By the time of Duke Ping of Jin (r. 557–532 BCE), the once-mighty state of Jin – restored to hegemony under Duke Dao and Zhao Wu – had begun to wane.
In 531 BCE, King Ling of Chu, grandson of the famed King Zhuang, launched invasions against the small states of Chen and Cai. When these states appealed to Jin for aid, Duke Ping refused, signaling to all that Jin had abandoned its role as leader of the Central States.
The rise of ambition
Seizing the moment, Duke Jing of Qi – a great-great-grandson of Duke Huan of Qi, the first Spring and Autumn hegemon – sought to claim leadership for Qi. To assess Chu’s true strength, he dispatched his most brilliant minister as envoy: Yan Ying, courtesy name Pingzhong, widely known as Yan Zi.
The “dog hole” at the gate
The Chu court, eager to humiliate Qi, devised a plan. Knowing Yan Zi was short in stature, they cut a five-foot-high hole beside the main city gate and instructed him to enter through it.
Yan Zi halted, smiled faintly, and declared:
“I’ve heard of dog holes – but only in dog countries. If I were visiting a land of dogs, I’d crawl through. But if this is a human kingdom, I expect to enter by the proper gate. Please go ask your king: is Chu a country of men – or of dogs?”
The message stunned King Ling. Fearing diplomatic disaster, he ordered the main gates flung open and received Yan Zi with full honors.
A battle of wits in the court
At court, Chu ministers mocked Qi and its envoy – but Yan Zi parried every barb with calm logic. Finally, King Ling himself taunted:
“Has Qi run out of people? Is that why they sent you?”
Yan Zi replied with mock humility:
“In our capital Linzi, people are so numerous that raised sleeves form clouds, and sweat falls like rain. Of course we have people! But we follow a rule: send the best envoys to the best states, and the worst to the worst. Since I’m the least capable, they sent me… here.”
King Ling could only laugh awkwardly.
The prisoner and the orange tree
During the banquet, soldiers dragged a bound prisoner past the hall.
King Ling asked aloud:
“What crime did he commit? Where is he from?”
“A thief – from Qi,” came the reply.
The Chu court erupted in laughter, expecting Yan Zi to be shamed.
But Yan Zi responded calmly:
“Your Majesty surely knows: oranges grown south of the Huai River are sweet and plump – but the same tree north of the river yields bitter, shriveled zhi fruit. Why? Because soil and water differ. So too with people: in Qi, our citizens are law-abiding; but in Chu, even Qi men turn to thievery – perhaps the ‘water and soil’ here change them.”
King Ling bowed his head:
“I meant to mock you, but instead you’ve mocked me. My apologies – I’ve learned my lesson.”
From then on, Chu officials treated Yan Zi with genuine respect.
Reform and Renewal in Qi
Upon returning, Yan Zi advised Duke Jing:
“Chu may have strong walls and armies, but its ruler is arrogant, and its ministers lack true talent. We need not fear them. Strengthen governance, care for the people, promote the capable, and reject flatterers – then Qi will rise.”
He recommended Tian Rangju, a master of military strategy. When Jin and Yan later invaded Qi’s borders, Tian Rangju reformed the army, instilling discipline and courage. He repelled both invaders and recaptured lost cities, forcing Jin and Yan to sue for peace.
Legacy of a sage minister
Yan Zi served Qi for over fifty years, earning admiration across generations. His wisdom, integrity, and rhetorical brilliance became legendary. Later scholars compiled his deeds and dialogues into the Yanzi Chunqiu (The Spring and Autumn Annals of Master Yan), preserving his legacy as one of ancient China’s greatest statesmen – proving that words, wielded with virtue and wit, can triumph over armies.
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