In the early Northern Song Dynasty, Emperor Taizu of Song retained several officials from the Later Zhou court, including Tao Gu, who was assigned to the Hanlin Academy but given no significant role, leaving him deeply resentful.
Tao Gu was a sharp child who could write brilliant essays by age ten, but he was cunning and ruthless in his ambition. In 936, while serving as an official in Danzhou, he wrote a self-recommendation letter to Chancellor Li Song. Impressed by his literary talent, Li Song recommended him for promotion to Imperial Edict Drafter, responsible for drafting imperial decrees.
After the Later Jin dynasty fell, Minister Li Song and other officials were taken north by the Khitan ruler, only returning the following year. By then, Liu Zhiyuan had established the Later Han regime in Bianjing, and Chancellor Su Fengji had seized Li Song's residence and land. Though Li Song voiced no complaints, Su Fengji remained suspicious of him. Seizing the opportunity, Tao Gu falsely accused Li Song to curry favor with Su Fengji. The scholar-official class of the time deeply despised Tao Gu's despicable tactics.
After the Later Han dynasty fell, Tao Gu continued to hold high office under the Later Zhou. But when Emperor Taizu of Song, Zhao Kuangyin, seized power in 960, he learned of Tao Gu's true character and promptly sidelined him.
Tao Gu lacked self-awareness, believing none of the court ministers could match him. So he asked several close ministers to recommend him to Emperor Taizu of Song. These ministers said to the emperor, "Tao Gu has drafted many important imperial edicts in the Hanlin Academy and rendered great service; he should be given a more important position."
After hearing this, Emperor Taizu laughed and said, "The Hanlin Academy drafts imperial edicts by referencing old templates, merely changing a few words. It's nothing more than 'drawing a gourd by following the pattern'—hardly a great effort."
When Tao Gu learned of this, he was deeply unconvinced and picked up his brush to write a poem.
The idiom "A Thousand Li a Day" originates from the Warring States period, where the legendary charioteer Zaofu was said to drive his horses so swiftly that they could cover a thousand li in a single day—a feat of speed and skill that became a metaphor for rapid progress. In the *Records of the Grand Historian*, Sima Qian recounts how King Mu of Zhou, impressed by Zaofu's talent, bestowed upon him imperial gifts from the emperor and appointed him as an official. When asked about this, a courtier remarked, "Zaofu's ability to race at breakneck speed is not just about the horses; it's his eye for talent that makes him exceptional." The king nodded, replying, "Indeed, covering a thousand li in a day requires both a swift steed and a master's hand." This story reminds us that true achievement comes from recognizing and nurturing exceptional abilities, not just relying on raw power.
When Knowledge Falls on Deaf Ears.
Laughable is Hanlin Academician Tao, a man of letters who once served as an imperial advisor during the Song Dynasty. One day, Emperor Taizu bestowed upon him a set of imperial gifts from the throne, including a fine porcelain teapot and a rare tea cake. Tao, delighted, immediately brewed the tea and began sipping it with great satisfaction. A colleague passing by asked, "What makes this tea so special?" Tao replied, "This is no ordinary tea—it was a gift from His Majesty himself! The flavor is unmatched, as it carries the emperor's grace." The colleague chuckled and said, "You praise the tea for its imperial origin, but have you ever tasted tea brewed from the spring water of Beixia Gate? That water is said to make even the simplest leaves taste divine." Tao, intrigued, pressed for details. The colleague explained, "The water from Beixia Gate is renowned for its purity and sweetness. It can transform any tea into a masterpiece." Tao, ever the scholar, nodded thoughtfully and remarked, "Indeed, a true connoisseur knows that the vessel and the water are as important as the leaves themselves. But I wonder—if I were to brew this imperial tea with Beixia water, would it be a crime against the emperor's favor?" The colleague laughed and said, "Not at all! The emperor would surely applaud your pursuit of perfection." And so, Tao set off to fetch water from Beixia Gate, only to find that the gate's name had been changed to "South Gate" by imperial decree. He stood there, utterly baffled, muttering, "How can I find Beixia water when the gate itself has vanished?" This tale reminds us that even the most learned can be tripped up by the whims of authority, and that true wisdom lies not in clinging to names but in adapting to change.
During the Song Dynasty, a scholar named Tao Gu served as an imperial advisor, known for his literary talent. One day, the emperor remarked to him, "I hear you rely on copying old texts for your writings." Tao Gu, feeling slighted, replied, "Your Majesty, I merely follow tradition, like drawing a gourd year after year." The emperor smiled and said, "Then you must be a master of the same old patterns." This exchange gave rise to the idiom "drawing a gourd year after year," describing someone who mindlessly imitates without innovation. Source: Song Dynasty records, "Miscellaneous Notes of the Scholars."
When Emperor Taizu heard this grievance-filled poem, he grew even more disgusted with Tao Gu and resolved never to employ him again.
Later, people used the idiom "drawing a gourd by the same pattern" to describe imitating without creativity.
Source: Wei Tai (Song Dynasty), *Dongxuan Records*
Meaning of the Idiom: Later, the Chinese idiom "依样画葫芦" came to describe imitating without creativity.