Canonical Classics ← 第三十一回
第三十一回
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sūnxíngzhězhìxiángyāoguài

Zhu Bajie, Roused by Duty, Provokes the Monkey King · Sun the Pilgrim, by Wit, Subdues the Fiend

朝中知妖
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拼音 Pinyin Off
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原文 Original text 繁體 Traditional Reader's edition

朝中知妖 The Court Discerns the Fiend

shícháozhōngzhīshìyāoguàileyuánláichīlegōngéháiyǒushítuōmìngdegēngshízòuleguówángshuōyòuyīnéryuèzhīshìguàiguówángzhuóduōguānkānshǒuzhejiǎlǎoshícháozhōngzhīshìyāoguàileyuánláichīlegōngéháiyǒushítuōmìngdegēngshízòuleguówángshuōyòuyīnéryuèzhīshìguàiguówángzhuóduōguānkānshǒuzhejiǎlǎo


逐句解 Line by line

shícháozhōngzhīshìyāoguàile shícháozhōngzhīshìyāoguàile

By this time the court already knew him for a fiend.

朝中 (cháo zhōng), at court; read zhōng, read cháo.

yuánláichīlegōngéháiyǒushítuōmìngdegēngshízòuleguówángshuō yuánláichīlegōngéháiyǒushítuōmìngdegēngshízòuleguówángshuō

For it turned out that in the night he had devoured a palace maid, and that seventeen more had escaped with their lives and at the fifth watch reported to the king, telling him thus and thus.

宮娥 (gōng’é), a palace waiting-maid. 脫命 (tuō mìng), to escape with one’s life. 五更 (wǔ gēng), the fifth night-watch, near dawn; read gēng. read hái.

yòuyīnéryuèzhīshìguài yòuyīnéryuèzhīshìguài

And because he had gone off without taking leave, the more surely did they know him for a monster.

不辭而去 (bù cí ér qù), to depart without leave-taking. 越發 (yuèfā), all the more.

guówángzhuóduōguānkānshǒuzhejiǎlǎo guówángzhuóduōguānkānshǒuzhejiǎlǎo

The king thereupon set the many officers to guard the false tiger — of which no more for now.

即著 (jí zhuó), thereupon directed, ordered; here the causative verb, read zhuó. 看守著 (kānshǒu zhe), guarding — durative; read kān, the second read zhe. 不題 (bù tí), “no more of this for now,” a storyteller’s formula. read .


總評 Commentary

The passage steps aside from the demon’s errand to close the account of the Baoxiang court, and in doing so springs the second half of the trap the previous passage set. The disclosures come in the storyteller’s brisk retrospective manner — the devoured maid, the seventeen who fled to report at the fifth watch, the abrupt departure — each confirming what the court now grasps: the handsome son-in-law was a monster all along.

The detail of the false tiger set under guard keeps the transformed Tripitaka in the reader’s eye, a mute reminder of the stakes, and the closing formula — “of which no more for now” — hands the narrative back to the cave, where the demon hastens toward the disguised Great Sage. The double movement, court and cave, is managed with the practised ease of a tradition long accustomed to weaving two threads toward a single knot.