神马文学网故鄉中英文
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Lu Xun
My Old Home
Written: January 1921
Source: Selected Stories of Lu Hsun, Published by Foreign Languages Press, Peking, 1960, 1972
Transcribed: Original transcription fromcoldbacon.com
HTML Markup: Mike B. for MIA, 2005
Public Domain: Marxists Internet Archive (2005). You may freely copy, distribute, display and perform this work; as well as make derivative and commercial works. Please credit “Marxists Internet Archive” as your source.
Braving the bitter cold, I travelled more than seven hundred miles back to the old home I had left over twenty years before.
It was late winter. As we drew near my former home the day became overcast and a cold wind blew into the cabin of our boat, while all one could see through the chinks in our bamboo awning were a few desolate villages, void of any sign of life, scattered far and near under the sombre yellow sky. I could not help feeling depressed.
Ah! Surely this was not the old home I had remembered for the past twenty years?
The old home I remembered was nor in the least like this. My old home was much better. But if you asked me to recall its peculiar charm or describe its beauties, I had no clear impression, no words to describe it. And now it seemed this was all there was to it. Then I rationalized the matter to myself, saying: Home was always like this, and although it has not improved, still it is not so depressing as I imagine; it is only my mood that has changed, because I am coming back to the country this time with no illusions.
This time I had come with the sole object of saying goodbye. The old house our clan had lived in for so many years had already been sold to another family, and was to change hands before the end of the year. I had to hurry there before New Year‘s Day to say goodbye for ever to the familiar old house, and to move my family to another place where I was working, far from my old home town.
At dawn on the second day I reached the gateway of my home. Broken stems of withered grass on the roof, trembling in the wind, made very clear the reason why this old house could not avoid changing hands. Several branches of our clan had probably already moved away, so it was unusually quiet. By the time I reached the house my mother was already at the door to welcome me, and my eight-year-old nephew, Hung-erh, rushed out after her.
Though mother was delighted, she was also trying to hide a certain feeling of sadness. She told me to sit down and rest and have some tea, letting the removal wait for the time being. Hung-erh, who had never seen me before, stood watching me at a distance.
But finally we had to talk about the removal. I said that rooms had already been rented elsewhere, and I had bought a little furniture; in addition it would be necessary to sell all the furniture in the house in order to buy more things. Mother agreed, saying that the luggage was nearly all packed, and about half the furniture that could not easily be moved had already been sold. Only it was difficult to get people to pay up.
"You must rest for a day or two, and call on our relatives, and then we can go," said mother.
"Yes."
"Then there is Jun-tu. Each time he comes here he always asks after you, and wants very much to see you again. I told him the probable date of your return home, and he may be coming any time."
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 jade-green 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 between his legs.
This boy was Jun-tu. When I first met him he was just over ten—that was thirty years ago, and at that time my father was still alive and the family well off, so I was really a spoilt child. That year it was our family‘s turn to take charge of a big ancestral sacrifice, which came round only once in thirty years, and hence was an important one. In the first month the ancestral images were presented and offerings made, and since the sacrificial vessels were very fine and there was such a crowd of worshippers, it was necessary to guard against theft. Our family had only one part-time labourer. (In our district we divide labourers into three classes: those who work all the year for one family are called full-timers; those who are hired by the day are called dailies; and those who farm their own land and only work for one family at New Year, during festivals or when rents are being collected are called part-timers.) And since there was so much to be done, he told my father that he would send for his son Jun-tu to look after the sacrificial vessels.
When my father gave his consent I was overjoyed, because I had long since heard of Jun-tu and knew that he was about my own age, born in the intercalary month,1 and when his horoscope was told it was found that of the five elements that of earth was lacking, so his father called him Jun-tu (Intercalary Earth). He could set traps and catch small birds.
I looked forward every day to New Year, for New Year would bring Jun-tu. At last, when the end of the year came, one day mother told me that Jun-tu had come, and I flew to see him. He was standing in the kitchen. He had a round, crimson face and wore a small felt cap on his head and a gleaming silver necklet round his neck, showing that his father doted on him and, fearing he might die, had made a pledge with the gods and buddhas, using the necklet as a talisman. He was very shy, and I was the only person he was not afraid of. When there was no one else there, he would talk with me, so in a few hours we were fast friends.
I don‘t know what we talked of then, but I remember that Jun-tu was in high spirits, saying that since he had come to town he had seen many new things.
The next day I wanted him to catch birds.
"Can‘t be done," he said. "It‘s only possible after a heavy snowfall. On our sands, after it snows, I sweep clear a patch of ground, prop up a big threshing basket with a short stick, and scatter husks of grain beneath. When the birds come there to eat, I tug a string tied to the stick, and the birds are caught in the basket. There are all kinds: wild pheasants,. woodcocks, wood-pigeons, ‘blue-backs‘. . . ."
Accordingly I looked forward very eagerly to snow.
"Just now it is too cold," said Jun-tu another time, "but you must come to our place in summer. In the daytime we‘ll go to the seashore to look for shells, there are green ones and red ones, besides ‘scare-devil‘ shells and ‘buddha‘s hands.‘ In the evening when dad and I go to see to the watermelons, you shall come too."
"Is it to look out for thieves?"
"No. If passers-by are thirsty and pick a watermelon, folk down our way don‘t consider it as stealing. What we have to look out for are badgers, hedgehogs and zha. When under the moonlight you hear the crunching sound made by the zha when it bites the melons, then you take your pitchfork and creep stealthily over. . . ."
I had no idea then what this thing called zha was—and I am not much clearer now for that matter—but somehow I felt it was something like a small dog, and very fierce.
"Don‘t they bite people?"
"You have a pitchfork. You go across, and when you see it you strike. It‘s a very cunning creature and will rush towards you and get away between your legs. Its fur is as slippery as oil. . . ."
I had never known that all these strange things existed: at the seashore there were shells all colours of the rainbow; watermelons were exposed to such danger, yet all I had known of them before was that they were sold in the greengrocer‘s.
"On our shore, when the tide comes in, there are lots of jumping fish, each with two legs like a frog. . . ."
Jun-tu‘s mind was a treasure-house of such strange lore, all of it outside the ken of my former friends. They were ignorant of all these things and, while Jun-tu lived by the sea, they like me could see only the four corners of the sky above the high courtyard wall.
Unfortunately, a month after New Year Jun-tu had to go home. I burst into teats and he took refuge in the kitchen, crying and refusing to come out, until finally his father carried him off. Later he sent me by his father a packet of shells and a few very beautiful feathers, and I sent him presents once or twice, but we never saw each other again.
Now that my mother mentioned him, this childhood memory sprang into life like a flash of lightning, and I seemed to see my beautiful old home. So I answered:
"Fine! And he—how is he?"
He‘s not at all well off either," said mother. And then, looking out of the door: "Here come those people again. They say they want to buy our furniture; but actually they just want to see what they can pick up. I must go and watch them."
Mother stood up and went out. The voices of several women could he heard outside. I called Hung-erh to me and started talking to him, asking him whether he could write, and whether he would be glad to leave.
"Shall we be going by train?"
"Yes, we shall go by train."
"And boat?"
"We shall take a boat first."
"Oh! Like this! With such a long moustache!" A strange shrill voice suddenly rang out.
I looked up with a start, and saw a woman of about fifty with prominent cheekbones and thin lips. With her hands on her hips, not wearing a skirt but with her trousered legs apart, she stood in front of me just like the compass in a box of geometrical instruments.
I was flabbergasted.
"Don‘t you know me? Why, I have held you in my arms!"
I felt even more flabbergasted. Fortunately my mother came in just then and said:
"He has been away so long, you must excuse him for forgetting. You should remember," she said to me, "this is Mrs. Yang from across the road. . . . She has a beancurd shop."
