Canonical Classics ← 第十三回
第十三回
xiànxuéjīnxīngjiěè
shuāngchālǐngqīnliúsēng

Trapped in the Tiger's Den, the Gold Star Dispels the Peril · At Twin-Fork Ridge, Liu Boqin Takes In the Monk

太保還家
模式 Mode Read Study
拼音 Pinyin Off
字體 Script
原文 Original text 繁體 Traditional Reader's edition

太保還家 Home to the Guardian's House

qīndàoleménshǒujiāngzhìxiàjiào:「xiǎodemenzài?」zhǐjiànzǒuchūsānjiātóngdōushìguàixíngèxiàngzhīlèishàngqiántuōtuōzhīkángjiāngjìnqīnfēnfujiàogǎnzǎoleānpáijiāngláidàihuítóuyíngjiēsānzàngjìnnèixiāngjiànsānzàngyòubàixièqīnhòuēnliánmǐnjiùmìngqīndào:「tóngxiāngzhīrénláozhìxiè。」zuòdìngcháyǒulǎolǐngzheduìsānzàngjìnqīndào:「shìjiāxiǎo。」sānzàngdào:「qǐnglìngtángshàngzuòpínsēngfèngbài。」lǎodào:「zhǎnglǎoyuǎnqǐngzhēnláobài。」qīndào:「qīnashìtángwángjiàxiàchāiwǎng西tiānjiànqiújīngzhěshìjiānzàilǐngtóushàngzháoháierháierniànguózhīrénqǐngláijiāxiēmíngsòngshàng。」lǎowényánshífēnhuāndào:「hǎohǎohǎojiùshìqǐngzhèbānqiàhǎomíngqīnzhōujiùměizhǎnglǎozuòxiēhǎoshìniànjuànjīngwéndàohòusòng。」zhèliúqīnsuīshìshāshǒuzhènshāndetàibǎoquèyǒuxiēxiàoshùnzhīxīnwényánjiùyàoānpáixiāngzhǐliúzhùsānzàngqīndàoleménshǒujiāngzhìxiàjiào:「xiǎodemenzài?」zhǐjiànzǒuchūsānjiātóngdōushìguàixíngèxiàngzhīlèishàngqiántuōtuōzhīkángjiāngjìnqīnfēnfujiàogǎnzǎoleānpáijiāngláidàihuítóuyíngjiēsānzàngjìnnèixiāngjiànsānzàngyòubàixièqīnhòuēnliánmǐnjiùmìngqīndào:「tóngxiāngzhīrénláozhìxiè。」zuòdìngcháyǒulǎolǐngzheduìsānzàngjìnqīndào:「shìjiāxiǎo。」sānzàngdào:「qǐnglìngtángshàngzuòpínsēngfèngbài。」lǎodào:「zhǎnglǎoyuǎnqǐngzhēnláobài。」qīndào:「qīnashìtángwángjiàxiàchāiwǎng西tiānjiànqiújīngzhěshìjiānzàilǐngtóushàngzháoháierháierniànguózhīrénqǐngláijiāxiēmíngsòngshàng。」lǎowényánshífēnhuāndào:「hǎohǎohǎojiùshìqǐngzhèbānqiàhǎomíngqīnzhōujiùměizhǎnglǎozuòxiēhǎoshìniànjuànjīngwéndàohòusòng。」zhèliúqīnsuīshìshāshǒuzhènshāndetàibǎoquèyǒuxiēxiàoshùnzhīxīnwényánjiùyàoānpáixiāngzhǐliúzhùsānzàng


逐句解 Line by line

qīndàoleménshǒujiāngzhìxiàjiào:「xiǎodemenzài?」zhǐjiànzǒuchūsānjiātóngdōushìguàixíngèxiàngzhīlèishàngqiántuōtuōzhīkángjiāngjìnqīnfēnfujiàogǎnzǎoleānpáijiāngláidàihuítóuyíngjiēsānzàngjìnnèixiāngjiànsānzàngyòubàixièqīnhòuēnliánmǐnjiùmìngqīndào:「tóngxiāngzhīrénláozhìxiè。」zuòdìngcháyǒulǎolǐngzheduìsānzàngjìn qīndàoleménshǒujiāngzhìxiàjiào:「xiǎodemenzài?」zhǐjiànzǒuchūsānjiātóngdōushìguàixíngèxiàngzhīlèishàngqiántuōtuōzhīkángjiāngjìnqīnfēnfujiàogǎnzǎoleānpáijiāngláidàihuítóuyíngjiēsānzàngjìnnèixiāngjiànsānzàngyòubàixièqīnhòuēnliánmǐnjiùmìngqīndào:「tóngxiāngzhīrénláozhìxiè。」zuòdìngcháyǒulǎolǐngzheduìsānzàngjìn

When Boqin reached his gate, he flung down the dead tiger and called out: "Where are you lads?" Out came three or four house-servants, all of them of grotesque form and evil aspect, who came forward, hauling and tugging, and carried the tiger off inside. Boqin gave orders that it be skinned early and made ready to serve to the guest. Then he turned back to usher Sanzang within, and when they had greeted one another, Sanzang once again bowed his thanks for Boqin's great kindness and mercy in saving his life. Boqin said: "We are men of the same district — what need is there of thanks?" When they had sat down and taken tea, an old woman appeared, leading a young wife, and they made their salutations to Sanzang.

