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Central Earth. Its day is Wu Ji. Its emperor is Huangdi, and its god is Hou Tu. Its insect is naked, its tone is Gong, and its musical note is the palace of Huangzhong in the musical scale. Its number is five. Its taste is sweet, and its smell is fragrant. Its shrine is Zhongliu, and it is used to sacrifice to the ancestors. The emperor lives in the great temple and the great room, rides on the great road, drives a yellow horse, carries a yellow flag, wears a yellow robe, and wears yellow jade. He eats millet and cattle, and his utensils are round and wide.
A good singer makes people follow his voice; a good teacher makes people follow his will. His words are concise but clear, subtle but good, and rarely use metaphors, which can be called continuing his will.
The emperor collected taxes, and went through the ranks of soldiers, and personally swore an oath to the gods to train the army. He moved left and right, sat and stood up to observe their changes; and showed them the birds and salted the benefits to observe whether they would not violate orders. He sought to subdue their wills, and did not covet their gains, so that he would win in battle and receive blessings in sacrifice.
When a son serves his parents: if he advises them three times but they still don’t listen, he should cry and follow them. When the king is ill and takes medicine, the minister should taste it first. When a parent is ill and takes medicine, the son should taste it first.
There was a great historian in Wei named Liu Zhuang who was ill. The Duke said, "If the illness worsens, you must inform me even if you are supposed to offer sacrifices." The Duke bowed twice and asked for the corpse, saying, "There is a minister named Liu Zhuang, who is not my minister, but a minister of the state. I heard that he died, so I will go." He went without taking off his mourning clothes, and then wrapped him up. He gave him the name of the Qiu family in the city and the name of the Pan family in the county, and put it in the coffin, saying, "My descendants will be there for generations, and there will be no change."
Sun Zijing took off her wife's mourning clothes and composed a poem to show Wang Wuzi. Wang said: "I don't know that literature is born from emotion and emotion is born from literature. Reading this makes me sad and increases the love between husband and wife."
When a horse died on the road, he buried it with a curtain.
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