Then, to be sure, I remembered. When I was a child there was a Mrs. Yang who used to sit nearly all day long in the beancurd shop across the road, and everybody used to call her Beancurd Beauty. She used to powder herself, and her cheekbones were not so prominent then nor her lips so thin; moreover she remained seated all the time, so that I had never noticed this resemblance to a compass. In those days people said that, thanks to her, that beancurd shop did very good business. But, probably on account of my age, she had made no impression on me, so that later I forgot her entirely. However, the Compass was extremely indignant and looked at me most contemptuously, just as one might look at a Frenchman who had never heard of Napoleon or an American who had never heard of Washington, and smiling sarcastically she said:
"You had forgotten? Naturally I am beneath your notice. . . ."
"Certainly not . . . I . . ." I answered nervously, getting to my feet.
"Then you listen to me, Master Hsun. You have grown rich, and they are too heavy to move, so you can‘t possibly want these old pieces of furniture any more. You had better let me take them away. Poor people like us can do with them."
"I haven‘t grown rich. I must sell these in order to buy. . . ."
"Oh, come now, you have been made the intendant of a circuit, how can you still say you‘re not rich? You have three concubines now, and whenever you go out it is in a big sedan-chair with eight bearers. Do you still say you‘re not rich? Hah! You can‘t hide anything from me."
Knowing there was nothing I could say, I remained silent.
"Come now, really, the more money people have the more miserly they get, and the more miserly they are the more money they get . . ." remarked the Compass, turning indignantly away and walking slowly off, casually picking up a pair of mother‘s gloves and stuffing them into her pocket as she went out.
After this a number of relatives in the neighbourhood came to call. In the intervals between entertaining them I did some packing, and so three or four days passed.
One very cold afternoon, I sat drinking tea after lunch when I was aware of someone coming in, and turned my head to see who it was. At the first glance I gave an involuntary start, hastily stood up and went over to welcome him.
The newcomer was Jun-tu. But although I knew at a glance that this was Jun-tu, it was not the Jun-tu I remembered. He had grown to twice his former size. His round face, once crimson, had become sallow, and acquired deep lines and wrinkles; his eyes too had become like his father‘s, the rims swollen and red, a feature common to most peasants who work by the sea and are exposed all day to the wind from the ocean. He wore a shabby felt cap and just one very thin padded jacket, with the result that he was shivering from head to foot. He carried a paper package and a long pipe, nor was his hand the plump red hand I remembered, but coarse and clumsy and chapped, like the bark of a pine tree.
Delighted as I was, I did not know how to express myself, and could only say:
"Oh! Jun-tu—so it‘s you? . . ."
After this there were so many things I wanted to talk about, they should have poured out like a string of beads: woodcocks, jumping fish, shells, zha. . . . But I was tongue-tied, unable to put all I was thinking into words.
He stood there, mixed joy and sadness showing on his face. His lips moved, but not a sound did he utter. Finally, assuming a respectful attitude, he said clearly:
"Master! . . ."
I felt a shiver run through me; for I knew then what a lamentably thick wall had grown up between us. Yet I could not say anything.
He turned his head to call:
"Shui-sheng, bow to the master." Then he pulled forward a boy who had been hiding behind his back, and this was just the Jun-tu of twenty years before, only a little paler and thinner, and he had no silver necklet.
"This is my fifth," he said. "He‘s not used to company, so he‘s shy and awkward."
Mother came downstairs with Hung-erh, probably after hearing our voices.
"I got your letter some time ago, madam," said Jun-tu. "I was really so pleased to know the master was coming back. . . ."
"Now, why are you so polite? Weren‘t you playmates together in the past?" said mother gaily. "You had better still call him Brother Hsun as before."
"Oh, you are really too. . . . What bad manners that would be. I was a child then and didn‘t understand." As he was speaking Jun-tu motioned Shui-sheng to come and bow, but the child was shy, and stood stock-still behind his father.
"So he is Shui-sheng? Your fifth?" asked mother. "We are all strangers, you can‘t blame him for feeling shy. Hung-erh had better take him Out to play."
When Hung-eth heard this he went over to Shui-sheng, and Shui-sheng went out with him, entirely at his ease. Mother asked Jun-tu to sir down, and after a little hesitation he did so; then leaning his long pipe against the table he handed over the paper package, saying:
"In winter there is nothing worth bringing; but these few beans we dried ourselves, if you will excuse the liberty, sir."
When I asked him how things were with him, he just shook his head.
"In a very bad way. Even my sixth can do a little work, but still we haven‘t enough to eat . . . and then there is no security . . . all sorts of people want money, there is no fixed rule . . . and the harvests are bad. You grow things, and when you take them to sell you always have to pay several taxes and lose money, while if you don‘t try to sell, the things may go bad. . ."
He kept shaking his head; yet, although his face was lined with wrinkles, not one of them moved, just as if he were a stone statue. No doubt he felt intensely bitter, but could not express himself. After a pause he took up his pipe and began to smoke in silence.
From her chat with him, mother learned that he was busy at home and had to go back the next day; and since he had had no lunch, she told him to go to the kitchen and fry some rice for himself.
After he had gone out, mother and I both shook our heads over his hard life: many children, famines, taxes, soldiers, bandits, officials and landed gentry, all had squeezed him as dry as a mummy. Mother said that we should offer him all the things we were not going to take away, letting him choose for himself.
That afternoon he picked out a number of things: two long tables, four chairs, an incense burner and candlesticks, and one balance. He also asked for all the ashes from the stove (in our part we cook over straw, and the ashes can be used to fertilize sandy soil), saying that when we left he would come to take them away by boat.
That night we talked again, but not of anything serious; and the next morning he went away with Shui-sheng.
After another nine days it was time for us to leave. Jun-tu came in the morning. Shui-sheng did not come with him—he had just brought a little girl of five to watch the boat. We were very busy all day, and had no time to talk. We also had quite a number of visitors, some to see us off, some to fetch things, and some to do both. It was nearly evening when we left by boat, and by that time everything in the house, however old or shabby, large or small, fine or coarse, had been cleared away.
As we set off, in the dusk, the green mountains on either side of the river became deep blue, receding towards the stern of the boat.
Hung-erh and I, leaning against the cabin window, were looking out together at the indistinct scene outside, when suddenly he asked:
"Uncle, when shall we go back?"
"Go back? Do you mean that before you‘ve left you want to go back?"
"Well, Shui-sheng has invited me to his home. . ."
He opened wide his black eyes in anxious thought.
Mother and I both felt rather sad, and so Jun-tu‘s name came up again. Mother said that ever since our family started packing up, Mrs. Yang from the beancurd shop had come over every day, and the day before in the ash-heap she had unearthed a dozen bowls and plates, which after some discussion she insisted must have been buried there by Jun-tu, so that when he came to remove the ashes he could take them home at the same rime. After making this discovery Mrs. Yang was very pleased with herself, and flew off raking the dog-teaser with her. (The dog-teaser is used by poultry keepers in our parts. It is a wooden cage inside which food is put, so that hens can stretch their necks in to eat but dogs can only look on furiously.) And it was a marvel, considering the size of her feet, how fast she could run.
I was leaving the old house farther and farther behind, while the hills and rivers of my old home were also receding gradually ever farther in the distance. But I felt no regret. I only felt that all round me was an invisible high wall, cutting me off from my fellows, and this depressed me thoroughly. The vision of that small hero with the silver necklet among the watermelons had formerly been as clear as day, but now it suddenly blurred, adding to my depression.
Mother and Hung-erh fell asleep.
I lay down, listening to the water rippling beneath the boat, and knew that I was going my way. I thought: although there is such a barrier between Jun-tu and myself, the children still have much in common, for wasn‘t Hung-erh thinking of Shui-sheng just now? I hope they will not he like us, that they will not allow a barrier to grow up between them. But again I would not like them, because they want to be akin, all to have a treadmill existence like mine, nor to suffer like Jun-ru until they become stupefied, nor yet, like others, to devote all their energies to dissipation. They should have a new life, a life we have never experienced.
