Canonical Classics ← 第十六回
第十六回
guānyīnyuànsēngmóubǎobèi
hēifēngshānguàiqièjiāshā

At the Guanyin Monastery the Monks Plot for the Treasure · At Black Wind Mountain the Fiend Steals the Cassock

老死鬼的不是
模式 Mode Read Study
拼音 Pinyin Off
字體 Script
原文 Original text 繁體 Traditional Reader's edition

老死鬼的不是 It Was the Old Dead Ghost

zhòngsēngjiànlezhànjīngjīngdeshàngqiánguìxiàquànjiěsānzàngcáikǒuniànxíngzhětiàoláiěrduochèchūtiěbàngyàoxiēshàngbèisānzàngzhùdào:「zhèhóutóutóutòngháiháiyàoxiūdòngshǒuqiěshāngrénzàishěnwènwèn。」zhòngsēngmentóubàiāigàosānzàngdào:「lǎoráomìngděngwěishídecéngkànjiànzhèdōushìlǎoguǐdeshìzuówǎnkànzhedejiāshāzhǐdàogēngshēnshíhòukàncénggǎnkànliángyàochángjiǔzuòchuánjiāzhībǎoshèdìngyàoshāoshālǎohuǒzhīhòukuángfēngzuòrénzhǐjiùhuǒbānqiǎngjiàngèngzhījiāshāxiàng。」zhòngsēngjiànlezhànjīngjīngdeshàngqiánguìxiàquànjiěsānzàngcáikǒuniànxíngzhětiàoláiěrduochèchūtiěbàngyàoxiēshàngbèisānzàngzhùdào:「zhèhóutóutóutòngháiháiyàoxiūdòngshǒuqiěshāngrénzàishěnwènwèn。」zhòngsēngmentóubàiāigàosānzàngdào:「lǎoráomìngděngwěishídecéngkànjiànzhèdōushìlǎoguǐdeshìzuówǎnkànzhedejiāshāzhǐdàogēngshēnshíhòukàncénggǎnkànliángyàochángjiǔzuòchuánjiāzhībǎoshèdìngyàoshāoshālǎohuǒzhīhòukuángfēngzuòrénzhǐjiùhuǒbānqiǎngjiàngèngzhījiāshāxiàng。」


逐句解 Line by line

zhòngsēngjiànlezhànjīngjīngdeshàngqiánguìxiàquànjiěsānzàngcáikǒuniàn zhòngsēngjiànlezhànjīngjīngdeshàngqiánguìxiàquànjiěsānzàngcáikǒuniàn

Seeing this, the monks were every one of them trembling and shaking; they came forward, knelt, and pleaded for him, and only then did Sanzang close his mouth and cease.

戰兢兢 is trembling with fear. They kneel to intercede for the man who burned their house, because he is being tortured in front of them. It is the only disinterested act any of them performs in the whole chapter.

xíngzhětiàoláiěrduochèchūtiěbàngyàoxiēshàng xíngzhětiàoláiěrduochèchūtiěbàngyàoxiēshàng

The Pilgrim sprang up with a roll, drew the iron rod from his ear, and would have laid about him among the monks,

一骨魯, all at once and with a roll of the body — the same vernacular adverb used of him springing off the bed at midnight. 耳朵裡掣出鐵棒: the cudgel lives in his ear, shrunk to a needle, and comes out full size.

bèisānzàngzhùdào:「zhèhóutóutóutòngháiháiyào bèisānzàngzhùdào:「zhèhóutóutóutòngháiháiyào

but Sanzang shouted him down. "Monkey-head! Your skull aches, and still you are not afraid? Still you would be insolent?

這猴頭, "this monkey-head," is Sanzang's standing term of exasperation. Both instances of are hái. The rebuke is correct, and it is delivered by a man who has just made his disciple's skull ache on purpose.

xiūdòngshǒuqiěshāngrénzàishěnwènwèn。」 xiūdòngshǒuqiěshāngrénzàishěnwènwèn。」

"Stay your hand. Do no man harm. Let me question them once more."

