兩個老兒 Two Old Men Talking Under the Eaves
說話間，不覺已至邊前。三藏下馬，過吊橋，徑入門裡長街上，只見廊下坐著兩個老兒敘話。三藏叫：「徒弟，你們在那街心裡站住，低著頭，不要放肆。等我去那廊下，問個地方。」行者果依言立住。说话间，不觉已至边前。三藏下马，过吊桥，径入门里长街上，只见廊下坐着两个老儿叙话。三藏叫：「徒弟，你们在那街心里站住，低着头，不要放肆。等我去那廊下，问个地方。」行者果依言立住。
逐句解 Line by line
While they were talking they arrived, without noticing, at the edge of the place. Tripitaka got down from the horse, crossed the drawbridge, and went straight in at the gate onto the long main street, where he saw two old men sitting under a covered walk, talking.
Notice the furniture. A moat with a drawbridge, a gate, a long street running from it, a roofed walk along the frontages with room to sit. This is not a village and it is not a palace; it is a walled provincial town of the kind the author had certainly lived in. 長 here is cháng, long, not the zhǎng of seniority — and this is the character the chapter's own title turns on, in the phrase naming Tripitaka the elder. It appears twenty-six times in Chapter 96 and the plain reading is the senior one at every single site. Five of the twenty-six are this one: two long streets, two roadside pavilions, and the city of Chang'an. 坐著 takes the light reading, the one that shows an action going on. There are twenty-one of these in the chapter and the plain chain gets the reading wrong at all twenty-one — this is simply the first.
Tripitaka called back, "Disciples, stand there in the middle of the street, keep your heads down, and don't make a show of yourselves. Let me go over to the walk and ask where we are." Wukong did as he was told and stood where he was.
Tripitaka is managing his companions' faces, which is a problem he has in every town. Two of the three look like animals and the third looks like a corpse; in the open country that costs nothing, and on a main street at midday it costs a great deal. His instruction is three orders in nine characters — stand still, look down, behave — and the third of them is the one he cannot let go. Three hundred and sixty characters later he says it twice in a row, back to back, to the same three disciples. He does not expect to be obeyed. And then he is. The last seven characters of the passage say that Wukong did exactly as he was told, and they are worth a moment: this is the disciple who spent the first seven chapters of the novel refusing every instruction he was ever given. The book notes his obedience the way it would note a strange bird.
The chapter has arrived somewhere, and the somewhere is remarkable mainly for being unremarkable. There is no mist, no cave, no scent of demon on the wind. There is a drawbridge, a street, a covered walk, and two old men passing the afternoon on it. After ninety-five chapters of mountains and palaces the novel has walked into a market town and slowed down to look at it.
Tripitaka's first act on arrival is to hide his own companions, which tells you what it costs him to travel with them. He does not ask them to be quiet or to stay behind; he asks them to stand in plain sight in the middle of the road with their heads down, on the theory that three motionless oddities draw less attention than three moving ones. It does not work, and the next passage says so.
The two old men are the chapter's real doorway. They are not spirits in disguise, they are not going to test anyone's faith, and nothing they say will turn out to be a riddle. They are two men on a bench who will be asked a question and will answer it accurately, and the whole of the rest of Chapter 96 comes out of that answer.