平擡入洞 The Seizing
那長老看見他這般模樣，諕得打了一個倒退，遍體酥麻，兩腿酸軟，即忙的抽身便走。剛剛轉了一個身，那妖魔他的靈性著實是強，大撐開著一雙金睛鬼眼，叫聲：「小的們，你看門外是甚麼人？」一個小妖就伸頭望門外一看，看見是個光頭的長老，連忙跑將進去報道：「大王，外面是個和尚哩。團頭大面，兩耳垂肩；嫩刮刮的一身肉，細嬌嬌的一張皮：且是好個和尚。」那妖聞言，啊聲笑道：「這叫做個『蛇頭上蒼蠅，自來的衣食』。你眾小的們，疾忙趕上去，與我拿將來，我這裡重重有賞。」那些小妖就是一窩蜂，齊齊擁上。三藏見了，雖則是一心忙似箭，兩腳走如飛，終是心驚膽顫，腿軟腳麻；況且是山路崎嶇，林深日暮，步兒那裡移得動：被那些小妖平擡將去。正是：那长老看见他这般模样，諕得打了一个倒退，遍体酥麻，两腿酸软，即忙的抽身便走。刚刚转了一个身，那妖魔他的灵性着实是强，大撑开着一双金睛鬼眼，叫声：「小的们，你看门外是甚么人？」一个小妖就伸头望门外一看，看见是个光头的长老，连忙跑将进去报道：「大王，外面是个和尚哩。团头大面，两耳垂肩；嫩刮刮的一身肉，细娇娇的一张皮：且是好个和尚。」那妖闻言，啊声笑道：「这叫做个『蛇头上苍蝇，自来的衣食』。你众小的们，疾忙赶上去，与我拿将来，我这里重重有赏。」那些小妖就是一窝蜂，齐齐拥上。三藏见了，虽则是一心忙似箭，两脚走如飞，终是心惊胆颤，腿软脚麻；况且是山路崎岖，林深日暮，步儿那里移得动：被那些小妖平抬将去。正是：
逐句解 Line by line
When the elder saw it in such a shape, he was so frightened he stumbled back a step, his whole body gone numb and tingling, both legs weak beneath him, and he hastily turned to slip away.
His body gives out before his mind does — numb all over, legs gone soft. 諕得 takes 諕 as xià, frightened, a variant of the usual 嚇, and not háo. 倒退 takes 倒 as dào, reversed — stepping backwards — which is a different reading from the dǎo of everything that has been toppling over all chapter.
He had just barely turned around when the fiend — whose spirit-sense was truly keen — flung wide a pair of gold-pupiled devil's eyes and cried, “Little ones! See who's outside the door!”
He is caught by the sleeper's senses, not his eyes. 著實 takes zhuó, truly. 金睛鬼眼, gold-pupilled devil's eyes — and gold pupils are what Wukong has too, from the furnace in the early chapters. The demon and the absent protector are given the same eyes. 撐開著 ends in the unstressed zhe; 那 is nà; 甚麼 takes shén.
A little imp poked out its head, took one look outside the door, saw it was a bald-headed elder, and hurried back in to report:
長老 takes zhǎng; 跑將 takes jiāng. What the imp reports first is the bald head.
“Great King, outside is a monk. Round-headed, broad-faced, both ears drooping to his shoulders; a body of tender, glistening flesh, a skin fine and delicate — truly a fine monk indeed.”
團頭大面 and 兩耳垂肩 — a round head, a broad face, ears hanging to the shoulders — are the physical marks of a superior being, the same features Buddhist images give the Buddha. The imp reads them correctly and draws the wrong conclusion: it is appraising him the way a cook appraises a fish.
When the fiend heard it, he laughed aloud: “This is what they call ‘a fly on a snake's head — food and clothing come of themselves.’ You little ones, hurry after him, seize him and bring him to me, and here I'll richly reward you.”
The proverb is the chapter's best: 蛇頭上蒼蠅, 自來的衣食 — a fly on a snake's head is food and clothing that walks up to you. Tripitaka has not been hunted. He has delivered himself. 重重 takes 重 as chóng, layer on layer, hence richly. 那 is nà; 拿將 takes jiāng.
Those little imps swarmed up all at once like a nest of bees. Tripitaka, seeing them, though his heart raced like an arrow and his two feet flew, was after all terror-struck and trembling, his legs weak and his feet numb;
一窩蜂 — the swarm of bees again, and this time written with the bee, 蜂, where the monkeys' swarm a few passages back was written with the mountain-peak character. Same phrase, same sound, two spellings in one chapter, both encoded as the edition has them. 忙似箭 takes 似 as sì; 三藏 takes zàng.
and what was more, the mountain road was rough, the wood deep, the day at dusk — how could his steps move at all? So the little imps bore him off bodily. It was just as the saying goes:
平擡將去 is carried off flat — lifted bodily, like furniture. He never gets to struggle. 步兒 ends in the curled er; 那裡 takes nǎ, how on earth; 那些 takes nà; 移得動 takes the unstressed de; 擡將 takes jiāng.
A dragon adrift in shallows is toyed with by the shrimp; a tiger fallen to the flats is bullied by the hounds.
龍遊淺水遭蝦戲, 虎落平原被犬欺 — a dragon in the shallows is toyed with by shrimp, a tiger down on the flats is bullied by dogs. Still a live saying in Chinese, and still used for exactly this: the powerful stranded outside their element and at the mercy of the trivial. Here the shrimp are imps and the dragon is a monk with no magic at all.
Though good works meet with many a trial and block, who has known such as the Tang Monk in his westward hour?
好事多磨 — good things meet many grindings — is one of the most-used four-word sayings in the language, the Chinese equivalent of the course of true love never running smooth. In this book it is not a consolation but the actual architecture: the eighty-one ordeals are not obstacles to the journey, they are the journey.
The seizing turns entirely on the party being scattered. Tripitaka's terror is bodily and complete — numb, trembling, legs failing under him — and against a swarm of imps in a darkening wood he has nothing, because the two disciples who could have scattered them are ten li and more away to the west. The narrator underlines it with the proverb of the stranded dragon and the fallen tiger: power out of its element is at the mercy of whatever is small and local.
The closing couplet reframes the disaster as doctrine. Good works meet with many a grinding is the structural principle of the whole pilgrimage, and the rhetorical question that follows both laments the master's suffering and dignifies it. On the surface the capture is a catastrophe. In the logic of the quest it is a station he was always going to have to pass.