Wang Xizhi, the great Eastern Jin Dynasty calligrapher, had a son named Wang Huizhi, known for his unrestrained and unconventional nature—he often roamed the streets with disheveled hair and untidy clothes, visiting friends and calling on acquaintances.
Wang Huizhi, accustomed to laziness, rarely bothered with his official duties. He once served as a cavalry aide under General Huan Chong. One day, Huan Chong asked him, "Do you know what matters you are in charge of?"
When Huan Chong asked Wang Huizhi what his role was, Wang replied vaguely, "Hmm... I suppose I'm in charge of horses." "How many horses are there?" Huan pressed. Wang answered, "I know nothing about horses—I'm a complete amateur, so I never bother with how many." Amused, Huan pressed further, "And lately, how many have died?" Wang shot back, "I can't even keep track of the living ones, so why would I care about the dead?"
Wang Huizhi had a younger brother named Wang Xianzhi, courtesy name Zijing. Influenced by their father, he also became a great calligrapher, and together with their father Wang Xizhi, they were known as the "Two Wangs." The brothers were deeply affectionate and lived in the same room when young. Wang Huizhi often admired his younger brother.
Once, when a fire broke out in their home, Huizhi was so terrified he fled in panic without even putting on his shoes, while Xianzhi remained completely calm, calmly escorted out by a servant.
Another time, a thief broke in at midnight, intending to clear out the Wang household. Wang Xianzhi, unflustered, said calmly, "Thief, that blue felt rug is my family's heirloom—please leave it behind!"
Hearing this, the thief realized his cover was blown and fled in panic.
Later, Wang Huizhi served as an imperial advisor by the emperor's side, but his free-spirited nature clashed with the rigid court etiquette, so he resigned and returned home.
Shortly after returning home, Wang Huizhi and Wang Xianzhi both fell gravely ill. A fortune-teller said, "When a person's life is about to end, if someone living is willing to die in their place and give them their remaining years, then the dying person can survive."
Wang Huizhi said, "My talent and virtue are far inferior to my brother's—let me give him my remaining years!" The fortune-teller shook his head: "To die in someone's place, you must have a longer lifespan yourself. Now you don't have long to live—how can you die for him?"
When Huizhi’s younger brother Xianzhi passed away, Huizhi was deeply shaken—yet at the funeral, he sat motionless, not shedding a single tear.
He picked up the zither that Xianzhi had loved most in life, intending to play a tune. But after tuning the strings for a while, he simply couldn't get it right. Disheartened, he threw the zither aside and lamented, "Zijing, oh Zijing, both man and zither are gone."
This phrase means: "Zijing, oh Zijing, you and your zither have both perished together!"
Wang Huizhi, overwhelmed by grief, saw his own health rapidly decline and died just over a month later.
Later, people used the idiom "Both the Man and His Zither Are Gone" to express the grief of seeing a deceased person's belongings and mourning their loss.
Source: *Book of Jin*, "Biography of Wang Huizhi"
Meaning of the Idiom: Later, the Chinese idiom "人琴俱亡" came to describe how the grief of seeing a deceased person's belongings and mourning their loss is expressed.