潑猴戲仙 The Monkey Mocks the Immortal
那大仙驚罵道：「我把你這猢猴！怎麼弄手段搗了我的灶？」行者笑道：「你遇著我就該倒灶，干我甚事？我才自也要領你些油湯油水之愛，但只是大小便急了，若在鍋裡開風，恐怕污了你的熟油，不好調菜吃。如今大小便通乾淨了，才好下鍋。不要扎我師父，還來扎我罷。」那大仙聞言，呵呵冷笑，走出殿來，一把扯住。那大仙惊骂道：「我把你这猢猴！怎么弄手段捣了我的灶？」行者笑道：「你遇着我就该倒灶，干我甚事？我才自也要领你些油汤油水之爱，但只是大小便急了，若在锅里开风，恐怕污了你的熟油，不好调菜吃。如今大小便通干净了，才好下锅。不要扎我师父，还来扎我罢。」那大仙闻言，呵呵冷笑，走出殿来，一把扯住。
逐句解 Line by line
That Great Immortal cried out in astonishment and cursing: "I have you, you baboon!
驚罵, jīng mà, a curse of pure shock. 猢猴, hú hóu, is a macaque, used as an insult — a coarser word than the 潑猴 he has been using, which suggests the composure has finally cracked.
"How did you work your trick and wreck my stove?"
搗了我的灶 again — still the stove.
The Pilgrim laughed: "Meeting me, you were bound to have your stove wrecked—what's it to do with me?
And Wukong blames him for it. 倒灶, dǎo zào, literally "the stove goes over," is a common expression for a run of bad luck: your stove falling in is the household disaster that stands for all of them. So 你遇著我就該倒灶 puns squarely on the wrecked cauldron — meeting me, your luck was bound to go over, and so, as it happens, was your stove. 著 here is zháo, the reading for an encounter that lands; 倒 is dǎo; 甚事 has 甚 alone as shèn. 干我甚事, what business is it of mine, is unchanged in modern Chinese.
"I had meant, just now, to take some of your kind favour of oil-broth and oil-water; but only my bowels and bladder came on urgently, and had I let go in the pot, I feared I'd foul your good oil and it would be no use for seasoning dishes.
The excuse, delivered with enormous courtesy. 油湯油水之愛, "the kindness of your oil-broth and oil-water," treats being deep-fried as hospitality. Then the problem: he badly needed the lavatory, and had he gone in the pot he would have 污了你的熟油, spoiled your good cooking oil, which would then be 不好調菜吃, no use for seasoning the vegetables. 調 here is tiáo, "to season, to blend," not the diào of "to summon" a few passages back. The care for his host's kitchen is the joke.
"Now that I'm all quite cleaned out, it's a good time to go into the pot."
And now, he says, he is quite cleaned out and ready for the pot. 乾淨 takes 乾 as gān, "clean, dry," not the qián of the heaven-trigram.
"Don't scald my master—come and scald me instead."
The two clauses that actually matter, delivered last and without any joke attached: don't scald my master, scald me.
That Great Immortal, hearing this, laughed a cold "heh, heh," walked out from the hall, and with one grab seized him fast.
呵呵冷笑, the cold laugh again — the same sound he made on finding the willows. 一把扯住, seized him with one grab. And there the chapter stops.
The speech is a masterpiece of impudence and it has a shape. First he blames the victim: 你遇著我就該倒灶, meeting me, you were bound to have your luck go over — and 倒灶, "the stove goes over," is the ordinary phrase for a run of bad luck, so the pun on the actual wrecked cauldron is exact. Then he recasts being boiled as a favour of "oil-broth and oil-water." Then he explains that he stepped out because he needed the lavatory and did not wish to spoil good cooking oil.
And then, with no joke on it at all: 不要扎我師父，還來扎我罷. Don't scald my master, scald me. The whole comic performance turns out to have been the run-up to that, and the flatness of the last line is what gives it away.
The Great Immortal answers with the same cold laugh he gave the willows, walks out of the hall, and takes hold of him. That is where the chapter leaves them: an implacable immortal gripping a prisoner he cannot hurt, who has come back voluntarily and asked to be boiled.