化作老婦 She Becomes an Old Woman
好妖精，按落陰雲，在那前山坡下搖身一變，變作個老婦人，年滿八旬，手拄著一根彎頭竹杖，一步一聲的哭著走來。八戒見了，大驚道：「師父，不好了，那媽媽兒來尋人了。」唐僧道：「尋甚人？」八戒道：「師兄打殺的定是他女兒，這個定是他娘尋將來了。」行者道：「兄弟莫要胡說，那女子十八歲，這老婦有八十歲，怎麼六十多歲還生產？斷乎是個假的，等老孫去看來。」好妖精，按落阴云，在那前山坡下摇身一变，变作个老妇人，年满八旬，手拄着一根弯头竹杖，一步一声的哭着走来。八戒见了，大惊道：「师父，不好了，那妈妈儿来寻人了。」唐僧道：「寻甚人？」八戒道：「师兄打杀的定是他女儿，这个定是他娘寻将来了。」行者道：「兄弟莫要胡说，那女子十八岁，这老妇有八十岁，怎么六十多岁还生产？断乎是个假的，等老孙去看来。」
逐句解 Line by line
Excellent fiend! Settling its shadowy cloud, it gave its body a shake below the slope of the mountain ahead and turned into an old woman, fully eighty years of age, propping herself on a crook-headed bamboo staff and coming along with a wail at every step.
The second performance, and the casting is shrewd. An eighty-year-old woman on a crook-headed bamboo stick, wailing once for every step she takes. Where the first mask worked on desire, this one works on guilt: they have, as they believe, just killed somebody's daughter. 好妖精 again — the storyteller is still applauding. (那 points, nà; both instances of 著, in 手拄著 and 哭著走來, are zhe, keeping the actions running.)
Eight Rules, seeing her, cried out in alarm: "Master, this is bad! That old dame has come looking for someone!"
The same Bajie who talked the party into trusting the first disguise now panics at the second. 媽媽兒 is an affectionate, faintly rustic word for an old woman — the old dame — carrying the familiar 兒 tag; 那 points, so nà. His credulity serves the demon in both directions: first as advocate, now as alarmist.
The Tang Monk said, "Looking for whom?"
Three words, and the fear is already in them. (甚 is shén.)
Said Eight Rules, "The one Elder Brother struck dead must surely be her daughter, and this must be her mother come looking for her."
And Bajie writes the demon's script for her, unasked. She has not said a word yet; he has already established that the dead girl was her daughter and that she has come looking. It is precisely the reading she needs, supplied free of charge. Two instances of 兒 a line apart take different readings: 女兒, daughter, has the full noun ér, where 媽媽兒 just above has the small toneless tag. (將 marks direction.)
Said Pilgrim, "Brother, don't talk nonsense. That woman was eighteen, and this old dame is eighty — how could she be bearing children at sixty-odd?
Wukong's answer is not sight but arithmetic, and it is unanswerable. The girl was eighteen. This woman is eighty. That puts her at sixty-two when she gave birth. It is the plainest reasoning in the chapter, available to anybody willing to do the subtraction — and nobody does it. (那 points, nà, with 子 as zǐ; 還 is hái, "still".)
"It's certainly a fake — let old Sun go and take a look."
斷乎 (duàn hū) is "decidedly, beyond doubt". And then he goes over to look — which is where the trouble begins, because he has just promised not to hit anybody.
The second disguise is a shrewd escalation. Where the first mask exploited the party's susceptibility to beauty, this one exploits their guilt: an aged, weeping mother come looking for the daughter they believe they have just killed. The narrator's admiring 好妖精 is still relishing the craft, and the ploy immediately unnerves the very Bajie who had sponsored the maiden.
Bajie's reaction is finely observed. Having lusted after the first disguise, he recoils from the second in superstitious fright — and, worse, supplies the demon's own script before she can open her mouth. His credulity serves her whichever way it turns: first advocating, now dreading, always misreading.
Against this Wukong sets plain reason to match his plain sight: an eighty-year-old cannot have borne an eighteen-year-old at sixty-two. The demon's fictions never survive contact with his arithmetic. But sight and logic together avail nothing against a master governed by feeling — and Wukong, though he has sworn not to strike, is being drawn once more toward the blow that will look like a second murder.