The story tells how Tripitaka of Tang held to a single devout thought. Say nothing of the heavenly spirits who guarded him — even the souls of grass and wood came out to see him on his way, kept elegant company for a night, and got him clear of the brambles and thorns, with no more creeping fruit-vines to catch at him.

話表 is the storyteller finally clearing his throat — the story tells how — and it is worth noticing that it does not open the chapter, because the poem got there first. The sentence then sweeps up the whole of the previous chapter in one breath: the tree spirits of the Bramble Ridge, their night of poetry, the escape from the thorns. And it does it as a compliment. 似這草木之靈，尚來引送 — even these came out to see him off — argues that if grass and trees turn out for a man, his devotion must be the real thing.