賊子還家 The Robbers Come Home Hungry
卻說那夥賊內果有老楊的兒子。自天早在山前被行者打死兩個賊首，他們都四奔逃生。約摸到四更時候，又結成一夥，在門前打門。老者聽得門響，即披衣道：「媽媽，那廝們來也。」媽媽道：「既來，你去開門，放他來家。」老者方才開門，只見那一夥賊都嚷道：「餓了，餓了。」這老楊的兒子忙入裡面，叫起他妻來，打米煮飯。卻廚下無柴，往後園裡拿柴，到廚房裡問妻道：「後園裡白馬是那裡的？」其妻道：「是東土取經的和尚，昨晚至此借宿，公公、婆婆管待他一頓晚齋，教他在草團瓢內睡哩。」却说那伙贼内果有老杨的儿子。自天早在山前被行者打死两个贼首，他们都四奔逃生。约摸到四更时候，又结成一伙，在门前打门。老者听得门响，即披衣道：「妈妈，那厮们来也。」妈妈道：「既来，你去开门，放他来家。」老者方才开门，只见那一伙贼都嚷道：「饿了，饿了。」这老杨的儿子忙入里面，叫起他妻来，打米煮饭。却厨下无柴，往后园里拿柴，到厨房里问妻道：「后园里白马是那里的？」其妻道：「是东土取经的和尚，昨晚至此借宿，公公、婆婆管待他一顿晚斋，教他在草团瓢内睡哩。」
逐句解 Line by line
Now among that gang of robbers there was indeed old Yang’s son.
Thirteen characters to confirm what the reader has known for a page. 卻說 is the storyteller's formula for picking up a thread he laid aside. 兒子 has 兒 as part of the word for a person, so ér.
Since two of their chiefs had been beaten to death by Pilgrim in front of the mountain early that day, they had all scattered and run for their lives.
四奔逃生 — fleeing on all four sides — picks up 四路逃生 from the killing scene: the same men, the same running, seen now from their end of it.
About the fourth watch they gathered into a band again and beat on the gate.
四更 has 更 in its night-watch sense, so gēng. The Chinese night was divided into five watches between dusk and dawn, so the fourth is roughly one to three in the morning. The chapter's clock starts running here and does not stop until daybreak.
The old man heard the gate rattle, threw on his clothes at once and said, “Mother, those wretches are here.”
得 is the dé of managing it — he caught the sound. 那廝們 is the pointing nà. Note what he calls him: those wretches, in the plural. He does not say our son.
The old woman said, “Since they have come, go and open the gate and let him into the house.”
Eleven characters after her husband's, and the whole difference between the two of them sits in the pronouns. He said 那廝們, those wretches, plural. She says 放他來家, let him come home, singular. She has never stopped counting the boy as hers.
The old man had only just opened the gate when the whole gang of robbers set up a clamour: “We are hungry, we are hungry.”
嚷 keeps rǎng. The 一 of 一夥 stays at yì before the dipping tone of 夥. The gang comes through the gate in the small hours, and the first thing any of them says is that they are hungry.
Old Yang’s son hurried inside, roused his wife, and had rice pounded and a meal cooked.
打米 is to husk rice with a pestle. The bandit who cut the road that afternoon comes home at the fourth watch and wakes his wife to cook for his friends. Nothing in the sentence is remarkable, which is the point.
But there was no firewood in the kitchen; so he went to the back garden to fetch some, and coming back to the kitchen asked his wife, “Whose is the white horse in the back garden?”
那裡的 is the questioning nǎ — from where, and hence whose. The question is asked because a man went out for firewood and saw a white horse in his own garden, and it destroys the household.
His wife said, “They belong to some monks from the Land of the East who are fetching scriptures. They came here last night to beg a lodging, and father and mother gave them a supper and put them to sleep in the straw shelter.”
The wife names her husband's parents as 公公 and 婆婆, and the doubled form takes the softened everyday reading gōng gong, pó po. 教 is jiào, to make somebody do a thing. She answers a domestic question domestically — guests, supper, the straw hut — and hands over four lives in thirty-seven characters.
The chapter's worst turn is engineered entirely out of domestic detail. A son comes home at the fourth watch; his parents let him in; he wakes his wife to cook; the kitchen is out of firewood; he goes to the garden for some and sees a white horse. Not one of these actions is remarkable and nobody in the house means any harm by any of them.
The two old people are characterised in a stroke. The father calls his son 那廝們, those wretches, in the plural, as though a gang were arriving rather than his child. The mother says 放他來家, let him come home, in the singular. The chapter has already told us why that will not save anybody.
The wife's answer is the hinge, and it is perfectly innocent. She reports that guests are asleep in the straw shelter, that her husband's parents fed them, that they are monks from the Tang. Every clause is hospitality described by somebody proud of it — and it is heard by a man who buried his chief that afternoon.