噀水解魔 Water Breaks the Sleep-Spell
眾仙到他房門首看處，真個關著房門，鼾鼾沉睡；任外邊打門亂叫，那裡叫得醒來。眾仙撬開門板，著手扯下床來，也只是不醒。大仙笑道：「好仙童啊，成仙的人，神滿再不思睡，卻怎麼這般困倦？莫不是有人做弄了他也？快取水來。」一童急取水半盞遞與大仙。大仙念動咒語，噀一口水，噴在臉上，隨即解了睡魔。众仙到他房门首看处，真个关着房门，鼾鼾沉睡；任外边打门乱叫，那里叫得醒来。众仙撬开门板，着手扯下床来，也只是不醒。大仙笑道：「好仙童啊，成仙的人，神满再不思睡，却怎么这般困倦？莫不是有人做弄了他也？快取水来。」一童急取水半盏递与大仙。大仙念动咒语，噀一口水，喷在脸上，随即解了睡魔。
逐句解 Line by line
The immortals came to the door of their room and looked—and truly the door was shut and they lay snoring in deep sleep; for all the pounding and shouting at the door outside, there was no calling them awake.
The comedy of a sleep nobody can break: door shut, snoring audible, and the whole company hammering on it from outside. 關著房門 takes 著 as zhe, marking a state that holds. 那裡叫得醒來 is nǎ lǐ jiào de xǐng lái, "how could you call them awake?" — interrogative 那 as nǎ, with the toneless 得, de, marking possibility.
The immortals pried open the door-boards and set hands to dragging them off the bed—yet still they would not wake.
They escalate from knocking to crowbars to dragging bodies off the bed, and it makes no difference. 撬開門板, prying the door-boards apart. 著手, zhuó shǒu, is "to set your hands to something, get to work"; here the character is a full verb, not the zhe that marked an action under way in the line before.
The Great Immortal laughed: "Good little immortal lads! Men who have attained the Way, their spirit once full, think no more of sleep—how then are these so drowsy?
The master laughs before he worries, which is characteristic. His reasoning is doctrinal: 神滿再不思睡, "with the spirit full, one no longer thinks of sleep." In Daoist practice the perfected adept needs no rest, having no deficit to make up. So this stupor is not laziness. Something has been done to them.
"Can it be that someone has bewitched them?
做弄, zuò nòng, is to play a trick on somebody, to bewitch. 莫不是, mò bú shì, "can it be that…", the phrasing of a suspicion arriving.
"Fetch water at once."
Four words, and the household moves.
A lad hastily fetched half a cup of water and handed it to the Great Immortal.
盞, zhǎn, is a small shallow cup, the kind used for wine or lamp-oil; half of one is all the ritual needs.
The Great Immortal recited a spell, spurted a mouthful of the water, sprayed it upon their faces, and at once loosed the sleep-demon from them.
噀, xùn, is a specific and rather startling verb: to take water in the mouth and spray it out in a fine mist. It is standard equipment in Daoist exorcism, the physical half of a spell — words to charge the water, breath to deliver it. 解了睡魔, jiě le shuì mó, "loosed the sleep-demon," treats the enchantment as a thing sitting on them that has to be untied.
The discovery is staged as slow dread with the comedy left in. Locked door, snoring within, fists on the wood, then crowbars, then two limp bodies hauled off a bed and still asleep. The scene takes its time because the master is taking his: he laughs first, reasons second, and only then reaches the alarming conclusion.
His reasoning is worth following, because it is not guesswork. A perfected adept does not need sleep — spirit full, no debt to repay — so a perfected adept found unconscious has been interfered with. He gets to the right answer from doctrine, which is how this character will work for the rest of the chapter: unhurried, and correct.
The remedy is one of the oldest gestures in Daoist ritual practice: a mouthful of water charged with a spell and sprayed over the sleeper's face. Wukong's stolen insects come undone in a second. It is the first small demonstration that the pilgrims have wandered into a house that outclasses them.