講開馱法 Setting Terms for the Carrying
行者聞言道：「這廝造化哩，我那師父是個慈悲好善之人，又有些外好裡枒槎。我待不馱你，他就怪我。馱便馱，須要與你講開：若是大小便，先和我說；若在脊梁上淋下來，臊氣不堪，且污了我的衣服，沒人漿洗。」那怪道：「我這般一把子年紀，豈不知你的話說？」行者才拉將起來，背在身上，同長老、沙僧，奔大路西行。那山上高低不平之處，行者留心慢走，讓唐僧前去。行者闻言道：「这厮造化哩，我那师父是个慈悲好善之人，又有些外好里枒槎。我待不驮你，他就怪我。驮便驮，须要与你讲开：若是大小便，先和我说；若在脊梁上淋下来，臊气不堪，且污了我的衣服，没人浆洗。」那怪道：「我这般一把子年纪，岂不知你的话说？」行者才拉将起来，背在身上，同长老、沙僧，奔大路西行。那山上高低不平之处，行者留心慢走，让唐僧前去。
逐句解 Line by line
Pilgrim, hearing this, said: “This creature's in luck! That master of mine is a merciful, good-hearted man — though smooth without, he's a bit gnarled and prickly within.
造化 (zào huà), here “good fortune, luck.” 外好裡枒槎 (wài hǎo lǐ yá chá), “smooth outside but knotty within” — 枒槎 is the snags and forks of rough timber, a figure for a prickly temper beneath a kind exterior.
“If I were minded not to carry you, he'd only blame me for it.”
待 (dài) here means “to be about to, to intend to.” 怪 (guài), “to blame, to fault.” Pilgrim resigns himself to the task to spare himself the master's reproach.
“Carry you I will — but let's have it clear between us: if you need to relieve yourself, tell me first; should it run down my spine, the stink would be past bearing, and it'd foul my clothes with no one to wash them.”
講開 (jiǎng kāi), “to talk out, to settle plainly.” 大小便 (dà xiǎo biàn), “to void, to relieve oneself.” 臊氣不堪 (sāo qì bù kān), “an unbearable stench.” Pilgrim's coarse, comic conditions deflate the whole solemn charade.
The fiend said: “A man of my years — do you think I don't know how to behave?”
一把子年紀 (yì bǎ zi nián jì), “quite an age, well on in years”; here 把 is the measure bǎ, and 一 accordingly yì. 豈不知 (qǐ bù zhī), “how could I not know.”
Only then did Pilgrim haul him up, hoist him onto his back, and with the Elder and Sha Monk make west along the high road.
拉將起來 (lā jiāng qǐ lái), “hauled up” — 將 a particle of motion. 背在身上 (bēi zài shēn shàng), “carried on his back” — 背 read bēi, the verb “to bear on the back.”
On the mountain's rough and uneven stretches, Pilgrim walked slowly and watchfully, letting Tripitaka go on ahead.
高低不平 (gāo dī bù píng), “high and low, rough going.” 留心慢走 (liú xīn màn zǒu), “to go slowly and with care.” Pilgrim hangs back deliberately — the prelude to the demon's next move.
Resigned to the carrying, Pilgrim deflates the whole solemn charade with a run of coarse comedy: he warns the “old Daoist” to give notice before relieving himself, lest the filth run down his spine and foul his unwashed robes. The joke is characteristic — Pilgrim meets the demon's counterfeit dignity with earthy mockery, and his shrewd aside on the master (“smooth without, gnarled within”) is one of the novel's sharpest thumbnail portraits of Tripitaka's kindly but exacting temper.
The passage closes the disguise sequence and sets the next in motion. Pilgrim shoulders the fiend and, on the rough ground, deliberately falls behind, letting the master ride ahead — the very separation Sha Monk foresaw and the opening the demon has schemed for. The comedy of the carrying-terms gives way, in the final image of Pilgrim walking watchfully at the rear, to the quiet tension of a trap about to spring.