Born into a farmer's family, life was not easy when I was a kid. We were so 1 that we often did not know where our next meal was coming from. I had to 2 cabbages at the marketplace to support my family.
A 3 once came to the marketplace, and I went to listen to him. My mother was 4 with me for forgetting my job. But that night, while she was making clothes for us under the weak light of an oil lamp, I couldn't help 5stories I'd heard that day. She listened 6At first, since in her eyes professional storytellers were smooth-talking(花言巧语的) men—7good ever came out of their mouths. 8 slowly she was attracted by my retold stories, and from that day on, she never gave me any task on market days, which is a silent 9 for me to enjoy new stories. As a repayment(回报) for Mother's kindness and a way to 10 my memory, I'd retell the stories for her in lively detail. Soon, she wasn't the only member of my audience, which later included my elder sisters, my aunts, 11 my stubborn grandmother.
I knew she was 12 me. Talkative kids are not well thought of in our village, for they can bring trouble to themselves and to their 13 when they talk too much. Mother often 14 me not to talk so much, wanting me to be a silent and modest teenager. 15, my natural desire(渴望) to talk never went away, and that is what makes my name — Mo Yan, which means 'no speaking'. This strong wish to talk also improved my ability to express myself, which is important for writers who are also considered as storytellers.
