悟空備述 Wukong Recounts the Affair
行者道:「我們前日在他觀裡,那大仙不在家,只有兩個小童接待了我師父,卻將兩個人參果奉與我師。我師不認得,只說是三朝未滿的孩童,再三不吃。那童子就拿去吃了,不曾讓得我們。是老孫就去偷了他三個,我兄弟三人吃了。那童子不知高低,賊前賊後的罵個不住。是老孫惱了,把他樹打了一棍,推倒在地,樹上果子全無,枒開葉落,根出枝傷,已枯死了。不想那童子關住我們,又被老孫扭開鎖走了。次日清辰,那先生回家趕來,問答間,語言不和,遂與他賭鬥,被他閃一閃,把袍袖展開,一袖子都籠去了。繩纏索綁,拷問鞭敲,就打了一日。是夜又逃了,他又趕上,依舊籠去。他身無寸鐵,只是把個麈尾遮架,我兄弟這等三般兵器,莫想打得著。他這一番仍舊擺佈,將布裹漆了我師父與兩師弟,卻將我下油鍋。我又做了個脫身本事走了,把他鍋都打破。他見拿我不住,儘有幾分醋我。是我又與他好講,教他放了我師父、師弟,我與他醫樹管活,兩家才得安寧。我想著『方從海上來』,故此特遊仙境,訪三位老弟。有甚醫樹的方兒,傳我一個,急救唐僧脫苦。」行者道:「我们前日在他观里,那大仙不在家,只有两个小童接待了我师父,却将两个人参果奉与我师。我师不认得,只说是三朝未满的孩童,再三不吃。那童子就拿去吃了,不曾让得我们。是老孙就去偷了他三个,我兄弟三人吃了。那童子不知高低,贼前贼后的骂个不住。是老孙恼了,把他树打了一棍,推倒在地,树上果子全无,枒开叶落,根出枝伤,已枯死了。不想那童子关住我们,又被老孙扭开锁走了。次日清辰,那先生回家赶来,问答间,语言不和,遂与他赌斗,被他闪一闪,把袍袖展开,一袖子都笼去了。绳缠索绑,拷问鞭敲,就打了一日。是夜又逃了,他又赶上,依旧笼去。他身无寸铁,只是把个麈尾遮架,我兄弟这等三般兵器,莫想打得着。他这一番仍旧摆布,将布裹漆了我师父与两师弟,却将我下油锅。我又做了个脱身本事走了,把他锅都打破。他见拿我不住,尽有几分醋我。是我又与他好讲,教他放了我师父、师弟,我与他医树管活,两家才得安宁。我想着『方从海上来』,故此特游仙境,访三位老弟。有甚医树的方儿,传我一个,急救唐僧脱苦。」
逐句解 Line by line
The pilgrim said, "The other day, when we were at his abbey, the Great Immortal was away from home, and only two young acolytes received my master; they presented two ginseng fruits to him.
Wukong now retells the last two chapters in his own brisk, self-serving version. 觀裡 is in the abbey, 觀 = guàn. The 小童 are the two boy-attendants Clear Wind and Bright Moon. 將 ... 奉與 is to present something to someone, with 將 the jiāng that shifts the object in front of the verb.
My master did not recognize them, and taking them for infants not yet three days old, refused again and again to eat.
The ginseng fruit grows in the shape of a newborn baby, which is the source of all the trouble. 三朝未滿, not yet three mornings old, uses 朝 in its day reading zhāo. Tripitaka takes one look, thinks he is being offered an infant, and refuses in pious horror -- a misunderstanding the novel has already wrung a good deal of comedy out of. 不認得 is did not recognise, with 得 the toneless de.
So the boys carried them off and ate them, without so much as offering us a share.
童子, the lads, with 子 here the full noun-forming zǐ rather than the toneless suffix. 不曾讓得 is never got round to offering, where 得, toneless de, asks whether the thing could be managed at all.
Then old Monkey went and stole three of them, and we three brothers ate them.
Wukong owns the theft without a flicker of embarrassment. 兄弟三人, the three brothers, means himself, Bajie and Sha Monk.
The boys, knowing no measure, railed at us without end, calling us thieves to our faces and behind our backs.
不知高低 is not knowing high from low -- no sense of proportion, no restraint. 賊前賊後 is a lively one: thief in front, thief behind, meaning they called us thieves coming and going. Chinese still builds insults this way, sandwiching the abuse between the two halves.
So old Monkey lost his temper, dealt his tree a blow of the cudgel and pushed it over on the ground: the fruit all gone, the boughs split and the leaves fallen, roots laid bare and branches broken — withered and dead.
