Why Do Richer People Dress Simpler? Bi Hexagram 6th Line 4: "White Horse, Pure and Bright" – Ultimate Simplicity Equals True Sophistication

At the Six in the Fourth Place of the *Bi* (Grace) Hexagram, the vibe shifts completely out of nowhere.

Across the first three lines, the adornment grows more lavish and intricate by the layer—from the feet up to the face, then the whole body. By the Nine in the Third Place, we’ve already reached "賁如濡如" (Bi Ru Ru Ru): glowing, polished, so put-together it’s almost dazzling.

But when we hit the Six in the Fourth Place, the Line Text reads: "賁如皤如，白馬翰如。匪寇，婚媾。" (Bi Ru Po Ru, Bai Ma Han Ru. Fei Kou, Hun Gou.)

*Po* means white, plain, unadorned. *Han* means soaring, light, unhurried.

What’s the message here? It’s a sudden pivot from all the flashy colors and heavy ornamentation to pure, clean simplicity. Someone rides by on a white horse, moving with easy grace. They’re not here to rob—they’re here to propose an alliance, to settle serious business, to come with honest intent.

See, when the *Bi* Hexagram reaches this point, it circles back: from complexity to simplicity, from opulence to plain white, from decoration back to one’s true nature.

Why? Because once you’ve seen every kind of flash, you finally realize—the simplest things are the most lasting, the most powerful.

Wen Laoshi often says that aesthetic taste has layers. The first layer is "a riot of blooms dazzles the eye"—you’re drawn to anything flashy. The second layer is "heavy makeup or light, it always suits"—you start caring about coordination and harmony. The highest layer is "a lotus rising from clear water, naturally free of carving"—when plainness reaches its peak, it becomes the most beautiful of all.

The Six in the Fourth Place of *Bi* is that highest layer.

Have you ever felt like you’ve "bought enough"?

Let me tell you a true story first.

I have a friend who made some money in e-commerce back in the day. The first thing he did when he got rich was shop. Clothes, bags, shoes, watches—all the stuff he couldn’t afford before. His closet was stuffed to the brim, his shoe rack overflowed, and there were things piled everywhere in his apartment.

Back then, he loved that feeling of "owning" things. Every time he unboxed a package, put on a new outfit, or got complimented with "Where’d you get that? It’s so nice," he felt totally satisfied.

But a few years later, he changed.

His closet got emptier and emptier. All he kept were basic pieces—white, black, gray, simple and straightforward. He only had a few pairs of shoes left, all comfortable and durable. He threw away or gave away whatever he could around the house, freeing up more than half the space.

People asked him, "Why don’t you buy stuff anymore?" He said, "I’ve bought enough."

What does "bought enough" mean? It’s not that he has more money than he can spend. It’s that he finally realized—he doesn’t actually need that much. More stuff only brings short-lived joy. After that joy fades, you’re left with even bigger emptiness.

On the flip side, with fewer things, he felt so much lighter. He didn’t stress about what to wear in the morning, because everything looked more or less the same, and everything looked good. His place was clean and tidy, so it felt good just being there. He didn’t have to obsess over how much a bag had appreciated or whether a pair of shoes was limited edition—his mind felt a lot clearer.

He said he used to think being rich meant owning a lot. Now he knows the real wealth is needing very little.

That’s exactly the feeling of "賁如皤如" (Bi Ru Po Ru) at the Six in the Fourth Place of *Bi*: going from owning a lot to needing very little. From a world of flash back to plain, true nature.

This isn’t downgrading—it’s upgrading. An upgrade in taste, an upgrade in lifestyle, and most of all, an upgrade in the way you see life.

Why does extreme plainness feel so refined?

Why do simpler things feel more high-end? Three reasons.

First: Simplicity is the result of curation.

Do you think people who dress simply do it because they don’t know how to style themselves, or because they have no options?

Quite the opposite. They’ve seen everything, tried everything, owned everything—and in the end, they chose the simplest things.

Why does someone new to fashion dress so loud and mismatched? Because they don’t know what suits them, so they want to try everything. Red, green, blue, long, short, baggy, tight—they pile it all on. By the end, they don’t even recognize themselves.

And why does someone with really great style dress simply? Because they’ve tried enough wrong looks to know what works for them and what doesn’t. They’ve filtered out everything that doesn’t fit, everything extra, everything flashy—leaving only the most classic, the most flattering, the most timeless pieces.

So simplicity isn’t having nothing. It’s the essence left after countless rounds of sorting and filtering.

It’s like painting: beginners always use way too many colors, thinking more is better. But a real master’s work often has just a few strokes, a few colors—and it’s still beautiful. Because every stroke, every color, is used exactly where it matters most.

Less, but better. That’s true refinement.

Second: Plain white space makes room for what matters.

Why do so many luxury brands, high-end restaurants, and fancy hotels have such understated decor? White walls, concrete floors, simple furniture, no extra frills.

Because they know—space is for holding things, not for filling up. When the walls are white, the art stands out. When the background is plain, the main character shines.

People are the same way.

If you dress loud and flashy, people notice your clothes. If you dress simply, people notice *you*.

Have you noticed that truly impressive people always dress really simply? A button-down, slacks, leather shoes—clean and put-together. But when you talk to them, you’re totally drawn in by their way of speaking, their knowledge, their way of thinking.

Why? Because they don’t need clothes to steal the show—they *are* the main character. Their clothes are just the background; they’re the content.

