One story, written for three levels.

星期一下午，何文平下课后在学校外边看见一个卖东西的人。那个人坐在一个小xiǎo椅子上，不说话，也不叫人来买。他的桌子上没有水果，也没有面包，只有zhǐyǒu一个旧jiù本子běnzi。文平觉得有点儿好玩儿。“请问，这个旧jiù本子běnzi多少钱duōshaoqián？”文平问。“五块。”那个人说，“我叫花学平。你要每měi天晚上看它，听它的话dehuà。”文平给了他五块钱。

On Monday afternoon, after class, He Wenping saw a man selling things outside the school. The man sat on a small chair. He didn't speak, and he didn't call out to people to come and buy anything. There was no fruit or bread on his table, just an old notebook. Wenping thought it was a little funny. "Excuse me, how much is this old notebook?" Wenping asked. "Five yuan," the man said. "My name is Hua Xueping. You must read it every night and do what it says." Wenping gave him five yuan.

晚上，文平和妹妹周文云在家吃晚饭。妈妈做了面条儿和鸡蛋，还有两个苹果。文平开了本子běnzi，第一页yè上什么都没有。“哥哥，你买这个做什么？”文云问。“一个先生说，我要每měi天晚上看它。”文平说。文云喝了一口牛奶，说：“这个本子běnzi太旧jiù了，一点儿也不好看。”

That evening, Wenping and his younger sister Zhou Wenyun had dinner at home. Mom had made noodles and eggs, and there were also two apples. Wenping opened the notebook. There was nothing on the first page. "Brother, what did you buy this for?" Wenyun asked. "A man told me I have to read it every night," Wenping said. Wenyun took a sip of milk and said, "This notebook is way too old. It's not nice-looking at all."

这时候，第一页yè上慢慢mànmàn出来chūlái了一个字。文平不吃面条儿了。字一个一个慢慢mànmàn出来chūlái：“明天，三点，学校门口ménkǒu，有坏huài事。”“哥哥，是你自己zìjǐ写的吧？”文云说，“我不相信xiāngxìn。”“我在吃面条儿呢，怎么写字？”文平说。文云看本子běnzi，看见“事”字自己zìjǐ写好了。“它……它自己zìjǐ写字！”文云说。

Just then, a character slowly appeared on the first page. Wenping stopped eating his noodles. The characters slowly appeared one by one: "Tomorrow, three o'clock, school gate, something bad will happen." "Brother, you wrote that yourself, didn't you?" Wenyun said. "I don't believe it." "I'm eating noodles. How could I be writing?" Wenping said. Wenyun looked at the notebook and saw the character "事" finish writing itself. "It... it's writing by itself!" Wenyun said.

“明天三点，我们去学校门口ménkǒu看看，好吗？”文平问。“好。”文云说，“我还是háishi有点儿不相信xiāngxìn。”“坏huài事是什么事呢？”“不知道。明天下午我们在学校门口ménkǒu看看吧。”“哥哥，你相信xiāngxìn这个本子běnzi吗？”“我相信xiāngxìn。那个先生说，要每měi天晚上看它。”

"Let's go take a look at the school gate at three tomorrow, okay?" Wenping asked. "Okay," Wenyun said. "But I still don't quite believe it." "What kind of bad thing is it?" "I don't know. Let's go check out the school gate tomorrow afternoon." "Brother, do you believe this notebook?" "I do. That man said I have to read it every night."

文云不想再看了，她给哥哥开上了本子běnzi。这时候，那些字下边还有一个字慢慢mànmàn出来chūlái：“听。”文平看文云，文云看文平，他们都没有说话。

Wenyun didn't want to look at it anymore, so she closed the notebook for her brother. Just then, one more character slowly appeared beneath the others: "Listen." Wenping looked at Wenyun, Wenyun looked at Wenping, and neither of them said a word.

