原文 Original text
繁體 Traditional
Reader's edition
渤海之哄
The Bohai Deception
小妖道：「師父，你在那廂說話哩？」行者道：「我在你面前不是？」小妖伸手摸著道：「只見說話，更不見面目。師父，此間是甚麼去處？」行者又哄他道：「不要動腳，此間乃是渤海岸上，若塌了腳，落下去啊，七八日還不得到底哩。」小妖大驚道：「罷罷罷，放了天罷，我們曉得是這樣裝了。若弄一會子，落下海去，不得歸家。」小妖道：「师父，你在那厢说话哩？」行者道：「我在你面前不是？」小妖伸手摸著道：「只见说话，更不见面目。师父，此间是甚么去处？」行者又哄他道：「不要动脚，此间乃是渤海岸上，若塌了脚，落下去啊，七八日还不得到底哩。」小妖大惊道：「罢罢罢，放了天罢，我们晓得是这样装了。若弄一会子，落下海去，不得归家。」
逐句解 Line by line
小妖道：「師父，你在那廂說話哩？」
小妖道：「师父，你在那厢说话哩？」
The imps said: “Master, whereabouts are you speaking from?”
那廂 (nǎ xiāng), “which side, whereabouts,” 那 here interrogative nǎ; the final 哩 (li). Blind in the dark, they cannot place his voice.
行者道：「我在你面前不是？」
行者道：「我在你面前不是？」
Pilgrim said: “Am I not right here before you?”
不是 (bú shì), here “is it not so?” — a rhetorical assurance from a Pilgrim they cannot see.
小妖伸手摸著道：「只見說話，更不見面目。師父，此間是甚麼去處？」
小妖伸手摸著道：「只见说话，更不见面目。师父，此间是甚么去处？」
The imps reached out, groping, and said: “We hear you speak but can't see your face at all. Master, what sort of place is this?”
摸著 (mō zhe), “groping, feeling about,” the durative 著 (zhe). 甚麼去處 (shén me qù chù), “what kind of place,” 甚 the interrogative shén.
行者又哄他道：「不要動腳，此間乃是渤海岸上，若塌了腳，落下去啊，七八日還不得到底哩。」
行者又哄他道：「不要动脚，此间乃是渤海岸上，若塌了脚，落下去啊，七八日还不得到底哩。」
Pilgrim fooled them further: “Don't move your feet — this is the shore of the Bohai Sea, and if you slip and fall, you'd not touch bottom in seven or eight days.”
渤海岸上 (bó hǎi àn shàng), “on the shore of the Bohai Sea.” 還不得到底 (hái bù dé dào dǐ), “still would not reach the bottom,” 還 read hái, 得 read dé.
小妖大驚道：「罷罷罷，放了天罷，我們曉得是這樣裝了。若弄一會子，落下海去，不得歸家。」
小妖大惊道：「罢罢罢，放了天罢，我们晓得是这样装了。若弄一会子，落下海去，不得归家。」
The imps cried in terror: “Enough, enough, enough — let the sky go! Now we know this is how it's bottled. Fool about any longer and we'll fall into the sea and never get home.”
罷罷罷 (bà bà bà), “enough, enough, enough,” the exclamatory 罷 read bà; then 放了天罷 (fàng le tiān ba), “let the sky go,” the hortative ba. 歸家 (guī jiā), “return home.”
總評 Commentary
With the darkness total, Pilgrim moves from illusion to outright fabrication, and the imps, robbed of sight, have no defense. Unable even to locate his voice, they grope blindly and ask where they are — and Pilgrim invents a precipice: this is the shore of the Bohai Sea, one false step and you'll fall seven or eight days without touching bottom. The lie is a small masterpiece of terror, converting mere blackness into deadly peril.
It works completely. The imps beg him to release the sky, and in their fright they concede the very point that sells the swindle — “now we know this is how it's bottled.” Convinced they have witnessed genuine sky-bottling magic, they will hand over their treasures without a qualm. Pilgrim has turned Heaven's borrowed darkness and a single invented cliff into an airtight proof of a power he does not possess.