白玉為證 The White-Jade Token
那娘娘道:「兒啊,外人之言,你怎麼就信為實?」太子道:「兒還不敢認實,父王遺下表記與他了。」娘娘問是何物,太子袖中取出那金廂白玉珪,遞與娘娘。那娘娘認得是當時國王之寶,止不住淚如泉湧。叫聲:「主公,你怎麼死去三年,不來見我,卻先見聖僧,後見太子?」太子道:「母親,這話是怎的說?」那娘娘道:「儿啊,外人之言,你怎么就信为实?」太子道:「儿还不敢认实,父王遗下表记与他了。」娘娘问是何物,太子袖中取出那金厢白玉珪,递与娘娘。那娘娘认得是当时国王之宝,止不住泪如泉涌。叫声:「主公,你怎么死去三年,不来见我,却先见圣僧,后见太子?」太子道:「母亲,这话是怎的说?」
逐句解 Line by line
The lady said: 'My child — the word of an outsider — how can you simply take it for the truth?'
外人之言: 'the word of an outsider' — the queen's caution against a stranger's report. 那 = nà; 兒啊 = ér (vocative); 信為實: to believe [it] to be real — 為 = wéi ('to be, take as').
The prince said: 'Your son still dared not confirm it, but my royal father left behind a token and gave it to him.'
兒還: 'your son still' — the prince refers to himself as 兒 (ér). 遺下表記: left behind a token of proof (遺 = yí); the white-jade gui the king's ghost gave to Wukong in Ch.37. 還 = hái.
The lady asked what the thing was, and the prince drew from his sleeve that gold-rimmed white-jade gui and handed it to her.
金廂白玉珪: a white-jade gui (ceremonial tablet) set in a gold rim (廂 = 鑲, 'to inlay'; 珪 = 圭). 袖中: 中 = zhōng; 那 = nà; 太子: 子 = zǐ.
The lady recognized it as the treasure of the king of that former time, and could not stop her tears from welling up like a spring.
認得: to recognize (得 = dé). 當時國王之寶: the treasure of the king of that [earlier] time. 那 = nà.
She cried aloud: 'My lord — how is it that, dead these three years, you have not come to see me, but appeared first to the holy monk and then to the prince?'
主公: 'my lord,' the queen's address to her dead husband. The reproach — appearing to strangers before his own wife — voices a wife's grief within the supernatural plot. 太子: 子 = zǐ.
The prince said: 'Mother, what do you mean by these words?'
The prince, not yet knowing of the queen's own dream, asks what she means — setting up her account. 太子: 子 = zǐ.
The queen's first instinct is prudent skepticism — why trust an outsider's word? — and the prince answers not with argument but with an object: the king's own jade gui, the token the ghost pressed on Wukong in the preceding chapter. The proof passes from sleeve to hand, and the queen's recognition is immediate and wordless, breaking into tears.
Her cry to her dead husband turns the scene from politics to grief. The reproach — that he appeared to a monk and to their son before coming to her — is the complaint of a wife, not a queen, and it deepens the chapter's insistence that the truest knowledge of the king lives in the intimacies of his marriage.
The prince's puzzled question at the close marks a gap in his knowledge: he does not yet know that his mother, too, has dreamed. The chapter has distributed the truth among three witnesses — monk, son, wife — each holding a fragment, and here the fragments begin to be laid side by side.