This idiom is the very first of the legendary Thirty-Six Stratagems (三十六计, sānshíliù jì), a classic collection of Chinese military strategies. Its origin story is a perfect illustration of its meaning. During the Tang Dynasty, Emperor Taizong was personally leading a campaign against the Korean kingdom of Goguryeo but was terrified of crossing the sea. His brilliant general, Xue Rengui, devised a plan. He invited the emperor to a feast in a magnificent, spacious hall built on the shore. The emperor and his officials feasted and drank, while curtains covered the windows. After some time, the emperor heard the sound of waves and, pulling back a curtain, was shocked to discover that the “hall” was actually a fleet of camouflaged ships, and they were already far out at sea. The routine act of feasting was the cover for the non-routine act of crossing the ocean. Compared to a Western concept like a “Trojan Horse,” both involve grand deception. However, a Trojan Horse involves hiding the threat *inside* a seemingly harmless gift. 瞒天过海 is different: the threat is not hidden *inside* something else; the threatening *action itself* is disguised as something routine and harmless. It's a strategy of psychological misdirection on a massive scale.
瞒天过海 is used to describe any large-scale, well-planned deception. Its connotation is generally negative, implying cunning and deceit, though it can sometimes be used with a sense of grudging admiration for the cleverness of the scheme.