紅銅白練 Face Like Red Copper
大聖收了金箍棒,整肅衣裳,扭捏作個斯文氣象,綽下大路,徑至門前觀看。那門裡忽然走出一個老者,但見他:大圣收了金箍棒,整肃衣裳,扭捏作个斯文气象,绰下大路,径至门前观看。那门里忽然走出一个老者,但见他:
逐句解 Line by line
The Great Sage put away his gold-banded cudgel, straightened his robes, and arranged himself into a genteel bearing; then he cut down onto the main road and went straight up to the gate to look.
綽 is read chāo here, standing in for 抄, to cut across or take a short way. 扭捏 means to put on airs, to arrange oneself — a faintly comic verb, and the comedy is deliberate: the Great Sage is assembling a respectable exterior, and it is about to do him no good at all.
Out of that gateway there came all at once an old man, and this is how he looked:
但見他 announces the portrait that follows. Here the phrase is tucked onto the end of a longer sentence rather than standing alone, so the whole line does the announcing.
He wore a long gown of kudzu cloth, of a yellow that was not yellow and a red that was not red; on his head a cool hat of bamboo strips, of a blue that was not blue and a black that was not black.
The whole portrait is built on one trick, repeated: name a colour, then deny it. Yellow that is not yellow, red that is not red, blue that is not blue, black that is not black. 皂 zào is black. 篾 miè is a thin strip split off a bamboo, the stuff cheap summer hats are woven from.
In his hand he leaned on a bamboo staff of knotted joints, bent and yet not bent, straight and yet not straight; on his feet he trod a pair of shafted shoes, loose at the heel, new and yet not new, old and yet not old.
This one line carries the two rarest characters in the chapter, standing side by side, and both of them are describing an old farmer's shoes. The first is 𢯌 zhài — it is missing from the 康熙字典 altogether, and the only place it appears anywhere in 維基文庫 is this chapter, so its reading rests on the Unihan database alone. Beside it, 靸 sǎ is a shoe with the back trodden flat, a slipper: 康熙 files it under the leather section and glosses it from the 說文 as a child's shoe. The second rare character is 䩺 wēng, the shaft of a boot — 康熙 records it as a Wu-dialect word for exactly that part, and it names the same piece of footwear that 靿 will name when the Local Spirit turns up at the end of the chapter. The phrase divides as 𢯌 with 靸, then 䩺 with 鞋, matching the description-plus-noun shape of 葛布深衣, 篾絲涼帽 and 暴節竹杖 in the lines above.
His face was like red copper, his beard like a length of white silk.
紅銅 is copper with nothing alloyed into it, valued for its redness — and the third red thing in as many passages, after all that brickwork. 練 is raw silk boiled until it turns white.
Two long brows of longevity overhung his blue-green eyes; one wide laughing mouth showed a tooth of gold.
壽眉 are the long eyebrows of great age, reckoned a sign of long life. 咍 hāi is to laugh, or to gape. 碧眼, blue-green eyes, conventionally marks somebody as foreign or uncanny — and here, as an old man who is rather more than he looks.
The portrait is built out of one figure repeated four times: a quality named and then immediately taken back. Yellow that is not yellow, red that is not red, blue that is not blue, black that is not black; a staff bent and not bent, straight and not straight; shoes new and not new, old and not old. The trick is a stock way of describing shabbiness, but at this density it turns into something else — a sustained refusal to let any detail settle.
It is also a joke played on the reader. Set-piece portraits in this novel normally deliver precision: the exact fabric, the exact ornament, the exact weapon. Here the form survives intact — the balanced pairs, the catalogue running from hat to shoes — while the content declines to specify anything at all. All you learn about the old man's clothes is that he has had them a long time.
The last two couplets drop the trick and turn solid: red copper, white silk, long brows, blue-green eyes, a gold tooth. That switch is what makes the portrait work. After eight lines of things being neither one thing nor the other, the face lands with real force, and the single gold tooth in a laughing mouth is the detail you keep.
It is also the hardest line in the chapter to read. 𢯌 appears nowhere else in 維基文庫 and is not in the 康熙字典 at all, while 䩺 is a regional word the dictionaries gloss as Wu-dialect for a boot-shaft. That a throwaway description of a farmer's footwear should need two characters this rare says something about where the text came from: the 世德堂本 was set from a manuscript written in a living spoken idiom, not composed in a tidy literary one.