During the Eastern Han Dynasty, scholars seeking official positions needed not only deep learning but also a solid reputation to earn the chance of "special imperial summons" or recommendations from high officials. Some would "repeatedly ignore summons," and with each refusal, their prestige grew, making their social standing equal to a high-ranking official—a tactic used by a few fame-seeking scholars who valued reputation over office.
Feng Liang of Nanyang was exactly this kind of renowned scholar.
Feng Liang was born into poverty and orphaned young. After a bit of schooling, he became a lowly clerk in the county office, copying documents and organizing files, earning just enough to scrape by. Marriage and children only tightened his belt, but Feng Liang accepted his lot, knowing he had no other skills. One day, a messenger arrived with an urgent summons from the prefect. Feng Liang, feeling trapped and weary, suddenly snapped, "I've had enough of this servile life!" He smashed the official carriage, killed the horse, and fled into the wilderness, where he studied the classics in solitude for years. When he finally returned, he had transformed into a learned scholar, eventually rising to become an imperial advisor—a man who had traded a clerk's pen for a sage's wisdom.
At thirty, Feng Liang was appointed as an attendant to the county commandant, a low-ranking military officer. As a scholar, Feng Liang found the role utterly mismatched—he was a man of the pen forced into a world of the sword. Trailing behind the commandant on official business, he felt like nothing more than a lapdog.
When the county was expecting an inspector sent by the prefect to oversee local affairs, the magistrate ordered Feng Liang to wait at the post road and greet him with utmost respect, escorting him to the county office to complete the mission.
Feng Liang drove his carriage to the crossroads, waiting from morning until sunset for the Inspector to arrive, but no one came—not a message to say he could leave, not even a meal. Starving and humiliated, Feng Liang grew angrier by the moment, thinking of all his grievances as a lowly clerk. Deciding that flight was the best strategy, he whipped his horse over a dozen li to a remote hillside, drew his sword, killed the horse, smashed the carriage to pieces, tore his official robe into shreds, and stomped his hat flat. Then he fled to Qianwei, where he studied the *Book of Songs*, *Book of Rites*, and *Book of Changes* under the renowned teacher Du Fu, determined to master true learning.
That night, when Feng Liang's wife saw he hadn't returned home, she waited until dawn, then rushed to the county office to ask, but no one could tell her where Feng Liang was. Panicked, she searched everywhere but found no trace. Over ten days later, in a thicket by the mountain, she discovered a broken cart, a dead horse, and Feng Liang's tattered official robe. Convinced he had been killed by wild beasts or bandits, she wept bitterly and held a funeral for him.
After more than a decade, Feng Liang returned to his hometown. His family, who had long thought him dead, was overjoyed—it felt like happiness had fallen from the sky. By then, Feng Liang had mastered the rites and his conduct was pure and noble; he would not move unless it was proper. He treated his wife with the utmost courtesy, as if they were a ruler and his minister. The villagers remarked, "Feng Liang was gone for over ten years, and when he came back, he seemed like a completely different person. He truly can serve as a model for us all."
Feng Liang was repeatedly summoned to court by imperial carriage, but each time he declined, citing illness and refusing to take office, which only made his reputation grow. The emperor eventually issued a decree ordering Nanyang Commandery to send Feng Liang an annual gift of mutton and rice wine to aid his recovery.
Later, the idiom "Kill the Horse and Destroy the Cart" came to mean abandoning one's official post to live in seclusion.
Source: *Book of the Later Han*, "Biography of Zhou"
Meaning of the Idiom: Later, the Chinese idiom "杀马毁车" came to describe abandoning one's official post to live in seclusion.