絆妖陪笑 Tripping the Imps with a Smile
不多時，那兩個小妖到了。行者將金箍棒伸開，那妖不曾防備，絆著腳，撲的一跌。爬起來，才看見行者，口裡嚷道：「憊懶，憊懶！若不是我大王敬重你這行人，就和你比較起來。」行者陪笑道：「比較甚麼？道人見道人，都是一家人。」那怪道：「你怎麼睡在這裡絆我一跌？」不多时，那两个小妖到了。行者将金箍棒伸开，那妖不曾防备，绊着脚，扑的一跌。爬起来，才看见行者，口里嚷道：「惫懒，惫懒！若不是我大王敬重你这行人，就和你比较起来。」行者陪笑道：「比较甚么？道人见道人，都是一家人。」那怪道：「你怎么睡在这里绊我一跌？」
逐句解 Line by line
Before long the two little imps arrived.
不多時 (bù duō shí), "before long." The two errands are about to collide on the same stretch of road, which is how this novel usually arranges its plots.
Pilgrim stretched out his gold-banded cudgel; the imps, off their guard, caught their feet on it and went sprawling with a thud.
絆著腳 (bàn zháo jiǎo), "caught their feet," with the 著 of a thing that connects. 撲的一跌 (pū de yì diē), "down with a smack." The Great Sage's opening move against two armed emissaries carrying doomsday weapons is to trip them over a stick.
Scrambling up, they finally saw Pilgrim and shouted: "Slovenly wretch! Slovenly wretch!
憊懶 (bèi lǎn), roughly "you useless article" -- a term of abuse with no exact English match, aimed at someone both idle and shameless.
"If our king didn't hold you travelers in esteem, we'd have it out with you here and now."
敬重 (jìng zhòng), "to hold in respect," 重 read zhòng. 比較 (bǐ jiào) means "to compare" in modern Chinese and "to have it out" here. 行人 (xíng rén), a traveller on the road. Their threat comes with a built-in excuse for not carrying it out.
Pilgrim said with an ingratiating smile: "Have out what? When one Daoist meets another, we're all one family."
陪笑 (péi xiào) is the ingratiating smile you produce for someone you want something from -- shopkeeper's face. 都是一家人 (dōu shì yì jiā rén), "we're all one household," is still exactly what a Chinese speaker says to smooth over friction with a stranger who turns out to share something. Pilgrim, who has been a Daoist for about four minutes, plays the union card.
The fiends said: "Why were you lying here to trip us up like that?"
絆我一跌 (bàn wǒ yì diē), "trip me into a fall." The imps want an explanation, and asking for one is the last free move they will make.
The contest of wits opens as farce. Pilgrim, dressed as an old Daoist, lays his cudgel across the road and sends two armed emissaries sprawling -- a schoolboy trick, and it puts them on the back foot immediately. Their bluster is empty and they say so themselves, checked only by their king's regard for travellers, and Pilgrim disarms even that with an oily smile and a claim of fellowship: one Daoist to another, all one family.
The scene sets the register for the whole episode. The demons' errand will be undone not by force but by patter, and Pilgrim's ingratiating manner -- so unlike his usual ferocity -- is itself a performance, the Great Sage playing a harmless old man. The imps' demand for an explanation walks them straight into the next invention: a mock etiquette in which falling over is a courtesy.