Night, quiet. There is a golden, plate-sized full moon hanging in the moon sky. Below is a sandy land, facing the sea, with endless green big round watermelons. There is a swaying figure in the watermelon field. Looking closely, it turned out to be a boy of eleven or twelve, with a silver collar around his neck and a steel fork in his hand, walking up and down warily. Suddenly, there was a faint rustle in the watermelon field, and the boy immediately walked with gentle steps to the place where the sound came from. Although it was late at night, in the bright moonlight, he clearly saw a man biting a melon. The man bit the melon and shook his little head warily and looked around. The boy clenched the steel fork in his right hand, slowly lifted it, aimed at it and thrust it hard. Almost stabbed Yan, Yan turned around sensitively, fled from his crotch like lightning and disappeared into the watermelon bushes.
The teenager was very angry because he couldn't get a tattoo. I was about to go back when I heard a rustle and another one was biting a melon. The young man walked over gently, raised his steel fork and stabbed the cockroach. He learned the last lesson and stabbed more accurately, harder and faster. I don't know whether the young man stabbed too accurately or the man was a little slow and was stabbed by a steel fork. The boy picked up the greasy tail and smiled proudly. ...