People from different parts of China can be pretty different. Someone from Shanghai may have a very different background, personality, and lifestyle from someone from Beijing or Sichuan. People from some places tend to be more outgoing and warm, while people from other places may be more reserved. But being reserved doesn’t mean being unfriendly.

I sometimes find it hard to talk about things like Chinese food in just a few sentences. When someone tells me they like or dislike Chinese food, I usually say, “Well, that’s a long story...” China has at least eight major culinary traditions, commonly known as the Eight Great Cuisines, plus countless regional and local variations. And the flavors can be sweet, spicy, sour, savory, or some combination of all of them. Even “spicy” doesn’t mean just one thing. Sichuan cuisine and Hunan cuisine, for example, are both famous for being spicy, but they have different kinds of heat.

The same goes for Chinese tea. There are several major categories, including green, black, red, white, oolong, and Jasmine-scented teas, and each has many different varieties. The brand, where the tea is grown, and even the growing conditions can all affect the taste. Even within green tea, Longjing (龙井), Biluochun (碧螺春) and Maojian(毛尖), for example, have quite different flavors and aromas.

So when we talk about Chinese people or Chinese culture, I think it’s worth remembering just how much diversity there is within China itself.

对酒当歌

In my previous post, I mentioned Cao Zhi (曹植 192-232 CE), the son of Cao Cao. He was the greatest literary figure of the late Han-Three kingdoms period.

Literally, 才高八斗 means “having eight dǒu of talent.” 斗 (dǒu) here was an ancient Chinese unit of volume. In other words, this idiom basically treats talent as something you can measure with a measuring container.

About 200 years after Cao Zhi, the Southern Dynasties poet Xie Lingyun (谢灵运, 385–433 CE) supposedly said:

天下才有一石，曹子建独占八斗，我得一斗，天下共分一斗。 (曹子建 is the courtesy name of CaoZhi)

Basically: “If all the literary talent in the world amounted to ten dǒu, Cao Zhi alone would have eight. I get one, and everyone else has to share the last one.”

Pretty generous to Cao Zhi, and pretty generous to himself, too!

Today, 才高八斗 simply means extremely talented or well-educated, especially in literature or writing.

For example:

他才高八斗，写了一手好诗。
He is incredibly talented and writes wonderful poetry.

So if someone tells you 你真是才高八斗！, that's a big compliment: “You're incredibly talented!”

A little background

Xie Lingyun (谢灵运) lived long before the Tang and Song dynasties, so he gave eight 斗 to Cao Zhi. Later generations may have teased him a little for keeping one 斗 for himself, but nobody took away Cao Zhi's eight. Cao Zhi's reputation as a literary genius has lasted for centuries.
And even after the Tang and Song dynasties, two of the great literary eras in Chinese history,  Cao Zhi is still considered one of the great figures in the history of Chinese literature.

(AI-assisted editing)

You may remember 望梅止渴 , which comes from a story about Cao Cao(曹操). 对酒当歌, on the other hand, comes from his famous poem "短歌行" (Duǎn Gē Xíng).

It comes from these famous lines:

对酒当歌，人生几何？ Duì jiǔ dāng gē, rén shēng jǐ hé? 譬如朝露，去日苦多。 pì rú zhāo lù，qù rì kǔ duō
“With wine before us, let’s sing. How much time do we really have in life? Just like morning dew, life is fleeting.”

Today, 对酒当歌 is often used when enjoying a drink with friends, or when talking about enjoying the moment and reflecting on how short life is.

A little background

Cao Cao (曹操) was not only a famous warlord and statesman, but also an important poet of the Jian'an period (建安), which was the final period of the Eastern Han dynasty.

He was one of the leading figures of Jian'an literature, together with his sons Cao Pi (曹丕) and Cao Zhi (曹植). The three are known as the “Three Caos” (三曹). Together with the “Seven Scholars of Jian'an” (建安七子), they are regarded as the major literary figures of the Jian'an period.

Remeber this one! If you ever go to China, try raising your glass at a dinner and saying: “对酒当歌，人生几何！”
It’ll definitely liven things up!

