Canonical Classics ← 第四十八回
第四十八回
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The Fiend Stirs a Cold Wind and Sends Down Great Snow · The Monk, Set on Worshipping the Buddha, Treads the Layered Ice

街聞河凍
模式 Mode Read Study
拼音 Pinyin Off
字體 Script
原文 Original text 繁體 Traditional Reader's edition

街聞河凍 Word in the Street: the River Frozen

juétiānjiāngwǎnyòuréngqǐngdàotīngshàngwǎnzhāizhǐtīngjiēshàngxíngréndōushuō:「hǎolěngtiānatōngtiāndòngzhùle。」sānzàngwényándào:「kōngdòngzhùmenzěnshēngshìhǎo?」chénlǎodào:「zhàhánzhàlěngxiǎngshìjìnbiānqiǎnshuǐchùdòngjié。」xíngréndào:「bǎidōudòngdejìngmiànbānkǒushàngyǒurénzǒuli。」sānzàngtīngshuōyǒurénzǒujiùyàokànchénlǎodào:「lǎomángjīnwǎnlemíngkàn。」suìbiéquèlínsǒuyòuwǎnzhāiránxiēzàixiāngfángjuétiānjiāngwǎnyòuréngqǐngdàotīngshàngwǎnzhāizhǐtīngjiēshàngxíngréndōushuō:「hǎolěngtiānatōngtiāndòngzhùle。」sānzàngwényándào:「kōngdòngzhùmenzěnshēngshìhǎo?」chénlǎodào:「zhàhánzhàlěngxiǎngshìjìnbiānqiǎnshuǐchùdòngjié。」xíngréndào:「bǎidōudòngdejìngmiànbānkǒushàngyǒurénzǒuli。」sānzàngtīngshuōyǒurénzǒujiùyàokànchénlǎodào:「lǎomángjīnwǎnlemíngkàn。」suìbiéquèlínsǒuyòuwǎnzhāiránxiēzàixiāngfáng


逐句解 Line by line

juétiānjiāngwǎnyòuréngqǐngdàotīngshàngwǎnzhāi juétiānjiāngwǎnyòuréngqǐngdàotīngshàngwǎnzhāi

Before they knew it the light was failing, and they were asked once again to the hall for the evening meal.

不覺: is jué, the awareness sense — "without noticing" — set against the jiào of 睡覺 back at the temple, where Eight Rules wanted his bed. 將晚: is jiāng, "about to."

zhǐtīngjiēshàngxíngréndōushuō:「hǎolěngtiānatōngtiāndòngzhùle。」 zhǐtīngjiēshàngxíngréndōushuō:「hǎolěngtiānatōngtiāndòngzhùle。」

They heard the people in the street all saying: 「What a bitter cold — the River That Reaches to Heaven has frozen fast!」

聽得: is . 行人: is xíng. is dōu. Note how the news arrives — not as a portent, but as people in the street grumbling about the weather.

sānzàngwényándào:「kōngdòngzhùmenzěnshēngshìhǎo?」 sānzàngwényándào:「kōngdòngzhùmenzěnshēngshìhǎo?」

Tripitaka heard it and said: 「Wukong, if the river is frozen fast, what shall we do?」

The question will not quite carry across into English. 怎生是好 can mean "how are we to manage?" or "what a chance — how do we use it?" Tripitaka may not know himself which he means. The next few passages settle it.

chénlǎodào:「zhàhánzhàlěngxiǎngshìjìnbiānqiǎnshuǐchùdòngjié。」 chénlǎodào:「zhàhánzhàlěngxiǎngshìjìnbiānqiǎnshuǐchùdòngjié。」

Old Chen said: 「The cold came on so suddenly — it will be the shallow water near the bank that has set.」

淺水處: is chù. 乍寒乍冷, cold coming on in fits and starts. The old man is still reasoning from ordinary weather, and reasoning well.

xíngréndào:「bǎidōudòngdejìngmiànbānkǒushàngyǒurénzǒuli。」 xíngréndào:「bǎidōudòngdejìngmiànbānkǒushàngyǒurénzǒuli。」

The passer-by said: 「The whole eight hundred li of it is frozen smooth as the face of a mirror, and there are people walking on it up at the landing.」

那行人 is , with as xíng; is dōu. is , a reading fixed across this edition, and the final is li. 一般 keeps at before a level tone.

sānzàngtīngshuōyǒurénzǒujiùyàokàn sānzàngtīngshuōyǒurénzǒujiùyàokàn

When Tripitaka heard that people were walking on it, he wanted to go and see straight away.

Eleven characters, and the trap has caught. The Dame designed those walkers for exactly this reaction, and it comes on the instant.

chénlǎodào:「lǎomángjīnwǎnlemíngkàn。」 chénlǎodào:「lǎomángjīnwǎnlemíngkàn。」

Old Chen said: 「Do not be in haste, your reverence. It is late today; go and see tomorrow.」

莫忙 — the first of Old Chen's three attempts to slow the monk down, and the only one he accepts.

suìbiéquèlínsǒu suìbiéquèlínsǒu

So they took their leave of the neighbour elders.

別卻, to part from. The evening winds up.

yòuwǎnzhāiránxiēzàixiāngfáng yòuwǎnzhāiránxiēzàixiāngfáng

The evening meal being done, they rested in the side chamber as before.

依然, as before. The household routine holds for one more night.


總評 Commentary

The news comes in the most ordinary way imaginable: people in the street, complaining about the weather. Nobody announces a marvel. The River That Reaches to Heaven, eight hundred li of it, has gone hard as a mirror, and the fact reaches the pilgrims third-hand over supper.

Old Chen's instinct is to disbelieve the scale of it — surely only the shallows by the bank — and the passer-by corrects him with the detail that matters: there are people walking on it. Those people are the Mandarin-Fish Dame's transformed water-creatures, stationed at the landing for precisely this purpose, and the novel lets the reader recognise them a full page before any character does.

Tripitaka's response is immediate and, in context, terrible in its innocence. He wants to go and look at once. Only nightfall stops him, and only for a night.