睡覺 The Truant's Nap
我往那裡睡覺去，睡一覺回去，含含糊糊的答應他，只說是巡了山，就了其帳也。」那獃子一時間僥幸，搴著鈀，又走，只見山凹裡一彎紅草坡。他一頭鑽得進去，使釘鈀撲個地鋪，轂轆的睡下，把腰伸了一伸，道聲：「快活。就是那弼馬溫，也不得像我這般自在。」我往那里睡觉去，睡一觉回去，含含糊糊的答应他，只说是巡了山，就了其帐也。」那呆子一时间侥幸，搴着钯，又走，只见山凹里一弯红草坡。他一头钻得进去，使钉钯扑个地铺，毂辘的睡下，把腰伸了一伸，道声：「快活。就是那弼马温，也不得像我这般自在。」
逐句解 Line by line
"I'll go off somewhere and sleep — have a nap, then go back and fob him off with something vague, just say I've patrolled the mountain, and the whole business is settled."
The plan, spoken aloud to an empty hillside. 睡覺, shuì jiào, "to sleep," with 覺 read jiào; 一覺 is one stretch of sleep, 一 read yí. 了其帳, liǎo qí zhàng, "to close the account" — 了 read liǎo, to finish, and the metaphor is a shopkeeper's ledger being ruled off. 那 is nǎ, "somewhere or other"; 答應 takes 應 as yìng. Nap, mumble something vague, book closed.
For the moment the blockhead was well pleased with himself; shouldering his rake, he walked on, until he spied, in a hollow of the hills, a curving slope of red grass.
僥幸, jiǎo xìng, "pleased with one's own luck" — the smugness of having got away with it. 搴著, qiān zhe, "shouldering," 著 the ongoing zhe; 那 is nà. Red grass in a fold of the hills: he has found his spot.
He bored straight in, spread out a bed on the ground with his rake, rolled himself down, gave his back a good stretch, and said: "Bliss!
轂轆, gū lù, is the noise and motion of rolling — the characters properly mean a wheel-hub, borrowed here for sound. 地鋪, a bed made on the ground. 鑽得 takes 得 as de; 轂 is gū. He rakes himself out a mattress, rolls into it, stretches, and says it: bliss.
Not even that Bimawen could be as free and easy as I am."
自在, zì zài, "free and easy, at one's own disposal" — and there is a joke buried in the word, because 自在 is also the Buddhist term for the unimpeded ease of the awakened, as in 觀自在, the Bodhisattva of Sovereign Regard. Eight Rules has found enlightenment in a patch of grass. 那 is nà; 不得 takes 得 as dé.
He then talks himself through the fraud in full, out loud, in the open air: find somewhere to sleep, have a nap, go back, mumble something vague, say he patrolled the mountain, close the account. The bookkeeping metaphor is his own. What makes this funny rather than merely dishonest is the total absence of guile — he is transparent even when scheming, and he has no idea that anyone could possibly be listening.
He finds a hollow of red grass, burrows in, rakes out a bed, rolls over, stretches, and declares himself in bliss — not even that Bimawen, he says, could be as free and easy as this. The irony is exact and beautifully placed. The Bimawen is sitting on his ear. Eight Rules has just delivered his boast of freedom directly into the surveillance.