作者：张慈贇
出版社：上海译文出版社
格式: AZW3, DOCX, EPUB, MOBI, PDF, TXT
中国成语故事(英文版)试读：
Introduction
Whenever the “cat gets your tongue” or a situation demands meaning “in a nutshell,” there can be no better way to “say it with words” than injecting an idiom into the conversation. The Chinese language is especially rich in idioms where a suitable phrase can be found for nearly every occasion.
It goes without saying that the expression contained in idioms is innately linked to their native culture and, although they are a refined method of expressing a specific meaning, the richness of this form of language can be greatly enhanced by an understanding of the historical background and origin of the phrase.
Chinese idioms abound in stories, many of which are now forgotten or unknown to Chinese speakers today even though the idioms themselves are still being used every day.
Originally published in a weekly column in Shanghai Daily, this collection of one hundred Chinese idioms details the stories behind each one and offers a humorous and fascinating insight into the cultural history of China.
From paper tigers to praying mantis, to the music of nature and heavenly robes, these tales have not only shed light on the traditional Chinese way of thinking, but also illustrated many of its ancient customs.
So for those who delight in history and are eager to gain a better understanding of the Chinese culture and language, the book Chinese Idioms and Their Stories provides an excellent way of “killing two birds with one stone.”
按图索骥 (àn tú suǒ jì) A winged steed
A father and son both came to fame in ancient China because of their relationship with horses. Today, they are still well known to most Chinese thanks not only to the domestic animals, but also to this popular idiom called An Tu Suo Ji.
Bo Le, who lived during the Spring and Autumn Period (770-476 BC), was a specialist at judging horses.
It is said that at just one glance, Bo could spot a “winged steed” (an exceptional animal that could run nearly 500 kilometers a day) from a thousand galloping horses.
So today, his name is frequently used to praise people who have a “good eye” at discovering talented young singers, dancers, athletes, artists, scientists or anyone who has an unusual gift in a specific field.
Bo had a son. Unlike his father, the son had no outstanding qualities at all and was known as a good-for-nothing.
However, like his father, the son is also remembered today by many because of his involvement in this idiom, which translates literally “looking for a steed according to a picture.”
As the best horse breeder of his time, the senior Bo was not only respected by his peers but also by the duke of the State of Qin. One day, the duke said to him: “As you are getting advanced in age, have you ever thought of passing down your exquisite skills to anyone?”
“Yes, Your Excellency,” answered Bo. “But regrettably my only son is really a dumb boy and knows little about horses. So, I will probably have to write down all my know-how and experiences if they are to benefit future generations of horse breeders.”
With encouragement from the duke and after months of toil, Bo finished his book on horses. When the son saw it, he read a few pages on how to determine which horses could be tamed into “winged steeds.” According to the book, a potential “winged steed” should have a strong brow and deep-set eyes. There was also a graphic in the book depicting this part of such a steed.
After copying the picture, the son decided to go out to find a “winged steed” so that he could become a master horse breeder like his father.
However, after wandering around for a whole day, he failed to find a single horse that fitted the description and the picture.
On his way home, the son suddenly saw a big toad sitting on the roadside. He found that the toad had a strong brow and deep-set eyes similar to the ones in the picture. He was overjoyed at his discovery and ran into his father’s room shouting: “Dad, Dad! I’ve just found a winged steed!” “Really? Where’s it,” the father asked suspiciously.
“Just in front of our house. Come on, Dad, let’s go and have a look.” Going outside, the son pointed to the toad and said that the amphibian fitted the description of a “winged steed” in the book, except for its legs, which did not look quite like those of a horse.
Letting out a long sigh, the senior Bo said: “My son, you did very well. But the only problem is that the ‘winged steed’ you have found can only hop around and you will never be able to ride it.”
Today, people often cite this idiom to describe any single-minded dogmatist who brings back a “toad” when asked to find a “winged steed.”
百步穿杨 (bǎi bù chuān yáng) Shooting a willow leaf
There must be hundreds of ways to evaluate a sharp-shooter. But for the Chinese, the sole qualification for an expert marksman is Bai Bu Chuan Yang or “to pierce a willow leaf with an arrow from the distance of 100 paces.”
The expression is derived from a story about a legendary archer named Yang Youji.
Yang lived in the State of Chu during the Spring and Autumn Period (770-476 BC). He started to practice martial arts and archery when he was just a child. As he grew older, Yang became a top archer in his home district.
One day, Yang watched a group of young archers compete near his home. First, they shot a target erected beneath a willow tree at a distance of about 50 paces. Most seemed to do quite well, so it was difficult to judge who was the best archer.
