兩件事 Two Conditions
那行者這一場扭捏，只逗出長老這幾句話來。他搵了淚道：「師父啊，若要過得此山，須是豬八戒依得我兩件事兒，才有三分去得；假若不依我言，替不得我手，半分兒也莫想過去。」八戒道：「師兄，不去就散火罷。不要攀我。」長老道：「徒弟，且問你師兄，看他教你做甚麼？」獃子真個對行者說道：「哥哥，你教我做甚事？」行者道：「第一件是看師父，第二件是去巡山。」那行者这一场扭捏，只逗出长老这几句话来。他揾了泪道：「师父啊，若要过得此山，须是猪八戒依得我两件事儿，才有三分去得；假若不依我言，替不得我手，半分儿也莫想过去。」八戒道：「师兄，不去就散火罢。不要攀我。」长老道：「徒弟，且问你师兄，看他教你做甚么？」呆子真个对行者说道：「哥哥，你教我做甚事？」行者道：「第一件是看师父，第二件是去巡山。」
逐句解 Line by line
That Pilgrim, with this whole show of coyness, had drawn out just these few words from the Elder.
The narrator names the performance for what it was. 扭捏, niǔ niē, "wriggling and pinching" — putting it on, being coy. 那 is nà; 長 is zhǎng. The whole business of the tears, says the narrator, was worked up to squeeze out these few sentences.
He wiped away his tears and said: "Master, if we are to get past this mountain, then Zhu Eight Rules must comply with me in two matters — only then have we three parts' chance of getting through; but if he will not heed my words, nor take my place at need, there is not half a chance of passing at all."
Terms are announced. 搵, wèn, is to blot or dab, so he wipes the tears away. Four 得 in one breath — 過得, 依得, 去得, 替不得 — all the light de of ability, the pattern that gives modern Chinese its can-and-cannot forms; the 兒 of 事兒 and 分兒 is the light er. 三分 against 半分, three parts of a chance against not half of one, is Pilgrim quoting odds like a bookmaker.
Said Eight Rules: "Elder Brother, if we're not going, then let's break up the fire. Don't drag me into it."
Eight Rules smells it at once. 攀, pān, "to drag someone in," the word for naming an accomplice; 散火, "to break up the fire," to disband. He would genuinely rather the mission ended than be volunteered.
Said the Elder: "Disciple, just ask your elder brother, and see what he would have you do."
師兄, shī xiōng, "elder brother in the school" — the standing term for a fellow disciple senior to you, still used in Chinese martial arts and academic labs alike. 長 is zhǎng; 甚 is shén.
The blockhead did indeed say to Pilgrim: "Brother, what would you have me do?"
獃子, dāi zi, "the blockhead" — the narrator's pet name for Eight Rules throughout the novel, affectionate and merciless at once. 甚事 takes 甚 as shén. The 真個 is doing quiet work: he really did ask, walking into it exactly as told.
Said Pilgrim: "The first is to mind the Master; the second is to go patrol the mountain."
The two options. 巡山, xún shān, "to patrol the mountain" — a piece of vocabulary that is about to get a great deal of use, from both sides. 看師父 is "to mind the Master."
The narrator drops the curtain and shows the machinery: that whole show of coyness was worked up to extract these few sentences. Pilgrim wipes his eyes and announces terms — Eight Rules must agree to two things or the crossing has no chance. He has recast a piece of manipulation as sober operational planning, and the master, now fully invested, accepts the framing without a blink.
Eight Rules, who has better instincts than anyone credits him with, immediately tries to bolt: if we are not going, let us disband, and do not drag me into it. But the master has already ordered him to hear the terms. And the terms are a choice — mind the master, or patrol the mountain — which is the neatest part of the trap. There is no third option, and both options are work. The scene runs on the novel's most reliable comic pairing: the monkey's cunning against the pig's reluctance, with the master serving as the unwitting instrument.