The access of hope made me suddenly afraid. When Jun-tu asked for the incense burner and candlesticks I had laughed up my sleeve at him, to think that he still worshipped idols and could not put them out of his mind. Yet what I now called hope was no more than an idol I had created myself. The only difference was that what he desired was close at hand, while what I desired was less easily realized.
As I dozed, a stretch of jade-green seashore spread itself before my eyes, and above a round golden moon hung in a deep blue sky. I thought: hope cannot be said to exist, nor can it be said not to exist. It is just like roads across the earth. For actually the earth had no roads to begin with, but when many men pass one way, a road is made.
Notes
1. The Chinese lunar calendar reckons360days to a year, and each month comprises 29 or 30 days, never 31. Hence every few years a 13th, or intercalary, month is inserted in the calendar.
故乡(1)
我冒了严寒，回到相隔二千余里，别了二十余年的故乡去。
时候既然是深冬；渐近故乡时，天气又阴晦了，冷风吹进船舱中，呜呜的响，从蓬隙向外一望，苍黄的天底下，远近横着几个萧索的荒村，没有一些活气。我的心禁不住悲凉起来了。阿！这不是我二十年来时时记得的故乡？
我所记得的故乡全不如此。我的故乡好得多了。但要我记起他的美丽，说出他的佳处来，却又没有影像，没有言辞了。仿佛也就如此。于是我自己解释说：故乡本也如此，——虽然没有进步，也未必有如我所感的悲凉，这只是我自己心情的改变罢了，因为我这次回乡，本没有什么好心绪。
我这次是专为了别他而来的。我们多年聚族而居的老屋，已经公同卖给别姓了，交屋的期限，只在本年，所以必须赶在正月初一以前，永别了熟识的老屋，而且远离了熟识的故乡，搬家到我在谋食的异地去。
第二日清早晨我到了我家的门口了。瓦楞上许多枯草的断茎当风抖着，正在说明这老屋难免易主的原因。几房的本家大约已经搬走了，所以很寂静。我到了自家的房外，我的母亲早已迎着出来了，接着便飞出了八岁的侄儿宏儿。
我的母亲很高兴，但也藏着许多凄凉的神情，教我坐下，歇息，喝茶，且不谈搬家的事。宏儿没有见过我，远远的对面站着只是看。
但我们终于谈到搬家的事。我说外间的寓所已经租定了，又买了几件家具，此外须将家里所有的木器卖去，再去增添。母亲也说好，而且行李也略已齐集，木器不便搬运的，也小半卖去了，只是收不起钱来。
“你休息一两天，去拜望亲戚本家一回，我们便可以走了。”母亲说。
“是的。”
“还有闰土，他每到我家来时，总问起你，很想见你一回面。我已经将你到家的大约日期通知他，他也许就要来了。”
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⑵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。我认识他时，也不过十多岁，离现在将有三十年了；那时我的父亲还在世，家景也好，我正是一个少爷。那一年，我家是一件大祭祀的值年⑶。这祭祀，说是三十多年才能轮到一回，所以很郑重；正月里供祖像，供品很多，祭器很讲究，拜的人也很多，祭器也很要防偷去。我家只有一个忙月（我们这里给人做工的分三种：整年给一定人家做工的叫长工；按日给人做工的叫短工；自己也种地，只在过年过节以及收租时候来给一定人家做工的称忙月），忙不过来，他便对父亲说，可以叫他的儿子闰土来管祭器的。
我的父亲允许了；我也很高兴，因为我早听到闰土这名字，而且知道他和我仿佛年纪，闰月生的，五行缺土⑷，所以他的父亲叫他闰土。他是能装〔弓京〕捉小鸟雀的。
我于是日日盼望新年，新年到，闰土也就到了。好容易到了年末，有一日，母亲告诉我，闰土来了，我便飞跑的去看。他正在厨房里，紫色的圆脸，头戴一顶小毡帽，颈上套一个明晃晃的银项圈，这可见他的父亲十分爱他，怕他死去，所以在神佛面前许下愿心，用圈子将他套住了。他见人很怕羞，只是不怕我，没有旁人的时候，便和我说话，于是不到半日，我们便熟识了。
我们那时候不知道谈些什么，只记得闰土很高兴，说是上城之后，见了许多没有见过的东西。
第二日，我便要他捕鸟。他说：
“这不能。须大雪下了才好。我们沙地上，下了雪，我扫出一块空地来，用短棒支起一个大竹匾，撒下秕谷，看鸟雀来吃时，我远远地将缚在棒上的绳子只一拉，那鸟雀就罩在竹匾下了。什么都有：稻鸡，角鸡，鹁鸪，蓝背……”
我于是又很盼望下雪。
闰土又对我说：
“现在太冷，你夏天到我们这里来。我们日里到海边捡贝壳去，红的绿的都有，鬼见怕也有，观音手⑸也有。晚上我和爹管西瓜去，你也去。”
“管贼么？”
“不是。走路的人口渴了摘一个瓜吃，我们这里是不算偷的。要管的是獾猪，刺猬，猹。月亮底下，你听，啦啦的响了，猹在咬瓜了。你便捏了胡叉，轻轻地走去……”
我那时并不知道这所谓猹的是怎么一件东西——便是现在也没有知道——只是无端的觉得状如小狗而很凶猛。
“他不咬人么？”
“有胡叉呢。走到了，看见猹了，你便刺。这畜生很伶俐，倒向你奔来，反从胯下窜了。他的皮毛是油一般的滑……”
我素不知道天下有这许多新鲜事：海边有如许五色的贝壳；西瓜有这样危险的经历，我先前单知道他在水果电里出卖罢了。
“我们沙地里，潮汛要来的时候，就有许多跳鱼儿只是跳，都有青蛙似的两个脚……”
阿！闰土的心里有无穷无尽的希奇的事，都是我往常的朋友所不知道的。他们不知道一些事，闰土在海边时，他们都和我一样只看见院子里高墙上的四角的天空。
可惜正月过去了，闰土须回家里去，我急得大哭，他也躲到厨房里，哭着不肯出门，但终于被他父亲带走了。他后来还托他的父亲带给我一包贝壳和几支很好看的鸟毛，我也曾送他一两次东西，但从此没有再见面。
现在我的母亲提起了他，我这儿时的记忆，忽而全都闪电似的苏生过来，似乎看到了我的美丽的故乡了。我应声说：
“这好极！他，——怎样？……”
“他？……他景况也很不如意……”母亲说着，便向房外看，“这些人又来了。说是买木器，顺手也就随便拿走的，我得去看看。”
母亲站起身，出去了。门外有几个女人的声音。我便招宏儿走近面前，和他闲话：问他可会写字，可愿意出门。
“我们坐火车去么？”
“我们坐火车去。”
“船呢？”
“先坐船，……”
“哈！这模样了！胡子这么长了！”一种尖利的怪声突然大叫起来。
我吃了一吓，赶忙抬起头，却见一个凸颧骨，薄嘴唇，五十岁上下的女人站在我面前，两手搭在髀间，没有系裙，张着两脚，正像一个画图仪器里细脚伶仃的圆规。
我愕然了。
“不认识了么？我还抱过你咧！”
我愈加愕然了。幸而我的母亲也就进来，从旁说：
“他多年出门，统忘却了。你该记得罢，”便向着我说，“这是斜对门的杨二嫂，……开豆腐店的。”
哦，我记得了。我孩子时候，在斜对门的豆腐店里确乎终日坐着一个杨二嫂，人都叫伊“豆腐西施”⑹。但是擦着白粉，颧骨没有这么高，嘴唇也没有这么薄，而且终日坐着，我也从没有见过这圆规式的姿势。那时人说：因为伊，这豆腐店的买卖非常好。但这大约因为年龄的关系，我却并未蒙着一毫感化，所以竟完全忘却了。然而圆规很不平，显出鄙夷的神色，仿佛嗤笑法国人不知道拿破仑⑺，美国人不知道华盛顿⑻似的，冷笑说：
“忘了？这真是贵人眼高……”
“那有这事……我……”我惶恐着，站起来说。
“那么，我对你说。迅哥儿，你阔了，搬动又笨重，你还要什么这些破烂木器，让我拿去罢。我们小户人家，用得着。”
