雨在飘，风在呼啸。我的胃好痛。上学的路上，我骑着单车。如果有一杯热牛奶就好了，我的经验告诉我。很留意路边，却始终没有找到一个卖牛奶的小摊。我几乎就要放弃了。胃又一阵剧痛。却在一个拐角处，找到了它。
The rain is floating and the wind is howling. My stomach hurts. On my way to school, I rode a bicycle. If only there was a cup of hot milk, my experience tells me. Pay attention to the roadside, but never find a stall selling milk. I'm almost giving up. There was another sharp pain in the stomach. But in a corner, found it.
停下车，抓起一瓶浸在热水里的牛奶，缓缓地倒下去，留下了稍稍的舒适与醇香。掏出口袋里所有的钱，一张一百元，一张五角，一张一角，一个一角的硬币。“多少钱？”我一边数手里的零钱，一边问。“八角。”一个很苍老的声音。不会吧，这么巧！我不禁暗叹道。把一百元递给了那个苍老声音的主人，并注意打量她。
Stop the car, grab a bottle of milk soaked in hot water, slowly pour it down, leaving a little comfort and mellow. Take out all the money in your pocket, one hundred yuan, one fifty, one dime, one dime. "How much is it?" I asked as I counted the change in my hand. "Octagon." A very old voice. No, it's such a coincidence! I can't help sighing. Pass the hundred yuan to the owner of the old voice and look at her carefully.
这是一个很老的老太太，头上裹着一块很旧的蓝布巾，身上套着很厚的破棉袄，满脸的寿斑和皱纹。眼睛很小，无神，眼底泛着混浊。出来接钱的手枯枝一般，干瘦，没有血色。
This is a very old lady, with a very old blue cloth towel on her head and a thick torn cotton padded jacket on her body. Her face is full of age spots and wrinkles. The eyes are small and lifeless, and the fundus is muddy. The hand that comes out to collect money is withered, thin and bloodless.
她用鸡爪似的手来接钱，看是一百元的，没有接，埋头从很深的衣襟中取出一个小小的红布包裹，颤抖着打开，是几张十元的，她数了数，又摇了摇头。“找不开。”她说。“那……”我收回那张大票，又把七角钱给她：“剩下的一角下次给吧。”她抬头看了我一眼，深藏在皱纹里的小眼睛亮了一亮，随即又低下了头，收下了七角钱。
She took the money with her claw like hand. It looked like 100 yuan, but she didn't take it. She took a small red cloth package out of her deep skirt and opened it with trembling. It was several pieces of 10 yuan. She counted them and shook her head again. "I can't find it." She said. "Then..." I took back the large ticket and gave her seventy cents: "the remaining dime will be given next time." She looked up at me, and her little eyes, which were deep in wrinkles, brightened. Then she lowered her head and took in seventy cents.
我刚跨上车，正准备走，忽然听见她说了一句：“我相信你。”我走了。可她那句喃喃自语似的话却回荡在耳边：“我相信你。”
I just got on the bus and was about to leave when I heard her say, "I believe you." I'm leaving. But her muttering words echoed in her ears: "I believe you."
我原本打算第二天就去把钱还给她，可惜，天不从人愿，单车坏了。我只能乘车上学，也就碰不上在半路上的牛奶摊了。
I was going to return the money to her the next day. Unfortunately, the day didn't follow my wishes. The bike broke. I can only go to school by car, so I can't meet the milk stall on the way.
于是，我的心里总像缺了什么似的不安。父亲一直没空，坏了的单车也就一直没有修，我也就只能乘车上学。那早就准备好了的一角钱也在口袋里呆了许久了。
So, my heart always seems to lack something like uneasiness. Father has no time, the broken bike has not been repaired, and I can only go to school by car. The dime that had been prepared for a long time was also in the pocket.
一天，两天，三天，四天……我心中的不安更重了。而那句“我相信你”，又一次在我耳边回响。
One day, two days, three days, four days I feel more uneasy. And the words "I believe you" echoed in my ear again.
终于，第五天，我的单车修好了。我骑着单车向那个摊冲去，却发现没有雨的早晨，她的生意非常好，许多人围着她。我捏着一角钱犹豫了：还给她，会不会被别人笑话，说我傻，说我食古不化。于是，我的单车从她的眼前过去，告诉自己：一旦她单独时就还给她。在过去的一瞬间，我如芒在背。
Finally, on the fifth day, my bike was repaired. I rode my bike to the stall, but I found that on a rainy morning, her business was very good, and many people surrounded her. I hold a dime and hesitate: return it to her, will it be laughed at by others, say I'm stupid, say I'm incorruptible. So, my bike passed in front of her and told myself to give it back to her as soon as she was alone. For a moment in the past, I was in the back.