After two sad idioms, I want to introduce a happier one.
I bet you've heard of 得意忘形 (dé yì wàng xíng), it's a pretty famous Chinese idiom.

It literally means “to be so happy that you forget your proper composure.”

The idiom comes from a story about Ruan Ji (阮籍), one of the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove ( 竹林七贤 previous post). According to The Book of Jin (《晋书》), Ruan Ji loved drinking, whistling, and playing the qin, a traditional Chinese stringed instrument. When he got really into something he enjoyed, he would forget all about himself. It's kind of like how upbeat music makes you want to move your body.

Interestingly, the original meaning was actually neutral, not negative. But over time, the meaning changed.
Today, 得意忘形 usually has a negative meaning. It describes someone who gets carried away when things are going well and starts getting a little too proud or self-satisfied.

And here's a fun little bonus: 得意忘言 and 得意忘象 are two other idioms with the 得意忘... pattern. They're not nearly as well-known as 得意忘形, but they're pretty interesting too. They both have a similar idea of focusing on the meaning rather than the words or the outward form.
For example, when you learn a math formula, you might work through a bunch of practice problems to really understand how it works. Once you've got the idea, you don't need to remember all those specific problems anymore. You remember the principle or idea, not the examples. That's kind of what 得意忘象 means.

You may remember Ji Kang (嵇康), Shan tao (山涛), and Wang Rong (王戎) from my previous post 鹤立鸡群 . They were three of the Seven sages of the bamboo grove (竹林七贤), a famous group of seven intellectuals who lived around the time of the transition from the Three Kingdoms period to the Jin (晋) dynasty.

I also mentioned Ji Kang’s complicated relationship with Shan Tao and his famous “Letter severing relations with Shan juyuan” (与山巨源绝交书). shan juyuan (山巨源) was Shan Tao’s courtesy name.

Well, there’s another well-known idiom from this letter:

赴汤蹈火 (fù tāng dǎo huǒ)

It literally means “to enter boiling water and walk through fire.” In everyday use, it means being willing to face extreme danger or even risk your life for something. Here, 汤 (tāng) means “boiling water,” not “soup.”

Here’s the original text: 此犹禽鹿，少见驯育，则服从教制；长而见羁，则狂顾顿缨，赴蹈汤火。

Ji Kang compared himself to a wild deer. If a deer is trained from a young age, it may learn to accept being controlled. But try to restrain it when it’s already grown, and it may struggle so fiercely that it would rather run into boiling water and fire than be restrained.

The Seven sages didn’t all feel the same way about the Sima family and the Jin government. Ji Kang refused to compromise and eventually paid for it with his life. In a way, he really did 赴汤蹈火.

Shan Tao, on the other hand, eventually entered government service. Ji Kang ended their friendship because Shan Tao recommended him for an official position. But even after Ji Kang was executed, Shan Tao helped raise his son, Ji Shao (嵇绍).

And here’s the ironic twist: Ji Shao later became a Jin official himself and eventually died protecting the Jin emperor. In his own way, he was also willing to 赴汤蹈火. Father and son may have taken different paths, but deep down, they were much alike.

In the end, Ji Kang not only gave this idiom, but also showed what it meant through his own life.

(AI-assisted editing)

Have you ever heard of the Chinese idiom 博士买驴 (Bó shì mǎi lǘ)?

It literally means “A scholar buys a donkey.”

A little background: In ancient China, “博士” (bó shì) was an official title for a learned scholar. It’s different from today’s meaning of “PhD” or “doctorate.”

The idiom comes from The Family Instructions of Master Yan (颜氏家训), written by Yan Zhitui (颜之推) during the Northern and Southern Dynasties (420–589 CE).

The original text says: 邺下谚云：“博士买驴，书券三纸，未有驴字。”

“There’s a saying in Ye: A scholar buys a donkey, writes three pages of contract, yet never once mentioned the word ‘donkey.’ ” - It seems he wasn't writing a contract after all, but a letter fit for the Emperor. 😄

Today, 博士买驴 describes someone who talks or writes at great length without actually getting to the point.

