睡魔蟲 The Sleep Insects Did Their Work
那些燒火的小妖已是有睡魔蟲，都睡著了，就是打也莫想打得一個醒來。其餘沒執事的，驚醒幾個，冒冒失失的答應道：「七、七、七、七滾了。」那些烧火的小妖已是有睡魔虫，都睡着了，就是打也莫想打得一个醒来。其余没执事的，惊醒几个，冒冒失失的答应道：「七、七、七、七滚了。」
逐句解 Line by line
Those little demons tending the fire had the sleep-insects in them by now and were fast asleep, and you might beat them and never hope to knock one awake.
The text calls them 睡魔蟲 here, sleep-demon insects, where earlier it said 瞌睡蟲, drowsiness insects — the same creature under a slightly grander name. 得 in 打得一個醒來 is de: could not manage to beat one awake.
A few of the others, who had no duty on, were startled awake, and answered all in a fluster, "Seven — seven — seven — seven boilings!"
應 is yìng here, to answer. 冒冒失失 is rash and blundering, and the four repeated characters are a stammer written straight onto the page — a stutter of terror, and one of the very few in classical Chinese fiction.
The guards Wukong drugged cannot be woken by beating, which is a detail worth sitting with. Somebody tries. The passage assumes without saying so that the first response to an unresponsive subordinate here is a beating.
The stammer is the thing to notice. Four sevens on the page, and it is not a typographical accident; the same device gives four characters to the shout of escaped a few lines later. Writing a stutter into the text is rare in Chinese fiction of this period, and this chapter does it twice.
And the answer is a lie by panic rather than by design. The demons on duty are unconscious; the ones answering had no duty and no idea, and they invent a number because a chief has asked a question. Seven boilings would mean the master was long dead.