The Monkey King looked over the records and tallied the number of horses.

He starts, characteristically, by doing the job properly. 查看 is chá kàn, "to look over," with 看 as kàn; 馬數 takes 數 as shù, "number."

In the directorate, the registrar saw to requisitioning fodder; the grooms saw to currying the horses, binding straw, watering, and boiling feed; the assistant and deputy directors oversaw and pressed the work along.

The stable's offices, set out with deadpan thoroughness: the 典簿 registrar requisitions fodder, the 力士 grooms curry, bind straw, water and boil feed, and the 監丞 and 監副 supervise and chase the work along. A whole civil service, for a stable.

Bìmǎwēn slept neither day nor night, nourishing the horses.

In 不睡 the 不 takes bú before the falling tone of 睡. Wukong throws himself at the work, which is the irony the chapter is setting up: he does the menial job superbly, before anyone tells him how menial it is.

By day his frolicking was tolerable enough, but by night he tended them with care: those that lay down he drove up to graze; those that strayed he caught and brought back to the trough.

看管 is kān guǎn, "to watch over, to mind" — 看 as kān, a different reading from the kàn, "to look at," three lines up. In 捉將來 the 將 is the little linking syllable jiāng, "catch and bring back." 慇懃 is an older way of writing 殷勤, attentive care.

The heavenly horses, seeing him, flattened their ears and drew in their hooves.

泯耳攢蹄 — "ears laid flat, hooves drawn in." That is horse for submission, and it is the quiet proof that his mastery over them is real.

And so he kept them fat and sleek of flank.

倒 is dào here, "and yet, on the contrary" — worth marking, because the same character is dǎo, "to topple," in 推倒 further down the page. 膘 (biāo) is the flank-fat of a well-kept horse.

Before he knew it, a fortnight and more had passed.

In 不覺 the 不 stays bù before the rising tone of 覺 (jué, "to notice"). This is the contented stretch that the banquet is about to destroy.

One day at leisure, the directorate's officers laid out a banquet, both to welcome him and to offer congratulations.

一朝 is yì zhāo, "one day" — 朝 as zhāo, "morning," and 一 as yì before a level tone. 接風, literally "meeting the wind," is the welcome dinner thrown for a newcomer; Chinese still uses the word for exactly that.

In the midst of the merry drinking the Monkey King suddenly set down his cup and asked, "This Bìmǎwēn of mine — what rank of office is it?"

And there it is, the question that undoes everything: 是個甚麼官銜, "what rank of office is this?" He has worked the post for a fortnight without once asking where it sat.

They said, "The office is just what its name says."

A studiedly unhelpful answer — the office is just what its name says — which tells him nothing and, if he were listening, everything.

He asked again, "And what grade is this office?"

He presses for the number. A Ming official's whole standing — salary, robe, seniority, whom he bowed to — hung on his grade, so this is the only question that matters.

They said, "It has no grade at all."

沒有品從, "no grade at all." Ming officialdom ran in nine numbered grades, 品, each split into an upper and a lower half — a pay scale from one down to nine. Wukong hears "off the scale" and assumes it means off the top.

The Monkey King said, "No grade — then I suppose it must be great beyond measure?"

The hopeful misreading: surely a post beyond all grading must be higher than all of them. The comedy is the gap between his self-image and the payroll.

They said, "Not great, not great — it's merely called 'below the ranks.'"

In 不大 the 不 takes bú before the falling tone of 大. And here is the verdict: 未入流, literally "has not entered the stream" — outside the nine grades entirely. The phrase is still in daily use as an ordinary put-down; call a restaurant or a novelist 未入流 today and you mean strictly second-rate. Wukong has just been told he is the civil-service equivalent.

The Monkey King said, "What do you mean, 'below the ranks'?"

He still has not grasped it. The third asking is what finally drops the floor out from under him.

They said, "The lowest grade. This is the meanest, smallest of posts — fit only for keeping horses. Even when one such as Your Honor, having taken office, tends them this diligently and feeds them fat, the most you earn is someone saying 'good'; and if they grow at all thin and weak, you are called to account; and if they are badly hurt, you are fined, made to make it good, and charged with the crime."

The humiliation spelled out in full: perfect service earns a muttered 好, "good," while any slip brings reprimand, fines, and 問罪, a formal charge of wrongdoing. 看馬 takes 看 as kān; 堂尊 is a deferential "Your Honour"; 尪羸 (wāng léi) is "thin and weak."

Hearing this, the Monkey King felt fire leap up in his heart, and gnashing his teeth he raged, "So this is the contempt they hold old Wukong in! On Flower-Fruit Mountain I am called king and patriarch — how dare they trick me into coming to tend their horses? Horse-tending is the base drudgery of juniors and menials — is that how I am to be treated? I'll not do it, I'll not do it — I am leaving!"

The explosion, and the novel gives it a technical name. 心頭火起, "fire leaps up in the heart," is the inner-alchemical image of the 心火, the heart-fire, breaking its banks — the 心猿 at the moment it stops being manageable. 稱王稱祖, "called king and called patriarch," recalls his sovereignty back on Flower-Fruit Mountain. In 我將去也 the 將 is jiāng, "about to" — I am leaving, and I am leaving now.

With a sudden whoosh he overturned the official table, drew the treasure from his ear, gave it a shake until it was as thick as a bowl, and with a flourish of his routines fought his way straight out of the Imperial Stable and on to the Southern Gate of Heaven.

In 推倒 the 倒 is dǎo, "to topple." The 寶貝 he pulls from his ear is the 如意金箍棒, the As-You-Will gold-banded cudgel, and 一路解數 is a whole sequence of martial moves — he does not merely leave, he fights his way out through a full routine. The three 一 in this line shift tone in turn: yì, yì, yí.

The heavenly troops, knowing he had received the immortal's register and was a Bìmǎwēn, did not dare bar him, and let him fight his way out through the gate and away.

The final irony of the episode: the rank he has just spat on is what gets him out. The gate-guards know he holds the 仙籙 and is a registered 弼馬溫, so they stand aside. In 不敢 the 不 stays bù before the dipping tone of 敢; 阻當 is a variant writing of 阻擋.