微微而笑 They Laughed at Him
那阿儺接了，但微微而笑。被那些管珍樓的力士、管香積的庖丁、看閣的尊者，你抹他臉，我撲他背，彈指的，扭唇的，一個個笑道：「不羞，不羞，需索取經的人事。」須臾，把臉皮都羞皺了，只是拿著缽盂不放。那阿傩接了，但微微而笑。被那些管珍楼的力士、管香积的庖丁、看阁的尊者，你抹他脸，我扑他背，弹指的，扭唇的，一个个笑道：「不羞，不羞，需索取经的人事。」须臾，把脸皮都羞皱了，只是拿着钵盂不放。
逐句解 Line by line
Ānanda took it, and only smiled a little.
⚠ 但微微而笑 — only smiled faintly. Eleven characters, and the book will not tell us what the smile means. ⚠ He takes it. After all of that — the shouting, the ruling, the walk back down — one of the Buddha's chief disciples accepts a poor monk's begging bowl and says nothing at all. Whether that is greed, satisfaction, embarrassment or simple courtesy is left entirely open, and the next sentence makes the question worse rather than better.
And the strong-arms who keep the treasure-pavilion, and the cooks who keep the kitchen, and the venerables who mind the loft, all set on him — one wiping his face, another slapping his back, flicking their fingers at him and curling their lips, and every one of them laughing: "Shame on you, shame on you — dunning the scripture-seekers for a present!"
⚠⚠ THE STAFF OF HEAVEN JEER AT ONE OF THE BUDDHA'S CHIEF DISCIPLES, AND THE BOOK NAMES THEIR DEPARTMENTS. The porters of the treasure-pavilion, the cooks of the kitchen, the venerables who mind the loft. Everybody who works in the building comes out to laugh. ⚠ Four gestures, and all four occur once in the whole novel: wiping his face, slapping his back, 彈指 — flicking the fingers, the standard gesture of contempt — and 扭唇, curling the lip. The first character of the flicking is tán, to pluck or snap, not the dàn of a pellet. ⚠ 香積 is the temple kitchen, named for a sutra about a buddha whose land is made of fragrance; and 庖丁 is Cook Ding, the butcher in the Zhuangzi whose blade never blunts because he cuts along the grain. The Buddha's kitchen staff are named after a Daoist parable. ⚠ 不羞，不羞 — shame on you, twice over. The building has just delivered its own verdict, and it is the opposite of the Buddha's.
In a moment his face was wrinkled up with shame — but he kept hold of the bowl and would not let go.
⚠⚠ AND HE KEEPS IT. That is the sentence, and it is the finest thing in the chapter. He is ashamed, visibly, in front of the whole staff — and he does not give the bowl back. ⚠ 羞皺 — wrinkled with shame. Two characters, once in the whole novel, and they describe a face doing something a face actually does. ⚠ 拿著缽盂不放 — holding the bowl and not letting go. The character after the verb is the light one that keeps an action running, so the picture is of a grip being maintained while the face burns. The novel has no interest in resolving this. He was right by the ruling, wrong by the building, ashamed either way, and he keeps the bowl.
Ānanda takes the bowl and smiles faintly, and the book refuses to say what the smile means. Then everybody who works in the building comes out and jeers at him — the porters of the treasure-pavilion, the cooks, the venerables who mind the loft — wiping his face, slapping his back, flicking their fingers, curling their lips, and shouting shame on you.
Every one of those four gestures occurs once in the whole novel. So does the word for what his face does next: wrinkled up with shame. The staff of paradise have delivered a verdict, and it is the exact opposite of the one the Buddha handed down upstairs ten minutes ago.
And he keeps the bowl. That is the whole passage: he is ashamed in front of everyone, and he does not give it back. The novel does not resolve it, does not moralise, and does not tell us who is right. It just records a man holding on to something with a burning face.