託孤遺書 The Emperor's Death and the Letter
一夜通明,也無鬼魅。雖是前後門無事,只是身體漸重。一日,太后又傳旨,召眾臣商議殯殮後事。太宗又宣徐茂公,吩咐國家大事,叮囑倣劉蜀主託孤之意。言畢,沐浴更衣,待時而已。傍閃魏徵,手扯龍衣,奏道:「陛下寬心,臣有一事,管保陛下長生。」太宗道:「病勢已入膏肓,命將危矣,如何保得?」徵云:「臣有書一封,進與陛下,捎去到陰司,付酆都判官崔珏。」太宗道:「崔珏是誰?」徵云:「崔珏乃是太上先皇帝駕前之臣,先受茲洲令,後陞禮部侍郎。在日與臣八拜為交,相知甚厚。他如今已死,現在陰司做掌生死文簿的酆都判官,夢中常與臣相會。此去若將此書付與他,他念微臣薄分,必然放陛下回來。管教魂魄還陽世,定取龍顏轉帝都。」太宗聞言,接在手中,籠入袖裡,遂瞑目而亡。那三宮六院、皇后嬪妃、侍長儲君及兩班文武,俱舉哀戴孝。又在白虎殿上,停著梓宮不題。畢竟不知太宗如何還魂,且聽下回分解。一夜通明,也无鬼魅。虽是前后门无事,只是身体渐重。一日,太后又传旨,召众臣商议殡殓后事。太宗又宣徐茂公,吩咐国家大事,叮嘱倣刘蜀主托孤之意。言毕,沐浴更衣,待时而已。傍闪魏征,手扯龙衣,奏道:「陛下宽心,臣有一事,管保陛下长生。」太宗道:「病势已入膏肓,命将危矣,如何保得?」征云:「臣有书一封,进与陛下,捎去到阴司,付酆都判官崔珏。」太宗道:「崔珏是谁?」征云:「崔珏乃是太上先皇帝驾前之臣,先受兹洲令,后升礼部侍郎。在日与臣八拜为交,相知甚厚。他如今已死,现在阴司做掌生死文簿的酆都判官,梦中常与臣相会。此去若将此书付与他,他念微臣薄分,必然放陛下回来。管教魂魄还阳世,定取龙颜转帝都。」太宗闻言,接在手中,笼入袖里,遂瞑目而亡。那三宫六院、皇后嫔妃、侍长储君及两班文武,俱举哀戴孝。又在白虎殿上,停着梓宫不题。毕竟不知太宗如何还魂,且听下回分解。
逐句解 Line by line
All night long the palace was bright, and there were no more demons. Yet though front gate and rear were now at peace, the emperor's body grew steadily heavier.
通明 is lit up right through the night, every lamp burning, and 身體漸重 is the body growing gradually heavier. Both gates are quiet now, and it makes no difference: the ghosts are barred and the harm is already done.
One day the Empress Dowager again issued a decree, summoning the officials to deliberate the arrangements for the funeral. Taizong in turn summoned Xu Maogong, charged him with the great affairs of state, and enjoined him earnestly, in the manner of the Shu sovereign Liu Bei entrusting his orphan. When he had finished, he bathed and changed his robes, and simply awaited his hour.
殯殮 is the encoffining and funeral, and 更 in 更衣, 'to change garments,' is gēng. 劉蜀主託孤 points to Liú Bèi, ruler of Shu-Han, who on his deathbed entrusted his young heir to Zhūgě Liàng: the archetypal scene of a dying sovereign handing over the state, and famous enough that naming it does all the work. Taizong bathes, changes his robes, and waits.
Wei Zheng stepped out from the side, took hold of the dragon-robe, and submitted: 'Let Your Majesty set your heart at ease. Your servant has one thing that will assure Your Majesty long life.'
傍閃 is to slip out from beside, and 手扯龍衣, taking hold of the dragon-robe, is an urgent and startlingly familiar gesture: one does not grab an emperor's clothing. 魏徵 has one thing left to offer. (長 in 長生, 'long life,' is cháng.)
Taizong said: 'The sickness has already entered the vitals, and my life is on the verge of peril — how can it be assured?'
