日沒收兵 手平之對 Nightfall Without Victory
他兩個從洞口打上山頭，自山頭殺在雲外，吐霧噴風，飛砂走石，只鬥到紅日沉西，不分勝敗。那怪道：「姓孫的，你且住了手，今日天晚，不好相持。你去，你去，待明早來，與你定個死活。」行者叫道：「兒子莫走，要戰便像個戰的，不可以天晚相推。」看他沒頭沒臉的，只情使棍子打來。這黑漢又化陣清風，轉回本洞，緊閉石門不出。行者卻無計策奈何，只得也回觀音院裡，按落雲頭，道聲：「師父。」那三藏眼兒巴巴的正望他哩，忽見到了面前，甚喜；又見他手裡沒有袈裟，又懼。問道：「怎麼這番還不曾有袈裟來？」行者袖中取出個簡帖兒來，遞與三藏道：「師父，那怪物與這死的老剝皮原是朋友。他著一個小妖送此帖來，還請他去赴佛衣會。是老孫就把那小妖打死，變做那老和尚，進他洞去，騙了一鍾茶吃。欲問他討袈裟看看，他不肯拿出。正坐間，忽被一個甚麼巡山的走了風信，他就與我打將起來。只鬥到這早晚，不分上下。他見天晚，閃回洞去，緊閉石門。老孫無奈，也暫回來。」三藏道：「你手段比他何如？」行者道：「我也硬不多兒，只戰個手平。」他两个从洞口打上山头，自山头杀在云外，吐雾喷风，飞砂走石，只斗到红日沉西，不分胜败。那怪道：「姓孙的，你且住了手，今日天晚，不好相持。你去，你去，待明早来，与你定个死活。」行者叫道：「儿子莫走，要战便像个战的，不可以天晚相推。」看他没头没脸的，只情使棍子打来。这黑汉又化阵清风，转回本洞，紧闭石门不出。行者却无计策奈何，只得也回观音院里，按落云头，道声：「师父。」那三藏眼儿巴巴的正望他哩，忽见到了面前，甚喜；又见他手里没有袈裟，又惧。问道：「怎么这番还不曾有袈裟来？」行者袖中取出个简帖儿来，递与三藏道：「师父，那怪物与这死的老剥皮原是朋友。他着一个小妖送此帖来，还请他去赴佛衣会。是老孙就把那小妖打死，变做那老和尚，进他洞去，骗了一钟茶吃。欲问他讨袈裟看看，他不肯拿出。正坐间，忽被一个甚么巡山的走了风信，他就与我打将起来。只斗到这早晚，不分上下。他见天晚，闪回洞去，紧闭石门。老孙无奈，也暂回来。」三藏道：「你手段比他何如？」行者道：「我也硬不多儿，只战个手平。」
逐句解 Line by line
The two of them fought from the cave mouth up to the summit, and from the summit out beyond the clouds,
The fight leaves the ground inside a single clause. 打上山頭 and 殺在雲外 answer each other, and the verbs are 打, to strike, and 殺, to kill — neither of which kills anybody.
belching mist and spouting wind, whirling the sand and rolling the stones, and fought until the red sun sank westward with neither the victor.
不分勝敗 — the third time in the chapter that a fight is closed off with a formula of indecision, and the second time it is the sun that closes it.
The fiend said, "You of the surname Sun, hold your hand awhile. The day is late, and it is no fit hour for contending.
姓孫的, you of the surname Sun, is barely civil without being quite rude. 相持: xiāng. The fiend asks for the night off exactly as he asked for his dinner, and with the same reasonableness.
Go, go; wait till tomorrow morning, and I will settle life and death with you."
定個死活 is to settle which of them lives. He proposes tomorrow morning, and he means it.
The Pilgrim shouted, "My son, do not run! If you would fight, fight like a man who fights, and do not put me off with the lateness of the hour."
兒子 takes the full lexical 兒, ér, with the toneless 子. 要戰便像個戰的 — if you're going to fight, fight like a thing that fights. 相推: xiāng, to fob somebody off with excuses.
Look at him — with neither head nor face to the thing, he simply laid on with the rod.
