During the Spring and Autumn period, in the area roughly corresponding to modern-day Shanxi and Hebei provinces, there was a feudal state called Zhao. At that time, feudal states were numerous and fragmented, much like the crowded companies in a single industry today. Just as any city now has countless tutoring agencies competing as peers, each feudal lord was essentially the “boss” of his own state. They competed, occasionally attacked one another, and sometimes collaborated, all hoping to expand their territory—much like modern businesses seeking to dominate their markets, especially by eliminating nearby rivals.
Zhao Ltd., a family business, reached the era of Zhao Jianzi (later respectfully called “Boss Zhao”). Like Liu Chuanzhi, Boss Zhao faced the challenge of succession. The difference? Boss Zhao would pass power to his son, while Liu Chuanzhi chose a capable subordinate (even if Liu had wanted to hand it to his son, it wouldn’t have been feasible).
Throughout history, whether emperors or business leaders, all have had their own criteria for selecting successors. What was Boss Zhao’s standard?
As a wealthy man, Boss Zhao could afford to pay family planning fines to have more children—he had two sons: Bolu and Wuxu. Planning ahead for succession, Boss Zhao had his lifelong success principles compiled into an article titled “My Success Cannot Be Replicated.” He had copies made and gave one to each son, urging them to study it carefully. At the time, both sons held nominal VP roles in the company to gain experience.
Three years later, Boss Zhao suddenly called a meeting and asked his sons to share their thoughts on the article.
The elder son, Bolu, couldn’t answer. When asked, “Can you even find the article?” he stammered, “I… I’d have to look for it.”
The younger son, Wuxu, recited it word for word fluently. Boss Zhao was delighted.
He immediately convened the board and announced Wuxu as the new CEO.
Presumably, Bolu accepted defeat graciously.
The original historical text is brief:
“Zhao Jianzi had two sons: the elder Bolu, the younger Wuxu. Uncertain whom to appoint as successor, he inscribed his teachings on bamboo slips and gave one to each son, saying, ‘Study them!’ Three years later, he questioned them. Bolu could not recite the words and had lost his slip. Wuxu recited them fluently and produced his slip from his sleeve. Thus, Zhao Jianzi deemed Wuxu worthy and named him successor.”
In short: Boss Zhao chose his successor based on memory!
But we must ask: Why did memory matter?
And further: Would the leader of a feudal state really select a successor just for good memory?
Of course not.
Some might argue the test proved Wuxu was more diligent—hence the choice. But this misses the point.
As their father, Boss Zhao already knew his sons’ temperaments and who was better suited. A seasoned leader wouldn’t be so naive. He could’ve simply named Wuxu outright.
But consider Bolu’s perspective: Ancient tradition favored the eldest son. Bolu likely expected to inherit unless he proved unfit. Yet Zhao’s hard-earned legacy had to go to the more capable son—Wuxu, as daily observations showed.
Choosing Wuxu directly might breed resentment in Bolu. After Boss Zhao’s death, internal strife could tear the company apart, wasting generations of effort and handing rivals an easy victory.
Thus, Bolu had to be convinced. A scenario was needed where Wuxu’s succession felt justified, leaving Bolu no room for defiance. So Boss Zhao spent three years staging this low-cost drama.
(Whether he privately coached Wuxu during this time remains unknown.)
This is the workplace.
When you lose a promotion, it’s rarely about one mistake. It’s the accumulated small failures—and crucially, failing to read your leader’s mind.
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