How to See Through a Person? The Way of Interactions Xi Gui Enlightened from the Nine Two Line of the Qian Hexagram

During the Spring and Autumn period, Lady Xi Gui, the wife of the Marquis of Xi, was a renowned cold beauty. She seldom spoke, yet her eyes held the clarity of two autumn pools, seeing through everything with perfect transparency.

For the first six months after she married into the State of Xi, the Marquis doted on her so fiercely that he feared she might break if held too loosely, or melt if kept too close. One day he would present her with pearls from the southern Yi tribes; the next, fox furs from the northern Di peoples. He even brought state affairs to her bedchamber to deliberate, calling it "seeking the lady's wise counsel." The concubines in the palace seethed with jealousy, saying the lady was truly blessed to have such a devoted husband.

Yet Xi Gui rarely smiled. One evening, she was reading the *I Ching* by lamplight and turned to the Nine Two line of the Qian hexagram: "Seeing the dragon in the field, it is favorable to meet a great man." Her fingertips traced the eight characters for a long while before she suddenly sighed.

Her personal maid, puzzled, asked, "My lady, the lord treats you so well—why do you look troubled? Teach us how to see a person truly, so we don't end up being sold off and still helping count the money."

Xi Gui closed the bamboo slips and said with a smile, "Silly girl, when a dragon lurks in the abyss, you cannot see it clearly—that is when it hides. Only when the dragon climbs onto the ridge of the field does it truly show its face. Look at how he treats his subordinates, how he treats envoys from neighboring states, how he treats veteran ministers who disagree with him. Isn't that far more reliable than judging him by how he treats you?"

The maid only half understood at the time, but before long, she grasped it fully.

That year, the Marquis of Cai came to visit. For over half a year, the Marquis of Xi had nursed a grudge over a joke the Marquis of Cai had made: "Your wife is the most beautiful woman under heaven—if I were you, I'd tuck her in my arms every day." Outwardly, he hosted a welcoming feast; secretly, he sent a confidential letter to the King of Chu, asking him to feign an attack on Xi. The Marquis of Xi would then beg the Marquis of Cai for help, and once Cai led his troops to the rescue, the two sides would ambush and capture him.

The scheme was so underhanded it oozed malice. When the Marquis of Xi returned to the harem to tell Xi Gui about it, he was swollen with pride, saying he had finally vented his resentment, and no one would dare joke about his wife again.

Xi Gui was blending incense at the time. Her hand froze, and half a cup of incense powder spilled. She did not object, but merely asked calmly, "My lord, have you never considered what kind of man the King of Chu is?"

The Marquis of Xi brushed it off carelessly: "The King of Chu is greedy for profit. I sent him several cartloads of gold and pearls—he's only too happy to do me this favor."

That night, Xi Gui sat by the candlelight for half the night. She knew clearly that judging a situation never depended on how many sweet words the other person spoke, but on whether they had a bottom line in their actions. A man who would sell out a neighboring state bound by kinship at the drop of a hat—today he might sell the Marquis of Cai to vent a petty grudge for you; tomorrow he would sell you for a greater profit.

She did not quarrel with the Marquis of Xi, nor wail and weep. Instead, she quietly had her trusted servants store grain and cloth in a villa outside the city. Of the jewelry she had brought as part of her dowry, she gave half to the elderly palace servants and locked the other half in chests, stored in a side hall.

What happened next is known to all. After his capture, the Marquis of Cai was consumed with hatred. He sang the highest praises of Xi Gui's beauty to the King of Chu, who immediately led his army to attack Xi, captured the Marquis of Xi, and took Xi Gui back to the State of Chu.

On the day she left, Xi Gui wore plain, unadorned clothes. As she passed the palace gate, she caught sight of the Marquis of Xi tied to a pillar. A single tear fell, but she quickly wiped it away with her handkerchief. She knew that improving one's judgment never meant slapping one's thigh after the fact and wondering how one could have missed the signs. It meant seeing the choices at a person's core when they are most proud, most relaxed, and most fond of saying "it's for your own good."

The Nine Two line of the Qian hexagram: the dragon has just climbed out of the abyss, basking in the sun on the field ridge. It looks the most harmless, yet even the patterns on its claws and fangs are clearly visible. If you wait until it has soared into the sky to figure out what kind of creature it is, it will already be too late.

Later, the King of Chu asked her why she had followed him so quietly, without putting up a fight. Xi Gui held a cup of osmanthus wine from Chu, lifted her eyes, and smiled: "What makes you a better man than the Marquis of Xi, Your Majesty, is that when you want something, you always take it openly."

The King of Chu was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter, saying this lady was wiser than all the old scholars at court.