During the reign of King Jie of the Xia Dynasty, there lived a high ranking official known as Lu San Gong, who served as Grand Tutor at court. He was a man who enjoyed writing poetry. Some of his poems were acceptable, but most were ordinary and unremarkable. Lu San Gong himself understood this well. He never claimed to be a true poet. Instead, he modestly viewed himself as a government official with a fondness for poetry, not someone destined for literary greatness or lasting fame.
However, life often takes strange turns. Many ambitious courtiers saw Lu San Gong’s love for poetry as an opportunity. Some hoped to gain favor, others sought promotion, and a few even dreamed of building powerful careers through flattery. Over time, these people skillfully fed his pride with constant praise. Before long, Lu San Gong began to believe the illusion that he was a great poet, worthy of comparison with legendary figures such as Qu Yuan and Tao Qian.
A well known tale about this illusion has been passed down through generations. One night during the Lantern Festival, Lu San Gong invited five assistant officials to his garden to admire the full moon and discuss poetry. After drinking wine and enjoying the evening, he proudly asked each assistant for their opinion on a new poem he had just written. The first assistant praised it as a perfect masterpiece. The second called it a great work of art. The third went even further, calling it extraordinary. The fourth declared it a magnificent artistic achievement. All four exhausted the strongest words of praise, each trying to surpass the others.
When it came time for the fifth assistant to speak, he panicked. Every powerful compliment had already been used. Nervous and distracted by his personal sorrow of having no son despite his age, he misspoke. He called the poem a work of extinction, a phrase that also meant the end of one’s family line. His words were meant as praise, but they came out disastrously wrong.
Lu San Gong misunderstood completely. He believed the assistant was mocking and insulting him. His face turned pale, then he burst into cold laughter. Enraged, he declared that anyone who dared to label his poetry as extinct would be sentenced to life in prison. The next morning, the punishment was carried out exactly as ordered.
Later generations reflected on this story with bitter irony. They believed all five assistants deserved blame, not for criticism, but for blind flattery that fed a dangerous ego. Yet only one suffered, while the others escaped responsibility. The tale remains a lasting warning about the damage caused by false praise, unchecked pride, and abused power, reminding future generations that dishonesty often leads to consequences far greater than intended.