Yang then suggested someone paint a willow leaf red and then the competitors shoot at the leaf from the distance of 100 paces. One by one, the archers tried and failed to hit the red willow leaf which was quivering in the gentle breeze.
“Let me have a try,” Yang finally said.
Taking the bow, he held his breath and concentrated on the crimson willow leaf. When he slowly released his grip, the arrow flew through the air with a powerful whoosh and pierced a hole in the painted leaf.
Loud applause burst from the onlookers.
However, one of the young archers dared Yang to shoot down more willow leaves to prove he was really a sharpshooter. Yang agreed.
He collected 100 arrows and then shot them one after another. All the people present were awed to see that out of the 100 shots, Yang had 100 bull’s eyes.
Since then, this idiom has become a widely quoted expression to describe an expert marksman regardless of whether he uses an arrow, a stone, a knife, a gun or a rocket.
班门弄斧 (bān mén nòng fǔ) Respecting rank
To explain the origin and meaning of the Chinese idiom Ban Men Nong Fu, or flaunting one’s proficiency with an axe in front of Lu Ban, we must first introduce two great names in Chinese history.
One is Lu Ban, a legendary master carpenter, and the other is Li Bai, one of the greatest poets the Chinese nation has ever produced.
Lu lived in the State of Chu around the time that the Spring and Autumn Period (770-467 BC) was replaced by the Warring States Period (476-221 BC). As a carpenter, Lu was exceptionally dexterous with all kinds of tools, including axes.
To help his state battle its enemies, the carpenter invented various weapons, such as tactical push-hooks for fighting on boats and scaling-ladders for attacking walled cities. In addition, he created a number of carpenter’s tools and helped build many famous bridges and palaces in the state.
Lu was remembered by successive generations as the best carpenter in Chinese history and the father of Chinese carpentry.
Li Bai (701-762 AD) was a highly-gifted poet during the Tang Dynasty (618-907 AD), the golden age of Chinese poetry. After his death, people built a beautiful tomb for him in Caishiji, a craggy bank along the Yangtze River in today’s Anhui Province.
Almost every day, throngs of his admirers visited the tomb. And, more often than not, they scribbled one or two poems on the tombstone as if visiting it gave them some fleeting inspiration.
Many hundred years later, a scholar called Mei Zhihuan went to visit Li’s tomb. When he found the tombstone was almost totally covered by poorly-written verses, he decided to add to the “anthology” to prevent any more poems on it.
Mei’s poem reads, to this effect, “A tomb near the Caishi River marks the everlasting fame of Li Bai; to and fro, every passer-by writes a poem on the tombstone just like an unskilled carpenter trying to show off his proficiency with an axe in front of Lu Ban.”
Although the scholar’s poem did not stop people from continuing to write on Li’s tomb, his expression has since become a popular idiom in the Chinese language. Today, it is cited either to ridicule someone who displays lesser skills before an expert, or to express one’s modesty when demonstrating a skill in front of colleagues.
别开生面 (bié kāi shēng miàn) Drawing new faces
The Chinese idiom Bie Kai Sheng Mian is now widely used to mean bringing forth something new, such as adopting a new style or breaking a new path particularly in the fields of art or literature.
The original meaning of the expression, however, was to retouch an old painting to make it shine again.
Cao Ba was a legendary artist who lived during the Tang Dynasty (618-907 AD). Cao started to study Chinese calligraphy and painting when he was a child. Later, he became known for his fabulous paintings of people and horses.
In 718 AD, Emperor Xuanzong invited Cao to paint at the imperial court. Watching Cao at work, the emperor was so impressed that he declared Cao the designated painter to the court.
As a result, only a few of Cao’s creations could be found outside the imperial court. Owners of his paintings were held in high regard.
Near the imperial court, there was a grandiose pavilion which was famous for its beautiful frescoes depicting the 24 heroes who helped establish the Tang Dynasty. After decades of exposure to the elements, the plaster had begun to peel and the color to fade.
One day, Emperor Xuanzong asked Cao to recreate the murals in the pavilion.
After spending days studying the old paintings and reading all the background literature available about the 24 heroes, Cao undertook the royal assignment.
When his work was completed, the new paintings caused an enduring sensation. Some of the figures were so vivid that viewers felt they could almost step down from the wall.
To show his royal appreciation, the emperor gave the artist a big promotion.
