The words 高山流水 (High Mountains and Flowing Water) and 知音 (Kindred Spirit) derive from this anecdote.
During the Spring and Autumn Period, Yu Boya, a high-ranking official of the State of Jin, was on a diplomatic mission to the State of Chu when, whilst travelling by boat, he passed the mouth of the Han River at Hanyang. It was the Mid-Autumn Festival; the wind and rain had just ceased, leaving the moon bright and the air crisp. Facing the full moon over the river, he played the zither to express his feelings.
Just as he was playing with great fervour, one of the strings suddenly snapped. Boya knew that there must be someone nearby who understood the music (the ancients believed that a sudden snap of a string was either a sign that a master was listening or that an assassin lay in wait). Sure enough, a woodcutter on the bank—Zhong Ziqi—was listening intently.
Rather in doubt that a woodcutter could understand his music, Boya invited Zhong Ziqi onto the boat.
He first played a piece evoking the image of a lofty mountain. Zhong Ziqi praised it, saying, “How splendid! Majestic indeed, like the towering Mount Tai.”
Boya then played another piece, evoking the image of flowing water. Zhong Ziqi praised it, saying, “How beautiful! So vast and sweeping, just like a rushing river!)
Boya was deeply astonished that Zhong Ziqi could understand his music and grasp the aspirations and sentiments he had imbued within the notes. The two men felt an instant connection, becoming sworn brothers, and agreed to meet again at this very spot on the Mid-Autumn Festival the following year.
On the Mid-Autumn Festival the following year, Boya arrived as promised, yet Zhong Ziqi was nowhere to be seen. He waited day after day; finally, clutching his zither, he searched along the riverbank and eventually encountered Zhong Ziqi’s father.
The old man told Boya that Zhong Ziqi had, through day and night of diligent study and excessive exertion, sadly passed away. On his deathbed, he had instructed to be buried by the river, for he had a pact with Boya to meet there.
Overcome with grief, Boya followed the old man to Zhong Ziqi’s grave. There, he played ‘High Mountains and Flowing Water’ for his kindred spirit one last time. When the melody ended, he sighed deeply: ‘My kindred spirit is gone; who is there left to listen to my playing? What use is this precious zither to me now?’
With that, he raised his beloved zither with both hands and, summoning all his strength, hurled it to the ground. Instantly, the instrument shattered and the strings snapped. From that day forward, Boya never played the zither again.
Earliest records in Lie Zi -Tang Wen and Lüshi Chunqiu, later included by Feng Menglong in Jing Shi Tong Yan.
High Mountains and Flowing Water: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WbCjceRPXyw
#11 伯牙绝弦
”高山流水“ 和“知音”出自这个典故。
春秋时期，晋国上大夫俞伯牙出使楚国途中，乘船路过汉阳江口。当时正是中秋，风雨过后，月明风清。他面对江中明月，抚琴抒怀。
弹到酣处，琴弦忽然“嘣”地断了一根。伯牙知道，这周围必有懂琴之人（古人认为，琴弦骤断或是因为有高人听琴，或是有刺客埋伏）。果然，岸边一个砍柴的樵夫——钟子期，正在凝神静听。
伯牙半信半疑，邀请钟子期上船。
他先弹一曲，意在高山。钟子期赞道：“美哉！巍巍乎若泰山。”（这琴弹得真好啊，气势雄伟，就像那巍峨的高山！）
伯牙又弹一曲，意在流水。钟子期赞道：“美哉！汤汤乎若江河。”（这琴弹得真好啊，浩浩荡荡，就像那奔流的江河！）
钟子期居然能听懂他的琴声，能理解他寄托在琴音里的志向与胸怀，伯牙大为震惊。两人一见如故，结为生死之交，并相约来年中秋再在此地相会。
第二年中秋，伯牙如约而至，却不见钟子期身影。他等了一天又一天，最后抱着琴在江边寻找，终于遇到了钟子期的父亲。
老人告诉伯牙：钟子期因日夜苦读，劳累过度，已经不幸病逝。临终前，他嘱咐父亲，一定要把他葬在江边，因为他与伯牙有约在此地相会。
伯牙悲痛欲绝，跟随老人来到钟子期的坟前。他最后一次为知音弹奏了那首《高山流水》。曲罢，他长叹一声：“知音不在，我弹琴还有谁能听？这瑶琴还留着做什么！”
说罢，他双手举起心爱的瑶琴，用尽全身力气，将琴摔到地上，顿时，琴破弦断。 从此，俞伯牙终生不再弹琴。
出自《列子·汤问》和《吕氏春秋》，后经冯梦龙编入《警世通言》
古筝 高山流水: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WbCjceRPXyw