一飲一啄 A Sip and a Peck: Mañjuśrī Explains
行者道:「菩薩,這是你坐下的一個青毛獅子,卻怎麼走將來成精,你就不收服他?」菩薩道:「悟空,他不曾走,他是佛旨差來的。」行者道:「這畜類成精,侵奪帝位,還奉佛旨差來。似老孫保唐僧受苦,就該領幾道敕書。」菩薩道:「你不知道。當初這烏雞國王好善齋僧,佛差我來度他歸西,早證金身羅漢。因是不可原身相見,變做一種凡僧,問他化些齋供。被吾幾句言語相難,他不識我是個好人,把我一條繩綑了,送在那御水河中,浸了我三日三夜。多虧六甲金身救我歸西,奏與如來。如來將此怪令到此處推他下井,浸他三年,以報吾三日水災之恨。『一飲一啄,莫非前定。』今得汝等來此,成了功績。」行者道:「你雖報了甚麼『一飲一啄』的私仇,但那怪物不知害了多少人也。」菩薩道:「也不曾害人。自他到後,這三年間,風調雨順,國泰民安,何害人之有?」行者道:「固然如此,但只三宮娘娘與他同眠同起,點污了他的身體,壞了多少綱常倫理,還叫做不曾害人?」菩薩道:「點污他不得,他是個騸了的獅子。」八戒聞言,走近前,就摸了一把。笑道:「這妖精真個是糟鼻子不吃酒──枉擔其名了。」行者道:「既如此,收了去罷。若不是菩薩親來,決不饒他性命。」行者道:「菩萨,这是你坐下的一个青毛狮子,却怎么走将来成精,你就不收服他?」菩萨道:「悟空,他不曾走,他是佛旨差来的。」行者道:「这畜类成精,侵夺帝位,还奉佛旨差来。似老孙保唐僧受苦,就该领几道敕书。」菩萨道:「你不知道。当初这乌鸡国王好善斋僧,佛差我来度他归西,早证金身罗汉。因是不可原身相见,变做一种凡僧,问他化些斋供。被吾几句言语相难,他不识我是个好人,把我一条绳捆了,送在那御水河中,浸了我三日三夜。多亏六甲金身救我归西,奏与如来。如来将此怪令到此处推他下井,浸他三年,以报吾三日水灾之恨。『一饮一啄,莫非前定。』今得汝等来此,成了功绩。」行者道:「你虽报了甚么『一饮一啄』的私仇,但那怪物不知害了多少人也。」菩萨道:「也不曾害人。自他到后,这三年间,风调雨顺,国泰民安,何害人之有?」行者道:「固然如此,但只三宫娘娘与他同眠同起,点污了他的身体,坏了多少纲常伦理,还叫做不曾害人?」菩萨道:「点污他不得,他是个骟了的狮子。」八戒闻言,走近前,就摸了一把。笑道:「这妖精真个是糟鼻子不吃酒──枉担其名了。」行者道:「既如此,收了去罢。若不是菩萨亲来,决不饶他性命。」
逐句解 Line by line
Pilgrim said: "Bodhisattva, this is a green-furred lion you keep beneath your seat — how is it he came walking off to turn into a spirit, and you didn't subdue him?"
走將來: 將 = jiāng, carrying the motion along. 獅子: rounding-off 子 = zi. Wukong's question is the reasonable one, and the answer will be anything but.
The Bodhisattva said: "Wukong, he didn't run off — he was sent by the Buddha's decree."
佛旨差來: 差 = chāi, dispatched; 佛 = fó. Not an escaped pet. A posting.
Pilgrim said: "This beast turned spirit, seized a throne, and yet was sent by the Buddha's decree?
還奉佛旨差來: 還 = hái; 差 = chāi. 畜類: 畜 = chù. Wukong repeats the claim back as a question, because he cannot believe he has heard it — a beast turns spirit, steals a throne, and has orders in writing.
The way old Sun guards the Tang Monk and suffers hardship, I ought to be given a few decrees myself!"
似老孫: 似 = sì, "the way, like." 領幾道敕書, to receive a few patents of decree. The complaint is the oldest one in any bureaucracy: the villain has paperwork and I have none.
The Bodhisattva said: "You don't know.
你不知道 — the Bodhisattva prefacing the tale of the debt.
In the beginning this king of Wūjī was good and gave alms to monks, and the Buddha sent me to deliver him to the West, to attain betimes the golden body of an arhat.
當初: 當 = dāng. 佛差我來: 差 = chāi; 度他歸西 takes 度 = dù, to convey across. The king was pious and was to be rewarded, which is where the trouble starts.
Because I could not appear to him in my true form, I changed into an ordinary monk and asked him for some alms of vegetarian fare.
原身相見: 相 = xiāng. 化些齋供: 供 = gòng, an offering. A god may not appear as himself, so he begs alms in disguise — the oldest test in folklore, and the king is about to fail it.
Nettled by a few of my words, and not knowing I was a good spirit, he had me bound with a rope and thrown into the royal moat-river, and soaked me there three days and three nights.
言語相難: 相 = xiāng, 難 = nàn, to put somebody in difficulty. Pointing 那御水河: 那 = nà; 河中 中 = zhōng. Note what the offence actually was: Mañjuśrī needled him, the king lost his temper, and a man was tied up and thrown in the moat for three days. Not a monstrous crime — but not nothing, either.
