During the Ming Dynasty, the founding emperor Zhu Yuanzhang once herded cattle as a boy. After ascending the throne, two childhood friends came to visit. Their vastly different fates hinged on how they spoke.
The first friend bluntly recalled their embarrassing past—stealing beans, breaking pots, and how the emperor once choked on grass. Humiliated before his court, Zhu had him beaten and expelled.
The second friend, however, knelt and narrated the same story with elegance: "Your Majesty, remember when we conquered Luzhou, shattered the city of pots, captured General Bean, and General Vegetable saved the day?" The emperor, pleased, appointed him as imperial guard commander.
Same story, different presentation—diametrically opposite outcomes.
Every person values their dignity. Exposing others' weaknesses is like pouring salt on wounds—it harms both parties. Words are double-edged swords; they can wound or heal. Preserving face for others is preserving a path for yourself.
True wisdom lies not in seeing through everything, but in knowing how to speak with kindness and grace.