And what about people covered head to toe in logos, dressed super flashy? More often than not, they don’t have much substance themselves, so they rely on external stuff to look impressive. Take the clothes off, and there’s nothing left.

So if you want to feel more refined, stop thinking about adding more stuff to your outfit. First, build up your own substance. When you have enough to offer, anything you wear looks high-end. Without substance, even the most expensive clothes just make you look like a walking billboard.

Third: Plainness is a sign of inner confidence.

Why are so many people afraid to dress simply? Because they’re scared.

Scared they’re not good-looking enough, scared people will notice their flaws, scared of being looked down on. So they use all kinds of decorations to hide—heavy makeup to cover their face, designer brands to look impressive, over-the-top looks to grab attention.

Put plainly, they’re insecure.

But what about people who dare to wear a plain white T-shirt, go out without makeup, and just be themselves unapologetically? They’re not scared.

Not scared of what other people think, not scared of showing their flaws, not scared of not being perfect. This is who I am—good and bad, I accept all of it. Like it or not, that’s up to you. I like myself just fine.

That’s inner confidence.

People who are extremely plain aren’t lacking anything—they have the calm that comes from having everything. I have money, but I don’t need to dress to prove it to you. I have skills, but I don’t need to brag about them. I have depth, but I don’t need to perform it for you.

I’m just here, quiet and steady. How much you get of me is your business.

That kind of confidence is more refined than any decoration.

How do you go from "賁如濡如" to "賁如皤如"?

All that said, how do you actually live a "plainer" life? Three steps.

Step one: Start with "material decluttering"—clear out the extra stuff.

The easiest place to start is your closet.

Pull out all your clothes and go through them one by one:

Did I wear this last year?

Is this comfortable to wear?

Do I actually like this?

Does this fit who I am now?

If you can’t answer yes to any of these, pack them all up to donate or throw away.

Don’t get attached. If you haven’t worn something in a year, you won’t wear it next year either. It just takes up space, collects dust, and gives you that false feeling of "I have so many clothes but nothing to wear." Better to send it somewhere it’s actually needed.

Once you’re done with the closet, do the shoe rack. Then the vanity. Then the bookshelf. Then the kitchen. Then your phone—delete unused apps, unfollow people you don’t talk to, leave useless group chats. Cut what needs cutting, leave what needs leaving.

When you have less stuff, your mind calms down.

Step two: Do "social decluttering"—clear out extra relationships.

You have hundreds or thousands of contacts in your phone—how many do you actually talk to regularly? Thousands of WeChat friends—how many can you be honest with? You go to all kinds of events, meet all kinds of people, collect all kinds of contacts—how many of them actually matter?

A lot of people socialize not because they like it, but because they’re anxious. Scared their network isn’t big enough, scared they’ll miss an opportunity, scared people will say "How do you not even know who that is?"

So they force themselves to go to parties, say things they don’t mean, clink glasses for no reason, add friends they’ll forget about the next day. Isn’t that exhausting?

Wen Laoshi says connections aren’t built by collecting contacts—they’re built by being the kind of person others want to connect with. If you have value, you don’t have to chase people—they’ll come to you. If you don’t have value, adding a thousand WeChat friends won’t help.

So stop running around pointlessly. Turn down useless events, cut off fake relationships, and remove people who drain you from your life.

Keep a few real friends, a few solid relationships, a few people you can be honest with. That’s more than enough.

Friends don’t need to be many—they need to be good. Socializing doesn’t need to be broad—it needs to be deep.

When your relationships are simple, your life feels steady.

Step three: Finally, do "desire decluttering"—clear out extra thoughts.

This is the hardest step, and the most fundamental one.

Why do we always want to buy more, always want more things, always feel like we don’t have enough? Because desire is driving us.

Wanting a better house, a better car, more money, higher status, more attention. One desire leads to the next, and there’s never an end.

But have you ever thought—are these desires really *yours*?

Or are they what ads tell you to want, what other people show off, what society shoves at you?

Do you want that bag because you actually like it, or because everyone else has one so you think you should too?

Do you want a promotion and raise because you actually love your job, or because everyone else is climbing the ladder so you can’t fall behind?

Do you want a house and a car because you actually need them, or because everyone says that’s what success looks like?

A lot of the time, we’re not chasing what we want—we’re chasing what we’re "supposed" to want.

How do you tell the difference? It’s simple—if you were the only person left in the world, would you still want this thing?

If the answer is yes, then it’s something you truly love. If the answer is no, then it’s a desire someone else put in your head.

Clear out all the desires that aren’t yours. What’s left is the life you actually want.

When you have fewer desires, you feel free.

Final Thoughts

Every time I read "賁如皤如，白馬翰如" from the Six in the Fourth Place of *Bi*, a picture pops into my head—

A person in plain white clothes, riding a white horse, walking slowly from the distance. No extra decorations, no over-the-top fanfare—just simple, clean, unassuming.

But you can’t help but think they look so good, so commanding, so reassuring.

Why? Because when all the decoration is stripped away, what’s left is the person themselves.

Isn’t that what life is all about?

When we’re young, we want everything—nice clothes, famous brands, other people’s envy, worldly success. We pile so much stuff onto ourselves that we can barely breathe.

As we go through life, we start letting things go. The useless stuff, the extra stuff, the stuff that belongs to other people. When you’ve let go of everything else, what’s left is you.

That’s when you finally understand—

The most beautiful decoration is you.

The most refined life is simple.

The strongest confidence is plainness.

Bi Ru Po Ru, Bai Ma Han Ru.

When plainness reaches its peak, that is true refinement.