Canonical Classics ← 第六十五回
第六十五回
yāoxiéjiǎshèxiǎoléiyīn
zhòngjiēzāoènàn

A Fiend Falsely Sets Up a Lesser Thunderclap · The Four Pilgrims All Fall into Great Calamity

一些瑕縫
模式 Mode Read Study
拼音 Pinyin Off
字體 Script
原文 Original text 繁體 Traditional Reader's edition

一些瑕縫 Not The Smallest Flaw

quèshuōxíngzhězàijīnnáohēidòngdòngdezàode滿mǎnshēnliúhànzuǒgǒngyòuzhuàngnéngchūde使shǐtiěbàngluànxiǎngdedòngfēnháoxīnméilesuànjiāngshēnwǎngwàizhèngquèyàozhèngjīnnáosuìniǎnzhejuéjiùzhǎngyǒuqiānbǎizhànggāojīnnáosuíshēnzhǎngquánxiēxiáfèngguāngmíngquèyòuniǎnjuéshēnziwǎngxiàxiǎoxiǎojiècàiziernáojiùsuíshēnxiǎolegèngxiēxiēkǒngqiàoquèshuōxíngzhězàijīnnáohēidòngdòngdezàodemǎnshēnliúhànzuǒgǒngyòuzhuàngnéngchūde使shǐtiěbàngluànxiǎngdedòngfēnháoxīnméilesuànjiāngshēnwǎngwàizhèngquèyàozhèngjīnnáosuìniǎnzhejuéjiùzhǎngyǒuqiānbǎizhànggāojīnnáosuíshēnzhǎngquánxiēxiáfèngguāngmíngquèyòuniǎnjuéshēnziwǎngxiàxiǎoxiǎojiècàiziernáojiùsuíshēnxiǎolegèngxiēxiēkǒngqiào


逐句解 Line by line

quèshuōxíngzhězàijīnnáohēidòngdòngdezàode滿mǎnshēnliúhànzuǒgǒngyòuzhuàngnéngchū quèshuōxíngzhězàijīnnáohēidòngdòngdezàodemǎnshēnliúhànzuǒgǒngyòuzhuàngnéngchū

Now Pilgrim, shut inside the golden cymbals, was in pitch darkness, so parched that he was running with sweat all over. He shoved left and butted right and could not get out.

Pitch dark, no air, and sweat running off him — the chapter's first look inside the trap. Watch the two in one sentence take opposite jobs: de in 燥得, linking the parching to what it produced, and in 得出, heading a claim of its own — to manage to get out.

de使shǐtiěbàngluànxiǎngdedòngfēnháo de使shǐtiěbàngluànxiǎngdedòngfēnháo

In desperation he laid about him with the iron cudgel, but there was no hope of shifting the thing a hair's breadth.

分毫 is the smallest unit the language keeps for this purpose, a tenth and a hundredth — the Chinese equivalent of not a hair's breadth. It turns up twice in this stretch, three hundred graphs apart, both times about the same failure. 莫想得動 parses as 莫想 plus 得動, so the linking de falls between them.

xīnméilesuànjiāngshēnwǎngwàizhèngquèyàozhèngjīnnáo xīnméilesuànjiāngshēnwǎngwàizhèngquèyàozhèngjīnnáo

He was at the end of his devices. He gave one heave outward, meaning to burst the cymbals apart.

He is out of ideas, so he tries brute force. reads zhèng: the Kāngxī dictionary carries only two spellings for the graph, 初耕切 and 側迸切, and the second — glossed 剉也, to snap or break off — is this one. There is no first tone in the entry at all. That in turn forces to rather than , because the graph after it now falls in the fourth tone.

suìniǎnzhejuéjiùzhǎngyǒuqiānbǎizhànggāo suìniǎnzhejuéjiùzhǎngyǒuqiānbǎizhànggāo

So he made a sign and grew a thousand zhàng and more in height;

A zhàng is ten chǐ, a little over three metres, so a thousand of them is a formula for immensity rather than a measurement anybody is expected to add up. is zhǎng, the verb of growing, which this stretch uses three times against a single cháng.

jīnnáosuíshēnzhǎngquánxiēxiáfèngguāngmíng jīnnáosuíshēnzhǎngquánxiēxiáfèngguāngmíng

but the cymbals grew with his body, and there was not the smallest flaw or seam to let light through.

瑕縫 pairs a blemish with a join, and 光明 is what would come through one if there were one. The sentence is the exact mirror of the one before it, which is why the source cuts them apart with a semicolon instead of running them together.

quèyòuniǎnjuéshēnziwǎngxiàxiǎoxiǎojiècàizier quèyòuniǎnjuéshēnziwǎngxiàxiǎoxiǎojiècàizier

Then he made another sign and shrank himself downward, small as a mustard seed;

芥菜子, a mustard seed, is the standard figure for the least visible thing there is — the same seed the Gospels use for the same purpose. It comes back nine hundred graphs later, when he needs to be that small a second time. is used first as a verb and then at once as an adjective: shrank small, small as.

náojiùsuíshēnxiǎolegèngxiēxiēkǒngqiào náojiùsuíshēnxiǎolegèngxiēxiēkǒngqiào

and the cymbals shrank with him, and there was not the least little opening.

些些 doubles a word that already means a little, which is about as small as prose can be made to go. is gèng, the adverb of degree, answering 全無 in the matching sentence two units back.


總評 Commentary

The problem is set out as two experiments and two failures, in matched sentences. He grows enormous and the cymbals grow with him; he shrinks to nothing and the cymbals shrink with him. Both halves end on the same finding: no crack, no hole.

That symmetry is the chapter's real subject. The Great Sage's entire repertoire is transformation, and he has walked into an object that transforms with him. Neither size nor strength is any use against something that has no relative size at all.

The prose does something quiet with scale as well. A thousand zhàng and a mustard seed are the two ends of the available range, and the sentence closing each attempt shrinks its own vocabulary to match — 全無一些 after the growing, 更無些些 after the shrinking.