Several years later, Du Fu, a famous Chinese poet of that time, wrote a poem praising Cao. One of the verses used the expression Bie Kai Sheng Mian to describe how the artist vividly recreated the faces of the heroes.
While Cao was immortalized by the famous poem and later this idiom, his later years were not entirely happy ones.
As an old man, he was expelled from the imperial court because he offended the emperor over something trivial.
Despite his advanced age, Cao was forced to make his living by drawing portraits of passers-by in the street.
兵不厌诈 (bīng bú yàn zhà) Nothing is too deceitful in war
There are many Chinese sayings about war and combat strategy. This idiom Bing Bu Yan Zha or “nothing is too deceitful in war” is but one of them.
This expression was first uttered by a general living in the Eastern Han Dynasty (25-220 AD).
Under the rule of Emperor An, Qiang people in the northwest border region organized a revolt and started to invade the inland provinces. Yu Xu, a general stationed in Wudu, was ordered to suppress the rebellion.
Learning that Yu was heading to today’s Gansu Province with 3,000 soldiers, the rebels decided to ambush the imperial troops in a valley. However, after receiving a secret report about the rebels’ plan, the general ordered his troops to stop marching ahead and asked a number of locals to help spread the word that he was requesting the emperor send more troops.
The rebels believed the story and cancelled their plan to ambush Yu.
Soon afterwards, the rebels withdrew from their positions and Yu and his troops quickly passed through the valley and headed to the heartland of Gansu.
While marching ahead at a speed of more than 50km a day, Yu ordered his men to leave behind more field stoves with each passing night to give the enemy the wrong impression that he was constantly getting reinforcements.
Since the number of rebels totaled nearly 10,000, more than triple the number of Yu’s men, the general first tried to avoid direct confrontation with the rebels and then selected a favorable location for a decisive battle.
He ordered his soldiers to first use weak bows to encourage the enemies to move closer. When they did, Yu’s men switched to strong bows to kill more of the enemy.
Many of Yu’s tactics were quite different from those used by earlier military strategists.
So, one of Yu’s aides asked what his principle was in adopting appropriate tactics. The general responded: “In war, nothing is too deceitful.”
博士买驴 (bó shì mǎi lǘ) A donkey receipt
Two interesting sayings in the Chinese language are often used to deride writing crammed with empty verbiage. One likens such works to the bandages once used to bind women’s feet into so-called tiny “Lily Feet” during China’s feudalistic years. People could imagine that such bandages must be both long and fetid.
The other is the idiom Bo Shi Mai Lv, or “an imperial court academician buys a donkey.” To understand this idiom, one must know the story behind it.
Yan Zhitui was a famous writer during the Northern Qi Dynasty (550-577 AD) who advocated a simple and direct style of writing. He was appointed to several important posts at the imperial court when he was young. Later, due to the then-turbulent political situation, he decided to retire to his hometown to concentrate on teaching its young people.
At that time, an abstruse and verbose writing style was in vogue and young people in Yan’s hometown were blindly following the trend. To persuade them to adopt a simple and straightforward writing style, Yan told them a story about an anonymous imperial court academician.
One day, the academician went to buy a donkey at a farmers’ fair. After sealing a deal with a trader, the scholar asked for a receipt. The trader told him, “Sorry, sir, I can’t write. Why don’t you write the receipt for me since you are a learned man?” The academician agreed.
The trader immediately brought paper and a brush pen for the academician. The scholar sat down on the roadside and began to write the voucher. He wrote on and on, and he soon attracted a group of curious onlookers.
The trader became impatient and asked the scholar, “What are you writing? Could you read out loud what you have already written down for me?”
“Yes, of course,” the scholar answered.
Then, as if he were reciting a newly-written poem, he read the three pages that he had just written. But after he finished reading, the trader hadn’t heard a single word about a donkey. So he asked again, “Sir, why don’t you simply say that on this date, I sold a donkey to you and charged you such an amount of money? What are the three pages of mumble jumble all about?”
Hearing the conversation, the onlookers all burst out laughing.
After telling the story, Yan asked the young people, “Is there anyone among you who wishes to walk in the shoes of the academician?”
Though it originated some 1,450 years ago, today this idiom is still frequently cited by Chinese people to satirize pieces of writing in the style of that donkey receipt.
跛鳖千里 (bǒ biē qiān lǐ) A lame tortoise triumphs at last
In English, there is an often quoted fable about a race between a tortoise and a hare but there is a Chinese version that pits a lame tortoise against six steeds.
The Chinese story has also inspired a popular idiom, Bo Bie Qian Li, or “a lame tortoise goes a thousand miles,” praising perseverance and unremitting struggle towards a set goal.
