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我生來相貌丑陋，村子里很多人當面嘲笑我，學校里有幾個性格霸蠻的同學甚至為此打我。我回家痛苦，母親對我說：“兒子，你不丑，你不缺鼻子不缺眼，四肢健全，丑在哪里？而且只要你心存善良，多做好事，即便是丑也能變美。”后來我進入城市，有一些很有文化的人依然在背后甚至當面嘲弄我的相貌，我想起了母親的話，便心平氣和地向他們道歉。

I was born ugly. Villagers often laughed in my face, and school bullies sometimes beat me up because of it. I’d run home crying, where my mother would say, “You’re not ugly, Son. You’ve got a nose and two eyes, and there’s nothing wrong with your arms and legs, so how could you be ugly? If you have a good heart and always do the right thing, what is considered ugly becomes beautiful.” Later on, when I moved to the city, there were educated people who laughed at me behind my back, some even to my face; but when I recalled what Mother had said, I just calmly offered my apologies.

我母親不識字，但對識字的人十分敬重。我們家生活困難，經常吃了上頓沒下頓。但只要我對她提出買書買文具的要求，她總是會滿足我。她是個勤勞的人，討厭懶惰的孩子，但只要是我因為看書耽誤了干活，她從來沒批評過我。

My illiterate mother held people who could read in high regard. We were so poor we often did not know where our next meal was coming from, yet she never denied my request to buy a book or something to write with. By nature hard working, she had no use for lazy children, yet I could skip my chores as long as I had my nose in a book.

有一段時間，集市上來了一個說書人。我偷偷地跑去聽書，忘記了她分配給我的活兒。為此，母親批評了我，晚上當她就著一盞小油燈為家人趕制棉衣時，我忍不住把白天從說書人聽來的故事復述給她聽，起初她有些不耐煩，因為在她心目中說書人都是油嘴滑舌，不務正業的人，從他們嘴里冒不出好話來。但我復述的故事漸漸的吸引了她，以后每逢集日她便不再給我排活，默許我去集上聽書。為了報答母親的恩情，也為了向她炫耀我的記憶力，我會把白天聽到的故事，繪聲繪色地講給她聽。

A storyteller once came to the marketplace, and I sneaked off to listen to him. She was unhappy with me for forgetting my chores. But that night, while she was stitching padded clothes for us under the weak light of a kerosene lamp, I couldn’t keep from retelling stories I’d heard that day. She listened impatiently at first, since in her eyes professional storytellers were smooth-talking men in a dubious profession. Nothing good ever came out of their mouths. But slowly she was dragged into my retold stories, and from that day on, she never gave me chores on market day, unspoken permission to go to the marketplace and listen to new stories. As repayment for Mother’s kindness and a way to demonstrate my memory, I’d retell the stories for her in vivid detail.

很快的，我就不滿足復述說書人講的故事了，我在復述的過程中不斷的添油加醋，我會投我母親所好，編造一些情節，有時候甚至改變故事的結局。我的聽眾也不僅僅是我的母親，連我的姐姐，我的嬸嬸，我的奶奶都成為我的聽眾。我母親在聽完我的故事后，有時會憂心忡忡地，像是對我說，又像是自言自語：“兒啊，你長大后會成為一個什么人呢？難道要靠耍貧嘴吃飯嗎？”

It did not take long to find retelling someone else’s stories unsatisfying, so I began embellishing my narration. I’d say things I knew would please Mother, even changed the ending once in a while. And she wasn’t the only member of my audience, which later included my older sisters, my aunts, even my maternal grandmother. Sometimes, after my mother had listened to one of my stories, she’d ask in a care-laden voice, almost as if to herself: “What will you be like when you grow up, son? Might you wind up prattling for a living one day?”

我理解母親的擔憂，因為在村子里，一個貧嘴的孩子，是招人厭煩的，有時候還會給自己和家庭帶來麻煩。我在小說《牛》里所寫的那個因為話多被村子里厭惡的孩子，就有我童年時的影子。我母親經常提醒我少說話，她希望我能做一個沉默寡言、安穩大方的孩子。但在我身上，卻顯露出極強的說話能力和極大的說話欲望，這無疑是極大的危險，但我說的故事的能力，又帶給了她愉悅，這使他陷入深深的矛盾之中。

I knew why she was worried. Talkative kids are not well thought of in our village, for they can bring trouble to themselves and to their families. There is a bit of a young me in the talkative boy who falls afoul of villagers in my story “Bulls.” Mother habitually cautioned me not to talk so much, wanting me to be a taciturn, smooth and steady youngster. Instead I was possessed of a dangerous combination – remarkable speaking skills and the powerful desire that went with them. My ability to tell stories brought her joy, but that created a dilemma for her.

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