The Romance of Bao & Guan

Written by Peter Li-Chang Kuo

October 25 marks the memorial day of my grandmother, Kuo Chen Shu-Jean (1896–1970).

I still remember her saying, “A person who does not study cannot understand righteousness.” At just two or three years old, I repeated those words after her — only later did I realize how profoundly and enduringly those six characters shaped my life.

Before I took charge of the family, we were not always struggling for daily meals; in fact, there was one peaceful year — 1961, when I was eight — I even accompanied my grandmother to see a Taiwanese opera, which told the story of Bao Shuya and Guan Zhong in the Spring and Autumn period.

Fig 1: Bao Shuya and Guan Zhong (Cited from Internet)

During the turbulent Spring and Autumn period, when the traditional moral codes of "Three Bonds and Five Constants" had decayed, one friendship shone through the chaos and was celebrated for millennia — that between Bao Shuya (c. 644 BC) and Guan Zhong (725–645 BC).

The two were loyal to different lords: Bao Shuya served Prince Xiaobai, while Guan Zhong stood with Prince Jiu. When Xiaobai returned to Qi and ascended the throne as Duke Huan, he wished to appoint Bao Shuya as Chancellor. Yet Bao declined the honor and instead recommended Guan Zhong.

Long before, Guan Zhong had shot an arrow that wounded Xiaobai in battle. The Duke doubted whether he could trust such a man. But Bao Shuya explained that Guan Zhong had acted out of loyalty to his own lord — and that a wise ruler should reward integrity wherever it appears. He praised Guan Zhong’s virtues, saying:

1. He is kind and loves the people.

2. He governs with order and clarity.

3. He is faithful and trustworthy, able to unite the feudal states.

4. He establishes rites and righteousness as models for all under heaven.

5. He commands armies and expands the realm, treating the people as his own children.

Thus persuaded, Duke Huan pardoned Guan Zhong — thanks to Bao Shuya’s magnanimity and insight—and appointed him Chancellor. Under Guan Zhong’s leadership, Qi rose to dominate the lords of the realm, uniting the feudal states and restoring order to the chaotic age. Bao Shuya became forever known as the paragon of one who could "turn an enemy into a friend" — a model of political wisdom sung in operas and stories for a thousand years. To make a poem as following:

“The Romance of Bao & Guan”

Bao saw the times and paved the way for might

Turned foe to friend, found wisdom’s guiding light

Though once an arrow pierced his sovereign’s skin

Forgiveness bound two hearts, true trust within

Guan ruled the land, its borders wide and grand

His faith and honor drew all lords to stand

Huan’s reign restored the age with virtue’s hue

Their friendship shines through time—forever true

Our brothers were born at No. 45 Chong-An Street. On paper, the property belonged to my grandaunt (my grandmother’s younger sister), yet in truth it was as if my grandmother held permanent right of use. Hidden within that address lay a deeper story — “carrying night soil but never stealing a sip” — an emblem of betray amidst hardship. Because of this, A-Kun, my father, never had to worry about shelter all his life, and thus lived freely, following only his impulses.

A-Kun was a genius craftsman. One day in 1961, while loitering at the Tianyuan Shoe Store in Shakaliba Market, he overheard a customer complain: “Leather shoes are too stiff, and cloth shoes easily get soaked in the rain.” He immediately rushed back home to Chong-An Street and, using scrap materials, built a complete set of shoe-making equipment, producing the first synthetic-leather shoes — lightweight and waterproof.

Soon, shoe merchants from all over Taiwan came to buy wholesale, and thus we lived through a brief, peaceful year—1961.

Unfortunately, when someone later brought him a German bicycle lock mechanism, he impulsively gave away the entire semi-automated shoe production line — cutting off our only source of income.

Once again, our livelihood depended on Grandmother, who made paper cuttings with her little scissors to keep us alive.

The family smoke of hardship rose again; "The Tale of Bao and Guan" became but a memory.

When Chiang Kai-Shek’s government in Taiwan hunted Communist spies, my father risked everything to save one. That act of reckless dragged him into thirteen years of litigation. Yet he remained playful and refused to learn "Mandarin"— the language he most needed.

