Every morning, Xiaoman counted the bees in Grandpa's garden. Most were bumblebees, but some were tiny and alone. Grandpa called them solitary bees. 'Many have nowhere safe to raise their young,' he said. Xiaoman remembered the empty wooden box in the shed. That afternoon she dragged it into the sunshine and began to plan a small hotel, one room for each guest.
每天早上，小满都会数爷爷花园里的蜜蜂。大多数是胖胖的大黄蜂，但也有一些很小，独自飞来飞去。爷爷说那些是独居蜂。“它们中很多都找不到安全的地方养育后代，”他说。小满想起棚子里那个空木箱。那天下午，她把木箱拖到阳光下，开始计划一座小旅馆，给每一位安静的客人一个房间。
She did not know much about building, so she asked questions. Grandpa showed her how the poles could lie dry and still, and she painted a sign with a bee on it. By evening the hotel stood under the pear tree, its rooms facing the morning sun. Xiaoman clapped the dust from her hands. 'Now we wait,' Grandpa said. Waiting, she discovered, was the hardest part.
她对建造懂得不多，所以就多问。爷爷教她怎样让竹竿干爽又稳稳地放好，她画了一块画着蜜蜂的牌子。到了傍晚，旅馆立在梨树下，房间朝着清晨的太阳。小满拍掉手上的灰。“现在我们就等吧，”爷爷说。她发现，等待才是最难的部份。
Three days passed. Xiaoman checked the hotel before school and again at dusk, but every room stayed empty. On the fourth morning a small bee hovered at the entrance, its body striped like a tiny tiger. It went in, came out, went in again, as if measuring the room. Xiaoman held her breath and did not move.
三天过去了。小满上学前去看旅馆，黄昏时又去看，可每个房间都空着。第四天早上，一只小蜂在入口处盘旋，身上一道道的，像一只小老虎。它飞进去，又出来，再飞进去，好像在丈量房间。小满屏住呼吸，一动也不动。
That night a wind came down from the hills and rattled the pear tree. In the morning the hotel leaned sideways, and two poles had rolled into the grass. Xiaoman's eyes filled with tears, but Grandpa handed her a rope. Together they tied the box to the trunk and packed the loose rooms with dry grass. The bee returned at noon and slipped inside.
那天夜里，山那边刮来一阵风，把梨树摇得咔咔响。第二天早上，旅馆歪向一边，两根竹竿滚进了草丛。小满的眼里满是泪水，爷爷却递给她一根绳子。他们一起把木箱绑在树干上，又用干草塞好松动的房间。中午，那只蜂回来了，钻了进去。
Word travels quickly in a small town. By the end of the month, three neighbors had built hotels along their fences, one from old bricks and one from a bundle of reeds. On Saturday the children set up a table at the garden gate with a paper map. Visitors came with questions, and Xiaoman answered slowly, admitting what she did not know.
在小镇上，消息传得很快。到了月底，已经有三个邻居在自家篱笆边搭起了旅馆，一个用旧砖，一个用一捆芦苇。星期六，孩子们在花园门口摆了一张桌子，上面放着一张纸地图。来访的人带着问题，小满慢慢地回答，也坦白自己不知道的事。
In the late afternoon, a little boy asked whether the bees ever said thank you. Xiaoman looked at the pear tree, where a dark shape was working its way into a bamboo room. 'I don't think they say it,' she said. 'But the garden is louder than it was in spring, and that might be their way.' The boy nodded and went to build a hotel.
傍晚，一个小男孩问，蜜蜂会不会说谢谢。小满望向梨树，那里有一个黑黑的身影正往竹管里钻。“我觉得它们不会说，”她说，“但花园比春天时热闹了，这也许就是它们的方式。”男孩点点头，回去搭自己的旅馆了。