一连几天，天气都很晴朗，我也一直没有机会。而我的心里，那种背叛、失信的感受却愈来愈强烈，那句“我相信你”如被三级管放大了似的愈发清晰，在我耳边回荡。眼里，她那亮了一亮的眼睛仿佛将我吞没。
For several days, it was sunny, and I never had a chance. But in my heart, the feeling of betrayal and dishonesty is more and more intense. The sentence "I believe you" is more and more clear and reverberates in my ear as if magnified by the third level management. In her eyes, her bright eyes seemed to engulf me.
那一天，大反常态。天居然狂风大作，雨点，夹带着雪珠，不断打在我的脸上，刺刺地痛。原本母亲不让我骑车的，我没有听。因为我相信，这是最后一次机会。
On that day, it was a big anomaly. It was windy and rainy, with snow beads, hitting me in the face and stabbing me. I didn't listen to my mother who didn't let me ride. Because I believe this is the last chance.
路上几乎没有骑车的人和行人，也没有了牛奶摊。我疯了似的在附近绕了一圈，没有找到。第二天，天气依然恶劣。我同样骑车。路上几乎没有骑车的人和行人。却有了牛奶摊。物是旧物，人事已非。摊后是一个十二三岁的孩子，戴着袖箍，黑色的。我怀着最后一线希望，问他：“那位老太太呢？”
There are few cyclists and pedestrians on the road, and there is no milk stall. I went around like crazy and couldn't find it. The next day, the weather was still bad. I ride the same bike. There are few cyclists and pedestrians on the road. But there's a milk stand. Things are old, people are not. Behind the stall is a boy of twelve or thirteen, wearing a sleeve hoop, black. With a last hope, I asked him, "what about the old lady?"
孩子用一种奇怪加警惕的眼神看了我一眼，继而又用一种悲凄的眼神望望袖箍。
The child looked at me with a strange and alert look, and then looked at the sleeve hoop with a sad look.
“天！”我绝望了，“她相信我的！”我在心中嘶喊。“奶奶去了。”孩子说。“那你的爸爸妈妈呢？”“妈妈走啦，爸爸生病躺在床上。”孩子眼中的那抹悲哀更重了。我细细看了一眼这个孩子，乱乱的头发，黑瘦的脸，眼睛很大，却无神；眼底深处有和他奶奶一样的混浊。“你找她有什么事？”他问我。“噢，噢，没什么。”一想不对，“我上次欠了她十元钱，今天特地来还的。”说罢，从口袋里掏出了十元钱。孩子眼中的警惕消失了，说：“你真是好人。”很天真的样子。
"Heaven!" I was desperate. "She believed me!" I screamed in my heart. "Grandma has gone." The child said. "What about your parents?" "Mom's gone, Dad's sick in bed." The sadness in the child's eyes is even heavier. I took a close look at the child, with disordered hair, a black and thin face, big eyes, but no spirit; there was the same turbidity as his grandmother in the bottom of his eyes. "What can I do for you?" He asked me. "Oh, oh, nothing." I owe her ten yuan last time. I came here to pay it back today Then he took ten yuan out of his pocket. The vigilance in the child's eyes disappeared and he said, "you are a good man." It's naive.
我赶紧把钱塞给他，跳上单车头也不回地走了。无法面对那天真的样子和那一句“你真是好人”，雨伴着雪珠还在飘，风还在呼啸。我的胃又痛了。
I quickly put the money to him, jump on the bicycle head and don't go back. Can't face that day's real appearance and that sentence "you are really a good man", the rain accompanied by snow is still floating, the wind is still howling. My stomach hurts again.
从此，我不再走这条路，我不知道我究竟在怕什么。一个月后，我无意地又拐进了这条路，却没再见到那个孩子，从此再也没有见到。那张原本很新，现在却很旧的一角钱被我夹在了心灵鸡汤的一页中，与一角钱在一起的还有一张纸片，上面有两句话：
From then on, I will not take this road, I do not know what I am afraid of. A month later, I accidentally turned into the road again, but I never saw the child again, and never saw him again. The dime, which was very new but now is very old, was sandwiched in the page of soul chicken soup by me. With the dime, there is also a piece of paper with two sentences on it:
“我相信你。”“你真是好人。”
"I believe you." "You are a good man."
