千般嬌態 A Thousand Kinds of Charm
你看他做出那千般嬌態，萬種風情。豈知三藏一腔子煩惱。行者暗中笑道：「我師父被他這般哄誘，只怕一時動心。」你看他做出那千般娇态，万种风情。岂知三藏一腔子烦恼。行者暗中笑道：「我师父被他这般哄诱，只怕一时动心。」
逐句解 Line by line
Look at her, putting on a thousand kinds of coquetry and ten thousand sorts of allure.
The narrator points, which is what 你看他 is for — look at him, look at her, straight out to the audience. The thousand-and-ten-thousand pairing is ornament, not arithmetic, and 風情 is the charm a person deliberately produces rather than simply has.
Little did she know that Tripitaka was one whole bellyful of vexation.
The counterweight, and it is deliberately unglamorous. 一腔子 is one cavity or chestful, an earthy vernacular measure, and what fills it is not desire but 煩惱 — which is the standard Buddhist term for the afflictions that bind a being to the wheel of rebirth. The joke and the doctrine are the same word.
Pilgrim laughed to himself in secret: "My master is being coaxed like this — I am only afraid his heart may stir for a moment."
The worry is the same one he had before he found the room, and he has not let it go. 哄誘 is to coax and lure; 動心, for the heart to move, is the exact term for the failure Tripitaka swore he had never committed.
Three sentences, three points of view: the fiend performing, Tripitaka suffering, Pilgrim watching and doubting. The novel cuts between them without a seam, and the middle one is the joke.
The word for what fills Tripitaka is worth pausing on. In ordinary use it is simply annoyance, and any Ming reader would take it that way first. But it is also the standard translation of the Sanskrit for the defilements — greed, anger, delusion — that keep a being turning on the wheel. He is stuffed with exactly the thing his religion exists to empty him of, and it has been put there by a woman holding his hand.
Pilgrim's doubt is the more interesting half. He has heard his master swear an oath and he still does not quite believe him, and the chapter will not resolve the question so much as overtake it.