各依執事 Each to His Own Task
三藏見他發怒,恐怕那童子回言,鬥起禍來,便道:「悟空,且休爭競,我們既進來就出去,顯得沒了方情。常言道:『鷺鷥不吃鷺鷥肉。』他師既是不在,攪亂他做甚?你去山門前放馬,沙僧看守行李,教八戒解包袱,取些米糧,借他鍋灶,做頓飯吃,待臨行,送他幾文柴錢,便罷了。各依執事,讓我在此歇息歇息,飯畢就行。」他三人果各依執事而去。三藏见他发怒,恐怕那童子回言,斗起祸来,便道:「悟空,且休争竞,我们既进来就出去,显得没了方情。常言道:『鹭鸶不吃鹭鸶肉。』他师既是不在,搅乱他做甚?你去山门前放马,沙僧看守行李,教八戒解包袱,取些米粮,借他锅灶,做顿饭吃,待临行,送他几文柴钱,便罢了。各依执事,让我在此歇息歇息,饭毕就行。」他三人果各依执事而去。
逐句解 Line by line
Seeing his anger, and fearing the boy would answer back and stir up trouble, Tripiṭaka said: "Wukong, let be this quarrel. We have come in, and shall soon go out again; there is no call to lose our courtesy.
Tripiṭaka intervenes, and his reasoning is practical rather than moral: if the boy answers back, there will be a fight. 鬥起禍來, dòu qǐ huò lái, to breed a calamity. 方情, fāng qíng, the courtesy due between parties. 顯得 takes the light de.
As the old saying goes: 'An egret eats no egret's flesh.'
鷺鷥不吃鷺鷥肉 — "an egret eats no egret's flesh." A folk adage of the same family as "dog does not eat dog": those of a kind spare their own. Tripiṭaka is quietly classing Buddhist and Daoist clergy as one species, which is a rather generous piece of ecumenism to deploy in a squabble about manners.
His master being away, what use is it to make a disturbance of him?
攪亂, jiǎo luàn, to throw into disorder. 做甚 — 甚 as shèn, "what use."
You go turn out the horses before the gate; Sha Monk, mind the baggage; have Bajie undo the bundle and take out some rice, and let us borrow their pot and stove to make a meal. When we leave we shall give them a few coppers for the firewood, and that will be that.
And here he issues the orders that lose him the chapter. Pilgrim to the horses, Sha Monk to the baggage, Bājiè to unpack and cook. 教八戒解包袱 uses 教, jiào, in its causative sense — to have someone do something — "have him —", with 解 as jiě, "to undo" — the same character that was xiè, the street-performer's word, in the chapter's opening exchange.
Each to his own task; let me rest a while here, and we shall be off once the meal is done."
各依執事, gè yī zhí shì, each to his appointed duty. 飯畢就行 takes 行 as xíng, to set out.
And the three of them went off, each to his task.
They go. The party has just scattered itself across the compound, which is exactly what the boys wanted and exactly what will ruin everything.
Tripiṭaka defuses the row, and his reasoning is worth noticing because it is not high-minded. He is not appealing to charity; he is calculating that if the boy answers back there will be a brawl, and there is no point making a scene in a house whose owner is out. The adage he reaches for — an egret eats no egret's flesh — quietly files Buddhist and Daoist clergy under one species, which is a generous piece of ecumenism to deploy in an argument about rudeness.
Then he parcels out the chores, and in doing so hands the chapter its disaster. Pilgrim to the horses, Sha Monk to the baggage, Bājiè to the kitchen. The dispersal is precisely what the boys were hoping for — it clears the rough disciples away from the fruit — and precisely what undoes them, because it puts the hungriest member of the party alone in a room that shares a wall with theirs. Everyone in this passage acts sensibly, and the sensible actions interlock into catastrophe.