棗核釘兒 A Peg Like A Date Stone
變作個棗核釘兒,撐住他的上腭子,把身一縱,跳出口外,就把鐵棒順手帶出,把腰一躬,還是原身法像,舉起棒來就打;那妖精也隨手取出兩口寶劍,叮噹架住。变作个枣核钉儿,撑住他的上腭子,把身一纵,跳出口外,就把铁棒顺手带出,把腰一躬,还是原身法像,举起棒来就打;那妖精也随手取出两口宝剑,叮当架住。
逐句解 Line by line
It turned into a peg shaped like a date stone, which he braced against the roof of her mouth. Then he gave a leap, sprang out past her lips, dragged the rod after him as he went, arched his back and stood there in his own true form again, and swung the rod down to strike;
棗核釘兒 is a date-stone peg — pointed at both ends and fat in the middle, so it jams. Anyone who has wedged a door with a shoe knows the principle. 腭子 is the palate, and 子 here is the everyday unstressed zi of ordinary things, not the literary zǐ of titles. 還 is hái, once again — he is back at full size.
and the fiend, just as readily, drew out a pair of treasure swords and met it with a clang.
叮噹 is the sound of the parry, and it is still the ordinary Chinese word for a clink or a jingle. The novel likes to end a long sentence of acrobatics on one short noise.
The escape is engineered rather than magical. A peg, a leap, a snatched weapon — the fight begins the instant he is clear, with no pause for either side to think.
Notice how much of the sentence is verbs. Braced, leapt, sprang, dragged, arched, swung: seven actions in one breath, and then the other side answers in half a line. The pacing is doing what a cut does in a film.