街聞河凍 Word in the Street: the River Frozen
不覺天色將晚,又仍請到廳上晚齋。只聽得街上行人都說:「好冷天啊,把通天河凍住了。」三藏聞言道:「悟空,凍住河,我們怎生是好?」陳老道:「乍寒乍冷,想是近河邊淺水處凍結。」那行人道:「把八百里都凍的似鏡面一般,路口上有人走哩。」三藏聽說有人走,就要去看。陳老道:「老爺莫忙,今日晚了,明日去看。」遂此別卻鄰叟。又晚齋畢,依然歇在廂房。不觉天色将晚,又仍请到厅上晚斋。只听得街上行人都说:「好冷天啊,把通天河冻住了。」三藏闻言道:「悟空,冻住河,我们怎生是好?」陈老道:「乍寒乍冷,想是近河边浅水处冻结。」那行人道:「把八百里都冻的似镜面一般,路口上有人走哩。」三藏听说有人走,就要去看。陈老道:「老爷莫忙,今日晚了,明日去看。」遂此别却邻叟。又晚斋毕,依然歇在厢房。
逐句解 Line by line
Before they knew it the light was failing, and they were asked once again to the hall for the evening meal.
不覺: 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: 將 is jiāng, "about to."
They heard the people in the street all saying: 「What a bitter cold — the River That Reaches to Heaven has frozen fast!」
聽得: 得 is dé. 行人: 行 is xíng. 都 is dōu. Note how the news arrives — not as a portent, but as people in the street grumbling about the weather.
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.
Old Chen said: 「The cold came on so suddenly — it will be the shallow water near the bank that has set.」
淺水處: 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.
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 nà, with 行 as xíng; 都 is dōu. 似 is sì, a reading fixed across this edition, and the final 哩 is li. 一般 keeps 一 at yì before a level tone.
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.
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.
So they took their leave of the neighbour elders.
別卻, to part from. The evening winds up.
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.
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.