母子相認 Mother and Son Recognized
小姐將從婢打發開去,問道:「你這小師父,還是自幼出家的,還是中年出家的?姓甚名誰?可有父母否?」玄奘答道:「我也不是自幼出家,我也不是中年出家,我說起來,冤有天來大,仇有海樣深:我父被人謀死,我母卻被賊人占了。我師父法明長老教我在江州衙內尋取母親。」小姐問道:「你母姓甚?」玄奘道:「我母姓殷,名喚溫嬌。我父姓陳,名光蕊。我小名叫做江流,法名取為玄奘。」小姐道:「溫嬌就是我。但你今有何憑據?」玄奘聽說是他母親,雙膝跪下,哀哀大哭:「我娘若不信,見有血書、汗衫為證。」溫嬌取過一看,果然是真,母子相抱而哭。小姐将从婢打发开去,问道:「你这小师父,还是自幼出家的,还是中年出家的?姓甚名谁?可有父母否?」玄奘答道:「我也不是自幼出家,我也不是中年出家,我说起来,冤有天来大,仇有海样深:我父被人谋死,我母却被贼人占了。我师父法明长老教我在江州衙内寻取母亲。」小姐问道:「你母姓甚?」玄奘道:「我母姓殷,名唤温娇。我父姓陈,名光蕊。我小名叫做江流,法名取为玄奘。」小姐道:「温娇就是我。但你今有何凭据?」玄奘听说是他母亲,双膝跪下,哀哀大哭:「我娘若不信,见有血书、汗衫为证。」温娇取过一看,果然是真,母子相抱而哭。
逐句解 Line by line
The lady sent her attendant maids away and asked,
從婢, the maids who attend her. Clearing them out is the first practical step, and she takes it before she asks a single question.
'You, little master — did you take orders as a child, or in your middle years? What is your name? Have you father and mother?'
還是…還是 sets up an either-or, with 還 as hái; 中年, middle age, takes 中 as zhōng. Four questions, and the last is the one she actually wants answered: have you parents? She buries it at the end, the way people do when they are afraid of the reply.
Xuanzang answered, 'I did not take orders as a child, nor in middle years.'
He answers the small question twice over, in parallel, and answers neither half of it. It is a run-up: two negatives to build a rhythm before the thing he has to say.
'When I tell it — my wrong is as great as the sky, my grievance deep as the sea:'
冤有天來大,仇有海樣深 — the wrong as big as the sky, the grievance as deep as the sea. Two lines built to match each other clause for clause, which is what popular storytelling reaches for when a feeling needs a container.
'my father was murdered, and my mother seized by the villain.'
占 is to occupy, to take and hold: the word you use of ground. Applied to a person it is as ugly as it sounds, and the novel does nothing to soften it.
'My master, the elder Faming, bade me seek my mother within the Jiangzhou yamen.'
尋取, to seek and get — searching with an object in mind rather than wandering hopefully. He has just told a stranger, standing in her own house, that he is looking for his mother somewhere inside this building.
The lady asked, 'What is your mother's surname?'
Four characters, and everything rides on them. 姓甚, surnamed what, takes 甚 as shèn.
Xuanzang said, 'My mother is surnamed Yin, named Wenjiao.'
名喚, called by the name of. He gives her her own name, and has no idea he is doing it.
'My father is surnamed Chen, named Guangrui.'
And the second name is her husband's. She now holds both halves of it and has still said nothing.
'My infant name was Jiangliu, and my dharma-name given as Xuanzang.'
小名, his childhood name, is River-Float — which tells her exactly how he was found, if she needed telling. 法名取為 takes 為 as wéi.
The lady said, 'Wenjiao is none other than I. But what proof have you now?'
She identifies herself in five characters and then, without pausing, asks for proof. 憑據, evidence to lean on, is the hinge of the whole scene. Eighteen years of hoping have not made her careless.
Hearing that she was his mother, Xuanzang fell to both knees and wept aloud:
雙膝跪下, down on both knees. One knee is respect. Two is something else entirely.
'If my mother does not believe me, here are the blood-letter and undershirt for proof.'
為證, as proof, with 為 as wéi. And notice what he calls her: 我娘, my mum — the plain domestic word, not the formal 母親 he has used up to now.
Wenjiao took them and looked, and they were indeed true; mother and son embraced and wept.
果然是真, sure enough, genuine. The verification takes four characters and the embrace takes six. 母子相抱 keeps 子 as zǐ and takes the mutual 相, xiāng — an embrace being, by definition, something two people do to one another.
The recognition is conducted like an interview. She sends the maids away, then asks four questions, keeping the one she cares about until last. He answers with his parents' names, and she is holding the whole truth before she has said a word. Then, at the exact point where most stories would have her fall on his neck, she asks for evidence: 但你今有何憑據, what proof do you have?
That demand is the hinge, and it is characteristic. Popular Chinese fiction almost never lets identity rest on assertion, or even on feeling. It wants a 信物 — a token, a physical object that can be produced and matched. The sequence runs word, then name, then thing, and only the thing closes the circuit.
The thing, when it comes, is the letter she wrote in her own blood and the shirt off her own back. She is authenticating her son against evidence she manufactured herself, eighteen years earlier, for precisely this morning. It is the most complete vindication anybody in this chapter gets.