Nine at the beginning is a reading against effort. The horses are lost and will return unsought, the disagreeable people are met without blame, and the cause for regret disappears without anybody addressing it. A querent drawing this line is generally about to chase something or about to cut somebody off, and the counsel is to do neither, on the grounds that a time of estrangement makes both moves worse than the situation they were meant to answer.
The two halves are worth separating in practice. Not pursuing what has been lost is a judgement about time, that the thing will find its way back if it was ever really yours. Not refusing the bad man is a judgement about people, that the categories a person sorts others into become unreliable exactly when everyone is at odds. Neither is a counsel of trust. Both are counsels against acting on suspicion while suspicion is the weather.
When the line changes, the lower trigram Dui becomes Kan and the figure becomes Before Completion, King Wen 64, the last hexagram of the classic, in which every line is out of place and the crossing is unfinished. That destination is candid about what patience buys here. The situation stays unresolved, the classic is emphatic that unresolved is not the same as lost, and the young fox that has almost crossed the stream is the image it uses for precisely this stage.