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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。