Have you ever heard of the Chinese idiom 博士买驴 (Bó shì mǎi lǘ)?

It literally means “A scholar buys a donkey.”

A little background: In ancient China, “博士” (bó shì) was an official title for a learned scholar. It’s different from today’s meaning of “PhD” or “doctorate.”

The idiom comes from The Family Instructions of Master Yan (颜氏家训), written by Yan Zhitui (颜之推) during the Northern and Southern Dynasties (420–589 CE).

The original text says: 邺下谚云：“博士买驴，书券三纸，未有驴字。”

“There’s a saying in Ye: A scholar buys a donkey, writes three pages of contract, yet never once mentioned the word ‘donkey.’” - It seems he wasn't writing a contract after all, but a letter fit for the Emperor. 😄

Today, 博士买驴 describes someone who talks or writes at great length without actually getting to the point.

鹤立鸡群

I mentioned Sima Zhao (司马昭) yesterday. Today, we have an idiom that is all about him.

Meaning

Literally: “Sima Zhao's intentions are known even to every passerby.”

Unlike most Chinese idioms, 司马昭之心路人皆知 is not a four-character idiom. It has nine characters, yet it is one of the most famous Chinese historical expressions.

It means that someone's hidden ambition or real intention is so obvious that everyone knows it. It is usually used in a negative or sarcastic way.

The Story

In 260 CE, the Wei(魏) emperor Cao Mao (曹髦) was frustrated that the powerful minister Sima Zhao (司马昭) was taking control of the government.

He reportedly said:

“司马昭之心，路人所知也 ” (Sima Zhao's intentions are known even to every passerby.)

In other words, everyone knew that Sima Zhao wanted power and possibly the throne.

Cao Mao tried to fight back, but he was killed in an open confrontation. This was a shocking and famous case of regicide in Chinese history. Cao Mao is often remembered as a brave emperor who was willing to stand up to the powerful Sima Zhao, even at the cost of his own life.

Some years later, Sima Zhao's son, Sima Yan (司马炎), ended the Wei Dynasty and founded the Jin(晋) Dynasty in 265 CE.

So now you can probably understand a little better why Ji Kang (嵇康) refused to cooperate with Sima Zhao, and why he eventually paid for it with his life, as we discussed yesterday.

Usage

Used when someone's real intentions are obvious to everyone.

Example:

他想抢你那个项目的功劳，司马昭之心，路人皆知。

He wants to take credit for your project. Everyone can see what he's really trying to do.

A Little Background

Sima Zhao came from a powerful family. His father, Sima Yi (司马懿), was a brilliant military strategist but also had a reputation for being extremely patient, calculating, and politically ruthless.

Sima Yi's sons and grandson continued the family's rise to power—until Sima Yan finally founded the Jin Dynasty.

Next:
Two Sad Chinese Idioms from 陈情表

(AI-assisted editing)

司马昭之心路人皆知

Last time, I tmentioned Sima Yan (司马炎), who founded the Jin (晋) dynasty.

After becoming emperor, Sima Yan wanted talented and respected people to join his new government. One of them was Li Mi (李密).

But Li Mi had no other family but an elderly grandmother who had raised him, and she was already old and in poor health. He couldn't bear to leave her alone.

So, instead of simply accepting the position, Li Mi wrote a famous memorial to the emperor explaining why he couldn't take the job at that time.

That letter, "陈情表" (Chen Qing Biao), became a famous piece of writing in Chinese history. It gave us several idioms that are still commonly used today.

1. 日薄西山 (rì bó xī shān)

This one is easy to picture.

It literally means:

“The sun is getting close to the western mountain.”  In other words, the sun is setting.

Li Mi used this image to describe his grandmother - 但以刘日薄西山, 气息奄奄.

He was saying that her life was like the setting sun, slowly fading away and getting close to the end.

Today, 日薄西山 means that someone or something is declining and nearing its end. It can describe old age, but also a declining company, empire, or career.

2. 形影相吊 (xíng yǐng xiāng diào)

This one is even sadder.

