During the Spring and Autumn period, Cui Zhu, a powerful minister of the state of Qi, held the reins of both military and political power.
Duke Tang was a high-ranking official in the Qi state's Tangyi region. After Duke Tang's death, the minister Cui Zhu went to pay his respects. Duke Tang's widow, Tang Jiang, was a breathtaking beauty, and the moment Cui Zhu laid eyes on her, he was utterly captivated. Ignoring all advice from his peers, Cui Zhu insisted on marrying Tang Jiang.
Duke Zhuang of Qi was a man of insatiable desires. Knowing full well that his minister Cui Zhu had married the beautiful Tang Jiang, the duke began a secret affair with her. When Cui Zhu discovered the betrayal, he was furious. Feigning illness, he stayed home from court, waiting for his moment.
Soon, Duke Zhuang used the pretext of visiting Cui Zhu to meet with Tang Jiang. Cui Zhu then devised a plan and had the duke killed.
After Duke Zhuang's death, Cui Zhu installed Duke Jing as the ruler of Qi and made himself the prime minister.
The official in charge of compiling the state history of Qi was an upright man. Cui Zhu repeatedly hinted that he should gloss over the matter, but he still recorded it truthfully with the integrity of a historian, stating, "Cui Zhu killed his lord."
Killing one's own ruler was considered an unforgivable crime, despised by all. Cui Zhu was naturally furious. He thought: Since you refuse to show mercy, how can I spare your life? So he killed that historian.
But the next historian, stubborn as an ox, continued to write the truth without flinching. Cui Zhu thought, "Since killing one man isn't enough to silence you, I might as well kill another—let's see if that scares you." So Cui Zhu had that historian killed as well.
In the State of Qi, the powerful minister Cui Zhu murdered his ruler, Duke Zhuang, and seized control of the court. To justify his coup, he ordered the grand historian to record: "Duke Zhuang died of illness." The historian refused, writing instead: "Cui Zhu murdered his lord." Enraged, Cui Zhu had him executed. He then summoned the historian's younger brother, who wrote the same truth. Cui Zhu killed him too. When the third brother took up the brush, he again wrote: "Cui Zhu murdered his lord." Cui Zhu, furious and bewildered, roared, "Your two brothers died for this—do you not fear death?" The historian calmly replied, "A historian's duty is to record the truth. If I falsify history, I betray my office. Death is lighter than dishonor." Defeated, Cui Zhu let him live. As the historian walked out, he met a colleague from the south carrying a bamboo slip, ready to continue the record if he too had been killed. This story shows that truth, once spoken, cannot be silenced—and that integrity, even in the face of death, is the historian's ultimate legacy.
When the fourth court historian in a row still refused to bend, insisting on recording the truth, the frustrated minister Cui Zhu finally gave up, muttering, "Killing people one after another is no way to solve this," and abandoned his efforts to alter the historical record.
Later readers of history, upon reaching this passage, all remarked that Cui Zhu had tried to cover up his own disgraceful deeds, but the actual effect was the opposite—truly, the more he tried to conceal, the more he exposed himself.
Later, the idiom "The More One Tries to Hide, the More It Shows" came to describe attempts to conceal the truth that only make it more obvious.
Source: *Zuo Zhuan*, "Duke Zhao's Thirty-First Year"
Meaning of the Idiom: Later, the Chinese idiom "欲盖弥彰" came to describe attempts to conceal the truth that only make it more obvious.