額顱下沒眼 Have You No Eyes Under Your Forehead
行者笑道:「師父莫怕,兄弟勿憂,等老孫去問他一問。」好大聖,束一束虎皮裙,抖一抖錦布直裰,走近前,叉手當胸道:「列位是做甚麼的?」賊徒喝道:「這廝不知死活,敢來問我。你額顱下沒眼,不認得我是大王爺爺?快將買路錢來,放你過去。」行者笑道:「师父莫怕,兄弟勿忧,等老孙去问他一问。」好大圣,束一束虎皮裙,抖一抖锦布直裰,走近前,叉手当胸道:「列位是做甚么的?」贼徒喝道:「这厮不知死活,敢来问我。你额颅下没眼,不认得我是大王爷爷?快将买路钱来,放你过去。」
逐句解 Line by line
Monkey said with a laugh, "Master, do not be afraid. Brothers, do not worry. Let old Monkey go and put a question to them."
Three short reassurances and a plan, all in one breath. He is not worried, and the reader is not meant to be either. 去問他一問 — go and put a question to them. The doubled verb makes the action light and brief: just a quick word, nothing serious. It is the same shrug you hear in let me have a little look.
The Great Sage — and a fine sight he was — hitched up his tiger-skin kilt, gave his brocade tunic a shake, walked up close, folded his hands against his chest and said, "Gentlemen, what line of work would you be in?"
⚠ Watch the staging. 束一束 … 抖一抖 — a hitch of the kilt, a shake of the tunic. He is smoothing himself down like a shopkeeper coming out from behind a counter, and it is entirely for show. 叉手當胸 is a formal salute, hands folded in front of the chest. He is being scrupulously polite to a line of armed men who have just threatened to kill him. 列位是做甚麼的? — gentlemen, what line of work would you be in? The joke is that he can see perfectly well what line of work they are in. He is opening a negotiation by pretending not to.
The robbers barked at him, "This fellow doesn't know whether he's alive or dead, daring to question us. Have you no eyes under that forehead of yours? Don't you know me for a great king?"
喝道 — barked. The character has two completely separate lives: one is the everyday word for drinking, the other is this, a shout. Here it is plainly the shout, and the little frame it sits in is common enough that the reading comes out right. 額顱下沒眼 — have you no eyes under your forehead — is splendid abuse, and very physical: not are you blind but is there nothing in the sockets. ⚠ 不認得 — don't you know me. Here the verb and the character after it have fused into a single word meaning to know somebody by sight, and the second half keeps its full weight — the same shape as the words for knowing, hearing and remembering. That is different from a verb followed by this character and then a description, as in saw it clearly earlier in the chapter, where it goes weightless. Position decides, and it decides differently here.
"Hand over the road money at once, and we will let you pass."
The demand, repeated from the shout that opened the hold-up. 買路錢 — road money — is the toll a bandit charges for the use of a road he does not own. The robbers have now said this twice in about a hundred and fifty characters. They are not interested in the monks; they want the bundle. That single-mindedness is exactly what Monkey is about to work with.
The tone changes completely here and the change is deliberate. Everything up to this point has been grim — a killing, a widow's lie, a court filing. Monkey walks on stage and the chapter turns into a comedy for the next thousand characters.
His method is worth watching, because it is not force. He hitches his clothes, salutes politely and asks a question he already knows the answer to. He is putting the robbers at their ease, and he is doing it by behaving exactly like the harmless country monk he is about to claim to be.
The robbers' reply tells us what kind of men they are, and it is not the same kind we met in the first block. There they were businesslike and quiet. Here they are swaggering, insulting and calling themselves great kings. Robbing a sleeping household in the rain is one thing; standing across a road in daylight requires a performance, and they are giving one.