漁翁拋下鉤和線 The Line and the Hook
此處亦有此等風俗。」行者道:「我們也去看看,如何?」三藏道:「不可,不可。你我服色不便,恐有嫌疑。」行者道:「師父,你忘了那給孤布金寺老僧之言?一則去看彩樓,二則去辨真假。似這般忙忙的,那皇帝必聽公主之喜報,那裡視朝理事?且去去來。」三藏聽說,真與行者相隨,見各項人等俱在那裡看打繡毬。呀!那知此去卻是:此处亦有此等风俗。」行者道:「我们也去看看,如何?」三藏道:「不可,不可。你我服色不便,恐有嫌疑。」行者道:「师父,你忘了那给孤布金寺老僧之言?一则去看彩楼,二则去辨真假。似这般忙忙的,那皇帝必听公主之喜报,那里视朝理事?且去去来。」三藏听说,真与行者相随,见各项人等俱在那里看打绣毬。呀!那知此去却是:
逐句解 Line by line
"They have this same custom here as well." Pilgrim said, "Shall we go and have a look at it too?"
Pilgrim suggests it. The chapter is careful about this: the disaster is not something that befalls them, it is something they walk into, and it is the clever one who proposes the walk.
也去看看 — go and have a look, with the verb doubled. Doubling a verb in Chinese makes it casual, a quick look rather than an expedition. Nothing could be less momentous.
Tripitaka said, "It will not do, it will not do. Your clothes and mine are not suitable, and there may be suspicion." Pilgrim said, "Master, have you forgotten what the old monk of the Gold-Spread Monastery of the Friendless said?"
Tripitaka is right, for the wrong reason. He is worried about looking out of place in a crowd; the actual danger is that the crowd is a trap.
嫌疑 — suspicion, the appearance of impropriety. He is being careful, and it is exactly the wrong caution.
And then Pilgrim plays the card the old monk gave him. The whole reason they know about the princess is that a hundred-and-five-year-old abbot broke a year's silence, and Pilgrim has been carrying it since dawn.
"First, to look at the coloured tower; second, to tell the true from the false. With all this rush and bustle, that emperor is bound to be listening to his daughter's happy news — how would he be sitting in court attending to business? Let us just go and come back."
一則去看彩樓,二則去辨真假 — first this, second that. Pilgrim gives his reasons in the same two-part frame the old monk used at the end of his confession, which is a quiet way of showing whose argument he is repeating.
辨真假 — tell the true from the false. That is the old monk's request exactly, and it is the second time in four hundred characters that Pilgrim has restated the job as a matter of telling things apart rather than fighting them.
⚠ 那裡視朝理事 — how would he be sitting in court? This is the question form, nǎ, not the everyday word for that place, and twenty-seven characters later the same two characters are a plain location. The chapter puts its two readings of this pair closer together than anywhere else.
Tripitaka, hearing this, did indeed go along with Pilgrim, and saw that people of every sort were there watching the ball-throwing. Ah! Who was to know that this going would turn out to be:
⚠ 俱在那裡看打繡毬 — were all there watching. Here the same two characters are a plain location, nà, twenty-seven characters after the question form. This one site is the only plain location among the chapter's six of them, and a rule applied to the phrase rather than to the sentence would get it wrong.
呀 — Ah! One character, standing alone as its own sentence, and the narrator stepping in front of the story to wince.
那知 — who was to know. ⚠ Also the question form, and nowhere near the usual place: this is the third of the chapter's question sites that sit outside the frame everybody sweeps.
"The old fisherman has cast down his hook and line; and from today he will pull up trouble."
漁翁 — the old fisherman. The image is of somebody else's patience: a line already in the water, a hook already baited, and a fish that has no idea it is fishing weather.
是非 — right and wrong, and so by extension trouble, a quarrel, a mess. It is still the everyday Chinese word for the sort of trouble that comes of people taking sides.
Two lines of seven characters, and the chapter's last word before the break. The novel has told you the trap is a trap, told you who set it, and told you it has already sprung — and then stops.
The chapter ends on a fishing image, and it is worth being precise about who is holding the rod. Not the king, who knows nothing. Not the princess in the palace, who is not the princess. The thing in the palace built a tower at a crossroads and waited for a particular man to walk past it, and the couplet says so: the hook has been in the water for some time.
What makes the ending land is the sequence of small choices before it. Tripitaka wanted his rescript stamped. The superintendent helpfully said the court was still sitting. Pilgrim suggested a look at the tower and produced a good argument for it. Tripitaka agreed. Not one of those decisions is foolish, and together they walk him under a tower with a woman on it who has been waiting a year.
And the last thing before the ball falls is the narrator's single-character wince. Ah. The novel does not often break in like that. It does it here because it has spent the whole chapter being fair to everybody — the good abbot, the good king, the good official, the clever monkey — and it can see what fairness is about to cost them.