“我并没有阔哩。我须卖了这些，再去……”
“阿呀呀，你放了道台⑼了，还说不阔？你现在有三房姨太太；出门便是八抬的大轿，还说不阔？吓，什么都瞒不过我。”
我知道无话可说了，便闭了口，默默的站着。
“阿呀阿呀，真是愈有钱，便愈是一毫不肯放松，愈是一毫不肯放松，便愈有钱……”圆规一面愤愤的回转身，一面絮絮的说，慢慢向外走，顺便将我母亲的一副手套塞在裤腰里，出去了。
此后又有近处的本家和亲戚来访问我。我一面应酬，偷空便收拾些行李，这样的过了三四天。
一日是天气很冷的午后，我吃过午饭，坐着喝茶，觉得外面有人进来了，便回头去看。我看时，不由的非常出惊，慌忙站起身，迎着走去。
这来的便是闰土。虽然我一见便知道是闰土，但又不是我这记忆上的闰土了。他身材增加了一倍；先前的紫色的圆脸，已经变作灰黄，而且加上了很深的皱纹；眼睛也像他父亲一样，周围都肿得通红，这我知道，在海边种地的人，终日吹着海风，大抵是这样的。他头上是一顶破毡帽，身上只一件极薄的棉衣，浑身瑟索着；手里提着一个纸包和一支长烟管，那手也不是我所记得的红活圆实的手，却又粗又笨而且开裂，像是松树皮了。
我这时很兴奋，但不知道怎么说才好，只是说：
“阿！闰土哥，——你来了？……”
我接着便有许多话，想要连珠一般涌出：角鸡，跳鱼儿，贝壳，猹，……但又总觉得被什么挡着似的，单在脑里面回旋，吐不出口外去。
他站住了，脸上现出欢喜和凄凉的神情；动着嘴唇，却没有作声。他的态度终于恭敬起来了，分明的叫道：
“老爷！……”
我似乎打了一个寒噤；我就知道，我们之间已经隔了一层可悲的厚障壁了。我也说不出话。
他回过头去说，“水生，给老爷磕头。”便拖出躲在背后的孩子来，这正是一个廿年前的闰土，只是黄瘦些，颈子上没有银圈罢了。“这是第五个孩子，没有见过世面，躲躲闪闪……”
母亲和宏儿下楼来了，他们大约也听到了声音。
“老太太。信是早收到了。我实在喜欢的不得了，知道老爷回来……”闰土说。
“阿，你怎的这样客气起来。你们先前不是哥弟称呼么？还是照旧：迅哥儿。”母亲高兴的说。
“阿呀，老太太真是……这成什么规矩。那时是孩子，不懂事……”闰土说着，又叫水生上来打拱，那孩子却害羞，紧紧的只贴在他背后。
“他就是水生？第五个？都是生人，怕生也难怪的；还是宏儿和他去走走。”母亲说。
宏儿听得这话，便来招水生，水生却松松爽爽同他一路出去了。母亲叫闰土坐，他迟疑了一回，终于就了坐，将长烟管靠在桌旁，递过纸包来，说：
“冬天没有什么东西了。这一点干青豆倒是自家晒在那里的，请老爷……”
我问问他的景况。他只是摇头。
“非常难。第六个孩子也会帮忙了，却总是吃不够……又不太平……什么地方都要钱，没有规定……收成又坏。种出东西来，挑去卖，总要捐几回钱，折了本；不去卖，又只能烂掉……”
他只是摇头；脸上虽然刻着许多皱纹，却全然不动，仿佛石像一般。他大约只是觉得苦，却又形容不出，沉默了片时，便拿起烟管来默默的吸烟了。
母亲问他，知道他的家里事务忙，明天便得回去；又没有吃过午饭，便叫他自己到厨下炒饭吃去。
他出去了；母亲和我都叹息他的景况：多子，饥荒，苛税，兵，匪，官，绅，都苦得他像一个木偶人了。母亲对我说，凡是不必搬走的东西，尽可以送他，可以听他自己去拣择。
下午，他拣好了几件东西：两条长桌，四个椅子，一副香炉和烛台，一杆抬秤。他又要所有的草灰（我们这里煮饭是烧稻草的，那灰，可以做沙地的肥料），待我们启程的时候，他用船来载去。
夜间，我们又谈些闲天，都是无关紧要的话；第二天早晨，他就领了水生回去了。
又过了九日，是我们启程的日期。闰土早晨便到了，水生没有同来，却只带着一个五岁的女儿管船只。我们终日很忙碌，再没有谈天的工夫。来客也不少，有送行的，有拿东西的，有送行兼拿东西的。待到傍晚我们上船的时候，这老屋里的所有破旧大小粗细东西，已经一扫而空了。
我们的船向前走，两岸的青山在黄昏中，都装成了深黛颜色，连着退向船后梢去。
宏儿和我靠着船窗，同看外面模糊的风景，他忽然问道：
“大伯！我们什么时候回来？”
“回来？你怎么还没有走就想回来了。”
“可是，水生约我到他家玩去咧……”他睁着大的黑眼睛，痴痴的想。
我和母亲也都有些惘然，于是又提起闰土来。母亲说，那豆腐西施的杨二嫂，自从我家收拾行李以来，本是每日必到的，前天伊在灰堆里，掏出十多个碗碟来，议论之后，便定说是闰土埋着的，他可以在运灰的时候，一齐搬回家里去；杨二嫂发见了这件事，自己很以为功，便拿了那狗气杀（这是我们这里养鸡的器具，木盘上面有着栅栏，内盛食料，鸡可以伸进颈子去啄，狗却不能，只能看着气死），飞也似的跑了，亏伊装着这么高低的小脚，竟跑得这样快。
老屋离我愈远了；故乡的山水也都渐渐远离了我，但我却并不感到怎样的留恋。我只觉得我四面有看不见的高墙，将我隔成孤身，使我非常气闷；那西瓜地上的银项圈的小英雄的影像，我本来十分清楚，现在却忽地模糊了，又使我非常的悲哀。
母亲和宏儿都睡着了。
我躺着，听船底潺潺的水声，知道我在走我的路。我想：我竟与闰土隔绝到这地步了，但我们的后辈还是一气，宏儿不是正在想念水生么。我希望他们不再像我，又大家隔膜起来……然而我又不愿意他们因为要一气，都如我的辛苦展转而生活，也不愿意他们都如闰土的辛苦麻木而生活，也不愿意都如别人的辛苦恣睢而生活。他们应该有新的生活，为我们所未经生活过的。
我想到希望，忽然害怕起来了。闰土要香炉和烛台的时候，我还暗*乩镄λ*以为他总是崇拜偶像，什么时候都不忘却。现在我所谓希望，不也是我自己手制的偶像么？只是他的愿望切近，我的愿望茫远罢了。
我在朦胧中，眼前展开一片海边碧绿的沙地来，上面深蓝的天空中挂着一轮金黄的圆月。我想：希望本是无所谓有，无所谓无的。这正如地上的路；其实地上本没有路，走的人多了，也便成了路。
一九二一年一月。
□注释
⑴本篇最初发表于一九二一年五月《新青年》第九卷第一号。
⑵猹：作者在一九二九年五月四日致舒新城的信中说：“‘猹’字是我据乡下人所说的声音，生造出来的，读如‘查’。……现在想起来，也许是獾罢。”
⑶大祭祀的值年：封建社会中的大家族，每年都有祭祀祖先的活动，费用从族中“祭产”收入支取，由各房按年轮流主持，轮到的称为“值年”。
⑷五行缺土：旧社会所谓算“八字”的迷信说法。即用天干（甲乙丙丁戊己庚辛壬癸）和地支（子丑寅卯辰巳午未申酉戌亥）相配，来记一个人出生的年、月、日、时，各得两字，合为“八字”；又认为它们在五行（金、木、水、火、土）中各有所属，如甲乙寅卯属木，丙丁巳午属火等等，如八个字能包括五者，就是五行俱全。“五行缺土”，就是这八个字中没有属土的字，需用土或土作偏旁的字取名等办法来弥补。
⑸鬼见怕和观音手，都是小贝壳的名称。旧时浙江沿海的人把这种小贝壳用线串在一起，戴在孩子的手腕或脚踝上，认为可以“避邪”。这类名称多是根据“避邪”的意思取的。
⑹西施：春秋时越国的美女，后来用以泛称一般美女。
⑺拿破仑（１７６９—１８２１）：即拿破仑·波拿巴，法国资产阶级革命时期的军事家、政治家。一七九九年担任共和国执政。一八○四年建立法兰西第一帝国，自称拿破仑一世。
⑻华盛顿（１７３２—１７９９）：即乔治·华盛顿，美国政治家。他曾领导一七七五年至一七八三年美国反对英国殖民统治的独立战争，胜利后任美国第一任总统。
⑼道台：清朝官职道员的俗称，分总管一个区域行政职务的道员和专掌某一特定职务的道员。前者是省以下、府州以上的行政长官；后者掌管一省特定事务，如督粮道、兵备道等。辛亥革命后，北洋军阀政府也曾沿用此制，改称道尹。
My Old Home
Written: January 1921
Source: Selected Stories of Lu Hsun, Published by Foreign Languages Press, Peking, 1960, 1972
Transcribed: Original transcription fromcoldbacon.com
HTML Markup: Mike B. for MIA, 2005
Public Domain: Marxists Internet Archive (2005). You may freely copy, distribute, display and perform this work; as well as make derivative and commercial works. Please credit “Marxists Internet Archive” as your source.
