腥風示警 The Fishy Wind
卻說孫大聖與沙僧正坐，只見一陣腥風，刮面而過，他就打了一個噴嚏道：「不好，不好！這陣風凶多吉少，想是豬八戒走錯路也。」沙僧道：「他錯了路，不會問人？」行者道：「想必撞見妖精了。」沙僧道：「撞見妖精，他不會跑回？」行者道：「不停當。你坐在這裡看守，等我跑過澗去打聽打聽。」沙僧道：「師兄腰疼，只恐又著他手，等小弟去罷。」行者道：「你不濟事，還讓我去。」却说孙大圣与沙僧正坐，只见一阵腥风，刮面而过，他就打了一个喷嚏道：「不好，不好！这阵风凶多吉少，想是猪八戒走错路也。」沙僧道：「他错了路，不会问人？」行者道：「想必撞见妖精了。」沙僧道：「撞见妖精，他不会跑回？」行者道：「不停当。你坐在这里看守，等我跑过涧去打听打听。」沙僧道：「师兄腰疼，只恐又着他手，等小弟去罢。」行者道：「你不济事，还让我去。」
逐句解 Line by line
Now the Great Sage Sun and Sha the Monk were sitting when a gust of fishy wind swept past their faces, and he gave a sneeze and said: ‘This is bad, this is bad!
A gust of 腥風 -- fishy wind, the smell of raw flesh -- goes across their faces, and Wukong sneezes. In the novel's world a sudden foul wind is a reliable sign that something demonic has just passed, and he reads it instantly. Twice bad, he says, and he is right both times.
This wind bodes much ill and little good — I think Zhu Eight Rules has taken the wrong road.’
凶多吉少, much ill and little good, is a fixed four-character phrase still in daily use for a situation looking grim. His first guess is the charitable one: Bajie has got lost.
Sha the Monk said: ‘If he took the wrong road, could he not ask someone?’
Sha Monk's objection is entirely sensible and entirely wrong, which is the point of the exchange. If he is lost, he can ask. It is the kind of thing you say when you are not yet willing to think the worse thought.
The Pilgrim said: ‘He must have run into the demon.’
So Wukong says it. He has met the demon.
Sha the Monk said: ‘If he ran into the demon, could he not run back?’
And Sha tries once more: then he would have run. Bajie running away is, on this chapter's evidence, a very safe bet. It is not what happened, and the reason is that Bajie never knew he was in danger.
The Pilgrim said: ‘It's not right.
不停當, things are not in order -- the same phrase the demon's imps used when reporting the carts ready, and the same phrase Bajie used before bolting from the fire. Wukong is not reasoning any more. He has a bad feeling.
You sit here and keep watch, and let me run across the torrent to make inquiries.’
看守 takes 看 at kān, meaning to guard or mind something, rather than the kàn that means to look. Sha is to stay and watch the master's things; Wukong will go and find out.
Sha the Monk said: ‘Elder brother, your waist aches; I only fear you'll fall into his hands again. Let your younger brother go.’
Sha offers to go instead, and his reason is careful: your waist hurts, and you might fall into his hands again. 著他手 takes 著 at zháo, marking the being-caught. It is the second time in this chapter that the quiet disciple has looked after his brother without being asked.
The Pilgrim said: ‘You're not up to it; better let me go.’
And the refusal, blunt to the point of rudeness: you are not up to it. Wukong is injured, has been beaten twice by this demon, and is still certain he is the only one who can do this. On the evidence, he is also correct.
A small scene of foreboding, and it turns on the difference between the two remaining disciples. A foul wind blows past and Wukong reads it immediately as bad news. Sha offers two reasonable explanations -- he got lost, he ran away -- and both are the sort of thing you propose when you would rather not conclude the obvious.
Wukong ends by refusing help he plainly needs, which is the trait that has run through the whole chapter. He would not break off the first fight, he would not let the dragons intervene in the second, and now, hurt and slow, he will not let Sha go in his place. This time it is the right call: what is waiting requires exactly his kind of cleverness.