菩薩喝龍 Guanyin Scatters the Ghost
正在那難分難解之時，只見正南上香雲繚繞，彩霧飄飄，有一個女真人上前，將楊柳枝用手一擺，那沒頭的龍悲悲啼啼，徑往西北而去。原來這是觀音菩薩領佛旨，上東土尋取經人，住此長安城都土地廟裡，夜聞鬼泣神號，特來喝退業龍，救脫皇帝。那龍徑到陰司地獄具告不題。卻說太宗甦醒回來，只叫：「有鬼！有鬼！」慌得那三宮皇后、六院嬪妃，與近侍太監，戰兢兢，一夜無眠。正在那难分难解之时，只见正南上香云缭绕，彩雾飘飘，有一个女真人上前，将杨柳枝用手一摆，那没头的龙悲悲啼啼，径往西北而去。原来这是观音菩萨领佛旨，上东土寻取经人，住此长安城都土地庙里，夜闻鬼泣神号，特来喝退业龙，救脱皇帝。那龙径到阴司地狱具告不题。却说太宗苏醒回来，只叫：「有鬼！有鬼！」慌得那三宫皇后、六院嫔妃，与近侍太监，战兢兢，一夜无眠。
逐句解 Line by line
Just at this moment of deadlock, from the due south there came fragrant clouds curling and bright mists drifting, and a female immortal came forward, waved a willow branch in her hand — and the headless dragon, weeping and wailing, went straight off toward the northwest.
難分難解, hard to part and hard to loosen, is a deadlock: two parties locked together, neither able to let go. It ends with a wave of a 楊柳枝, a willow branch, which is Guanyin's emblem — she sprinkles sweet dew from it and affliction goes. No struggle, no exorcism, one gesture. 那 in 那難分難解 and 那沒頭的龍 is nà.
This, it turned out, was the Bodhisattva Guanyin, who by the Buddha's command had come to the Eastern Land to seek out the scripture-pilgrim, and was lodging in the shrine of the city-god of Chang'an. Hearing by night the weeping of ghosts and the wailing of spirits, she had come expressly to drive off the doomed dragon and deliver the emperor. As for the dragon, he went straight to the courts of the underworld to lay his complaint — but of that no more here.
This is the first appearance in the novel of 觀音菩薩, Guanyin, and the reason she is in Chang'an at all is the reason the book exists: the Buddha has sent her east to find the pilgrim who will fetch the scriptures. She is lodging, unremarked, in the shrine of the city-god — 都 in 都土地, the metropolitan city-god, is dū — and scattering a vengeful ghost is something she does in passing, on her way to work. 不題, 'no more of this,' is the storyteller turning away from a thread; 長 in 長安 is cháng, and 那 is nà.
Now Taizong came to himself, crying out over and over: 'Ghosts! Ghosts!' In their alarm the empresses of the three palaces, the consorts of the six chambers, and the attendant eunuchs trembled and shook, and passed the whole night without sleep.
三宮六院, three palaces and six chambers, is the conventional phrase for the imperial harem, and it survives as the modern joke about a man with far too many partners. The terror spreads outward from the emperor through the whole inner palace, and nobody sleeps. 那 is nà.
At the height of the haunting Guanyin appears, and her entrance is one of the most significant moments in the chapter, because this is the reader's first sight of the Bodhisattva who sets the entire novel going. She has come to the Eastern Land at the Buddha's command to find the pilgrim who will journey west for the scriptures — the mission of the whole book — and she is lodging, unregarded, in the city-god's shrine at Chang'an. That she stops to scatter a vengeful ghost with a wave of her willow branch quietly ties the local tragedy of the dragon to the vast redemptive design about to unfold over a hundred chapters.
The rescue is only a reprieve. The dragon is driven off, but goes straight to the courts of the underworld to lay his complaint, and the emperor wakes crying 'Ghosts! Ghosts!' with the whole palace sleepless around him. Guanyin has saved Taizong from the ghost's grip but not from the reckoning: the dragon's suit in the court of the dead will draw the emperor down after him. Her brief, almost incidental appearance thus does double duty, closing the night's crisis and opening the door onto the novel's real beginning.