During the Western Han Dynasty, there was a man named Zhi Buyi from Nanyang. Serving as a palace attendant under Emperor Wen, his duties included guarding gates and managing the imperial chariots. A devoted reader of *Laozi* and *Zhuangzi*, he emulated their free-spirited philosophy, often acting with unconventional flair. One day, his roommate lost some money and immediately accused Zhi Buyi of theft. Without a word of defense, Zhi Buyi calmly admitted, "It was me," and repaid the sum. Later, the real thief was caught, and the roommate, deeply ashamed, apologized. Zhi Buyi simply smiled and said, "A small misunderstanding—no harm done." His unruffled response left everyone marveling at his detachment, a living example of the Daoist ideal of letting go.
At the time, these junior officials lived together in shared quarters. An old veteran who had served for many years reached retirement age and prepared to return to his hometown. While packing his belongings, he carelessly swept a young colleague's silver coins into his own luggage without noticing, then bid everyone farewell and set off on his journey.
Moments later, the young man realized his silver was missing. He tore through every chest and drawer but found nothing. His face turned ashen, and he burst into wails—this was money he had scrimped and saved, the sole lifeline for his entire family.
The young man was sobbing pitifully, drawing a crowd of onlookers. Everyone buzzed with chatter, clamoring to catch the despicable thief. Suddenly, a rhythmic snoring cut through the noisy din. Following the sound, the crowd saw that it was their roommate, Zhi Buyi, sleeping soundly.
When a colleague lost his silver, Zhi Buyi showed no concern, sleeping soundly as if nothing had happened. The others were outraged. They reasoned: only three people shared the room; the elderly official was known for his honesty, while Zhi Buyi always acted mysteriously. "If he didn't take it, who did?" they whispered among themselves.
Hearing this, the young man grew even more suspicious of Zhi Buyi. He stepped forward, shook him vigorously, and demanded, "Did you steal the silver? That's my family's livelihood—give it back!"
Zhi Buyi woke up, asked what happened, rubbed his sleepy eyes, and quickly said, "Oh, yes, yes, sorry, sorry."
Under the contemptuous stares of the crowd, Zhi Buyi went to the market, exchanged the silver, and returned the full amount to the young man, only then did everyone disperse.
A few days later, the old clerk returned, his face flushed with embarrassment as he pulled out a pouch and handed it to the young man. "I opened my luggage at home and found this extra silver," he confessed. "My old eyes played tricks on me—I mistakenly took someone else's belongings." He had rushed all the way back to return the money.
The young man suddenly realized his mistake—Zhi Buyi had never taken his gold at all. Filled with shame, he stammered an apology, asking Zhi Buyi to forgive his groundless suspicion.
Zhi Buyi waved his hand dismissively, as if nothing had happened at all.
"Bundling Up to Steal Gold" originally meant packing belongings to steal valuables. Later used to describe being groundlessly suspected.
Source: *Book of Han*, "Biography of Zhi Buyi"
Meaning of the Idiom: Later, the Chinese idiom "束装盗金" came to describe being groundlessly suspected.