孽龍吞馬 The Dragon Devours the Horse
師徒兩個正然看處，只見那澗當中響一聲，鑽出一條龍來，推波掀浪，攛出崖山，就搶長老。慌得個行者丟了行李，把師父抱下馬來，回頭便走。那條龍就趕不上，把他的白馬連鞍轡一口吞下肚去，依然伏水潛蹤。行者把師父送在那高阜上坐了，卻來牽馬挑擔，止存得一擔行李，不見了馬匹。他將行李擔送到師父面前道：「師父，那孽龍也不見蹤影，只是驚走我的馬了。」三藏道：「徒弟啊，卻怎生尋得馬著麼？」行者道：「放心，放心，等我去看來。」师徒两个正然看处，只见那涧当中响一声，钻出一条龙来，推波掀浪，撺出崖山，就抢长老。慌得个行者丢了行李，把师父抱下马来，回头便走。那条龙就赶不上，把他的白马连鞍辔一口吞下肚去，依然伏水潜踪。行者把师父送在那高阜上坐了，却来牵马挑担，止存得一担行李，不见了马匹。他将行李担送到师父面前道：「师父，那孽龙也不见踪影，只是惊走我的马了。」三藏道：「徒弟啊，却怎生寻得马着么？」行者道：「放心，放心，等我去看来。」
逐句解 Line by line
As master and disciple stood there gazing, all at once from the middle of the gorge came a great splash, and a dragon came boring up out of the water,
正然 is "just as, right in the middle of" — they are still admiring the view. The verb chosen for the dragon's arrival is 鑽 zuān, to bore or drill: it does not rise or leap, it augers up out of the water. 那澗 takes the pointing nà, "that gorge".
shoving the billows and heaving the waves, and shot out past the cliff-face straight at the elder.
攛 cuān is to fling yourself somewhere at speed; 搶 is to snatch. 長老 zhǎng lǎo, "the elder", is one of the novel's standing names for Sanzang, with 長 read zhǎng (senior) rather than cháng (long). Four verbs, and the horse is as good as gone.
In his alarm the Pilgrim dropped the baggage, caught his master down off the horse, and turned to flee.
慌得 huāng de is "so alarmed that —": the 得 is unstressed de, and its only job is to hang a consequence off the verb in front of it. What follows is character drawn entirely through choices made under pressure. Wukong drops the luggage, hauls his master off the horse, and runs. The horse is left to fend for itself.
The dragon could not overtake them, so it swallowed the white horse — saddle, bridle and all — at a single gulp, and sank back into the water to hide its trail as before.
鞍轡 ān pèi is saddle-and-bridle, and worth keeping an eye on: the last third of this chapter is about replacing it. 一口吞下 is to swallow at a single mouthful; 潛蹤 is to sink out of sight leaving no track. The dragon goes as it came, which is precisely the trouble — there is nothing left to hit.
The Pilgrim set his master down to sit on a high mound, then came back to lead the horse and take up the load — but only the one load of baggage was left, and the horse was nowhere to be seen.
高阜 gāo fù is a raised mound; 挑擔 is to shoulder a carrying-pole. 止存得 is "there was left only", the 得 again the unstressed de tying a verb to its outcome. The novel does not describe the shock. It simply counts what is there: one load of luggage, no horse.
He carried the load of baggage over before his master and said: "Master, that vile dragon has left no trace either; it has only frightened my horse away."
In 將行李擔送到, the 將 jiāng works like the English "take —": it moves the object in front of the verb, so the sentence runs "he took the load and brought it over". 孽龍 niè lóng is stronger than "bad dragon". 孽 is wrongdoing with consequences already attached — sin with the bill still to come — and it is exactly the right word for a creature under sentence, as the reader will discover long before Wukong does. Notice also that he has the facts wrong: he thinks the horse bolted.
Said Sanzang: "Disciple, ah — however are we to find the horse now?"
怎生 zěn shēng is simply "how?" — a Song and Yuan colloquialism the vernacular novels kept long after ordinary speech had moved on, and one of Sanzang's tics when he is rattled. In 尋得 the 得 carries its full weight, dé, "manage to": not searching for the horse but succeeding in finding it. The trailing 著麼 softens the whole thing into an anxious question rather than a demand.
Said the Pilgrim: "Rest easy, rest easy; let me go and take a look."
放心 is "let the heart down", that is, stop worrying — doubled, as reassurance usually is in this novel. It is also the last calm thing Wukong says for several pages.
The ambush is staged with the vernacular novel's usual economy of violence. The dragon does not fight for the horse; it erupts, gulps mount and tack down at one swallow, and is gone — 依然伏水潛蹤, "sinking back to hide its trail as before". The frustration is the whole point. There is no enemy left to grapple with and no body to strike. Wukong's enormous strength, so decisive against the brigands of the previous chapter, is suddenly worth nothing, and the tension of the episode comes from that helplessness rather than from any contest.
Notice how the loss is reported: as bookkeeping, not lament. Wukong carries the load over, finds only the one bundle left and the horse nowhere, and even gets the diagnosis wrong — he thinks it bolted. Sanzang's answer is the first of many in this chapter: not a plan but tears, and the anxious refrain 怎生, "however are we —". The gap between the disciple's breezy "rest easy" and the master's rising panic sets up the quarrel to come, and with it the chapter's real difficulty. The dragon is not the problem. The two of them are.