巽宮煉睛 Into the Eight-Trigram Brazier
那老君到兜率宮,將大聖解去繩索,放了穿琵琶骨之器,推入八卦爐中,命看爐的道人、架火的童子,將火搧起鍛煉。原來那爐是乾、坎、艮、震、巽、離、坤、兌八卦。他即將身鑽在巽宮位下。巽乃風也,有風則無火。只是風攪得煙來,把一雙眼火煼紅了,弄做個老害病眼,故喚作「火眼金睛」。那老君到兜率宫,将大圣解去绳索,放了穿琵琶骨之器,推入八卦炉中,命看炉的道人、架火的童子,将火扇起锻炼。原来那炉是干、坎、艮、震、巽、离、坤、兑八卦。他即将身钻在巽宫位下。巽乃风也,有风则无火。只是风搅得烟来,把一双眼火煼红了,弄做个老害病眼,故唤作「火眼金睛」。
逐句解 Line by line
Laozi came to the Tushita Palace, loosed the Great Sage's cords, drew out the spike that had pierced his collarbone, and thrust him into the Brazier of the Eight Trigrams; he ordered the brazier-tending Daoist and the fire-stoking lad to fan the flames up and refine him.
兜率宮 is Dōushuài Gōng, Tuṣita — Laozi's own heaven. 琵琶骨 (pí pá gǔ) is the lute-bone, the collarbone-and-shoulderblade region, named for its shape; that is where the spike had been driven to hold him. Both instances of 將 in the line are jiāng, the word that hauls the object in front of the verb. 搧 (shān) is to fan.
Now that brazier was set by the Eight Trigrams — Qian, Kan, Gen, Zhen, Xun, Li, Kun, Dui. He at once thrust himself in beneath the Xun position.
The furnace is not a plain oven. It is divided into the eight 卦, each with its own station: 乾 qián (Heaven), 坎 kǎn (Water), 艮 gèn (Mountain), 震 zhèn (Thunder), 巽 xùn (Wind), 離 lí (Fire), 坤 kūn (Earth), 兌 duì (Lake). 將身 is 將 as jiāng again. Watch which station he picks — the next line explains why 巽 is the cunning choice.
Xun is Wind, and where there is wind there is no fire. Only, the wind churned up smoke, which seared his pair of eyes fire-red, leaving them like an old man's chronic sore eyes — and so they came to be called the "Fiery Eyes and Golden Pupils."
Here is the trick, and it is a good one. 巽 is Wind, and where there is wind there is no fire — so that is the corner he crouches in, the one seat in the furnace with no flame. What he has not reckoned on is smoke. Wind drives it, and it does to his eyes what fire could not. 一雙 takes yì before 雙 (shuāng, level tone); 煼 (chǎo) is to scorch in smoke. The injury becomes the gift everyone remembers him for: 火眼金睛, the fiery eyes and golden pupils that no disguise gets past.
Three lines here deliver the best-loved origin story in the novel: how Sun Wukong got his 火眼金睛, the eyes that see through any transformation. The mechanism is a small masterpiece. Shoved into the furnace to be reduced to ash, he does not panic — he reads the 八卦 layout of the thing he is standing in, works out which of the eight stations is Wind, and hides there. Where there is wind, there is no fire.
The cleverness is not quite complete. Wind without fire still carries smoke, and forty-nine days of it do to his eyes what flame could not. The damage is real — they end up red and sore, like an old man's — and yet the wound is the power. Read as inner alchemy, the 心猿 put in the crucible is not destroyed but changed: the refining meant to kill him sharpens his sight instead. The 易經 trigrams are not decoration here. He survives by reading the pattern of Wind and Fire, which is exactly the skill the pilgrimage will demand of a disciplined mind later on.
The lute-bone detail (琵琶骨) reaches back to his capture in chapter 6. In this fictional cosmology, driving a spike through the collarbone is the standard way to pin a shape-shifter and stop him transforming — think of it as removing the batteries rather than locking the door. Laozi takes it out, confident that a furnace needs no such precaution. That confidence is precisely what the next passage punishes.