袖裡乾坤 The Sleeve of Heaven and Earth
那行者沒高沒低的,棍子亂打。大仙把玉麈左遮右擋,奈了他兩三回合。使一個「袖裡乾坤」的手段,在雲端裡把袍袖迎風輕輕的一展,刷地前來,把四僧連馬一袖子籠住。那行者没高没低的,棍子乱打。大仙把玉麈左遮右挡,奈了他两三回合。使一个「袖里干坤」的手段,在云端里把袍袖迎风轻轻的一展,刷地前来,把四僧连马一袖子笼住。
逐句解 Line by line
That Pilgrim, striking high and low without pattern, flailed away with his cudgel.
沒高沒低, méi gāo méi dī, "no high, no low," is swinging without aim or measure. 棍子亂打, flailing with the staff. Two phrases, and Wukong's technique is dismissed entirely.
The Great Immortal, warding left and fending right with his jade whisk, held him off through two or three bouts,
左遮右擋, zuǒ zhē yòu dǎng, warding on the left and blocking on the right, is a stock four-character phrase for a defence that never has to become an attack. 奈了他兩三回合, "put up with him for two or three bouts" — 回合 is the standard unit for exchanges in a duel, and two or three of them is nothing at all. He is not fighting; he is waiting for the right moment.
then worked a trick called "Heaven-and-Earth in a Sleeve": up in the clouds he lifted his gown-sleeve to the wind and lightly gave it a spread, swept forward, and gathered all four monks and the horse into the one sleeve.
And here is the famous trick. 袖裡乾坤, xiù lǐ qián kūn, "Heaven and Earth in a Sleeve": 乾 and 坤 are the first two trigrams of the Book of Changes, pure yang and pure yin, sky and ground, and together they are the ordinary Chinese way of saying "the whole cosmos." 乾 here is qián, the trigram, not the gān that means "dry." The magic is exactly what the name says: a sleeve with room inside it for everything there is. Note the verbs — the sleeve is lifted to the wind and 輕輕的一展, given a light little spread, which is all the effort required. 一袖子籠住, yí xiù zi lǒng zhù, bagged in the one sleeve, takes 籠 as the verb lǒng, "to gather in, to enclose," rather than the noun lóng, "a cage."
The duel lasts two or three exchanges and is never in doubt. Wukong swings 沒高沒低, without aim or measure; the Great Immortal wards left and right with an ornamental whisk and waits. Then he lifts his sleeve into the wind, gives it a light spread, and four pilgrims and a horse are gone.
袖裡乾坤, "Heaven and Earth in a Sleeve," is one of the novel's most celebrated feats and one of its most economical images. The name is not a boast about capacity; it is a statement about scale. If the whole cosmos fits inside the garment, then the question of whether a monkey can punch his way out has already been answered.
It is worth noticing what the sleeve replaces. Wukong has spent this chapter escaping from things — locked gates, bolted doors, a temple compound — by being cleverer than the container. There is no being cleverer than this one.