Braving the bitter cold, I travelled more than seven hundred miles back to the old home I had left over twenty years before.
It was late winter. As we drew near my former home the day became overcast and a cold wind blew into the cabin of our boat, while all one could see through the chinks in our bamboo awning were a few desolate villages, void of any sign of life, scattered far and near under the sombre yellow sky. I could not help feeling depressed.
Ah! Surely this was not the old home I had remembered for the past twenty years?
The old home I remembered was nor in the least like this. My old home was much better. But if you asked me to recall its peculiar charm or describe its beauties, I had no clear impression, no words to describe it. And now it seemed this was all there was to it. Then I rationalized the matter to myself, saying: Home was always like this, and although it has not improved, still it is not so depressing as I imagine; it is only my mood that has changed, because I am coming back to the country this time with no illusions.
This time I had come with the sole object of saying goodbye. The old house our clan had lived in for so many years had already been sold to another family, and was to change hands before the end of the year. I had to hurry there before New Year‘s Day to say goodbye for ever to the familiar old house, and to move my family to another place where I was working, far from my old home town.
At dawn on the second day I reached the gateway of my home. Broken stems of withered grass on the roof, trembling in the wind, made very clear the reason why this old house could not avoid changing hands. Several branches of our clan had probably already moved away, so it was unusually quiet. By the time I reached the house my mother was already at the door to welcome me, and my eight-year-old nephew, Hung-erh, rushed out after her.
Though mother was delighted, she was also trying to hide a certain feeling of sadness. She told me to sit down and rest and have some tea, letting the removal wait for the time being. Hung-erh, who had never seen me before, stood watching me at a distance.
But finally we had to talk about the removal. I said that rooms had already been rented elsewhere, and I had bought a little furniture; in addition it would be necessary to sell all the furniture in the house in order to buy more things. Mother agreed, saying that the luggage was nearly all packed, and about half the furniture that could not easily be moved had already been sold. Only it was difficult to get people to pay up.
"You must rest for a day or two, and call on our relatives, and then we can go," said mother.
"Yes."
"Then there is Jun-tu. Each time he comes here he always asks after you, and wants very much to see you again. I told him the probable date of your return home, and he may be coming any time."
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 jade-green 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 between his legs.
This boy was Jun-tu. When I first met him he was just over ten—that was thirty years ago, and at that time my father was still alive and the family well off, so I was really a spoilt child. That year it was our family‘s turn to take charge of a big ancestral sacrifice, which came round only once in thirty years, and hence was an important one. In the first month the ancestral images were presented and offerings made, and since the sacrificial vessels were very fine and there was such a crowd of worshippers, it was necessary to guard against theft. Our family had only one part-time labourer. (In our district we divide labourers into three classes: those who work all the year for one family are called full-timers; those who are hired by the day are called dailies; and those who farm their own land and only work for one family at New Year, during festivals or when rents are being collected are called part-timers.) And since there was so much to be done, he told my father that he would send for his son Jun-tu to look after the sacrificial vessels.
When my father gave his consent I was overjoyed, because I had long since heard of Jun-tu and knew that he was about my own age, born in the intercalary month,1 and when his horoscope was told it was found that of the five elements that of earth was lacking, so his father called him Jun-tu (Intercalary Earth). He could set traps and catch small birds.
I looked forward every day to New Year, for New Year would bring Jun-tu. At last, when the end of the year came, one day mother told me that Jun-tu had come, and I flew to see him. He was standing in the kitchen. He had a round, crimson face and wore a small felt cap on his head and a gleaming silver necklet round his neck, showing that his father doted on him and, fearing he might die, had made a pledge with the gods and buddhas, using the necklet as a talisman. He was very shy, and I was the only person he was not afraid of. When there was no one else there, he would talk with me, so in a few hours we were fast friends.
I don‘t know what we talked of then, but I remember that Jun-tu was in high spirits, saying that since he had come to town he had seen many new things.
The next day I wanted him to catch birds.
"Can‘t be done," he said. "It‘s only possible after a heavy snowfall. On our sands, after it snows, I sweep clear a patch of ground, prop up a big threshing basket with a short stick, and scatter husks of grain beneath. When the birds come there to eat, I tug a string tied to the stick, and the birds are caught in the basket. There are all kinds: wild pheasants,. woodcocks, wood-pigeons, ‘blue-backs‘. . . ."
Accordingly I looked forward very eagerly to snow.
"Just now it is too cold," said Jun-tu another time, "but you must come to our place in summer. In the daytime we‘ll go to the seashore to look for shells, there are green ones and red ones, besides ‘scare-devil‘ shells and ‘buddha‘s hands.‘ In the evening when dad and I go to see to the watermelons, you shall come too."
"Is it to look out for thieves?"
"No. If passers-by are thirsty and pick a watermelon, folk down our way don‘t consider it as stealing. What we have to look out for are badgers, hedgehogs and zha. When under the moonlight you hear the crunching sound made by the zha when it bites the melons, then you take your pitchfork and creep stealthily over. . . ."
I had no idea then what this thing called zha was—and I am not much clearer now for that matter—but somehow I felt it was something like a small dog, and very fierce.
"Don‘t they bite people?"
"You have a pitchfork. You go across, and when you see it you strike. It‘s a very cunning creature and will rush towards you and get away between your legs. Its fur is as slippery as oil. . . ."
I had never known that all these strange things existed: at the seashore there were shells all colours of the rainbow; watermelons were exposed to such danger, yet all I had known of them before was that they were sold in the greengrocer‘s.
"On our shore, when the tide comes in, there are lots of jumping fish, each with two legs like a frog. . . ."
Jun-tu‘s mind was a treasure-house of such strange lore, all of it outside the ken of my former friends. They were ignorant of all these things and, while Jun-tu lived by the sea, they like me could see only the four corners of the sky above the high courtyard wall.
Unfortunately, a month after New Year Jun-tu had to go home. I burst into teats and he took refuge in the kitchen, crying and refusing to come out, until finally his father carried him off. Later he sent me by his father a packet of shells and a few very beautiful feathers, and I sent him presents once or twice, but we never saw each other again.
