太子潛歸 The Prince Steals Home
卻說那烏雞國王太子自別大聖,不多時,回至城中。果然不奔朝門,不敢報傳宣詔,徑至後宰門首,見幾個太監在那裡把守。見太子來,不敢阻滯,讓他進去了。好太子,夾一夾馬,撞入裡面,忽至錦香亭下。只見那正宮娘娘坐在錦香亭上,兩邊有數十個嬪妃掌扇,那娘娘倚雕欄兒流淚哩。你道他流淚怎的?原來他四更時也做了一夢,記得一半,含糊了一半,沉沉思想。却说那乌鸡国王太子自别大圣,不多时,回至城中。果然不奔朝门,不敢报传宣诏,径至后宰门首,见几个太监在那里把守。见太子来,不敢阻滞,让他进去了。好太子,夹一夹马,撞入里面,忽至锦香亭下。只见那正宫娘娘坐在锦香亭上,两边有数十个嫔妃掌扇,那娘娘倚雕栏儿流泪哩。你道他流泪怎的?原来他四更时也做了一梦,记得一半,含糊了一半,沉沉思想。
逐句解 Line by line
Now the crown prince of the Wuji kingdom, having taken his leave of the Great Sage, in no long while came back into the city.
卻說 ('now, to take up the tale') is the storyteller's resumptive formula. 烏雞國 (Wuji, lit. 'Black-Cock Kingdom') is the realm whose true king was drowned three years before; the prince has just parted from Wukong (大聖, the Great Sage) at the hunt. 太子 takes 子 = zǐ (the heir).
True to his word he did not make for the court gate, nor dare have his coming announced, but went straight to the Rear Steward's Gate, where several eunuchs stood on watch.
後宰門 (read zǎi) is a rear palace gate for household traffic; the prince shuns the formal 朝門 (cháo, court gate) to keep his return secret, as Wukong had charged him. 那裡 here = 'there' (那 = nà).
Seeing the prince arrive, they dared not hold him back, and let him pass inside.
太子 again takes 子 = zǐ. 讓他進去了 keeps the aspectual 了 = le.
The fine prince gave his horse a squeeze of the knees, dashed on in, and came of a sudden below the Brocade-Fragrance Pavilion.
夾一夾馬: to press the mount with the knees — a vivid vernacular gesture. 錦香亭 ('Brocade-Fragrance Pavilion') is the queen's garden retreat.
There he saw the principal consort, the queen herself, seated upon the Brocade-Fragrance Pavilion, some dozens of palace ladies holding fans to either side, while the lady leaned against the carved railing and wept.
正宮娘娘: the principal palace consort, i.e. the reigning queen (the 嫡母 of the poem). 數 = shù ('several'); 扇 = shàn (the fan held, not shān 'to fan/incite'); 兒 in 雕欄兒 is the northern colloquial suffix (er), not the noun 兒 (ér).
And why, you ask, was she weeping?
你道…怎的: a direct address to the audience, the vernacular narrator inviting the listener's curiosity.
It turned out that she too, at the fourth watch, had dreamed a dream — half of it she remembered, half had gone blurred — and she sat sunk in brooding thought.
四更 (read gēng, the fourth night-watch, roughly 1–3 a.m.) mirrors the hour of the king's dream-visitation in Ch.37; the doubled, half-recalled dream binds mother and son. 記得 takes 得 = dé ('to retain, remember').
The chapter proper opens by following the prince back into the palace, and the narrator's craft is on show: the resumptive 卻說, the secret entry by the rear gate, the sweep from the guarded threshold up to the weeping queen above the pavilion. The pacing withholds her grief only to name its cause — a dream — and so binds her inner life to the machinery of the plot.
That the queen 'too' (也) has dreamed, at the very fourth watch, rhymes with the drowned king's dream-plea to Tripitaka in the preceding chapter. Mother and son each hold half a dream; the chapter's work will be to make the halves whole, and to let intimacy — a wife's knowledge of her husband's love — become the instrument that unmasks the impostor.
Wuji's 'Black-Cock' name and its usurped throne have long invited allegorical reading: the false king seated in the true king's place figures the mind ruled by delusion. The prince's furtive return is thus the first movement of restoration — knowledge creeping back into the palace by a side door.