星期一放学以后，何文平一个人走到公交车站。车站旁边有一个小xiǎo摊tān子，卖一些旧东西。摊tān子的老板lǎobǎn叫花学平，他很瘦，很少说话。何文平看见摊tān子上有一个黑色的本子，很旧，可是很漂亮。“这个多少钱duōshaoqián？”何文平问。“五块。”老板lǎobǎn说，“很便宜，可是你要小心。”何文平笑了，没有想太多。他给了钱，发现老板lǎobǎn手里也拿着一个一样的黑色本子。

On Monday after school, He Wenping walked to the bus stop by himself. Next to the bus stop was a small stall selling secondhand things. The stall owner was called Hua Xueping. He was very thin and rarely spoke. He Wenping noticed a black notebook on the stall. It was very old, but beautiful. "How much is this?" He Wenping asked. "Five yuan," the owner said. "It's very cheap, but you need to be careful." He Wenping smiled and didn't think much of it. He paid, and noticed that the owner was also holding an identical black notebook.

晚上，何文平在房间里做作业。他打开黑色的本子，第一页什么也没有。突然，纸上慢慢出现chūxiàn了字。没有人拿笔，可是字一个一个地出现chūxiàn了。“明天下午三点，学校门口会发生不好的事情。有危险wēixiǎn。”何文平的手有点儿冷。他盯dīng着本子，看了好几遍。

That evening, He Wenping was doing his homework in his room. He opened the black notebook. There was nothing at all on the first page. Suddenly, words slowly appeared on the paper. No one was holding a pen, yet the words appeared one by one. "Tomorrow at three in the afternoon, something bad will happen at the school gate. There is danger." He Wenping's hands felt a little cold. He stared at the notebook and read it over several times.

他轻qīng轻qīng打开门，跑到妹妹的房间，把周文云叫起来。“文云，快起来！”他小声xiǎoshēng说。周文云眼睛还没有打开：“哥哥，现在几点了？”“你来看，这个本子自己会写字！”周文云跟着他来到桌子旁边。月光guāng从窗户chuānghu进来，照在本子上。两个人一起盯dīng着第一页。这时候，下面又出现chūxiàn了一句话huà：“请你们去。”

He quietly opened the door, ran to his sister's room, and woke Zhou Wenyun up. "Wenyun, get up, quick!" he whispered. Zhou Wenyun hadn't even opened her eyes yet. "Brother, what time is it?" "Come and look, this notebook can write by itself!" Zhou Wenyun followed him over to the desk. Moonlight came in through the window and shone on the notebook. The two of them stared at the first page together. Just then, another sentence appeared below: "Please go."

周文云不想睡觉了。“哥哥，这是真的！”她说，“学校门口会有什么危险wēixiǎn？”“我不知道，可是我相信它。”何文平说，“我们必须去。”“学校门口……是李叔叔每天站的地方。”周文云说。“明天三点，我们一起去学校门口。”何文平说，“这是我们的秘密mìmì，别告诉妈妈。”周文云说：“好，是我们的秘密mìmì。”

Zhou Wenyun didn't feel like sleeping anymore. "Brother, this is real!" she said. "What kind of danger could there be at the school gate?" "I don't know, but I believe it," He Wenping said. "We have to go." "The school gate... that's where Uncle Li stands every day," Zhou Wenyun said. "Tomorrow at three, we'll go to the school gate together," He Wenping said. "This is our secret. Don't tell Mom." Zhou Wenyun said, "Okay, it's our secret."

周文云回huí房间以后，何文平关了灯。他往窗户chuānghu外面看，月光guāng很白bái，屋子里很安静。他想：这个本子里还有什么秘密mìmì呢？他快要睡着zhe的时候，突然听见一个轻qīng轻qīng的声音。是笔在纸上写字的声音，轻qīng轻qīng的，一直都在。可是房间里没有人拿笔。

After Zhou Wenyun went back to her room, He Wenping turned off the light. He looked out the window. The moonlight was very white, and the room was very quiet. He wondered: what other secrets did this notebook hold? Just as he was about to fall asleep, he suddenly heard a soft sound. It was the sound of a pen writing on paper, soft and constant. But no one in the room was holding a pen.

