Sacrifice the Plum for the Peach

Gǔ Yuèfǔshī “Jūnzǐxíng” lǐ xiědào: táoshù zhǎng zài lùshuǐjǐng biān, lǐshù jiù zhǎng zài tā shēnpáng.

The ancient yuefu poem 'The Gentleman' says: a peach tree grew by the open well, and right beside it grew a plum tree.

Liǎng kē shù gēnxū xiānglián, zhīyè xiāngyǎn, jiù xiàng xíngyǐng-bùlí de hǎo xiōngdì.

The two trees were joined at the roots, their branches and leaves overlapping, like good brothers who never leave each other's side.

Yǒu yì tiān, dìlǐ de chóngzi zuān chūlái, zhuānmén kěnshí táoshù de gēn.

One day, bugs came up out of the ground and set to gnawing the roots of the peach tree.

Táoshù tòng de wújì-kěshī, yǎnkàn jiù yào kūsǐ.

The peach tree hurt unbearably and had no way to save itself; before its eyes it was about to wither and die.

Lǐshù èrhuà-bùshuō, bǎ zìjǐ de gēn shēn guòqù, ràng chóngzi lái kěn zìjǐ.

Without a second word, the plum tree stretched its own roots over and let the bugs come and gnaw it instead.

Méi guò duōjiǔ, táoshù ānrán-wúyàng, lǐshù què jiāngsǐ zài yuándì.

Before long the peach tree was safe and sound, while the plum tree stood stiff and dead where it was.

Hòulái de rénnen dúdào zhè shǒu shī, dōu wèi lǐshù de shějǐ shēnshēn gǎndòng.

People of later ages who read this poem were all deeply moved by the plum tree's self-sacrifice.

“Lǐdài-táojiāng” zhè sì ge zì, yě chéngle shěxiǎo-jiùdà, shějǐ-jiùrén de xiàngzhēng.

The four characters 'the plum takes the peach's place and dies' became a symbol of giving up the small to save the big, of sacrificing oneself to save others.

Gǔdài jiàngshuài kàndào zhèlǐ, biàn bǎ zhè zhǒng “yǐ júbù huàn quánjú” de sīlù zǒngjié chéng yì tiáo jìcè.

When generals of old saw this, they summed up this way of thinking — 'trade the part to keep the whole' — as a stratagem.

Zhè jiùshì “Lǐdài-táojiāng” —— zài guānjiàn shíhou, nìngkě xīshēng xiǎo de, cìyào de, yě yào bǎozhù dà de, gēnběn de.

This is 'sacrificing the plum for the peach': at a crucial moment, one would rather give up what is small and secondary in order to protect what is big and essential.

Xiàqí shí chángcháng jiàndào zhèyàng de zhāofǎ: wèile bǎozhù zhǔshuài, qíshǒu nìngkě diūdiào yì chē yì mǎ.

You often see the same move in chess: to save the king, a player would rather give up a rook and a knight.

Tā de zhìhuì zàiyú: déshī zhījiān yào yǒu qǔshě, dǒngde fàngqì, cái néng zhēnzhèng shǒuzhù zuì zhòngyào de dōngxi.

Its wisdom lies here: between gain and loss you must choose; only by knowing what to let go can you truly hold on to what matters most.