休動手且莫傷人 — "stay your hand; harm no one." Sanzang's compassion is intact, and it arrives, as it always does, one instrument too late.

zhòngsēngmentóubàiāigàosānzàngdào:「lǎoráomìngděngwěishídecéngkànjiàn zhòngsēngmentóubàiāigàosānzàngdào:「lǎoráomìngděngwěishídecéngkànjiàn

The monks knocked their heads and made their obeisance, imploring Sanzang: "Your Worship, spare our lives! We truly and honestly never saw it.

饒命 is spare our lives; 委實的 is truly and in fact.

zhèdōushìlǎoguǐdeshì zhèdōushìlǎoguǐdeshì

"It is all the fault of that old dead ghost.

那老死鬼 — "that old dead ghost." An hour ago he was 公公 to them, grandfather, and 師祖, grand-patriarch of the house. He has been dead perhaps ten minutes, and the honorifics are already gone.

zuówǎnkànzhedejiāshāzhǐdàogēngshēnshíhòukàncénggǎnkàn zuówǎnkànzhedejiāshāzhǐdàogēngshēnshíhòukàncénggǎnkàn

"Last night he sat looking at your cassock and wept until the watches were deep; he never once dared even to look at it properly,

看著你的袈裟 takes zhe; 更深 is gēng shēn, the deep watches of the night. And 看也不曾敢看 — "he never once dared even to look at it" — is the most exact thing anyone in this chapter says about him. He wept all night over a bundle he could not bring himself to open.

liángyàochángjiǔzuòchuánjiāzhībǎoshèdìngyàoshāoshālǎo liángyàochángjiǔzuòchuánjiāzhībǎoshèdìngyàoshāoshālǎo

"but thought how to keep it for ever, and make it the treasure handed down in the family, and laid his plans and settled his scheme to burn your Worships to death.

思量 takes liáng; 長久 takes cháng. 傳家之寶 comes round for the third and last time here — Guangzhi coined it, Guangmou repeated it, and now the rank and file recite the whole plot as though they had merely happened to overhear it.

huǒzhīhòukuángfēngzuòrénzhǐjiùhuǒbānqiǎngjiàngèngzhījiāshāxiàng。」 huǒzhīhòukuángfēngzuòrénzhǐjiùhuǒbānqiǎngjiàngèngzhījiāshāxiàng。」

"From the moment the fire arose, a violent wind sprang up, and every man of us thought only of fighting the fire and snatching out the goods; and we know nothing of where the cassock has gone."

狂風大作 is "a violent wind sprang up." They do not know where it came from, and they never will; the creature who raised it is standing over them with a rod. Their last words are a perfect summary of the house: 只顧救火搬搶物件 — we thought only of the fire and of snatching out the goods.


總評 Commentary

The monks kneel to save Wukong from Sanzang, which is the one selfless thing done by anybody in this monastery, and they do it for the creature who burned it down. Then, the moment the pain stops, they turn on their dead master: 這都是那老死鬼的不是. "It is all the fault of that old dead ghost." The man was 公公 to them an hour ago. Wú Chéng'ēn lets the sentence stand without a word of gloss, and it does more damage to the house than the fire did.

But their account of him is, unexpectedly, the truest portrait in the chapter. 他昨晚看著你的袈裟只哭到更深時候看也不曾敢看 — he sat looking at your cassock and wept into the deep watches, and never once dared to look at it properly. That is the whole of the man. He had the thing in his hands, under a lamp, all night, and could not open it; what he wanted was never to see it but to have it, and the wanting was so complete that seeing became impossible. He then burned two hundred and thirty men out of their beds to secure a bundle he had not untied, and this morning he ran at a wall because he could not find it. 損人利己一場空 — the poem has already said it, and the monks, without the least idea what they are saying, have now proved it.