家僮 (jiā tóng), the house-servants, are described as grotesque and evil-looking — a reminder that for all its master's courtesy this is a rough frontier household, staffed by people who butcher tigers for a living.

qīndào:「shìjiāxiǎo。」sānzàngdào:「qǐnglìngtángshàngzuòpínsēngfèngbài。」lǎodào:「zhǎnglǎoyuǎnqǐngzhēnláobài。」qīndào:「qīnashìtángwángjiàxiàchāiwǎng西tiānjiànqiújīngzhěshìjiānzàilǐngtóushàngzháoháierháierniànguózhīrénqǐngláijiāxiēmíngsòngshàng。」lǎowényánshífēnhuāndào:「hǎohǎohǎojiùshìqǐngzhèbānqiàhǎomíngqīnzhōujiùměizhǎnglǎozuòxiēhǎoshìniànjuànjīngwéndàohòusòng。」zhèliúqīnsuīshìshāshǒuzhènshāndetàibǎoquèyǒuxiēxiàoshùnzhīxīnwényánjiùyàoānpáixiāngzhǐliúzhùsānzàng qīndào:「shìjiāxiǎo。」sānzàngdào:「qǐnglìngtángshàngzuòpínsēngfèngbài。」lǎodào:「zhǎnglǎoyuǎnqǐngzhēnláobài。」qīndào:「qīnashìtángwángjiàxiàchāiwǎng西tiānjiànqiújīngzhěshìjiānzàilǐngtóushàngzháoháierháierniànguózhīrénqǐngláijiāxiēmíngsòngshàng。」lǎowényánshífēnhuāndào:「hǎohǎohǎojiùshìqǐngzhèbānqiàhǎomíngqīnzhōujiùměizhǎnglǎozuòxiēhǎoshìniànjuànjīngwéndàohòusòng。」zhèliúqīnsuīshìshāshǒuzhènshāndetàibǎoquèyǒuxiēxiàoshùnzhīxīnwényánjiùyàoānpáixiāngzhǐliúzhùsānzàng

Boqin said: "This is my mother, and my humble wife." Sanzang said: "Pray let your honoured mother take the high seat, and let this poor monk pay his respects." The old woman said: "Elder, you are a traveller from afar; let each of us stand on no ceremony, and spare yourself the bow." Boqin said: "Mother, he is a man sent under the Tang king to go to the Western Heaven to see the Buddha and seek scriptures. Just now, on the ridge-top, he met your son, and your son, mindful that we are men of one country, has asked him home to rest his horse, and tomorrow will see him on his way." Hearing this, the old woman was filled with joy and said: "Good, good, good. Even had we sought for it, we could not have hit on so apt a time. Tomorrow is your father's death-anniversary; pray prevail on the elder to do some good works and read a scroll of scripture, and the day after, we can send him off." Now this Liu Boqin, though a slayer of tigers and Guardian of the Mountain, had for all that something of a filial heart; and hearing his mother's words, he set about at once to prepare the incense and paper, and kept Sanzang there.

週忌 (zhōu jì) is the anniversary of a death, and the mother's timing turns the visit into a plot. She asks the monk to 念卷經文 — recite a scroll of scripture, (juàn) being the measure word for scripture — and so sets up the memorial service that closes the chapter. 香紙, "incense and paper," are the offerings burned for the dead: paper money and paper goods, sent across by fire.


總評 Commentary

The homecoming brings the chapter fully indoors, and the household arrives in three quick strokes: the alarming servants, the old mother, the young wife. The courtesies are precisely observed — Xuanzang insisting on a formal bow, the old woman waving it away, Boqin announcing his guest's imperial errand with obvious pride.

Then the scene turns on a coincidence that is also a hinge. Tomorrow is the anniversary of Boqin's father's death, and here, by pure chance, is a monk. The mother sees it at once and asks him to perform the rites.

Two of the chapter's obligations tie together in that request — what you owe a guest and what you owe the dead — and the tiger-killer picks up a third dimension. He has, the text says, something of a filial heart, and he goes off at once to fetch the incense. It is a small stroke that lifts him out of the stock role of the rough hunter.