zàiyīgècéngyòngláishèngfānqiéjiàngdedàguànzǐlǐ, jīcuánzàinà 'érdeyòngguòdeyágāopízhèngzàimànmànbiànduō。 In a brown cardboard box that one time held catsup bottles, our little pile of used toothpaste tubes began to grow.
zàijiēxiàláidejǐxīngqīlǐ, màikèhéwǒpáobiànliǎolínjìngèjiā, qiāokāitāmendeménwèntāmenshìfǒuyuànyìbǎyòngguòdeyágāopícuánxiàláigěiwǒmen。 For the next several weeks, Mike and I ran around our neighborhood, knocking on doors and asking our neighbors if they would save their toothpaste tubes for us.
màikèhéwǒkǔkǔ 'āiqiú, shuōwǒmenyǐjīngkuàicuángòuliǎo, zhǐděngyīduìlínjūfūfùyòngwántāmendeyágāohòu, wǒmenjiùkěyǐmǎshàngkāishǐshēngchǎnliǎo。 Mike and I pleaded and begged, explaining that we would soon have enough and then we would begin production. We informed her that we were waiting on a couple of neighbors to finish using up their toothpaste so we could have their tubes.
nǐbùjuédézàidōngjīngnéngcuángèngduōdeqiánmá? Don't you think you can save more money in Tokyo?