星期六下午下着雨。何文平从学校出来，走到街边的一个小xiǎo摊tān前。小xiǎo摊tān上放着旧书、旧笔、旧本子。摊tān主zhǔ是个瘦瘦的男人，帽子压得很低。“老板lǎobǎn，这个本子多少钱duōshaoqián？”何文平指着一本灰色huīsè的旧本子问。“五块。”老板lǎobǎn说，“不过钱不重要，这个本子自己选主人zhǔrén。”“本子怎么会选主人zhǔrén？”何文平笑了。老板lǎobǎn没有回答，只把本子放到他手里。本子有点儿湿shī，像刚从雨里拿出来的。何文平付了钱，把它放进背包。他再回头huítóu看时，那个小xiǎo摊tān已经不见了，街上jiēshang只有雨。

It was raining on Saturday afternoon. He Wenping came out of school and walked up to a little stall by the street. On the stall lay old books, old pens, and old notebooks. The stall owner was a thin man, his hat pulled down very low. "Boss, how much is this notebook?" He Wenping asked, pointing at a gray old notebook. "Five yuan," the owner said. "But the money doesn't matter — this notebook chooses its own owner." "How can a notebook choose an owner?" He Wenping laughed. The owner didn't answer; he just put the notebook into his hands. The notebook was a bit damp, as if it had just been taken out of the rain. He Wenping paid and put it into his backpack. When he looked back again, the little stall was already gone; there was only rain on the street.

晚上，何文平坐在桌子前，妹妹周文云推门进来。“你买了什么？”她盯dīng着桌子上那本灰色huīsè的本子。“一个旧本子，五块钱。”何文平说，“卖本子的老板lǎobǎn说，它自己选主人zhǔrén。”“老板lǎobǎn在跟你开玩笑吧。”周文云坐下，用手拿起本子，“它是湿shī的。”何文平打开本子。每一页都是空的，一个字也没有。

That evening, He Wenping was sitting at his desk when his younger sister Zhou Wenyun pushed the door open and came in. "What did you buy?" She stared at the gray notebook on the desk. "An old notebook, five yuan," He Wenping said. "The man who sold it said it chooses its own owner." "The boss was joking with you." Zhou Wenyun sat down and picked up the notebook. "It's wet." He Wenping opened the notebook. Every page was blank, without a single character.

忽然，本子上出现了字。那些字像水一样慢慢流出来，湿shī湿shī的，黑色的。“明天三点，学校门口会有危险的事。”周文云一下子站了起来，吓xià得说不出来。“这是谁写的？”她轻轻地问，“你别吓xià我。”“不是我。”何文平说，“我们一直盯dīng着这一页，没有人动它。”

Suddenly, characters appeared on the notebook. Those characters flowed out slowly like water, damp and black. "Tomorrow at three o'clock, something dangerous will happen at the school gate." Zhou Wenyun jumped to her feet, too frightened to speak. "Who wrote this?" she asked softly. "Don't scare me." "It wasn't me," He Wenping said. "We've been staring at this page the whole time; nobody touched it."

“也许是那个老板lǎobǎn的玩笑。”周文云说。“一个玩笑，能自己在纸上写字？”何文平说，“这是警告jǐnggào。”“警告jǐnggào？”“对，它在警告jǐnggào我们。”这时，桌子上的笔自己动了一下，慢慢转过来，指着本子。两个人都不说话了。

"Maybe it's that boss's joke," Zhou Wenyun said. "Can a joke write characters on paper by itself?" He Wenping said. "This is a warning." "A warning?" "Yes, it's warning us." Just then, the pen on the desk moved by itself, slowly turning around and pointing at the notebook. Neither of them said anything anymore.

那一行háng字下面，又慢慢多出三个字：“别迟到。”周文云深深吸了一口气yīkǒuqì：“明天下午三点，我们去学校门口。”“去。”何文平关上本子，“这个秘密mìmì，先别告诉别人。”“为什么？”“老板lǎobǎn说，它自己选主人zhǔrén。”何文平盯dīng着那本灰色huīsè的本子，“它选了我。这个秘密mìmì，现在是我们两个人的。”

Below that line, three more characters slowly appeared: "Don't be late." Zhou Wenyun took a deep breath: "Tomorrow afternoon at three, let's go to the school gate." "Let's go." He Wenping closed the notebook. "Don't tell anyone this secret for now." "Why?" "The boss said it chooses its own owner." He Wenping stared at the gray notebook. "It chose me. This secret belongs to the two of us now."

星期六下午，天气阴，路是灰huī的，商店也是灰huī的。何文平和妹妹周文云在路上lùshàng走。路旁边坐着一个先生，前面都是旧jiù东西：旧jiù杯子、旧jiù报纸、旧jiù书。他姓花huā，叫花学平。

Saturday afternoon, the weather was overcast, the road was gray, and the shops were gray too. He Wenping and his younger sister Zhou Wenyun were walking along the road. Beside the road sat a man, with old things spread out in front of him: old cups, old newspapers, old books. His surname was Hua; he was called Hua Xueping.

