蒼蠅隨妖 A Fly upon the Imps' Trail
行者在半空中見他回去,又搖身一變,變作蒼蠅兒,飛下去,跟著小妖。你道他既變了蒼蠅,那寶貝卻放在何處?如丟在路上,藏在草裡,被人看見拿去,卻不是勞而無功?他還帶在身上。帶在身上啊,蒼蠅不過豆粒大小,如何容得?原來他那寶貝,與他金箍棒相同,叫做如意佛寶,隨身變化,可以大,可以小,故身上亦可容得。行者在半空中见他回去,又摇身一变,变作苍蝇儿,飞下去,跟着小妖。你道他既变了苍蝇,那宝贝却放在何处?如丢在路上,藏在草里,被人看见拿去,却不是劳而无功?他还带在身上。带在身上啊,苍蝇不过豆粒大小,如何容得?原来他那宝贝,与他金箍棒相同,叫做如意佛宝,随身变化,可以大,可以小,故身上亦可容得。
逐句解 Line by line
Pilgrim in mid-air watched them turn back; with another shake of his body he changed into a little fly and flew down to follow the imps.
搖身一變 yáo shēn yí biàn — one shake of the body and he is something else — is the fixed formula for a transformation, and by this point in the novel the narrator spends no wonder on it at all. The choice of shape is the joke: 蒼蠅兒 cāng ying er, a little fly, with 兒 er shrinking him to the most negligible thing in the room.
Now you ask: since he had turned into a fly, where were the treasures put? Had he dropped them by the road or hidden them in the grass, and someone had seen and taken them, would his labor not have been in vain? No — he kept them on his person.
你道 nǐ dào is the storyteller turning to the audience — now you ask — and inventing the objection before anyone can raise it. It is the oldest trick in oral performance and the novel never tires of it. 藏在草裡 cáng zài cǎo lǐ, hidden in the grass, takes 藏 as cáng. 勞而無功 láo ér wú gōng — toil and no result — is still the phrase Chinese reaches for when effort comes to nothing.
On his person, you say — but a fly is no bigger than a bean; how could they be contained? The fact is, those treasures of his, like his gold-banded cudgel, are called wish-fulfilling Buddha-treasures: they change with the body, can be great, can be small, and so upon his person they too could be held.
The storyteller's answer patches the plot and slips in a rule the whole chapter will lean on. 如意佛寶 rú yì fó bǎo, wish-fulfilling Buddha-treasures: 如意 means conforming to intent, the same epithet the cudgel carries in its full name, 如意金箍棒. So these vessels answer to the will of whoever holds them, and greatness and smallness are moods rather than measurements. 豆粒大小 dòu lì dà xiǎo, the size of a bean — the objection is real, and the answer is that size is negotiable.
The pursuit changes register from farce to surveillance. The trickster who was lately a white-bearded immortal is now a fly, the smallest possible witness, riding the imps' own retreat into the enemy's hall. The transformation formula passes without comment; the wonder is saved for a technicality.
That technicality — where does a fly keep two stolen gourds? — is raised by the storyteller himself in the borrowed voice of a sceptical listener, and answered by folding the plunder into the novel's physics of scale. Like the cudgel, the vessels are 如意, obedient to intent. The aside also plants, very quietly, the idea that these treasures answer to their holder — the point on which the entire chapter will turn.