降階迎接 He Came Down The Steps
三藏見了，厲聲高叫道：「老神仙，貧僧問訊了。」那道士猛擡頭，一見心驚，丟了手中之藥，按簪兒，整衣服，降階迎接道：「老師父，失迎了。請裡面坐。」長老歡喜上殿。三藏见了，厉声高叫道：「老神仙，贫僧问讯了。」那道士猛抬头，一见心惊，丢了手中之药，按簪儿，整衣服，降阶迎接道：「老师父，失迎了。请里面坐。」长老欢喜上殿。
逐句解 Line by line
Tripitaka saw him and called out in a loud voice, "Venerable Immortal! This poor monk pays his respects."
問訊 is a specific thing, not a general greeting: the Buddhist salutation with the palms pressed together. Tripitaka is greeting a Daoist with a Buddhist gesture and addressing him by a Daoist title, 老神仙 — venerable immortal — which is flattery of the kind you use on a stranger whose house you want to eat in. 貧僧, this poor monk, is his standard way of saying I.
The Daoist jerked his head up, and the sight of them gave him a start. He dropped the pill in his hand, pressed his hairpin straight, smoothed down his robe, and came down the steps to meet them. "Venerable Master! Forgive me for not coming out to you. Please step inside and be seated."
Read the body language, because the narrator has staged it precisely. 猛擡頭 — the head snaps up. 一見心驚 — one look and the heart jumps. Then three small repair actions in a row: drop the pill, straighten the pin, smooth the gown. Anyone who has ever been caught out by a visitor knows the sequence. The question the chapter is quietly asking is why the sight of four monks should frighten a man at all. 降 here is jiàng, to descend — literally to come down the steps. It is the only one of the chapter's eight 降 that means descending; the other seven all mean subduing, including the one forty-six characters earlier, in the closing line of the portrait verse.
The elder went up into the hall, well pleased.
歡喜 is doing a lot of quiet work. Tripitaka is delighted — the welcome was warm, the host was courteous, the hall is open. Every single thing that has pleased him is a thing the Daoist did on purpose.
Two men perform politeness at each other and one of them is lying. The etiquette here is real and precise: the guest announces himself from below, the host comes down to meet him rather than waiting to be approached, and the host apologises for a failure of hospitality he has not actually committed. 失迎 — I failed to meet you — is a set phrase, the equivalent of "sorry, I didn't hear the door". Nothing here is out of place.
Except the start. 一見心驚 is not what a Daoist does when four travelling monks turn up at his gate; it is what he does when he recognises somebody. The narrator gives you the flinch and then buries it under three sentences of impeccable manners, which is exactly how the trick works on Tripitaka too.
And the one word that ought to snag is 歡喜, well pleased. The Tang Monk's pleasure is the most reliable danger signal in this book. He is pleased when the fruit looks good, pleased when the hermitage looks clean, pleased when the beautiful woman offers directions. Pilgrim, who has just been pinched for being rude about their host, says nothing at all.