三妖席地 佛衣之會 Three Fiends Seated on the Ground; the Buddha-Robe Feast
那行者正觀山景，忽聽得芳草坡前，有人言語。他卻輕步潛蹤，閃在那石崖之下，偷睛觀看。原來是三個妖魔，席地而坐：上首的是一條黑漢，左首下是一個道人，右首下是一個白衣秀士。都在那裡高談闊論，講的是立鼎安爐，摶砂煉汞，白雪黃芽，傍門外道。正說中間，那黑漢笑道：「後日是我母難之日，二公可光顧光顧。」白衣秀士道：「年年與大王上壽，今年豈有不來之理？」黑漢道：「我夜來得了一件寶貝，名喚錦襴佛衣，誠然是件玩好之物。我明日就以他為壽，大開筵宴，邀請各山道官，慶賀佛衣，就稱為佛衣會如何？」道人笑道：「妙，妙，妙。我明日先來拜壽，後日再來赴宴。」那行者正观山景，忽听得芳草坡前，有人言语。他却轻步潜踪，闪在那石崖之下，偷睛观看。原来是三个妖魔，席地而坐：上首的是一条黑汉，左首下是一个道人，右首下是一个白衣秀士。都在那里高谈阔论，讲的是立鼎安炉，抟砂炼汞，白雪黄芽，傍门外道。正说中间，那黑汉笑道：「后日是我母难之日，二公可光顾光顾。」白衣秀士道：「年年与大王上寿，今年岂有不来之理？」黑汉道：「我夜来得了一件宝贝，名唤锦襕佛衣，诚然是件玩好之物。我明日就以他为寿，大开筵宴，邀请各山道官，庆贺佛衣，就称为佛衣会如何？」道人笑道：「妙，妙，妙。我明日先来拜寿，后日再来赴宴。」
逐句解 Line by line
The Pilgrim was still taking in the mountain prospect when of a sudden he heard voices before a slope of fragrant grass.
聽得 is heard-and-registered, with the linking de. 芳草坡, the slope of fragrant grass, is being fixed here as a place-name, and it comes back three more times before the chapter ends.
Stepping softly and hiding his track, he slipped in below that stone cliff and watched with a stolen eye.
潛蹤 is to submerge your own footprints; 偷睛觀看 is to look with a stolen eye. Note what has happened to him. The monkey who could not stop himself shouting in the last chapter is now behaving like a professional spy.
They proved to be three fiends, seated upon the bare ground. In the upper place was a black fellow;
席地而坐 means making the bare ground serve as your mat, and 上首 is the place of honour — so they are sitting on the dirt in strict banqueting order. The measure word 條 belongs to long, sinuous things, and applying it to a man is faintly animal.
below on the left was a Taoist, and below on the right a scholar robed in white.
左首下 and 右首下 seat the two guests below their host in the exact protocol of a dinner party. A reader who notices that one guest is a Taoist and the other is dressed in white has already been told what species each of them is. The Pilgrim, watching, has not.
All of them were there discoursing at large — of raising the tripod and settling the furnace, of kneading cinnabar and smelting quicksilver, of White Snow and Yellow Sprout: the side gates and the outer ways.
Two readings first: 都 is dōu, all of them; and 那裡 is pointing, nà, there — not asking nǎ, where. Now the substance, which is a shopping list of inner-alchemy vocabulary. 立鼎安爐, setting up the cauldron and settling the furnace, refers to the body's own vessels. 摶砂煉汞 is kneading cinnabar and smelting quicksilver. 白雪 and 黃芽, White Snow and Yellow Sprout, are cover-names for the lead and mercury of the elixir. And then the narrator writes the lot off in four characters: 傍門外道 — a side gate and a road outside the gate, which is to say quackery. One reading to watch: this 傍 is writing 旁, beside, so it is páng, not bàng. Compare 傍岸 in the rhapsody further down, where the character is a genuine verb, to border, and keeps bàng.
In the midst of the talk the black fellow laughed and said, "The day after tomorrow is the day of my mother's travail. Let the two of you honour me with your presence."
母難之日, the day of my mother's ordeal, is a pious and rather touching way of saying birthday; 難 is nàn, calamity or travail, not nán, difficult. Keep it in mind. A monster who dates his own life from his mother's pain is not entirely a monster.
The white-clad scholar said, "Year upon year we drink to the Great King's long life. What reason could there be for not coming this year?"
上壽 is to raise the birthday cup to someone. 豈有不來之理 is a fixed piece of politeness — how could there exist any principle of not coming?
The black fellow said, "Last night I came by a treasure. It is named the brocade-bordered Buddha-robe, and it is truly a thing to be delighted in.
得了 is the full verb, dé, acquired. 錦襴 is the brocade border sewn onto a cassock. Now watch the fiend's word-choice: he never says 袈裟, the plain word for the garment. He says 佛衣, Buddha-robe, which promotes stolen goods into a relic — and in the same breath calls it 玩好, a treasured plaything, read wán hào, with 好 taking its fourth-tone noun sense rather than the everyday adjective hǎo.
Tomorrow I shall make it the gift of my birthday, spread a great banquet, invite the Taoist officers of every mountain, and give thanks for the Buddha-robe. We shall call it the Buddha-Robe Feast — how would that be?"
Both 以他為壽 and 稱為 use 為 as the plain copula, wéi, to be or to serve as, rather than the fourth-tone wèi of purpose. Note 道官, Taoist officers: that is civil-service language. The bear runs a court.
The Taoist laughed and said, "Excellent, excellent, excellent. Tomorrow I shall come first to wish you long life; the day after, I shall come again to the banquet."
The Taoist accepts twice over — once for the birthday and once for the party — and in doing so nails down the two-day calendar that the rest of the chapter's plot will run on.
The staging is beautifully economical. Three figures sit on bare earth in correct banqueting order, discussing inner alchemy, and the narrator files the entire conversation under 傍門外道 — side gates and outer roads — before a single word of it has been examined. That verdict is the chapter in miniature. These are not sages; they are collectors. Their crime is going to be a crime of taste.
Everything pivots on one word. The bear calls the stolen cassock 佛衣, Buddha-robe, never 袈裟 — and then, in the same sentence, calls it 玩好之物, a lovely thing to own. A relic and a curio at once: he will throw a festival in its honour and has no idea what it is actually for. Meanwhile the Pilgrim, listening from behind the rock, catches the two characters 佛衣 and jumps to a conclusion that happens to be correct. Both of them reason from the robe to its owner, and both of them reason badly.