Now that my mother mentioned him, this childhood memory sprang into life like a flash of lightning, and I seemed to see my beautiful old home. So I answered:
"Fine! And he—how is he?"
He‘s not at all well off either," said mother. And then, looking out of the door: "Here come those people again. They say they want to buy our furniture; but actually they just want to see what they can pick up. I must go and watch them."
Mother stood up and went out. The voices of several women could he heard outside. I called Hung-erh to me and started talking to him, asking him whether he could write, and whether he would be glad to leave.
"Shall we be going by train?"
"Yes, we shall go by train."
"And boat?"
"We shall take a boat first."
"Oh! Like this! With such a long moustache!" A strange shrill voice suddenly rang out.
I looked up with a start, and saw a woman of about fifty with prominent cheekbones and thin lips. With her hands on her hips, not wearing a skirt but with her trousered legs apart, she stood in front of me just like the compass in a box of geometrical instruments.
I was flabbergasted.
"Don‘t you know me? Why, I have held you in my arms!"
I felt even more flabbergasted. Fortunately my mother came in just then and said:
"He has been away so long, you must excuse him for forgetting. You should remember," she said to me, "this is Mrs. Yang from across the road. . . . She has a beancurd shop."
Then, to be sure, I remembered. When I was a child there was a Mrs. Yang who used to sit nearly all day long in the beancurd shop across the road, and everybody used to call her Beancurd Beauty. She used to powder herself, and her cheekbones were not so prominent then nor her lips so thin; moreover she remained seated all the time, so that I had never noticed this resemblance to a compass. In those days people said that, thanks to her, that beancurd shop did very good business. But, probably on account of my age, she had made no impression on me, so that later I forgot her entirely. However, the Compass was extremely indignant and looked at me most contemptuously, just as one might look at a Frenchman who had never heard of Napoleon or an American who had never heard of Washington, and smiling sarcastically she said:
"You had forgotten? Naturally I am beneath your notice. . . ."
"Certainly not . . . I . . ." I answered nervously, getting to my feet.
"Then you listen to me, Master Hsun. You have grown rich, and they are too heavy to move, so you can‘t possibly want these old pieces of furniture any more. You had better let me take them away. Poor people like us can do with them."
"I haven‘t grown rich. I must sell these in order to buy. . . ."
"Oh, come now, you have been made the intendant of a circuit, how can you still say you‘re not rich? You have three concubines now, and whenever you go out it is in a big sedan-chair with eight bearers. Do you still say you‘re not rich? Hah! You can‘t hide anything from me."
Knowing there was nothing I could say, I remained silent.
"Come now, really, the more money people have the more miserly they get, and the more miserly they are the more money they get . . ." remarked the Compass, turning indignantly away and walking slowly off, casually picking up a pair of mother‘s gloves and stuffing them into her pocket as she went out.
After this a number of relatives in the neighbourhood came to call. In the intervals between entertaining them I did some packing, and so three or four days passed.
One very cold afternoon, I sat drinking tea after lunch when I was aware of someone coming in, and turned my head to see who it was. At the first glance I gave an involuntary start, hastily stood up and went over to welcome him.
The newcomer was Jun-tu. But although I knew at a glance that this was Jun-tu, it was not the Jun-tu I remembered. He had grown to twice his former size. His round face, once crimson, had become sallow, and acquired deep lines and wrinkles; his eyes too had become like his father‘s, the rims swollen and red, a feature common to most peasants who work by the sea and are exposed all day to the wind from the ocean. He wore a shabby felt cap and just one very thin padded jacket, with the result that he was shivering from head to foot. He carried a paper package and a long pipe, nor was his hand the plump red hand I remembered, but coarse and clumsy and chapped, like the bark of a pine tree.
Delighted as I was, I did not know how to express myself, and could only say:
"Oh! Jun-tu—so it‘s you? . . ."
After this there were so many things I wanted to talk about, they should have poured out like a string of beads: woodcocks, jumping fish, shells, zha. . . . But I was tongue-tied, unable to put all I was thinking into words.
He stood there, mixed joy and sadness showing on his face. His lips moved, but not a sound did he utter. Finally, assuming a respectful attitude, he said clearly:
"Master! . . ."
I felt a shiver run through me; for I knew then what a lamentably thick wall had grown up between us. Yet I could not say anything.
He turned his head to call:
"Shui-sheng, bow to the master." Then he pulled forward a boy who had been hiding behind his back, and this was just the Jun-tu of twenty years before, only a little paler and thinner, and he had no silver necklet.
"This is my fifth," he said. "He‘s not used to company, so he‘s shy and awkward."
Mother came downstairs with Hung-erh, probably after hearing our voices.
"I got your letter some time ago, madam," said Jun-tu. "I was really so pleased to know the master was coming back. . . ."
"Now, why are you so polite? Weren‘t you playmates together in the past?" said mother gaily. "You had better still call him Brother Hsun as before."
"Oh, you are really too. . . . What bad manners that would be. I was a child then and didn‘t understand." As he was speaking Jun-tu motioned Shui-sheng to come and bow, but the child was shy, and stood stock-still behind his father.
"So he is Shui-sheng? Your fifth?" asked mother. "We are all strangers, you can‘t blame him for feeling shy. Hung-erh had better take him Out to play."
When Hung-eth heard this he went over to Shui-sheng, and Shui-sheng went out with him, entirely at his ease. Mother asked Jun-tu to sir down, and after a little hesitation he did so; then leaning his long pipe against the table he handed over the paper package, saying:
"In winter there is nothing worth bringing; but these few beans we dried ourselves, if you will excuse the liberty, sir."
When I asked him how things were with him, he just shook his head.
"In a very bad way. Even my sixth can do a little work, but still we haven‘t enough to eat . . . and then there is no security . . . all sorts of people want money, there is no fixed rule . . . and the harvests are bad. You grow things, and when you take them to sell you always have to pay several taxes and lose money, while if you don‘t try to sell, the things may go bad. . ."
He kept shaking his head; yet, although his face was lined with wrinkles, not one of them moved, just as if he were a stone statue. No doubt he felt intensely bitter, but could not express himself. After a pause he took up his pipe and began to smoke in silence.
From her chat with him, mother learned that he was busy at home and had to go back the next day; and since he had had no lunch, she told him to go to the kitchen and fry some rice for himself.
After he had gone out, mother and I both shook our heads over his hard life: many children, famines, taxes, soldiers, bandits, officials and landed gentry, all had squeezed him as dry as a mummy. Mother said that we should offer him all the things we were not going to take away, letting him choose for himself.
That afternoon he picked out a number of things: two long tables, four chairs, an incense burner and candlesticks, and one balance. He also asked for all the ashes from the stove (in our part we cook over straw, and the ashes can be used to fertilize sandy soil), saying that when we left he would come to take them away by boat.
That night we talked again, but not of anything serious; and the next morning he went away with Shui-sheng.
After another nine days it was time for us to leave. Jun-tu came in the morning. Shui-sheng did not come with him—he had just brought a little girl of five to watch the boat. We were very busy all day, and had no time to talk. We also had quite a number of visitors, some to see us off, some to fetch things, and some to do both. It was nearly evening when we left by boat, and by that time everything in the house, however old or shabby, large or small, fine or coarse, had been cleared away.
As we set off, in the dusk, the green mountains on either side of the river became deep blue, receding towards the stern of the boat.
Hung-erh and I, leaning against the cabin window, were looking out together at the indistinct scene outside, when suddenly he asked:
"Uncle, when shall we go back?"
"Go back? Do you mean that before you‘ve left you want to go back?"
"Well, Shui-sheng has invited me to his home. . ."
He opened wide his black eyes in anxious thought.