The tree's destruction comes out in four-character bursts -- 枒開葉落, 根出枝傷 -- boughs split, leaves down, roots bare, branches broken. The clipped rhythm does the work of a demolition, and Wukong recounts it as though describing weather. 推倒 is to push over, 倒 in its topple reading dǎo.
Little did we think the boys would lock us in — but old Monkey twisted the lock open, and off we went.
關住 is to shut in; 扭開鎖 is to wrench a lock open. The whole imprisonment gets one clause, because in Wukong's telling locks are not obstacles.
The next morning the master came home and gave chase; in the midst of question and answer our words fell out, and we came to blows. But with a flick he spread his gown-sleeve and swept the whole lot of us up inside it.
Here is the Immortal's signature move: 袖裡乾坤, a whole cosmos inside the sleeve. He spreads a gown-sleeve and four pilgrims and their luggage go in like coins into a pocket. 一袖子都籠去 is swept the lot into the sleeve, 籠 read lǒng, to gather in. 清辰 is the modern 清晨, early morning; 賭鬥 is to fight it out.
Bound about with cords and ropes, questioned under the lash and the rod, we were beaten a whole day long.
繩纏索綁 and 拷問鞭敲 are matched four-character phrases stacked one on the other -- corded and roped, questioned and whipped. Piling them up is how classical Chinese conveys that something went on and on.
That night we escaped again, and again he overtook us and swept us up as before.
依舊籠去, swept up exactly as before, with 籠 again lǒng. The repetition is the point: the sleeve works every single time, and no amount of magic gets round it.
He carried not an inch of steel — only a deer-tail whisk to ward and parry — yet for all our three sorts of weapons, we could not so much as land a blow.
A detail worth pausing on. Zhenyuan fights three armed opponents carrying nothing but a 麈尾 (zhǔ wěi), a deer-tail whisk -- the fly-swatter carried by Daoist adepts and by the philosophical talkers of earlier centuries, a conductor's baton for metaphysics rather than a weapon. 身無寸鐵 is without an inch of iron on him. 打得著 is to succeed in landing a blow, with 得 the toneless de and 著 read zháo, marking that the blow actually connects.
This time he disposed of us just as before: my master and two brothers he wrapped in cloth and lacquered over, while me he set to boil in a cauldron of oil.
擺佈 is to deal with somebody, in the ominous sense. 布裹漆, wrapped in cloth and lacquered over, is the Immortal's strangest punishment -- the pilgrims varnished like furniture. Both instances of 將 are the jiāng that puts the object first.
I worked another of my escape-tricks and got away, and smashed his cauldron for good measure.
脫身本事 is a body-freeing feat, one of Wukong's escape transformations. 鍋都打破, smashed the whole cauldron, is the flourish he adds on the way out and clearly enjoys reporting.
Seeing he could not hold me, he was left thoroughly nettled at me.
醋 is vinegar, used here for sourness of temper -- 幾分醋, a few degrees of vinegar, meaning thoroughly nettled. English reaches for the same pantry when it says someone turned sour. 拿我不住 is cannot keep hold of me.
So I talked him round in a friendly way: let him release my master and brothers, and I would cure his tree and warrant it live, and both sides would be at peace.
好講 is to talk something over reasonably. 管活 is to guarantee it lives -- Wukong's warranty, offered as usual before he has any idea how to honour it. 兩家才得安寧, only then would both sides have peace, with 得 here dé, to attain.
Remembering the saying 'the remedy comes from over the sea,' I have come on purpose to tour the immortal realms and call on you three old brothers.
想著 is bearing in mind, with 著 the durative zhe that marks a state going on. He is quoting back to the Stars the same proverb he quoted to Tripitaka -- the remedy comes from over the sea -- which is his entire research programme.
If you have any tree-healing prescription, pass one on to me, that I may quickly rescue the Tang Monk from his plight."
方兒 is a prescription, with 兒 the suffix er; 傳 (chuán) is to hand down or impart. After all that recital, the actual request takes half a line.
This passage is a set-piece of recapitulation -- Wukong retelling the events of the two previous chapters in his own brisk and highly favourable idiom. The technique belongs to oral storytelling, where a reciter needed to refresh his listeners' memory; here it doubles as characterisation, because the tale loses nothing of Monkey's bravado in the retelling. The theft is owned without a blush, the tree's ruin rattled off in four-character bursts, and every defeat recast as a narrow and dashing escape.
The account also reminds the reader why Wukong, for all his powers, cannot simply fight his way out. Zhenyuan owns two marvels that answer everything he has: a sleeve that swallows an entire company, and a deer-tail whisk that no weapon can touch. Only at the very end does the point of the whole recital emerge, in a plea for a remedy. The structure is itself the joke -- a torrent of self-justification narrowing down to one small request.