留珪為記 The Jade Tablet Left as Proof
又問道：「你縱有太子在朝，我怎的與他相見？」那人道：「如何不得見？」三藏道：「他被妖魔拘轄，連一個生身之母尚不得見，我一個和尚，欲見何由？」那人道：「他明早出朝來也。」三藏問：「出朝作甚？」那人道：「明日早朝，領三千人馬，架鷹犬，出城採獵，師父斷得與他相見。見時肯將我的言語說與他，他便信了。」三藏道：「他本是肉眼凡胎，被妖魔哄在殿上，那一日不叫他幾聲父王？他怎肯信我的言語？」那人道：「既恐他不信，我留下一件表記與你罷。」三藏問：「是何物件？」那人把手中執的金廂白玉珪放下道：「此物可以為記。」又问道：「你纵有太子在朝，我怎的与他相见？」那人道：「如何不得见？」三藏道：「他被妖魔拘辖，连一个生身之母尚不得见，我一个和尚，欲见何由？」那人道：「他明早出朝来也。」三藏问：「出朝作甚？」那人道：「明日早朝，领三千人马，架鹰犬，出城采猎，师父断得与他相见。见时肯将我的言语说与他，他便信了。」三藏道：「他本是肉眼凡胎，被妖魔哄在殿上，那一日不叫他几声父王？他怎肯信我的言语？」那人道：「既恐他不信，我留下一件表记与你罢。」三藏问：「是何物件？」那人把手中执的金厢白玉珪放下道：「此物可以为记。」
逐句解 Line by line
He asked further, “Even if you have a crown prince at court, how am I to meet with him?”
The practical objection: a prince at court is not a prince you can walk up to. 太子在朝 takes 子 as zǐ and 朝 as cháo; 相見 is to meet one another.
The man said, “How should you not get to meet him?”
The ghost is unbothered, which is itself a clue that he has thought this through. 如何不得見 — "how should you not get to meet him?" 得 is dé.
Tripitaka said, “Held in the fiend’s grip, he cannot even see the mother who bore him — how then should a mere monk find a way to see him?”
Tripitaka presses, and the argument is a fortiori: if the boy cannot reach his own mother, what chance has a passing monk? 拘轄 is to hold under restraint; 何由 is "by what means."
The man said, “He comes out from court tomorrow at dawn.”
One flat sentence that unlocks the plot: tomorrow he leaves the palace. 出朝 takes 朝 as cháo.
Tripitaka asked, “Out from court to do what?”
出朝作甚 — "out from court to do what?" 甚 is shén, the question word.
The man said, “Tomorrow at the morning court he will lead three thousand horse and foot, take hawk and hound, and go out from the city to hunt; there, Master, you will surely get to meet him.
The hunt: three thousand men, hawks and hounds, out beyond the walls. It is the one day the impostor's containment has a hole in it, because a prince cannot be kept indoors and also look like a prince. 早朝 is the dawn audience, 朝 read cháo; 斷得 is "will certainly get to," 得 read dé; 相見 again "meet one another."
When you meet, if you will but take my words and tell them to him, he will then believe.”
The ghost's confidence in his own words is touching and completely misplaced, as the next line points out. 將 is jiāng, taking up the words to hand on.
Tripitaka said, “He is but flesh-and-blood of mortal eye, deceived by the fiend upon the throne — which day does he not call him ‘father-king’ many times over?
Tripitaka's counter is the best argument in the passage. The boy is 肉眼凡胎 — "mortal eyes, common flesh," the standard phrase for someone who cannot see through a disguise — and he calls the impostor "father-king" several times a day, every day. Habit is a stronger witness than a stranger. 那一日 is rhetorical, "which day does he not," with 那 as the question word nǎ, the character Ming printing used before 哪 was differentiated.
How should he be willing to believe my words?”
怎肯 — "how would he be willing?" Not could: would.
The man said, “If you fear he will not believe, then let me leave a token with you.”
So the ghost offers a token. 表記 biǎo jì is a proof-object, the thing produced in a recognition scene to settle what words cannot. 那 is the pointing nà.
Tripitaka asked, “What object is it?”
Tripitaka, sensibly, wants to know what it is before he agrees to carry it. 何物件 is "what object."
The man set down the gold-mounted white-jade tablet he held in his hand, and said, “This object may serve as a proof.”
He sets down the tablet he has been holding since he first appeared — the one item in that opening portrait that had a job to do. 金廂 is "gold-mounted," 廂 standing for 鑲, to inlay; 為記 has 為 as wéi, to serve as, not wèi, for the sake of; 手中 takes the locative zhōng.
The mechanism of the reunion is set up here. The prince leaves the fiend's reach only for the hunt, and on that one morning Tripitaka can reach him. But the monk raises the objection that actually matters: the boy calls the impostor "father-king" every day of his life, and no stranger's word is going to outweigh that.
The answer is the white-jade tablet, set down on the floor of a dream. It is the classic proof-object of romance — the ring, the token, the half-broken coin — the one thing that can convince a son against the evidence of his own eyes. Note that it was hanging in the opening portrait all along, in the ghost's hand, waiting to be needed. The next passage explains why this object in particular has such force.