Canonical Classics ← 第七十六回
第七十六回
xīnshénshèguīxìng
tóngxiángguàizhēn

The Spirit Settles in Its Dwelling and the Demon Returns to Its Nature · The Wood Mother Joins to Subdue the Monster's True Form

許多惡氣
模式 Mode Read Study
拼音 Pinyin Off
字體 Script
原文 Original text 繁體 Traditional Reader's edition

許多惡氣 Something Wrong With The City

西jìnyǒubǎichéngjiànchéngchíxiāngjìnshèngtiěbàngjiàojǐnyǒuzhīyáojiànchéngchíxiàlediēzhēngcuòdàozhǐzhèbāndǎnjiànzháoxiàyuánláiwàngjiànchéngzhōngyǒuduōè西jìnyǒubǎichéngjiànchéngchíxiāngjìnshèngtiěbàng轿jiàojǐnyǒuzhīyáojiànchéngchíxiàlediēzhēngcuòdàozhǐzhèbāndǎnjiànzháoxiàyuánláiwàngjiànchéngzhōngyǒuduōè


逐句解 Line by line

西jìnyǒubǎichéngjiànchéngchíxiāngjìn 西jìnyǒubǎichéngjiànchéngchíxiāngjìn

Four hundred li and more they went west, and of a sudden a walled city came in sight ahead.

reads xiāng in 相近, to come near one another. Four hundred is over 230 kilometres — a fortnight's walking and more.

shèngtiěbàngjiàojǐnyǒuzhīyáojiànchéngchíxiàlediēzhēngcuò shèngtiěbàng轿jiàojǐnyǒuzhīyáojiànchéngchíxiàlediēzhēngcuò

The Great Sage, cudgel in hand, was no more than a li from the chair when he saw the city, and it frightened him into a fall from which he could not pick himself up.

reads zhēng, to strain — 掙挫 is to struggle and get nowhere.

dàozhǐzhèbāndǎnjiànzháoxià dàozhǐzhèbāndǎnjiànzháoxià

You will ask how one so bold could take fright at the sight of it.

reads zháo — the ending that marks something undergone — and reads xià, to be startled. Together they mean to be struck with fear.

yuánláiwàngjiànchéngzhōngyǒuduōè yuánláiwàngjiànchéngzhōngyǒuduōè

The truth was that he could see a great deal of evil vapour hanging over the city.

惡氣 — a foul emanation. Wukong can see it and nobody else in the party can.


總評 Commentary

The fall is the thing to notice. Wukong has spent this chapter inside a monster's stomach, hauled a demon king out of the sky and taken an elephant by the nose without flinching, and the sight of a city knocks him off his feet. The novel has been careful to establish how hard he is to frighten so that this moment lands.

What he sees is a vapour, and the word for it means something like a foul emanation. Wukong's eyes were cooked in Laozi's furnace and can see through disguise; the others cannot. So he is standing on a road looking at what everybody else takes for a perfectly ordinary walled city, and finding it unbearable.

The narrator's aside — you will ask how one so bold could take fright — is the storyteller turning to his audience. It is a device for holding a pause, and what it holds the pause for is the poem that follows.