“这个zhège本子běnzi多少钱duōshaoqián？”何文平问。那是一个灰huī颜色的旧jiù本子běnzi，很长，很旧jiù。“三块。”花学平说，“便宜，因为yīnwèi它里面lǐmiàn已经有字了。”何文平笑了：“里面lǐmiàn有字的本子běnzi，还能写吗？”花学平没有笑，他看着何文平的眼睛，慢慢说：“你回家huíjiā看看就知道了。”

"How much is this notebook?" He Wenping asked. It was an old gray notebook, very long and very old. "Three yuan," Hua Xueping said. "It's cheap, because there's already writing inside it." He Wenping laughed: "A notebook with writing inside — can you still write in it?" Hua Xueping didn't laugh. He looked into He Wenping's eyes and said slowly: "Go home and take a look, then you'll know."

回到家，周文云坐在桌子旁边，看那个nàge旧jiù本子běnzi。她从前面看到后面，都看完了。“哥哥，里面lǐmiàn没有字。”她说，“一个字也没有。”何文平也看了看。本子běnzi里面lǐmiàn什么都没有，真的什么都没有。“三块钱。”他说，“我们买了一个没有字的旧jiù本子běnzi。”妹妹笑了：“明天我们再去找他。”

Back home, Zhou Wenyun sat at the table looking at the old notebook. She looked from the front to the back, and finished looking through all of it. "Brother, there's no writing inside," she said. "Not a single character." He Wenping took a look too. There was nothing inside the notebook — really nothing at all. "Three yuan," he said. "We bought an old notebook with no writing in it." His sister laughed: "Tomorrow let's go find him again."

晚上八点，电视里正在说明天的天气。本子běnzi在桌子上，房间里没有人写字。“哥哥！你看，它在写字！”周文云说。本子běnzi上有了一个字，慢慢的，再有一个字，是铅笔的灰huī颜色。两个孩子不说话了。本子běnzi上写着：“明天三点，学校门口ménkǒu，有坏huài事情。”没有人写，是本子běnzi自己zìjǐ在写。

At eight in the evening, the TV was giving tomorrow's weather. The notebook was on the table, and no one in the room was writing. "Brother! Look, it's writing!" Zhou Wenyun said. A character had appeared in the notebook, slowly, then another character, in the gray color of pencil. The two children stopped talking. The notebook read: "Tomorrow at three o'clock, at the school gate, something bad will happen." No one was writing — the notebook was writing by itself.

“本子běnzi怎么会自己zìjǐ写字？”周文云问。“我不知道。”何文平说，“可是kěshì明天三点，我要去学校门口ménkǒu。”“我也去。”妹妹说，“坏huài事情？是什么坏huài事情？”“别写了！”周文云对本子běnzi说，她快快地de回了本子běnzi。可是kěshì字还在出来chūlái，这次不在里面lǐmiàn——三个灰huī字：“别迟到chídào。”哥哥和妹妹看着它，谁也不说话。

"How can a notebook write by itself?" Zhou Wenyun asked. "I don't know," He Wenping said. "But tomorrow at three, I'm going to the school gate." "I'm going too," his sister said. "Something bad? What bad thing?" "Stop writing!" Zhou Wenyun said to the notebook, and she quickly shut it. But characters kept coming out, this time not inside — three gray characters: "Don't be late." The brother and sister looked at it, and neither of them said a word.

“好。”何文平说，“明天三点，学校门口ménkǒu，我们不迟到chídào。”“我们自己zìjǐ去，不告诉爸爸妈妈，因为yīnwèi爸爸妈妈不会懂。”周文云说。“对，我们自己zìjǐ去。”哥哥说。“可是kěshì哥哥，”妹妹很慢地de说，“因为yīnwèi是它自己zìjǐ写的，我们真的不能迟到chídào。”

"All right," He Wenping said. "Tomorrow at three, at the school gate — we won't be late." "We'll go by ourselves and not tell Mom and Dad, because they wouldn't understand," Zhou Wenyun said. "Right, we'll go by ourselves," her brother said. "But brother," his sister said very slowly, "since it wrote that itself, we really can't be late."