叩問即位 Pressing the Question of the Throne
太子叩頭道：「母親，我問你：即位登龍是那個？稱孤道寡果何人？」娘娘聞言道：「這孩兒發風了？做皇帝的是你父王，你問怎的？」太子叩頭道：「萬望母親赦子無罪，敢問；不赦，不敢問。」娘娘道：「子母家有何罪？赦你，赦你，快快說來。」太子道：「母親，我問你三年前夫妻宮裡之事，與後三年恩愛同否如何？」太子叩头道：「母亲，我问你：即位登龙是那个？称孤道寡果何人？」娘娘闻言道：「这孩儿发风了？做皇帝的是你父王，你问怎的？」太子叩头道：「万望母亲赦子无罪，敢问；不赦，不敢问。」娘娘道：「子母家有何罪？赦你，赦你，快快说来。」太子道：「母亲，我问你三年前夫妻宫里之事，与后三年恩爱同否如何？」
逐句解 Line by line
The prince knocked his head to the ground and said: 'Mother, I ask you — who is it that has taken the throne and mounted the dragon?
叩頭 is the kowtow proper — forehead knocked against the floor. Then the question, and everything turns on one small character: 那個 here is a question, 那 read nǎ, 'which one, who,' and not the pointing nà, 'that one.' 太子: 子 = zǐ.
Who, in truth, is the one who styles himself the Solitary and the Orphaned?'
稱孤道寡 is a splendid piece of protocol. A king refers to himself as 孤, 'the Orphan,' and 寡, 'the Solitary' — ritual self-belittlement, the throne's version of 'your humble servant.' The prince is asking who has the right to those words, which is a far more dangerous question than it sounds. 稱 is chēng.
Hearing this, the lady said: 'Has the child gone out of his wits?
發風 is a variant writing of 發瘋: to fly into a fit, to rave. She thinks the boy has lost his mind. 孩兒: 兒 = ér.
He who is emperor is your own father-king — why do you ask such a thing?'
Her exasperation is entirely domestic and entirely uninformed, and that is the point — the 'father-king' she is defending is the demon.
The prince knocked his head again and said: 'I beg my mother to hold your son blameless, and then I will make bold to ask;
赦子無罪, 'pardon your son as guiltless.' He is asking for the pardon before the offense, because the question he means to ask is treason if he is wrong. 子, twice here, is zǐ.
if you will not pardon me, I dare not ask.'
No pardon, no question. He is bargaining her into a promise before he will say a word.
The lady said: 'Between mother and son, what crime could there be?
子母家, 'in a household of mother and son.' She waves the whole idea of guilt away — what crime could there be between the two of them? 子 = zǐ.
You are pardoned, you are pardoned — out with it, quickly.'
赦你 twice, then 'out with it.' Curiosity has done the prince's work for him.
The prince said: 'Mother, I ask you this: the matter of the bedchamber three years ago, and the conjugal love of the three years since — are they the same, or not?'
And here is the question the chapter has been walking toward, and it is startlingly private: has the marriage felt the same these last three years as it did before? 恩愛 is conjugal tenderness, the warmth between husband and wife. A usurper can copy a face, a voice, a signature; the prince has found the one thing no impostor can counterfeit. 太子: 子 = zǐ.
The interrogation advances by ritual inches — kowtow, plea for pardon, refusal to speak without it — each move raising the stakes before a single dangerous word is said. The prince's phrasing is courtly and oblique (稱孤道寡, 即位登龍), circling the throne rather than accusing anyone of anything.
Her replies stay pitched in ordinary domestic exasperation: has the boy gone mad? what crime could there be between a mother and her son? The very ordinariness sharpens the reader's foreknowledge, because the 'father-king' she is defending is a demon wearing a dead man's face.
Then comes the diagnostic question, and it is a brilliant one. By asking whether the conjugal warmth of the last three years matches what came before, the prince tests the single thing an impostor cannot forge. The answer, when it comes, will arrive in verse, and the whole business of telling 邪正 — crooked from upright — will rest on the most private evidence in the book.