Every afternoon, Lin Xiaoyu stopped behind the town library and drew on the old brick wall with chalk. She painted a blue whale, a tiny train, and a garden full of imaginary birds. The wall was hidden from the street, so she believed nobody knew about her secret gallery. She planned to add a golden sun the next day.
每天下午，林小雨都会在镇图书馆后面的旧砖墙边停下，用粉笔在墙上画画。她画了一头蓝鲸、一列小火车，还有一座住满想象中鸟儿的花园。这面墙从街上几乎看不见，所以她以为没人知道她的秘密画廊。她打算第二天再添一个金色的太阳。
When she returned, her drawings were gone and a note said, “No graffiti.” Her cheeks burned. The shopkeeper, Mr. Guo, stood nearby with crossed arms. Xiaoyu wanted to explain, but the words stuck in her throat. She ran home, certain that everyone now saw her as a careless vandal instead of an artist.
等她回来时，画不见了，只留下一张纸条：“禁止涂鸦。”她的脸一下子烧了起来。店主郭先生站在旁边，双臂抱在胸前。小雨想解释，可话卡在喉咙里。她跑回家，认定现在所有人都把她当成粗心的破坏者，而不是画家。
The next morning, Xiaoyu returned before sunrise with a bucket of paint she had saved for months. If chalk could be erased, perhaps paint would make people understand. She covered the wall with bright flowers and the words “For Everyone.” Her hands trembled as she worked, but she did not stop until the first bus rolled past.
第二天清晨，小雨带着她攒了好几个月的一桶颜料，在日出前回到墙边。如果粉笔字会被擦掉，也许颜料能让人明白她的心意。她把墙涂满明亮的花朵，还写下“献给每个人”。画画时她的手一直在抖，但她没有停下，直到第一班公交车驶过。
A crowd gathered. Mr. Guo rushed over, angry about the mess. Then Mrs. Han, the librarian, stepped forward. “She asked me for permission last week,” she said. “I forgot to tell you.” Xiaoyu opened her sketchbook and showed them her plan: a community garden painted by children. Mr. Guo’s frown softened. “You should have said something,” he murmured. “But this wall does need color.”
人群围了过来。郭先生冲过来，为这一片狼藉生气。这时，图书管理员韩女士走上前。“她上周问过我能不能画，”她说，“我忘了告诉你。”小雨打开速写本，给大家看她的计划：由孩子们一起画一座社区花园。郭先生皱着的眉头松开了。“你该早点说一声，”他低声说，“不过这面墙确实需要一点颜色。”
On Saturday, twelve children arrived with brushes. Xiaoyu gave each one a small square of the wall. They painted bees, tomatoes, rivers, and a cat wearing a crown. Mr. Guo brought lemonade and even added a red door to his shop on the far corner. By noon, the dark bricks had become a bright story that belonged to the whole street.
星期六，十二个孩子带着画笔来了。小雨给每个人分了一小块墙面。他们画蜜蜂、西红柿、河流，还有一只戴王冠的猫。郭先生端来柠檬水，甚至在最远的墙角给自己店铺画了一扇红门。到了中午，昏暗的砖墙已经变成属于整条街的明亮故事。
That evening, Mr. Guo hung a sign above the mural: “Made by our neighbors.” Xiaoyu finally explained that her chalk drawings had been practice, not mischief. He nodded. “Next time, invite me first,” he said. She laughed and handed him a brush. As the sun set, her painted sun glowed on the wall, and the misunderstanding faded like chalk in the rain.
那天傍晚，郭先生在壁画上方挂了一块牌子：“由我们的邻居共同创作。”小雨终于解释说，她之前的粉笔画是在练习，不是在捣乱。他点点头。“下次先邀请我，”他说。她笑了，递给他一支画笔。夕阳落下时，她画的那个太阳在墙上发光，误会也像雨中的粉笔字一样慢慢淡去。