袖裡籠鬼 A Ghost in the Sleeve
行者笑道：「我是個做𡤫虎的祖宗，你怎麼袖子裡籠了個鬼兒來哄我？你瞞了諸人，瞞不過我，我認得你是個妖精。」那妖精諕得頓口無言。行者掣出棒來，自忖道：「若要不打他，顯得他倒弄個風兒；若要打他，又怕師父念那話兒咒語。」又思量道：「不打殺他，他一時間抄空兒把師父撈了去，卻不又費心勞力去救他？還打的是。就一棍子打殺，師父念起那咒，常言道：『虎毒不吃兒。』憑著我巧言花語，嘴伶舌便，哄他一哄，好道也罷了。」行者笑道：「我是个做𡤫虎的祖宗，你怎么袖子里笼了个鬼儿来哄我？你瞒了诸人，瞒不过我，我认得你是个妖精。」那妖精諕得顿口无言。行者掣出棒来，自忖道：「若要不打他，显得他倒弄个风儿；若要打他，又怕师父念那话儿咒语。」又思量道：「不打杀他，他一时间抄空儿把师父捞了去，却不又费心劳力去救他？还打的是。就一棍子打杀，师父念起那咒，常言道：『虎毒不吃儿。』凭著我巧言花语，嘴伶舌便，哄他一哄，好道也罢了。」
逐句解 Line by line
Pilgrim said with a laugh, "I am the very grandfather of demon-fakers — how dare you cage a ghost in your sleeve to hoodwink me?
做𡤫虎的祖宗 (zuò qiā hǔ de zǔ zōng) "the ancestor of those who play the demon" — 做𡤫虎 is a vernacular idiom for feigning fierceness or working a fraud (the rare graph 𡤫, U+2192B, read qiā throughout this text). 袖子裡籠了個鬼 (xiù zi lǐ lóng le ge guǐ) "caged a ghost in your sleeve," 子 (zi); 鬼兒 (guǐ er) "little ghost," the suffix 兒 (er). Wukong's boast — that he invented the very tricks the demon is attempting — turns the tables with relish.
"You may fool all the rest, but you can't fool me: I know you for a fiend."
瞞了諸人，瞞不過我 "deceived everyone [else], [but] cannot deceive me," 認得 "recognize," 得 (de). The flat declaration — you cannot fool me — states the whole difference between Wukong and the deceived pilgrims: he alone sees, and the demon knows it.
At that the fiend was struck dumb, not a word to say.
那妖精 (nà yāo jīng) "that fiend," 那 (nà); 諕得頓口無言 (xià de dùn kǒu wú yán) "frightened into speechlessness," 諕 (xià), the complement 得 (de). Unmasked, the demon has no answer — its whole power lay in deception, and the deception has failed.
Pilgrim drew out his cudgel and reasoned with himself: "If I don't strike her, it will look as though she's the one making mischief;
自忖 (zì cǔn) "to reason with oneself." 顯得 (xiǎn de) "it would appear," the complement 得 (de). 他倒弄個風兒 (tā dào nòng ge fēng er) "she, on the contrary, stirs up a fuss," 倒 (dào) the adverb "instead, on the contrary," 兒 (er). Wukong weighs the dilemma: to spare the fiend is to let it win.
"but if I do strike her, I'm afraid Master will recite that spell of his."
那話兒咒語 (nà huà er zhòu yǔ) "that spell of his," 那 (nà) (demonstrative), 兒 (er). The horns of the dilemma: to strike truly is to invite the fillet's agony and the master's wrath — the trap the demon's disguise has laid as surely as any snare.
He thought again: "If I don't kill her, she'll seize some opening in a moment and carry the Master off — and then won't I have to spend more effort and toil to rescue him?
抄空兒 (chāo kòng er) "seize an opening," the suffix 兒 (er). 撈了去 (lāo le qù) "snatch away." 費心勞力 (fèi xīn láo lì) "spend heart and strength." Wukong's calculation is protective, not vengeful — the risk of leaving the fiend alive is the master's abduction.
"Better to strike.
還打的是 (hái dǎ de shì) "striking is the right course after all," 還 (hái) "after all, rather." The terse resolution — better to strike — settles the deliberation, though not the danger of the spell.
"But if I kill her with a single blow, Master will start reciting the spell. As the saying goes, 'Even a fierce tiger won't eat its cubs.'
棍子 (gùn zi) "cudgel," 子 (zi); 那咒 (nà zhòu) "that spell," 那 (nà). 虎毒不吃兒 (hǔ dú bù chī ér) "a tiger, though fierce, does not eat its young," the noun 兒 (ér) "offspring" — a proverb Wukong invokes wryly, hoping the master's anger, like a tiger's, will stop short of destroying his own.
"Relying on my glib tongue and ready wit, I'll cozen him with a bit of sweet talk — that should see it through."
憑著 (píng zhe) "relying on," 著 (zhe). 嘴伶舌便 (zuǐ líng shé biàn) "a nimble mouth and ready tongue." 哄他一哄 (hǒng tā yī hǒng) "coax him a little." Having resolved to strike, Wukong plans to talk his way past the spell afterward — trusting eloquence to shield him from the master's wrath.
Wukong's confrontation opens with one of the chapter's great retorts: 我是個做𡤫虎的祖宗, "I am the very grandfather of demon-fakers," and 你怎麼袖子裡籠了個鬼兒來哄我, "how dare you cage a ghost in your sleeve to hoodwink me?" The boast is earned — he has confessed his own demon-past — and it turns the tables completely: the master of disguise is unmasked by the one being who knows every trick, and is struck dumb.
The heart of the passage is Wukong's inner deliberation, which reveals the trap at its cruellest. He is caught between the truth and the fillet: to spare the fiend is to let it abduct his master; to slay it is to invite the spell's agony and the elder's fury. His reasoning throughout is protective — the danger he weighs is Tripitaka's abduction, not his own comfort — and he resolves to strike and then talk his way clear, wryly invoking the proverb that "even a fierce tiger won't eat its cubs," half-hoping the master's wrath will spare him.
The soliloquy is essential to the chapter's moral architecture. It shows the reader, unmistakably, that Wukong strikes the final blow with full knowledge of the cost to himself, choosing his master's safety over his own peace. When the spell and the dismissal come, we know beyond doubt that the killing was neither rash nor cruel but a deliberate, self-sacrificing act of protection — which makes the punishment that follows all the more tragic.