Li Mi wrote: 茕茕孑立, 形影相吊

A simple way to understand it is, “I am so alone that my shadow and I have to comfort each other.”

The key word here is 吊 (diào). In this old expression, it means to comfort or console.

There is another Chinese idiom, 形单影只 (single person, single shadow), which also means being alone. But that one is more of a simple description.

形单影只  I'm by myself.

形影相吊  I'm so lonely that my shadow and I have to comfort each other. This onr feels so sad!

And that makes me think of a famous line by Li Bai (李白), the greatest Chinese poet:

举杯邀明月, 对影成三人

“I raise my cup and invite the bright moon; together with my shadow, we become three.”

Li Bai is alone too. But instead of feeling sorry for himself, he basically thinks,

Why not invite the moon?

Now he has himself, the moon, and his shadow. A party of three!

The same shadow appears in both, but with very different feelings.

For Li Mi, the shadow makes his loneliness feel even more painful.

For Li Bai, the shadow becomes part of the party.

(AI-assisted editing)

鹤立鸡群

I mentioned Sima Zhao (司马昭) yesterday. Today, we have an idiom that is all about him.

Meaning

Literally: “Sima Zhao's intentions are known even to every passerby.”

Unlike most Chinese idioms, 司马昭之心路人皆知 is not a four-character idiom. It has nine characters, yet it is one of the most famous Chinese historical expressions.

It means that someone's hidden ambition or real intention is so obvious that everyone knows it. It is usually used in a negative or sarcastic way.

The Story

In 260 CE, the Wei(魏) emperor Cao Mao (曹髦) was frustrated that the powerful minister Sima Zhao (司马昭) was taking control of the government.

He reportedly said:

“司马昭之心，路人所知也 ” (Sima Zhao's intentions are known even to every passerby.)

In other words, everyone knew that Sima Zhao wanted power and possibly the throne.

Cao Mao tried to fight back, but he was killed in an open confrontation. This was a shocking and famous case of regicide in Chinese history. Cao Mao is often remembered as a brave emperor who was willing to stand up to the powerful Sima Zhao, even at the cost of his own life.

Some years later, Sima Zhao's son, Sima Yan (司马炎), ended the Wei Dynasty and founded the Jin(晋) Dynasty in 265 CE.

So now you can probably understand a little better why Ji Kang (嵇康) refused to cooperate with Sima Zhao, and why he eventually paid for it with his life, as we discussed yesterday.

Usage

Used when someone's real intentions are obvious to everyone.

Example:

他想抢你那个项目的功劳，司马昭之心，路人皆知。

He wants to take credit for your project. Everyone can see what he's really trying to do.

A Little Background

Sima Zhao came from a powerful family. His father, Sima Yi (司马懿), was a brilliant military strategist but also had a reputation for being extremely patient, calculating, and politically ruthless.

Sima Yi's sons and grandson continued the family's rise to power—until Sima Yan finally founded the Jin Dynasty.

(AI-assisted editing)

鹤立鸡群 (Hè lì jī qún) literally means “a crane standing among chickens.” It describes someone who stands out from the crowd because of exceptional talent, appearance, character, or presence—like a tall, graceful crane surrounded by ordinary chickens.

Usage:
Used to praise someone who is clearly outstanding in a group.

Cultural note:
The idiom is strongly positive. It emphasizes someone's exceptional qualities rather than simply putting others down.

Origin & Backstory

The idiom comes from Shishuo Xinyu (《世说新语》, A New Account of Tales of the World), a 5th-century collection of stories about famous people in ancient China.

During the Jin (晋) Dynasty (265–420 CE), Ji Shao (嵇绍) traveled to the capital. Someone told the minister Wang Rong “Ji Shao stands out like a wild crane among chickens.” (嵇延祖卓卓如野鹤之在鸡群).

Wang Rong replied “You never saw his father!”

Ji Shao's late father was Ji Kang (嵇康), one of the most famous and admired figures of his time. In other words, Ji Shao was already exceptional, but Wang Rong thought his late father Ji Kang was even more extraordinary.

More Background: A Father–Son Tragedy

Ji Kang and Ji Shao's story adds another layer to this idiom.

