鳴鐘擂鼓 The Bell and the Drum
那道人沒奈何,捨了性命,不敢撞門,從後邊狗洞裡鑽將出去,徑到正殿上,東邊打鼓,西邊撞鐘。鐘鼓一齊響處,驚動了兩廊大小僧眾,上殿問道:「這早還不晚哩,撞鐘打鼓做甚?」道人說:「快換衣服,隨老師父排班,出山門外,迎接唐朝來的老爺。」那眾和尚真個齊齊整整,擺班出門迎接。有的披了袈裟;有的著了偏衫;無的穿著個一口鐘直裰;十分窮的,沒有長衣服,就把腰裙接起兩條披在身上。行者看見道:「和尚,你穿的是甚麼衣服?」和尚見他醜惡,道:「爺爺,不要打,等我說。這是我們城中化的布,此間沒有裁縫,是自家做的個一裹窮。」那道人没奈何,舍了性命,不敢撞门,从后边狗洞里钻将出去,径到正殿上,东边打鼓,西边撞钟。钟鼓一齐响处,惊动了两廊大小僧众,上殿问道:「这早还不晚哩,撞钟打鼓做甚?」道人说:「快换衣服,随老师父排班,出山门外,迎接唐朝来的老爷。」那众和尚真个齐齐整整,摆班出门迎接。有的披了袈裟;有的着了偏衫;无的穿着个一口钟直裰;十分穷的,没有长衣服,就把腰裙接起两条披在身上。行者看见道:「和尚,你穿的是甚么衣服?」和尚见他丑恶,道:「爷爷,不要打,等我说。这是我们城中化的布,此间没有裁缝,是自家做的个一裹穷。」
逐句解 Line by line
The servitor, at his wits' end, risked his neck: not daring the door, he wriggled out through the dog-hole in the back, went straight up to the main hall, and beat the drum on the east side and struck the bell on the west.
He does not risk the front door. 沒奈何 is having no recourse; 狗洞 is the gap at the foot of a wall that a dog gets through; 鑽將出去 is to squeeze out, 將 the directional jiāng. Bell and drum together are the signal that brings the whole community out.
As bell and drum sounded together, they startled the monks great and small in both galleries, who came up to the hall and asked: "It's early yet, not late — what's the bell and drum for?"
兩廊 are the two galleries flanking the hall. Bell and drum out of hours means something serious. 還 is hái; 甚 is shén.
The servitor said: "Quick, change your robes, form ranks behind the old master, and go out the temple gate to welcome the lord come from Tang."
排班 is to line up in formation; 唐朝 is the Tang court, 朝 read cháo.
The monks, sure enough, formed up in good order and marched out to welcome him.
齊齊整整 is in neat array. 那 is nà, 和尚 takes hé.
Some had draped on their kāṣāyas;
披 is to drape over the shoulders; the 袈裟 is the kashaya, the patchwork robe, and the correct thing to wear.
some had put on the shoulder-robe;
Next best. The 偏衫 is a monastic upper garment with a history: the old accounts say it was devised in the Northern Wei palace, where monks baring the right shoulder in the Indian manner struck the court as indecorous, so a panel was added on one side to cover both shoulders and sleeves. 著 is zhuó, to put on.
those with neither wore a bell-shaped gown;
Next best after that. A 直裰 is the long straight-seamed gown, the everyday robe; 一口鐘, "a single bell," names a cloak that flares out like one — the novel uses the word again in chapter 46 for a ragged old garment pulled out of a chest. 著 is zhe, the running one.
and the very poorest, having no long robe, joined two waist-cloths together and draped them over their bodies.
And at the bottom of the scale, two waist-cloths stitched together. 十分 is utterly, 分 read fēn; 長衣服 is a long robe, 長 read cháng; 腰裙 is the waist-wrap.
The Pilgrim, seeing this, said: "Monk, what sort of robe is that you're wearing?"
行 is xíng, 和尚 takes hé, 甚 is shén.
The monk, seeing how fierce he looked, said: "My lord, don't hit me — let me explain."
醜惡 is hideous and fearsome. Everybody in this temple now negotiates from the same opening position.
"This is cloth we begged in the city; there's no tailor here, so we made it ourselves — a 'one-wrap poverty.'"
And the answer is the best joke in the passage. They beg their cloth in the city, there is no tailor, so they sew it themselves and call the result a 一裹窮, yì guǒ qióng — "one wrap of poverty," a garment named for the condition it advertises. Later commentators on the novel liked the phrase enough to turn it back on the wearers, calling them 一裹窮 men. 化的布 is cloth got by begging; 中 is zhōng.
The reversal is enacted as ritual. The terrified servant, not daring the front door, wriggles out through the dog-hole, beats the bell and drum out of hours — the signal for something momentous — and the whole community, roused and hastily robed, marches out to welcome the pilgrim their abbot had scorned. The narrator lingers on what they are wearing: some in proper kashayas, some in shoulder-robes, some in a bell-shaped gown, and the poorest in two waist-cloths sewn end to end.
The detail is not incidental. This is a large but genuinely poor community — five hundred licensed monks who beg their cloth in the city and stitch their own "one wrap of poverty" — which sharpens the satire on the abbot who lorded it over a shabby stranger. Wukong's blunt question about their clothes, and the frightened, self-mocking answer, keep the comedy running while the scene turns the chapter's social order upside down: the poor and the humble, not the powerful, now do the honouring.