The story goes like this:
A long, long time ago, there were six steeds living in a mountainous area in central China. One day, the horses decided to leave their home to look for a better place to live.
But after walking into an expanse of woods with no obvious road ahead, the six could not decide where to go. Suddenly, they heard a greeting “Hello, good morning” uttered by a crippled tortoise inching his way along a winding path.
“Where are you going?” one of the horses asked.
“I have been told there’s a paradise for animals in the south and I’m now on my way there,” the tortoise replied.
“Do you know where exactly it is?” asked the horses.
“Not exactly,” the tortoise said. “It’s about one or two thousand miles away.”
“Traveling at such a slow pace, do you think you can ever reach there?” one of the steeds asked.
“Yes, as long as I keep on going,” the tortoise answered. After the conversation, the tortoise continued his long march while the six steeds engaged in a heated discussion about how they could find a shortcut to the paradise.
A red horse suggested they go south. But a grey one wanted to head west. A black horse said east seemed most promising. The remaining three still couldn’t make up their mind. So, the debate went on and on. Meanwhile, the tortoise kept heading south.
After three years, the tortoise found the legendary paradise and settled down. But in paradise, the tortoise did not find the six steeds it met in the woods.
Each morning, it climbed to the top of a hill and looked to the north, hoping to spot the horses. They never appeared.
Today, this expression is used to encourage people in poor conditions to resolutely pursue their goals.
沧海桑田 (cāng hǎi sāng tián) Forever changing
There are perhaps hundreds of ways to describe the constant changes in world events. The Chinese idiom Cang Hai Sang Tian, or “the blue sea and the mulberry orchard,” is an attempt at just this.
This expression comes from an ancient Chinese legend. The story goes that in ancient times there was an immortal called Wang Fangping. One day, Wang decided to visit a man whose name was Cai Jing.
Before the immortal’s arrival, the Cai family first heard divine music drifting down from the heavens. Then they saw a group of musicians riding on the back of Chinese unicorns descending into their compound. A moment later, Wang and his entourage arrived.
Wearing a five-color ribbon, Wang was seen sitting in a chariot drawn by five dragons. All his guards were big fellows carrying various kinds of flags.
When Wang got out of the chariot, all his entourage, including the musicians, vanished. Wang ordered an invisible servant to invite Ma Gu to join him for the dinner.
The Cai family guessed that Ma Gu must be another immortal and they were eager to discover what Ma would look like.
A few minutes later, they heard the invisible servant telling Wang that Ma Gu was inspecting Penglai, a legendary divine island in the East Sea and that she would come to join Wang as soon as she finished the inspection.
When Ma Gu arrived, Cai and his family were surprised to see that Ma was in her late teens and wearing a beautiful gown made of rare embroidered silk.
Wang greeted the girl and ordered the invisible servants to serve dinner. During the meal, the girl told Wang that since she became an immortal, she had seen the vast East Sea turn into a huge mulberry orchard and then become sea again three times.
“During my last inspection tour, I found the sea had become shallow again. I suspect it will turn into a continent soon. And I’m sure such changes will go on forever,” said the divine girl.
After the dinner, the two immortals said good-bye to the Cai family and left in the same manner as they arrived.
Today, few Chinese remember this pedestrian legend, but most of them know this idiom originating from the comment made by the divine girl on the changing East Sea.
Philosophers believe that this is mainly because the expression can help people to understand the transitory nature of man’s life in comparison to the relatively eternal universe.
城门失火 (chéng mén shī huǒ) City gate on fire
It happens quite often that someone is made a collateral victim for reasons which sound far-fetched or totally irrelevant. The Chinese Cheng Men Shi Huo, or “the city gate is on fire”, is a good description of such a circumstance.
Actually, this saying is only the first part of an expression concerning the death of fish in a moat surrounding the city gate.
Behind this popular Chinese saying is the following story:
Once upon a time, a city gate in the State of Song caught fire. Many people rushed to the site carrying basins and buckets to help put out the fire.
However, they could not find any water nearby except that in the moat. So they formed a long queue to pass water from the moat to the site of the fire.
It took nearly half a day to bring the raging fire under control and by the time they did, the moat was almost dry.
It was then that the people realized that all the fish in the moat had died in the process. Some had been thrown into the fire and some had perished at the bottom of the moat. Those that survived had been taken home by firefighters as a windfall.
This incident was described in an article by Du Bi, a scholar in the Northern Qi Dynasty (550-577 AD), who created the phrase which
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