Ji Kang (嵇康) opposed the powerful Sima clan, which was gradually taking control of the Wei (魏) government and would later establish the Jin Dynasty. He refused to serve them, openly clashed with the influential minister Sima Zhao(司马昭), and was eventually executed by Sima Zhao in 262 CE.

Ji Shao (嵇绍) was still a young boy when his father died. Before his execution, Ji Kang entrusted his son to his friend Shan Tao (山涛), who was already serving as a high official in the regime that had condemned Ji Kang.

The friendship between Ji Kang and Shan Tao is a complex and well-known story in its own right. It centers on a famous classical essay written by Ji Kang, “与山巨源绝交书” (A Letter Severing Relations with Shan Juyuan). Although they had severed their friendship, Ji Kang still trusted Shan Tao enough to place his young son Ji Shao in Shan Tao's care before his execution.

Many years later, Ji Shao chose a very different path. He became a loyal official of the Jin Dynasty. In 304 CE, during a rebellion, he was killed while protecting Emperor Sima Zhong (司马衷) - the grandson of Sima Zhao, who had ordered the execution of Ji Shao's father.

According to historical records, Ji Shao shielded the emperor from arrows. He was struck and killed, and his blood stained the emperor’s robe red. This tragic story gave rise to another uncommon Chinese idiom: “嵇侍中血” (Jī Shìzhōng xuè), literally meaning “the blood of Ji, the Imperial Attendant.” Here, 侍中 (Shìzhōng) was Ji Shao's official title at the time of his death.

(AI-assisted editing)

鹤立鸡群 (Hè lì jī qún) literally means “a crane standing among chickens.” It describes someone who stands out from the crowd because of exceptional talent, appearance, character, or presence—like a tall, graceful crane surrounded by ordinary chickens.

Usage:
Used to praise someone who is clearly outstanding in a group.

Cultural note:
The idiom is strongly positive. It emphasizes someone's exceptional qualities rather than simply putting others down.

Origin & Backstory

The idiom comes from Shishuo Xinyu (《世说新语》, A New Account of Tales of the World), a 5th-century collection of stories about famous people in ancient China.

During the Jin (晋) Dynasty (265–420 CE), Ji Shao (嵇绍) traveled to the capital. Someone told the minister Wang Rong “Ji Shao stands out like a wild crane among chickens.” (嵇延祖卓卓如野鹤之在鸡群).

Wang Rong replied “You never saw his father!”

Ji Shao's late father was Ji Kang (嵇康), one of the most famous and admired figures of his time. In other words, Ji Shao was already exceptional, but Wang Rong thought his late father Ji Kang was even more extraordinary.

More Background: A Father–Son Tragedy

Ji Kang and Ji Shao's story adds another layer to this idiom.

Ji Kang (嵇康) opposed the powerful Sima clan, which was gradually taking control of the Wei (魏) government and would later establish the Jin Dynasty. He refused to serve them, openly clashed with the influential minister Sima Zhao(司马昭), and was eventually executed by Sima Zhao in 262 CE.

Ji Shao (嵇绍) was still a young boy when his father died. Before his execution, Ji Kang entrusted his son to his friend Shan Tao (山涛), who was already serving as a high official in the regime that had condemned Ji Kang.

The friendship between Ji Kang and Shan Tao is a complex and well-known story in its own right. It centers on a famous classical essay written by Ji Kang, “与山巨源绝交书” (A Letter Severing Relations with Shan Juyuan). Although they had severed their friendship, Ji Kang still trusted Shan Tao enough to place his young son Ji Shao in Shan Tao's care before his execution.

Many years later, Ji Shao chose a very different path. He became a loyal official of the Jin Dynasty. In 304 CE, during a rebellion, he was killed while protecting Emperor Sima Zhong (司马衷) - the grandson of Sima Zhao, who had ordered the execution of Ji Shao's father.

