誇獎生禍 Praise Breeds Disaster
唐僧在馬上見了，心中大喜道：「阿彌陀佛！西方真是福地，那公公路也走不上來，逼法的還念經哩。」八戒道：「師父，你且莫要誇獎，那個是禍的根哩。」唐僧道：「怎麼是禍根？」八戒道：「師兄打殺他的女兒，又打殺他的婆子，這個正是他的老兒尋將來了。我們若撞在他的懷裡啊，師父，你便償命，該個死罪；把老豬為從，問個充軍；沙僧喝令，問個擺站。那師兄使個遁法走了，卻不苦了我們三個頂缸？」唐僧在马上见了，心中大喜道：「阿弥陀佛！西方真是福地，那公公路也走不上来，逼法的还念经哩。」八戒道：「师父，你且莫要夸奖，那个是祸的根哩。」唐僧道：「怎么是祸根？」八戒道：「师兄打杀他的女儿，又打杀他的婆子，这个正是他的老儿寻将来了。我们若撞在他的怀里啊，师父，你便偿命，该个死罪；把老猪为从，问个充军；沙僧喝令，问个摆站。那师兄使个遁法走了，却不苦了我们三个顶缸？」
逐句解 Line by line
The Tang Monk, seeing him from his horse, was overjoyed at heart: "Amitābha Buddha!
阿彌陀佛 (Ā mí tuó Fó) is Amitābha, the Buddha of the Western Paradise, and saying his name is the standard Chinese Buddhist exclamation — nearer to "thank heaven" than to any particular prayer. Tripitaka says it because he is delighted. What delights him is the thing that means to eat him. (佛 is Fó; 心中 takes 中 as zhōng.)
"The Western land is truly a place of blessing! That old grandfather can't even walk the road, yet still he presses on reciting his sutras."
And then he draws a conclusion from it: what a blessed country this must be, where a man who can barely walk keeps up his sutras. He is citing the demon as evidence for the holiness of the West. It is difficult to think of a wronger inference anywhere in the book. (那 points, nà; 還 is hái, "even so, still".)
Said Eight Rules, "Master, don't be so quick with your praise — that one is the very root of disaster."
禍根, the root of disaster, happens to be exactly right — and Bajie has arrived at it by pure funk rather than by seeing anything. He is about to explain his reasoning, and the reasoning is entirely wrong. (那 points, nà.)
The Tang Monk said, "How is he a root of disaster?"
The elder asks, and Bajie is delighted to be asked.
Said Eight Rules, "Elder Brother killed his daughter, and killed his old wife, and this must be their old man come looking for them.
Three family words in one line, and they need separating. 女兒, daughter, and 老兒, the old fellow, both take 兒 as the full noun ér — 老兒 does not collapse into one rhotic syllable the way a true suffix would. 婆子, the old wife, takes the toneless zi. And notice what Bajie has done again: assembled the demon's family tree for her, out loud, before she has said a word. (將 marks direction.)
"If we blunder into his clutches, then Master, you'll pay with your life — a capital charge;
Now the funniest speech in the chapter, which doubles as a short documentary on Ming criminal law. Bajie has worked out everybody's sentence. The master, as principal, gets 死罪 — a capital charge, a life for a life. He has not reached his own yet.
"old Hog, as accessory, will be sentenced to the frontier garrisons;
為從 is the legal term for an accessory as opposed to a principal, and 充軍 is penal exile to a frontier garrison: a real and much-dreaded Ming sentence, one rung below execution. Bajie has cast himself as the accomplice and priced it accordingly. (為 is wéi, "to act as".)
"Sha Monk, for shouting the orders, will be put to hard labour at the relay-stations.
擺站 is hard labour at the government relay-stations, hauling for the imperial courier service — the lightest of the three sentences. Sha Monk, who has said almost nothing all chapter, is convicted of shouting encouragement. The gradations are exact, and the exactness is what makes it funny: Bajie has the whole penal code at his fingertips.
"And that Elder Brother of ours will work some escape-trick and be gone — leaving the three of us to hold the bag!"
And the punchline. The one who actually did it will vanish by magic and leave the other three to 頂缸 — literally "to carry the vat", which is precisely what English means by carrying the can. 遁法 is an escape-technique, the standard means of getting out of anywhere in this novel. (那 points, nà.)
This passage is the chapter's irony distilled into comedy. Tripitaka, watching the disguised fiend at her prayer-beads, is moved to invoke Amitābha and to praise the West as a land of blessing — lavishing devotion on the creature that means to eat him. The gap between what the elder sees and what the reader knows has never been wider, and never played harder for laughs.
Bajie's function inverts once more. Having championed the maiden and dreaded the old woman, he now names the old man the root of disaster — correctly, and for entirely self-interested reasons, with a grimly funny tally of the penalties he foresees: the master executed, himself exiled to the garrisons, Sha Monk sent to haul for the post service, and Wukong vanishing by magic to leave the rest carrying the can. His fear reads the disguise rightly where his lust and his pity read it wrongly. He is never once right about anything that matters.
Beneath the comedy the trap tightens. The pilgrims are three disguises deep, the master's credulity is total, and Wukong — who overhears all of this — is about to face the fiend a third time. The laughter is the lull before the chapter's gravest turn.