游侠列传 — Shiji

Han Fei observed: "Scholars with their writings subvert the law, while knights-errant with their swords violate prohibitions. Both have been criticized, yet learned men are praised throughout the world." As for those who gain office through cunning and become ministers or high officials, serving their sovereigns and achieving fame recorded in history—such men have nothing worthy of mention. But consider Ji Ci and Yuan Xian: they were men of humble lanes and alleys, devoted to study, nurturing within themselves the solitary virtue of the noble person, adhering to righteousness and refusing to fawn upon the age. The world ridiculed them. Thus Ji Ci and Yuan Xian lived out their lives in empty houses and thatched huts, clad in coarse garments and eating simple food until the very end. More than four hundred years after their deaths, their disciples still remember them without tiring.

The Grand Historian says: "In ancient times, Yu Shun was pressed hard by the well and the granary; Yi Yin carried burdens at the cauldron and cutting board; Fu Yue concealed himself at Fu Height; Lü Shang was stranded at Jijin Ford; Guan Zhong was in fetters; Bo Li fed oxen; Confucius was threatened in Kuang; and the people of Chen and Cai wore the pallor of hunger. These were the righteous and benevolent men that scholars speak of, yet they still encountered such disasters. How much more would this be true for a person of ordinary ability caught in the turmoil of a declining age? The harms they suffer are simply beyond counting!"

The wandering knights-errant of our age—though their conduct may deviate from strict justice—speak with credibility, act with resolve, and once they have pledged their word, honor it completely. They do not spare their own bodies in rushing to rescue the distressed and endangered. Having rescued others from death and restored them to life, they take no pride in their abilities and blush to speak of their virtue. Surely there is much to admire in such people. Moreover, emergencies are troubles that befall people at any time.

A vulgar man once said: "What knowing of benevolence and righteousness? Whoever has enjoyed their benefits is thereby virtuous." Thus Boyi ashamed of Zhou and starved himself on Shouyang Mountain, yet King Wen and King Wu were not diminished thereby; Zhua and Qiao were violent and cruel, yet their followers endlessly praised their righteousness. From this we may see that "those who steal a hook are executed, while those who steal a kingdom become lords—and in the houses of lords, benevolence and righteousness are present." This is no empty talk. Those scholars who cling to their petty righteousness and remain isolated from the world—would it not be better to lower their discourse, associate with common people, and drift along with the age to win fame and position? But there are common men who, when they make promises of giving or receiving, their word echoes a thousand miles; who would die for justice and care nothing for the world's opinion—these have their own excellences, not mere caprice. Thus when a gentleman falls into distress and finds someone to entrust his life to, could this not be called the rare quality that distinguishes the worthy and heroic? If we compare the village knights-errant with Ji Ci and Yuan Xian in terms of power and influence, their contributions to the age are not to be mentioned in the same breath. But since their achievements are evident and their words trustworthy, how can the justice of knights-errant be deemed unimportant?

Of the ancient commoner knights-errant, none have come down to us. In more recent times, there were men like Yanzling, Mengchang, Chunshen, Pingyuan, and Xinling—all of them relatives of kings, enjoying the wealth of their domains and high ministerial positions, summoning the worthy throughout the realm and making their names famous among the feudal lords. One cannot say such men lacked worth. It is like shouting with the wind at one's back—the voice does not grow louder, yet the momentum carries it. As for the village knights-errant who cultivate their conduct and polish their names, whose reputation spreads throughout the realm and whom all call worthy—this is truly difficult.

As for those clique-forming powerful families who collude with one another, use their wealth to enslave the poor, and violently oppress the weak and helpless, indulging their own desires for pleasure—such people the knights-errant also despise. I lament that the common world does not discern their true intent and rashly lumps Zhu Jia, Guo Xie, and their like together with violent tyrants, making them all objects of mockery. Zhu Jia of Lu was a contemporary of Emperor Gaozu. The people of Lu all studied Confucianism, yet Zhu Jia became famous for his chivalry. He harboured and saved heroic men by the hundreds, and ordinary people beyond counting. Yet he never boasted of his abilities or paraded his virtue; for all those he had helped, he was only anxious never to meet them again. When he relieved those in need, he began with the poorest and humblest. His household held no surplus property; his clothes were worn and unmatched in colour, his meals lacked elaborate flavours, and he rode no more than an ox-drawn cart.

As for cliques and factions that unite the strong, form cabals, use wealth to enslave the poor, oppress and bully the orphaned and weak, and gratify their desires without restraint—knights-errant find such behavior contemptible. I grieve that the world does not examine these matters clearly, and recklessly lumps Zhu Jia and Guo Xie together with violent bullies, making them objects of shared ridicule.

The Zhu Jia of Lu lived during the same period as the Founder Emperor. The people of Lu were known for Confucian teachings, yet Zhu Jia became renowned for his knight-errantry. He secretly helped and saved over a hundred bold and able men; as for ordinary people, the numbers are beyond telling. Yet throughout his life he never boasted of his abilities or delighted in his virtue, and when he had conferred benefits on others, he dreaded seeing them again. When helping those in need, he started with the poorest and most humble. His family had no surplus wealth; his clothes were not finely embroidered; he did not repeat dishes at a meal; his carriage was no grander than an ox cart. He dedicated himself entirely to rushing to others' aid, even preferring it to his own private concerns. He was instrumental in rescuing General Ji Bu from danger, but once Bu rose to honor and power, Zhu Jia never sought to meet him again. From the passes eastward, everyone extended their necks hoping for his friendship.