According to historical records, Ji Shao shielded the emperor from arrows. He was struck and killed, and his blood stained the emperor’s robe red. This tragic story gave rise to another uncommon Chinese idiom: “嵇侍中血” (Jī Shìzhōng xuè), literally meaning “the blood of Ji, the Imperial Attendant.” Here, 侍中 (Shìzhōng) was Ji Shao's official title at the time of his death.

(AI-assisted editing)

According to a dictionary compilation of about 4,600 Chinese idioms (成语 chéngyǔ) with identifiable sources, the approximate origins are:

Ancient China → Qin & Han (before 220 AD) 68%

Wei, Jin & Northern/Southern Dynasties (220–589) 15%

Sui & Tang (581–907) 9%

Song Dynasty (960–1279) 6%

Yuan, Ming & Qing (1271–1912) 2%

Even as a native Chinese speaker, I was surprised to learn that nearly two-thirds of these idioms can be traced back to more than 2,000 years ago. I had originally thought there would be more Chiense idioms from the Tang and Song dynasties, but in fact, they account for only 15 percent.

According to a dictionary compilation of about 4,600 Chinese idioms (成语 chéngyǔ) with identifiable sources, the approximate origins are:

Ancient China → Qin & Han (before 220 AD) 68%

Wei, Jin & Northern/Southern Dynasties (220–589) 15%

Sui & Tang (581–907) 9%

Song Dynasty (960–1279) 6%

Yuan, Ming & Qing (1271–1912) 2%

Even as a native Chinese speaker, I was surprised to learn that nearly two-thirds of these idioms can be traced back to more than 2,000 years ago. I had originally thought there would be more Chiense idioms from the Tang and Song dynasties, but in fact, they account for only 15 percent.

According to a dictionary compilation of about 4,600 Chinese idioms (成语 chéngyǔ) with identifiable sources, the approximate origins are:

Ancient China → Qin & Han (before 220 AD) 68%

Wei, Jin & Northern/Southern Dynasties (220–589) 15%

Sui & Tang (581–907) 9%

Song Dynasty (960–1279) 6%

Yuan, Ming & Qing (1271–1912) 2%

Even as a native Chinese speaker, I was surprised to learn that nearly two-thirds of these idioms can be traced back to more than 2,000 years ago. I had originally thought there would be more Chiense idioms from the Tang and Song dynasties, but in fact, they account for only 15 percent.

Before diving deeper into BaZi, you may want to read the previous articles in this series:

A Comprehensive Understanding of the Eight Characters - BaZi

Where are the 12 Chinese Zodiac animals come from?
What Exactly Are the Heavenly Stems, Earthly Branches, and Jiazi?
How to Read Your Birth Chart
How Complex Is Bazi Birth Chart?

In BaZi, there are six clashes: Rat–Horse, Ox–Goat, Tiger–Monkey, Rabbit–Rooster, Dragon–Dog, and Snake–Pig.

But not all clashes matter equally. A BaZi chart consists of four pillars—Year, Month, Day, and Hour. While zodiac incompatibility based on the Year Pillar is widely known, a clash in the Day Pillar, which represents one's spouse or marriage relationship, generally has a greater influence on marriage.

Why fear a clash?

Marriage is not about lifeless stillness. A clash can reflect different personalities and perspectives—and even create the friction needed for growth. In fact, a healthy amount of disagreement may be better than a marriage that feels like stagnant water. Arguing itself is not the problem; the real question is whether you can keep those arguments within reasonable limits.

The key is learning how to use that energy.

Find harmony within the differences. In a complete BaZi chart, other relationships and combinations may balance or transform a clash.

A Year Pillar clash may simply mean different approaches to the outside world—not an inevitable breakdown of the relationship.

Some couples argue for decades yet never part. Perhaps that is fate: the clash brings passion, while harmony keeps them together.

Key takeaway:
A zodiac clash alone cannot determine whether a marriage will succeed. The complete BaZi chart—and how two people communicate, manage conflict, and grow together—matters far more.