Mother and I both felt rather sad, and so Jun-tu‘s name came up again. Mother said that ever since our family started packing up, Mrs. Yang from the beancurd shop had come over every day, and the day before in the ash-heap she had unearthed a dozen bowls and plates, which after some discussion she insisted must have been buried there by Jun-tu, so that when he came to remove the ashes he could take them home at the same rime. After making this discovery Mrs. Yang was very pleased with herself, and flew off raking the dog-teaser with her. (The dog-teaser is used by poultry keepers in our parts. It is a wooden cage inside which food is put, so that hens can stretch their necks in to eat but dogs can only look on furiously.) And it was a marvel, considering the size of her feet, how fast she could run.
I was leaving the old house farther and farther behind, while the hills and rivers of my old home were also receding gradually ever farther in the distance. But I felt no regret. I only felt that all round me was an invisible high wall, cutting me off from my fellows, and this depressed me thoroughly. The vision of that small hero with the silver necklet among the watermelons had formerly been as clear as day, but now it suddenly blurred, adding to my depression.
Mother and Hung-erh fell asleep.
I lay down, listening to the water rippling beneath the boat, and knew that I was going my way. I thought: although there is such a barrier between Jun-tu and myself, the children still have much in common, for wasn‘t Hung-erh thinking of Shui-sheng just now? I hope they will not he like us, that they will not allow a barrier to grow up between them. But again I would not like them, because they want to be akin, all to have a treadmill existence like mine, nor to suffer like Jun-ru until they become stupefied, nor yet, like others, to devote all their energies to dissipation. They should have a new life, a life we have never experienced.
The access of hope made me suddenly afraid. When Jun-tu asked for the incense burner and candlesticks I had laughed up my sleeve at him, to think that he still worshipped idols and could not put them out of his mind. Yet what I now called hope was no more than an idol I had created myself. The only difference was that what he desired was close at hand, while what I desired was less easily realized.
As I dozed, a stretch of jade-green seashore spread itself before my eyes, and above a round golden moon hung in a deep blue sky. I thought: hope cannot be said to exist, nor can it be said not to exist. It is just like roads across the earth. For actually the earth had no roads to begin with, but when many men pass one way, a road is made.
Notes
1. The Chinese lunar calendar reckons360days to a year, and each month comprises 29 or 30 days, never 31. Hence every few years a 13th, or intercalary, month is inserted in the calendar.
故乡(1)
我冒了严寒，回到相隔二千余里，别了二十余年的故乡去。
时候既然是深冬；渐近故乡时，天气又阴晦了，冷风吹进船舱中，呜呜的响，从蓬隙向外一望，苍黄的天底下，远近横着几个萧索的荒村，没有一些活气。我的心禁不住悲凉起来了。阿！这不是我二十年来时时记得的故乡？
我所记得的故乡全不如此。我的故乡好得多了。但要我记起他的美丽，说出他的佳处来，却又没有影像，没有言辞了。仿佛也就如此。于是我自己解释说：故乡本也如此，——虽然没有进步，也未必有如我所感的悲凉，这只是我自己心情的改变罢了，因为我这次回乡，本没有什么好心绪。
我这次是专为了别他而来的。我们多年聚族而居的老屋，已经公同卖给别姓了，交屋的期限，只在本年，所以必须赶在正月初一以前，永别了熟识的老屋，而且远离了熟识的故乡，搬家到我在谋食的异地去。
第二日清早晨我到了我家的门口了。瓦楞上许多枯草的断茎当风抖着，正在说明这老屋难免易主的原因。几房的本家大约已经搬走了，所以很寂静。我到了自家的房外，我的母亲早已迎着出来了，接着便飞出了八岁的侄儿宏儿。
我的母亲很高兴，但也藏着许多凄凉的神情，教我坐下，歇息，喝茶，且不谈搬家的事。宏儿没有见过我，远远的对面站着只是看。
但我们终于谈到搬家的事。我说外间的寓所已经租定了，又买了几件家具，此外须将家里所有的木器卖去，再去增添。母亲也说好，而且行李也略已齐集，木器不便搬运的，也小半卖去了，只是收不起钱来。
“你休息一两天，去拜望亲戚本家一回，我们便可以走了。”母亲说。
“是的。”
“还有闰土，他每到我家来时，总问起你，很想见你一回面。我已经将你到家的大约日期通知他，他也许就要来了。”
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⑵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。我认识他时，也不过十多岁，离现在将有三十年了；那时我的父亲还在世，家景也好，我正是一个少爷。那一年，我家是一件大祭祀的值年⑶。这祭祀，说是三十多年才能轮到一回，所以很郑重；正月里供祖像，供品很多，祭器很讲究，拜的人也很多，祭器也很要防偷去。我家只有一个忙月（我们这里给人做工的分三种：整年给一定人家做工的叫长工；按日给人做工的叫短工；自己也种地，只在过年过节以及收租时候来给一定人家做工的称忙月），忙不过来，他便对父亲说，可以叫他的儿子闰土来管祭器的。
