撮鹽入火 Salt Thrown Into Fire
那毛女即便回身，轉於洞內，對羅剎跪下道：「奶奶，洞門外有個東土來的孫悟空和尚，要見奶奶，拜求芭蕉扇，過火焰山一用。」那羅剎聽見「孫悟空」三字，便似撮鹽入火，火上澆油，骨都都紅生臉上，惡狠狠怒發心頭。口中罵道：「這潑猴！今日來了。」叫：「丫鬟，取披掛，拿兵器來。」隨即取了披掛，拿兩口青鋒寶劍，整束出來。行者在洞外閃過，偷看怎生打扮。那毛女即便回身，转于洞内，对罗刹跪下道：「奶奶，洞门外有个东土来的孙悟空和尚，要见奶奶，拜求芭蕉扇，过火焰山一用。」那罗刹听见「孙悟空」三字，便似撮盐入火，火上浇油，骨都都红生脸上，恶狠狠怒发心头。口中骂道：「这泼猴！今日来了。」叫：「丫鬟，取披挂，拿兵器来。」随即取了披挂，拿两口青锋宝剑，整束出来。行者在洞外闪过，偷看怎生打扮。
逐句解 Line by line
The hairy girl turned about at once and went back into the cave, where she knelt before the Rākṣasī and said, 'Mistress, outside the cave door there is a monk from the Land of the East called Sun Wukong who wishes to see you. He begs the loan of the banana-leaf fan, to get past the Mountain of Flames.'
奶奶, "Mistress," is the household's address for the lady of the house. The maid relays Pilgrim's request almost word for word, keeping in the courteous 拜求, and she kneels to do it.
When the Rākṣasī heard those three words — Sun Wukong — it was as though salt had been flung into a fire, or oil poured on a flame. The red came welling up into her face, and a black fury broke out in her heart.
Two similes for one instant. 骨都都 takes 都 as dū, not the dōu that means "all"; it belongs to the 咕嘟 family of everyday sound-words for something welling or bubbling up, and the novel uses it that way elsewhere — of water surging out in chapter fifty-one, of billowing cloud in chapter twenty. Here it is the blood rising into her face.
She cursed aloud: 'That wretched ape! So he has come at last.'
今日來了, "today he has come." She has been expecting him. This is the first sign that the grievance has been kept warm rather than merely remembered.
She called out, 'Maid! Fetch my armour and bring my weapons.'
丫鬟 is a bond-servant girl — the same 毛女 who has just knelt, now given orders in four characters. 披掛 is a full set of armour.
She got into her armour straight away, took up two blue-edged treasure swords, belted herself and came out.
青鋒, "blue edge," is a stock epithet for a good sword blade. 整束 is "to bind oneself trim." The arming is done in a single sentence with no ceremony whatever, which is the opposite of how this novel usually handles a warrior taking the field.
Pilgrim slipped aside outside the cave and stole a look at how she was turned out.
閃過, to dodge aside. 偷看, to look on the sly. The Great Sage takes cover from a woman with two swords, and the portrait that follows is what he sees from behind a rock.
The name does all the work. The maid delivers a careful, courteous message in which Sun Wukong is one detail among several, and the novel tells us the Rākṣasī heard 三字 — those three characters — and nothing else. Salt into fire, oil onto flame: two similes for the same instant, which is the narrator insisting that one was not enough.
Her first words confirm that this has been prepared for. 今日來了 — so today he has come. Not surprise but arrival: she has been waiting, and we learn it in four characters.
The arming is deliberately unglamorous. In this novel a warrior taking the field normally gets a set-piece to themselves; here she calls for her armour, puts it on, picks up two swords, belts herself and walks out, the whole business after the shouted order taking seventeen characters. The portrait is held back until Pilgrim can see her — and he is watching from behind a rock.