(AI-assisted editing)

Before exploring the complexity of Bazi, you may want to read the previous articles in this series:

A Comprehensive Understanding of the Eight Characters - BaZi

Chinese Zodiac determines compatibility?
Where are the 12 Chinese Zodiac animals come from?
What Exactly Are the Heavenly Stems, Earthly Branches, and Jiazi?
How to Read Your Birth Chart

Many people outside China are familiar with the Chinese Zodiac or Western astrology. While these systems may appear similar at first glance, Bazi (the Four Pillars of Destiny) is based on a much more detailed method of recording and interpreting a person's birth chart.

The Chinese Zodiac is actually derived from the 12 Earthly Branches (Di Zhi) used in the Bazi system. In popular culture, these 12 branches are represented as 12 animal signs, such as the Rat, Ox, Tiger, and Rabbit, based primarily on the year of birth. The Chinese Zodiac is therefore only one part of the larger Bazi framework. ( Chinese Zodiac determines compatibility? )

The Western zodiac, as I understand it, is commonly represented by 12 sun signs based on the position of the Sun at the time of birth. This is a simplified introduction, since a full Western astrology chart also considers other factors, such as the Moon, planets, houses, and aspects.

Bazi, however, records four different aspects of birth time: the Year, Month, Day, and Hour of birth. Each pillar consists of a Heavenly Stem and an Earthly Branch, creating a much richer birth chart.

As a retired engineer, I have a natural habit: when I encounter a system, I want to know how it is built—and sometimes, I cannot resist doing a little calculation.

Let’s do some simple math.
Using a simplified calculation based on the traditional Four Pillars, the number of possible Bazi charts can be estimated as:

• Year Pillar: 60 combinations
• Month Pillar: 12 possibilities
• Day Pillar: 60 combinations
• Hour Pillar: 12 traditional two-hour periods

This gives:

60 × 12 × 60 × 12 = 518,400

So, even before deeper interpretation begins, there are approximately 518,400 different traditional Bazi chart combinations.

Over one Jiazi cycle (i.e., 60 years), assume that approximately 7.8 billion people are born worldwide. Based on the number of possible Bazi combinations, each traditional Bazi chart is shared by roughly 15,000 people worldwide on average.

However, gender plays an important role in traditional Bazi interpretation. Although a man and a woman may have the same Four Pillars, traditional Bazi does not always interpret them in the same way. Many classical methods consider gender when analyzing major luck cycles and other aspects of the chart.

Therefore, comparing people of the same gender is often more meaningful. On average, a person would share the same traditional Bazi chart with approximately 7,500 people of the same gender.

But the Four Pillars are only the beginning of Bazi. In future articles, we will continue this journey by exploring the deeper layers of Bazi.

Thanks for reading!

(AI-assisted editing)

https://reddit.com/link/1v7qb57/video/zd7rsjhhbpfh1/player

nǐ shuō nǐ ài wǒ

你说你爱我

nǐ shuō wǒ bù ài nǐ

你说我不爱你

ài nǐ hái shì bù ài nǐ

爱你还是不爱你

dōu píng nǐ shuō

都凭你说

wǒ shuō wǒ ài nǐ

我说我爱你

nǐ shuō wǒ bù ài nǐ

你说我不爱你

ài nǐ hái shì bù ài nǐ

爱你还是不爱你

bú shì kào zuǐ shuō

不是靠嘴说

hǎo nán rén de ài cóng lái bù kěn shuō

好男人的爱 从来不肯说

xiàng shān bù zhēng gāo

像山不争高

xiàng hǎi bù xián duō

像海不嫌多

nǐ wèn wǒ qiān wàn biàn

你问我千万遍

wǒ zhǐ zuò bù shuō

我只做不说

lǎo jiǔ zì piāo xiāng

老酒自飘香

gǔ jǐng bù qǐ bō

古井不起波

 

wǒ duì nǐ de ài

我对你的爱

cóng lái bù kěn shuō

从来不肯说

xiàng shuǐ bù néng shǎo

像水不能少

xiàng kōng qì bù xián duō

像空气不嫌多

nǐ wèn wǒ qiān wàn biàn

你问我千万遍

wǒ zhǐ zuò bù shuō

我只做不说

suì yuè huì tì wǒ

岁月会替我

bǎ dá àn dǎ mó

把答案打磨