At this point a strange picture suddenly flashed into my mind: a golden moon suspended in a deep blue sky and beneath it the seashore, planted as far as the eye could see with jadegreen watermelons, while in their midst a boy of eleven or twelve, wearing a silver necklet and grasping a steel pitchfork in his hand, was thrusting with all his might at a zha which dodged the blow and escaped through his legs.
This boy was Runtu.
这时候,我的脑里忽然闪出一幅神异的图画来:深蓝的天空中挂着一轮金黄的圆月,下面是海边的沙地,都种着一望无际的碧绿的西瓜,其间有一个十一二岁的少年,项带银圈,手捏一柄钢叉,向一匹猹尽力的刺去,那猹却将身一扭,反从他的胯下逃走了。
这少年便是闰土。