原文 Original text
繁體 Traditional
Reader's edition
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,跟著小妖。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
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。
行者在半空中见他回去,又摇身一变,变作苍蝇儿,飞下去,跟著小妖。
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), the set formula of transformation. 蒼蠅兒 (cāng ying er), "a little fly," the suffix 兒 (er) shrinking the shape to its most negligible.
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。
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。
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), the storyteller's direct address, staging the listener's objection before answering it. 藏在草裡 (cáng zài cǎo lǐ), "hidden in the grass" — 藏 cáng. 勞而無功 (láo ér wú gōng), "toil without result.”
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。
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。
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.
如意佛寶 (rú yì fó bǎo), "wish-fulfilling Buddha-treasures" — 如意, conforming to intent, the same epithet as the cudgel's 如意金箍棒. 豆粒大小 (dòu lì dà xiǎo), "the size of a bean-grain.”
總評 Commentary
The pursuit shifts 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 搖身一變 is by now so familiar that the narrator spends no wonder on it; the wonder is reserved for a technicality.
That technicality — where does a fly keep two stolen gourds? — is raised by the storyteller himself in the simulated voice of a skeptical listener, a hallmark of the vernacular narrator's craft. The answer folds the plunder into the novel's metaphysics of scale: like the cudgel, the vessels are 如意, obedient to intent, so that great and small are dispositions rather than dimensions. The aside both patches the plot and quietly reminds us that these treasures answer to their holder — a point on which the whole chapter will turn.