Tian Zhong of Chu was renowned as a knight-errant and loved swordplay. He served Zhu Jia as a father would, considering his own conduct inferior by comparison. When Tian Zhong died, there was Ju Meng in Luoyang. The Zhou people made their living through commerce, yet Ju Meng achieved renown for his knight-errantry among the feudal lords. When the Rebellion of Wu and Chu arose, the Marquis of Wu, serving as Grand Commandant, traveled by relay carriage toward Henan. Upon securing Ju Meng's allegiance, he rejoiced: "Wu and Chu have raised a great revolt but failed to recruit Ju Meng—I see they cannot possibly succeed." When the realm was in upheaval, a prime minister's gaining Ju Meng was like gaining a rival state.

Ju Meng's conduct was very much like Zhu Jia's, though he enjoyed gambling and the company of young men at play. When Ju Meng's mother died, mourners came from distant places to the number of nearly a thousand carriages. Upon Ju Meng's death, his household had less than ten pieces of gold in assets. Wang Meng of Fuli was also celebrated as a knight-errant along the Yangtze and Huai rivers.

At that time, the Xian family of Jinan and Chen Zhouyong of Tan were also renowned for their dominance. Emperor Jing heard of them and sent messengers to wipe out this entire group. Later, other knights-errant arose in great numbers: Zhu Bai of Liang, Han Wubi of Wei, Xue Xiong of Yangze, Han Ru of San, and many others.

Guo Xie was from Zhi. His courtesy name was Wengbo. He was the grandson through his mother of Xu Fu, the famous physiognomist. His father, a knight-errant, was executed during the reign of Emperor Wen. Guo Xie was short in stature but fierce and vigorous, and did not drink wine. In his youth he was secretive and malicious, quick to anger, and had personally killed many people. He used his person to serve as a hired avenger for others, harbored outlaws, committed robberies, and, worst of all, counterfeit coinage and grave robbery—his crimes were simply too numerous to count. Fortunately for him, when hard pressed he often escaped by chance, as if heaven favored him, or he might be pardoned through amnesties.

As Guo Xie grew older, he transformed his conduct and became temperate, repaying wrongs with kindness, giving generously while expecting little in return. Yet the more he reformed, the more his love of knight-errantry grew. Having rescued others from death, he did not boast of his achievements, though the secret malice in his heart would suddenly flare up as before over some petty grievance. Young men who admired his conduct would secretly avenge his enemies for him, not letting him know.

Guo Xie's sister's son, emboldened by his uncle's power, would force those drinking with him to drain their cups. If they could not hold their drink, he would insist on pouring it down them. An angry victim drew a knife and killed the nephew, then fled. Guo Xie's sister raged: "With Wengbo's sense of justice, my son's murderer must be caught!" She left her son's body in the road, refusing burial, hoping to shame Guo Xie. Guo Xie sent people to trace the killer secretly. When the murderer learned of this, he surrendered himself and told Guo Xie the full truth. Guo Xie said: "You were right to kill him—he was in the wrong." So he let the murderer go, blamed his own nephew, and then took up and buried the body. When the local elders heard of this, they all praised Guo Xie's sense of justice, and many more attached themselves to him.

After a long time, he was released. A thorough investigation of his crimes found that all those he had killed were murdered before the amnesty. In Zhi, a Confucian scholar was attending upon a messenger; when guests praised Guo Xie, the scholar said, "Guo Xie specializes in using treachery to violate public law—how can he be called worthy!" When Guo Xie’s clients heard this, they killed the scholar and cut out his tongue. The officials held Guo Xie accountable for this, but Guo Xie truly did not know who the killer was. The killer then also died, and no one knew his identity. The officials reported that Guo Xie was innocent. The Imperial Secretary Gongsun Hong argued, "Guo Xie is a commoner who practices vigilante justice and wields power, killing people for a mere scowl. Even though Guo Xie did not know about it, this crime is worse than if he had killed the man himself. It should be judged as high treason and depravity." Thereupon Guo Xie Wengbo and his clan were exterminated.

When Guo Xie went out, everyone made way for him. One man alone sat sprawled in arrogance and stared at him. Guo Xie sent someone to ask his name. His follower wanted to kill the man. Guo Xie said: "Living in my own village yet winning no respect—that shows I have not cultivated my virtue. What wrong has he committed?" He then secretly instructed the official in charge of corvée assignments: "This man is important to me; find excuses to exempt him from labor." Each time the corvée rotation came around, after several attempts the official would not summon him. Puzzled, the man asked why. Learning that Guo Xie had arranged his exemptions, he publicly bared his shoulder in apology. When young men heard of this, they admired Guo Xie's conduct all the more.

In Luoyang there were people locked in feuds. The local worthy and prominent men, a dozen or more, tried to mediate between them, but the adversaries would not listen. Someone brought the matter to Guo Xie. Guo Xie went by night to visit the feuding family, and they agreed to his terms. Guo Xie then said to them: "I hear that many of Luoyang's prominent men have been trying to reconcile you, and you refused them. Now you have kindly agreed to my mediation—how could I deprive the worthy men of your city of their authority by taking this matter from another county?" He departed that very night without letting anyone know, saying: "For now, this is useless. Wait until I have left, and then let Luoyang's prominent men arrange it—they will be obeyed."