Whenever a court summons arrived, dark clouds gathered over No. 45 Chong’an Street; his sons always became the scapegoats on the chopping block, and Grandmother was often verbally humiliated by an unfilial daughter-in-law, insulted with the crudest of words.

In October 1965, A-Kun told me to throw away my junior-high school bag and flee with him to Kaohsiung. He said, “Tainan is an unlucky place. I’ve made arrangements — Kaohsiung will be my stage.”

But once we arrived at No. 16 Chong-Hsing Street, everything fell upon my shoulders. In the back lot, I built a small workshop out of sugarcane boards.

He entered the hut, stayed less than two minutes, and stumbled out gasping— “It’s suffocating in there!”

Yet that humble shed became the source of his living, and the workshop that bore his name.

His brother-in-law once gave him a copy of "The Platform Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch" (Liuzu Tanjing). He tossed it into a corner and never touched it again. Ironically, it was through that very book that I came to understand its “Thirty-six Pairs of Opposites,” which inspired me to improve the precision production of super-fine “eyelet” components, solving their problem of slow, non-continuous manufacturing. That experience taught me that "the power of learning is boundless."

One evening, I saw a Mainland Chinese scholar selling old books at the entrance of the Guomin Market. Every night I would crouch beside his stall, reading without paying and without purchase. One volume, The Book of "Guan Zi," fascinated me.

The scholar, surnamed Nan, told me: “Guan Zi is the root of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism.” After his explanation, I recalled the opera I had once watched with Grandmother — "The Tale of Bao and Guan."

Later, when I developed "Cheng Kuang Metal Works," I ran the enterprise guided by a principle from Guan Zi: “All things come bearing a name; the sage makes use of them. By following their nature and guiding them according to their tendencies, the world is governed.”

This means that everything in the world has both a name (form) and a reality (substance), each with its own nature and function. A wise person follows the inherent laws of things, governing and utilizing them without undue interference—and thus, order arises naturally.

Guan Zhong once said: “When one thinks yet cannot find the answer, the spirits will teach him.” He meant that when one’s mind and vital energy operate in perfect harmony, inspiration arises naturally, as though whispered by unseen forces.

To attain the realm of “knowing Heaven,” one must focus the mind in perfect unity. When the heart is pure, and the senses undisturbed by external distractions, one perceives distant changes without divination, derives wisdom from within, and achieves a state where inner virtue shines and Heaven and humanity resonate as one.

In essence, sincerity and concentration open the way to universal insight — a clarity born not of mystical power but of inner awakening. This passage can be written into a poem “The Mirror of the Heart” as follows:

The heart, a clear mirror, reflects the mortal world;

In single-minded focus, spirit is unfurled.

When things accord with nature, all align,

Through non-action, governance refines.

In stillness deep, Heaven and Earth commune,

Through self-reflection, constant light is strewn.

Perceiving the subtle, knowing what’s afar,

In harmony divine, we guide all under Heaven’s star.

Yesterday, Facebook reminded me: “Your birthday is coming soon.”

Suddenly I realized — it has been a full sixty years since I took charge of the household. What I regret most over these six decades is not having cared for Grandmother properly. I once foolishly listened to deceitful talk and forced her to become "vegetarian" — an old woman crippled by police beatings, deprived of vital nutrition.

On October 18, 1970, as she lay dying, I lifted her from the back workshop to the front hall — I felt weightless, no wonder those evildoers can foresee the hour of death.

Fortunately, her final days were spent by my side. Sometimes, we would reminisce about "The Tale of Bao and Guan," lamenting the evil that fills the world, yet taking solace that even in the chaos of the Spring and Autumn era, there were still men like Bao Shuya, noble and righteous, who saved Guan Zhong in his peril, helping Duke Huan of Qi achieve his hegemony— and leaving behind the Book of "Guan Zi," a wisdom I continue to follow to this day.

Peter Li-Chang Kuo, the author created Taiwan's Precision Industry in his early years. Peter was a representative of the APEC CEO Summit and an expert in the third sector. He advocated "anti-corruption (AC)/cashless/e-commerce (E-Com)/ICT/IPR/IIA-TES / Micro-Business (MB)…and etc." to win the international bills and regulations.