膏肓 is the region between heart and diaphragm, where an illness was held to become untreatable. The idiom it comes from, 病入膏肓, is still what Chinese reaches for when a situation is past saving, medical or otherwise. 得 in 保得, 'to be assured,' is the potential de.
Wei Zheng said: 'Your servant has a letter, which I present to Your Majesty to carry down to the underworld and deliver to the Fengdu Magistrate, Cui Jue.'
A letter, to be carried into the next world and handed over. 酆都 (Fēngdū) is the netherworld city of the dead, with 都 read dū, and a 酆都判官 is a magistrate of its courts; 崔珏 (Cuī Jué) will prove the emperor's crucial ally down there.
Taizong said: 'Who is Cui Jue?'
A dying man's question — and the answer to it is what links 魏徵 to the world below, and opens the door onto the next chapter.
Wei Zheng said: 'Cui Jue was a minister before the late Emperor Gaozu — first Magistrate of Cizhou, and later Vice-Minister of Rites. In life he and I were sworn brothers of the eight bows, and knew each other most intimately. He is dead now, and serves in the underworld as the Fengdu Magistrate in charge of the registers of life and death; often he meets me in dreams. If Your Majesty takes this letter and gives it to him, then, mindful of his slight bond with your humble servant, he will surely let Your Majesty return. He will assuredly send your soul back to the world of the living and restore the dragon-countenance to the imperial capital.'
The plan is pure officialdom: the emperor will not be judged by a stranger but by a man who owes an old colleague a favor. 八拜為交, becoming friends by the eight bows, is the ritual of sworn brotherhood, and 薄分 is the 'slight bond' 魏徵 modestly claims on it. 崔珏 served the previous emperor, first as magistrate of Cizhou and then as Vice-Minister of Rites, and now keeps the registers of life and death below, meeting 魏徵 in dreams. 為 in 八拜為交 is wéi; both 相 (相知, 相會) are xiāng; 薄 in 薄分 is bó and 分 is fèn; both 都 (酆都, 帝都) are dū; and 還 in 還陽世, 'return to the living world,' is huán.
At these words Taizong took the letter into his hand, tucked it into his sleeve, and thereupon closed his eyes and died. The three palaces and six chambers, the empress and consorts, the senior attendants and the crown prince, and the two files of civil and military officials all raised the wail of mourning and put on white. And in the White Tiger Hall the coffin was set to lie in state — but of this no more.
He takes the letter, tucks it up his sleeve, and dies. 瞑目而亡, closing the eyes and passing away, is as quiet an ending as the language has. 梓宮, 'the catalpa palace,' is the imperial coffin, named for the wood it was made of. 長 in 侍長, 'senior attendants,' is zhǎng; 著 in 停著, 'resting,' is the ongoing-state zhe; 那 is nà.
In the end, there is no knowing how Taizong returned to life — so listen to the next chapter for the explanation.
還魂 is to have the soul come back, to return to life, with 還 read huán. The storyteller's closing formula does what it always does: stops on the question and sends you next door. The emperor is dead, with a letter to the underworld in his sleeve.
The chapter ends in death and a strange kind of hope. With the ghosts barred at last from both gates, the emperor's body fails anyway, and Taizong composes himself with the deliberate dignity of a dying sovereign — bathing, changing his robes, entrusting the state to 徐茂公 in the manner of Liu Bei entrusting his orphan. The allusion to Liu Bei's deathbed charge to Zhuge Liang sets Taizong in the great tradition of the well-ordered succession, and lends the ghost-story the gravity of dynastic history.
But 魏徵's last act turns the ending from a closure into a threshold. He presses on the dying emperor a letter to 崔珏, his sworn brother in life and now, in death, keeper of the registers of life and death in the courts of Fengdu: a passport to the underworld and, he promises, back again. Taizong dies with it in his sleeve, and the storyteller's closing formula, 畢竟不知太宗如何還魂, withholds the outcome and leaves the emperor dead but not yet gone. A petty affair between a dragon and a fortune-teller has carried the reader, by way of a broken promise, to the death of an emperor and the doorway of hell; and the tenth chapter closes by opening onto the eleventh, where Taizong will journey through the underworld and return. The whole vast machinery of sin, judgment and redemption that drives the pilgrimage to the West has been set turning by two woodsmen talking on a riverbank.