攢攢簇簇 Crowding Close Beneath The Lamps
眾僧一則是問唐僧取經來歷，二則是貪看那女子，都攢攢簇簇，排列燈下。三藏對那初見的喇嘛僧道：「院主，明日離了寶山，西去的路途如何？」众僧一则是问唐僧取经来历，二则是贪看那女子，都攒攒簇簇，排列灯下。三藏对那初见的喇嘛僧道：「院主，明日离了宝山，西去的路途如何？」
逐句解 Line by line
The monks had two reasons for gathering: first to ask the Tang Monk the history of his scripture-quest, and second to feast their eyes on the young woman. They pressed in close together, ranged in rows below the lamplight.
攢 is cuán here, to bunch or cluster together, not the zǎn of saving money up. Paired with 簇 it gives a four-character phrase that still means exactly what it looks like: a crowd shuffling shoulder to shoulder to get a better view. The narrator is dry about the second reason.
Tripitaka turned to the lama monk he had met on arrival and said, "Abbot, when we leave your treasured mountain tomorrow, what is the westward road like?"
寶山, treasured mountain, is polite inflation for your monastery — the same reflex that turns a stranger's house into your esteemed residence. 院主 is the head of the cloister. Tripitaka is being courteous to a host, and the courtesy is about to be repaid with a very long apology.
A hundred-odd monks arranging themselves in rows under the lamps to stare at a young woman is a genuinely funny image, and the narrator does not blink. He simply lists the two motives in order and lets the second one land.
It also does structural work. The novel needs the woman to be conspicuous — seen by everybody, lodged somewhere specific, memorable enough that her disappearance will register later. A room full of monks craning their necks accomplishes all three in one sentence.
Tripitaka, meanwhile, asks about tomorrow's road. He is the only person present thinking about the journey, which is both admirable and the reason he never sees what is coming.