沒頭沒臉, with neither head nor face to it: blindly, all over the place. 只情 is to keep on regardless. Note that the narrator is watching the Pilgrim now rather than the fiend, and that the verb he gives him is not a fighting verb.
But the black fellow turned again to a gust of clear wind, went back into his own cave, barred the stone gate fast, and did not come out.
化陣清風, turned into a gust of clear wind — and 清, clear or pure, is not an epithet this chapter has spent on the Pilgrim.
The Pilgrim, having no stratagem left him, was reduced to returning to the Guanyin Temple. He set down his cloud and called, "Master."
只得 takes the acquisitive dé: reduced to it. 無計策奈何 — no stratagem left and nothing to be done. The chapter has now defeated him twice with a stone door.
Sanzang, whose eyes had been straining after him, was greatly glad to see him of a sudden before his face; and seeing no cassock in his hand, was afraid again.
眼兒巴巴 carries the toneless diminutive 兒, er — eyes fixed and straining. 甚喜: 甚 is the intensifier shèn. Glad and then frightened inside one sentence, and the hinge between them is a pair of empty hands.
He asked, "How is it that this time too no cassock has come?"
還 is the adverb hái. Sanzang asks after the robe. He has now asked after the robe three times and after his disciple not once.
The Pilgrim drew a card out of his sleeve,
簡帖兒: 帖 reads tiě, a written card, and the 兒 is the toneless diminutive.
handed it to Sanzang, and said, "Master, that monster and this dead old flayer were friends from the first.
老剝皮: bāo. The Pilgrim produces the letter as evidence of a conspiracy. What it actually proves is that two neighbours exchanged gifts.
He had a little demon carry this card, and would have had him come besides to the Buddha-Robe Feast.
他著一個小妖 — 著 is the full causative verb zhuó, had him do it. That is the third reading of this character in the chapter, after 尋著 (zháo) and 執著 (zhe). 還請: 還 here is hái, meaning "still."
So old Sun beat the little demon dead, changed into that old monk, went into his cave, and cheated a cup of tea out of him.
騙了一鍾茶吃 — cheated a cup of tea out of him and drank it. The Pilgrim compresses his entire embassy into one clause, and the thing he chooses to report is the tea.
I would have asked him for a sight of the cassock, and he would not fetch it out.
不肯拿出, would not bring it out. He had asked as a guest, and was refused as a guest.
While we sat there, some patrolling creature or other let the news slip, and he fell to fighting with me.
甚麼巡山的: shén. 走了風信 is to let the wind of a thing get out. 打將起來 — 將 is the little linking syllable, jiāng.
We fought till this hour with nothing to choose between us. Seeing it grow late, he slipped back into the cave and barred the stone gate.
不分上下, nothing to choose between them: the fourth such formula in the chapter. This time the Pilgrim uses it about himself, and it costs him something to do so.
Old Sun had no help for it, and has come back awhile." Sanzang said, "How do your arts stand against his?"
無奈, nothing for it. Sanzang, who up to now has asked only about the robe, finally asks the one question that matters.
The Pilgrim said, "I am not so very much the harder. We fought to an even hand."
硬不多兒 — not harder by much. 手平 is an even hand: a draw. After four hundred and fifty characters of autobiography, the Pilgrim answers his master in eleven, and tells the truth.
The second day ends as the first did and by the same clock. The fiend proposes an adjournment in the language of a duellist; the Pilgrim refuses it in the language of a street brawl — 沒頭沒臉的，只情使棍子打來, which is the narrator's phrase and not a compliment; and the stone door shuts again. Twice now the chapter has ended a combat with a formula of indecision and a closed gate, and twice the Pilgrim has had to fly home and explain himself.
The explanation is a small masterpiece of curation, right up to the point where it collapses. He produces the letter as proof of a conspiracy. He reports his embassy as a cup of tea cheated out of a host. He attributes his exposure to 一個甚麼巡山的, some patrolling creature or other, as though the corpse on the road had nothing to do with anybody. And then Sanzang asks the question nobody has asked — 你手段比他何如？, how do your powers stand against his? — and the Pilgrim, who boasted for four hundred and fifty characters to a bear, answers his master in eleven: 我也硬不多兒，只戰個手平。 It is the most honest sentence he speaks in the chapter, and he speaks it to the one person who had no way of checking.