It was thanks to the Six-Jia spirits, who saved my golden body back to the West, that I reported it to the Tathāgata.
六甲金身 are the Six-Jia guardian spirits. 奏與如來, reported it to the Tathāgata — the complaint went up the chain.
The Tathāgata sent this monster with orders to come here and push him down the well, and soak him three years, in requital for my three days' water-woe.
將此怪令: 將 = jiāng. 此處: 處 = chù. 水災之恨, the grievance of the water-calamity. Three days in a moat, repaid with three years down a well: the exchange rate is a year for a day, and it was authorised at the highest level.
'A single sip, a single peck — none is not fore-ordained.'
一飲一啄,莫非前定 — a single sip, a single peck, and not one of them unforeordained. The saying comes from the Zhuangzi, where it describes a wild bird taking its food as it comes, and it has hardened into a proverb meaning that nothing at all happens by accident. The edition sets it in its own quotation marks, which is why it stays prose here rather than being displayed as verse.
Now that you and the rest have come here, the merit is accomplished."
今得汝等來此: 得 = dé. 成了功績, the meritorious work is done — the debt is settled and the pilgrims, unknowingly, have closed the file.
Pilgrim said: "Even granting you've requited some private grudge of a 'sip and a peck,' still that monster has done to death no telling how many people."
甚麼: 甚 = shén. Pointing 那怪物: 那 = nà. 私仇 is a private grudge, and Wukong's use of the word is pointed: he is accusing a Bodhisattva of settling a personal score with a kingdom's worth of collateral damage.
The Bodhisattva said: "He did no harm to anyone, either.
也不曾害人, never harmed a soul.
Since he came, in these three years the winds have been timely and the rains in season, the land at peace and the people secure — what harm to anyone is there in that?"
三年間: 間 = jiān. 風調雨順 takes 調 = tiáo, in tune, favourable — not diào. 風調雨順 and 國泰民安, timely winds and seasonable rains, the realm at peace and the people secure, are the two phrases a Chinese government still reaches for when it wants to say things are going well. Applied to a usurping demon, they are the most disquieting sentence in the chapter.
Pilgrim said: "Granted it's so — but the three palace consorts have slept and risen with him, defiling their bodies and wrecking no end of the bonds and moral order. Do you still call that harming no one?"
三宮娘娘 are the three palace ladies. 綱常倫理: 常 = cháng — the cardinal bonds and constants of Confucian moral order. 還叫做: 還 = hái. Wukong drops the political charge and picks up the sexual one, which is the only ground left.
The Bodhisattva said: "He could not have defiled them — he is a gelded lion."
點污他不得: 得 = dé, marking what cannot be done. 騸了的獅子: 騸 = shàn, gelded; rounding-off 子 = zi. The answer is a single anatomical fact, delivered without embarrassment, and it demolishes the last accusation.
Eight Rules, hearing this, went up close and had a feel — a single grope.
摸了一把, gave it one feel. Bajie verifies the Bodhisattva's testimony by hand, in front of everybody. The novel does not comment.
He laughed: "This fiend is truly a 'red-nose that drinks no wine' — he's borne the name for nothing."
And then the punchline, in the two-part form Chinese loves — set up an image, pause, deliver the sense. 糟鼻子不吃酒 is the wine-flushed nose on a man who never touches a drop; 枉擔其名 is bearing the name for nothing. Here 擔 is the verb dān, "to bear" a name — not the dàn of a carrying-load that Bajie was arguing over when he split the baggage. High doctrine has been running for two pages, and Bajie ends it with a joke about a teetotaller's red nose.
Pilgrim said: "If that's so, take him off, then.
收了去, take him away. Closing 罷 = ba.
Had you not come in person, Bodhisattva, I'd surely not have spared his life."
若不是菩薩親來, but for your coming in person. 決不饒他性命, I would by no means have spared him — true, and also a small dig at how the rules work.
Mañjuśrī's explanation reframes the whole chapter as a ledger. The usurpation was not a fiend's freelance villainy but a sanctioned repayment: the king of Wūjī, pious as he was, had once had Mañjuśrī — arrived in the guise of a begging monk — tied up and soaked three days in the palace moat, and so the Tathāgata dispatched the lion to soak him three years in a well. A year for a day, authorised from the top. The proverb the Bodhisattva quotes to seal it, 一飲一啄,莫非前定 — a single sip, a single peck, and none of it unforeordained — comes from the Zhuangzi, and it is the doctrinal key: in this novel's moral universe nothing, not even a king's three-year death, falls outside the exact accounting of cause and effect.
Wukong presses the obvious objection — surely the beast has done harm — and is answered twice over, each time in a way characteristic of the book. To the charge of misrule, Mañjuśrī replies that under the lion the realm enjoyed timely winds and seasonable rains, peace and plenty: the usurper governed well, which is the chapter's most unsettling irony and the thing the city-poem hinted at long before. To the charge of defiling the queens, he replies that the lion is gelded — whereupon the novel punctures its own solemnity at once with Bajie's investigative grope and his crack about the red-nosed teetotaller. High doctrine and low comedy share a single breath, and the ledger balances: the debt paid, the beast reclaimed by its owner, and nothing left but the formal leave-taking.