I read it to him in the living room by the marble fireplace. No playful straying from the words this time; this was about me! Hassan was the perfect audience in many ways, totally immersed in the tale, his face shifting with the changing tones in the story. When I read the last sentence, he made a muted clapping sound with his hands.
我在客厅里的大理石壁炉前面念给他听。这次可没有开玩笑，不是照本宣科了，这次是我写的故事!就很多方面而言，哈桑堪称完美的听众。他全然沉浸在故事中，脸上的神情随着故事的情节变化。我念完最后一句话，他鼓起掌来，不过没发出声音。
8220;Mashallah, Amir agha. Bravo! 8221;He was beaming.
8220;我的天啦!阿米尔少爷，太棒了! 8221;哈桑笑逐颜开。
8220;You liked it? 8221;I said, getting my second taste 8211;and how sweet it was 8211;of a positive review.
8220;你喜欢它吗? 8221;我说。得到第二次称赞，真是太甜蜜了。
8220;Some day, Inshallah, you will be a great writer, 8221;Hassan said. 8220;And people all over the world will read your stories. 8221;
8220;阿拉保佑，你肯定会成为伟大的作家。 8221;哈桑说， 8221;全世界的人都读你的故事。 8221;
8220;You exaggerate, Hassan, 8221;I said, loving him for it.
8220;你太夸张了，哈桑。 8221;我说，不过很高兴他这么认为。
8220;No. You will be great and famous, 8221;he insisted. Then he paused, as if on the verge of adding something. He weighed his words and cleared his throat. 8220;But will you permit me to ask a question about the story? 8221;he said shyly.
8220;我没有。你会很伟大、很出名。 8221;他坚持自己的观点。接着他停了一下，似乎还想说些什么，他想了想，清清喉咙， 8221;可是，你能允许我问个关于这故事的问题吗? 8221;他羞涩地说。
8220;Of course. 8221;
8220;当然可以。 8221;
8220;Well 8230; 8221;he started, broke off.
8220;那好…… 8221;他欲言又止。
8220;Tell me, Hassan, 8221;I said. I smiled, though suddenly the insecure writer in me wasn 8217;t so sure he wanted to hear it.
8220;告诉我，哈桑。 8221;我说。我脸带微笑，虽然刹那间我这个作家心中惴惴，不知道是否想听下去。
8220;Well, 8221;he said, 8220;if I may ask, why did the man kill his wife? In fact, why did he ever have to feel sad to shed tears? Couldn 8217;t he have just smelled an onion? 8221;
8220;那好吧， 8221;他说， 8221;如果让我来问，那男人干吗杀了自己的老婆呢?实际上，为什么他必须感到悲伤才能掉眼泪呢?他不可以只是闻闻洋葱吗? 8221;
I was stunned. That particular point, so obvious it was utterly stupid, hadn 8217;t even occurred to me. I moved my lips soundlessly. It appeared that on the same night I had learned about one of writing 8217;s objectives, irony, I would also be introduced to one of its pitfalls: the Plot Hole. Taught by Hassan, of all people. Hassan who couldn 8217;t read and had never written a single word in his entire life. A voice, cold and dark, suddenly whispered in my ear, 8220;What does he know, that illiterate Hazara? He 8217;ll never be anything but a cook. How dare he criticize you? 8221;
我目瞪口呆。这个特别的问题，虽说它显然太蠢了，但我从来没有想到过，我无言地动动嘴唇。就在同一个夜晚，我学到了写作的目标之一：讽刺；我还学到了写作的陷阱之一：情节破绽。芸芸众生中，惟独哈桑教给我。这个目不识丁、不会写字的哈桑。有个冰冷而阴暗的声音在我耳边响起：他懂得什么，这个哈扎拉文盲?他一辈子只配在厨房里打杂。他胆敢批评我?
8220;Well, 8221;I began. But I never got to finish that sentence.
8220;很好…… 8221;我开口说，却无法说完那句话。
Because suddenly Afghanistan changed forever.
因为突然之间，阿富汗一切都变了。