so that's how the game is played!
...
Seventy-two such principles in all—each word born from experience, every sentence a beacon of wisdom.
Ultimately, the path of an official boils down to two qualities: keen wit and subtle perception. Without the might to move mountains or the courage to face armies alone, to rise amid a den of wolves, one must master the fine art of cunning.
Side note: If I follow these rules to the letter, will I truly ascend, step by steady step?
Will my hopes come to bloom and all desires be fulfilled?
And what if one possessed the mighty strength—would these stratagems still matter?
If power crowns me at last, could it bring healing to my ailing daughter?
Is such a day even possible?