If Fù has appeared in your reading, the book is naming the smallest possible signal of return. Five yin lines, and at the very bottom a single yang line rising — the seed of yang in the heart of winter. The character means to return; the image is the solstice. The light has begun to come back, and almost no one has noticed yet.
Classical commentary places this hexagram immediately after Bō, the stripping away. The cycle has reached its lowest point and has just begun to turn. The book is precise about what to do at such a moment: protect the small returning energy, do not test it with demands, let it consolidate before it is asked to do real work.
What the book counsels is the patient stewardship of a recovery still in its first days. The image of the ancient kings closing the passes is exact. When the seed of return is small, the great commerce stops for a season. The fields are not yet sowed; the troops are not yet moved. The work is to keep the conditions quiet enough that the return can take root.
Fù's promise — 利有攸往, fitting to have a place to go — is delayed. There is a direction; one is permitted to take it; but the seven-day cadence in the judgment names the proper rhythm. Return arrives in cycles. Do not force the cycle. The hexagram appears when the reader is at the very beginning of something that will eventually be substantial. Right now it is fragile. Tend it accordingly.