我的父亲允许了；我也很高兴，因为我早听到闰土这名字，而且知道他和我仿佛年纪，闰月生的，五行缺土⑷，所以他的父亲叫他闰土。他是能装〔弓京〕捉小鸟雀的。
我于是日日盼望新年，新年到，闰土也就到了。好容易到了年末，有一日，母亲告诉我，闰土来了，我便飞跑的去看。他正在厨房里，紫色的圆脸，头戴一顶小毡帽，颈上套一个明晃晃的银项圈，这可见他的父亲十分爱他，怕他死去，所以在神佛面前许下愿心，用圈子将他套住了。他见人很怕羞，只是不怕我，没有旁人的时候，便和我说话，于是不到半日，我们便熟识了。
我们那时候不知道谈些什么，只记得闰土很高兴，说是上城之后，见了许多没有见过的东西。
第二日，我便要他捕鸟。他说：
“这不能。须大雪下了才好。我们沙地上，下了雪，我扫出一块空地来，用短棒支起一个大竹匾，撒下秕谷，看鸟雀来吃时，我远远地将缚在棒上的绳子只一拉，那鸟雀就罩在竹匾下了。什么都有：稻鸡，角鸡，鹁鸪，蓝背……”
我于是又很盼望下雪。
闰土又对我说：
“现在太冷，你夏天到我们这里来。我们日里到海边捡贝壳去，红的绿的都有，鬼见怕也有，观音手⑸也有。晚上我和爹管西瓜去，你也去。”
“管贼么？”
“不是。走路的人口渴了摘一个瓜吃，我们这里是不算偷的。要管的是獾猪，刺猬，猹。月亮底下，你听，啦啦的响了，猹在咬瓜了。你便捏了胡叉，轻轻地走去……”
我那时并不知道这所谓猹的是怎么一件东西——便是现在也没有知道——只是无端的觉得状如小狗而很凶猛。
“他不咬人么？”
“有胡叉呢。走到了，看见猹了，你便刺。这畜生很伶俐，倒向你奔来，反从胯下窜了。他的皮毛是油一般的滑……”
我素不知道天下有这许多新鲜事：海边有如许五色的贝壳；西瓜有这样危险的经历，我先前单知道他在水果电里出卖罢了。
“我们沙地里，潮汛要来的时候，就有许多跳鱼儿只是跳，都有青蛙似的两个脚……”
阿！闰土的心里有无穷无尽的希奇的事，都是我往常的朋友所不知道的。他们不知道一些事，闰土在海边时，他们都和我一样只看见院子里高墙上的四角的天空。
可惜正月过去了，闰土须回家里去，我急得大哭，他也躲到厨房里，哭着不肯出门，但终于被他父亲带走了。他后来还托他的父亲带给我一包贝壳和几支很好看的鸟毛，我也曾送他一两次东西，但从此没有再见面。
现在我的母亲提起了他，我这儿时的记忆，忽而全都闪电似的苏生过来，似乎看到了我的美丽的故乡了。我应声说：
“这好极！他，——怎样？……”
“他？……他景况也很不如意……”母亲说着，便向房外看，“这些人又来了。说是买木器，顺手也就随便拿走的，我得去看看。”
母亲站起身，出去了。门外有几个女人的声音。我便招宏儿走近面前，和他闲话：问他可会写字，可愿意出门。
“我们坐火车去么？”
“我们坐火车去。”
“船呢？”
“先坐船，……”
“哈！这模样了！胡子这么长了！”一种尖利的怪声突然大叫起来。
我吃了一吓，赶忙抬起头，却见一个凸颧骨，薄嘴唇，五十岁上下的女人站在我面前，两手搭在髀间，没有系裙，张着两脚，正像一个画图仪器里细脚伶仃的圆规。
我愕然了。
“不认识了么？我还抱过你咧！”
我愈加愕然了。幸而我的母亲也就进来，从旁说：
“他多年出门，统忘却了。你该记得罢，”便向着我说，“这是斜对门的杨二嫂，……开豆腐店的。”
哦，我记得了。我孩子时候，在斜对门的豆腐店里确乎终日坐着一个杨二嫂，人都叫伊“豆腐西施”⑹。但是擦着白粉，颧骨没有这么高，嘴唇也没有这么薄，而且终日坐着，我也从没有见过这圆规式的姿势。那时人说：因为伊，这豆腐店的买卖非常好。但这大约因为年龄的关系，我却并未蒙着一毫感化，所以竟完全忘却了。然而圆规很不平，显出鄙夷的神色，仿佛嗤笑法国人不知道拿破仑⑺，美国人不知道华盛顿⑻似的，冷笑说：
“忘了？这真是贵人眼高……”
“那有这事……我……”我惶恐着，站起来说。
“那么，我对你说。迅哥儿，你阔了，搬动又笨重，你还要什么这些破烂木器，让我拿去罢。我们小户人家，用得着。”
“我并没有阔哩。我须卖了这些，再去……”
“阿呀呀，你放了道台⑼了，还说不阔？你现在有三房姨太太；出门便是八抬的大轿，还说不阔？吓，什么都瞒不过我。”
我知道无话可说了，便闭了口，默默的站着。
“阿呀阿呀，真是愈有钱，便愈是一毫不肯放松，愈是一毫不肯放松，便愈有钱……”圆规一面愤愤的回转身，一面絮絮的说，慢慢向外走，顺便将我母亲的一副手套塞在裤腰里，出去了。
此后又有近处的本家和亲戚来访问我。我一面应酬，偷空便收拾些行李，这样的过了三四天。
一日是天气很冷的午后，我吃过午饭，坐着喝茶，觉得外面有人进来了，便回头去看。我看时，不由的非常出惊，慌忙站起身，迎着走去。
这来的便是闰土。虽然我一见便知道是闰土，但又不是我这记忆上的闰土了。他身材增加了一倍；先前的紫色的圆脸，已经变作灰黄，而且加上了很深的皱纹；眼睛也像他父亲一样，周围都肿得通红，这我知道，在海边种地的人，终日吹着海风，大抵是这样的。他头上是一顶破毡帽，身上只一件极薄的棉衣，浑身瑟索着；手里提着一个纸包和一支长烟管，那手也不是我所记得的红活圆实的手，却又粗又笨而且开裂，像是松树皮了。
我这时很兴奋，但不知道怎么说才好，只是说：
“阿！闰土哥，——你来了？……”
我接着便有许多话，想要连珠一般涌出：角鸡，跳鱼儿，贝壳，猹，……但又总觉得被什么挡着似的，单在脑里面回旋，吐不出口外去。
他站住了，脸上现出欢喜和凄凉的神情；动着嘴唇，却没有作声。他的态度终于恭敬起来了，分明的叫道：
“老爷！……”
我似乎打了一个寒噤；我就知道，我们之间已经隔了一层可悲的厚障壁了。我也说不出话。
他回过头去说，“水生，给老爷磕头。”便拖出躲在背后的孩子来，这正是一个廿年前的闰土，只是黄瘦些，颈子上没有银圈罢了。“这是第五个孩子，没有见过世面，躲躲闪闪……”
母亲和宏儿下楼来了，他们大约也听到了声音。
“老太太。信是早收到了。我实在喜欢的不得了，知道老爷回来……”闰土说。
“阿，你怎的这样客气起来。你们先前不是哥弟称呼么？还是照旧：迅哥儿。”母亲高兴的说。
“阿呀，老太太真是……这成什么规矩。那时是孩子，不懂事……”闰土说着，又叫水生上来打拱，那孩子却害羞，紧紧的只贴在他背后。
“他就是水生？第五个？都是生人，怕生也难怪的；还是宏儿和他去走走。”母亲说。
宏儿听得这话，便来招水生，水生却松松爽爽同他一路出去了。母亲叫闰土坐，他迟疑了一回，终于就了坐，将长烟管靠在桌旁，递过纸包来，说：
“冬天没有什么东西了。这一点干青豆倒是自家晒在那里的，请老爷……”
我问问他的景况。他只是摇头。
“非常难。第六个孩子也会帮忙了，却总是吃不够……又不太平……什么地方都要钱，没有规定……收成又坏。种出东西来，挑去卖，总要捐几回钱，折了本；不去卖，又只能烂掉……”
他只是摇头；脸上虽然刻着许多皱纹，却全然不动，仿佛石像一般。他大约只是觉得苦，却又形容不出，沉默了片时，便拿起烟管来默默的吸烟了。
母亲问他，知道他的家里事务忙，明天便得回去；又没有吃过午饭，便叫他自己到厨下炒饭吃去。
他出去了；母亲和我都叹息他的景况：多子，饥荒，苛税，兵，匪，官，绅，都苦得他像一个木偶人了。母亲对我说，凡是不必搬走的东西，尽可以送他，可以听他自己去拣择。
下午，他拣好了几件东西：两条长桌，四个椅子，一副香炉和烛台，一杆抬秤。他又要所有的草灰（我们这里煮饭是烧稻草的，那灰，可以做沙地的肥料），待我们启程的时候，他用船来载去。
夜间，我们又谈些闲天，都是无关紧要的话；第二天早晨，他就领了水生回去了。
又过了九日，是我们启程的日期。闰土早晨便到了，水生没有同来，却只带着一个五岁的女儿管船只。我们终日很忙碌，再没有谈天的工夫。来客也不少，有送行的，有拿东西的，有送行兼拿东西的。待到傍晚我们上船的时候，这老屋里的所有破旧大小粗细东西，已经一扫而空了。
我们的船向前走，两岸的青山在黄昏中，都装成了深黛颜色，连着退向船后梢去。
宏儿和我靠着船窗，同看外面模糊的风景，他忽然问道：
“大伯！我们什么时候回来？”
“回来？你怎么还没有走就想回来了。”
“可是，水生约我到他家玩去咧……”他睁着大的黑眼睛，痴痴的想。
我和母亲也都有些惘然，于是又提起闰土来。母亲说，那豆腐西施的杨二嫂，自从我家收拾行李以来，本是每日必到的，前天伊在灰堆里，掏出十多个碗碟来，议论之后，便定说是闰土埋着的，他可以在运灰的时候，一齐搬回家里去；杨二嫂发见了这件事，自己很以为功，便拿了那狗气杀（这是我们这里养鸡的器具，木盘上面有着栅栏，内盛食料，鸡可以伸进颈子去啄，狗却不能，只能看着气死），飞也似的跑了，亏伊装着这么高低的小脚，竟跑得这样快。
老屋离我愈远了；故乡的山水也都渐渐远离了我，但我却并不感到怎样的留恋。我只觉得我四面有看不见的高墙，将我隔成孤身，使我非常气闷；那西瓜地上的银项圈的小英雄的影像，我本来十分清楚，现在却忽地模糊了，又使我非常的悲哀。
母亲和宏儿都睡着了。
我躺着，听船底潺潺的水声，知道我在走我的路。我想：我竟与闰土隔绝到这地步了，但我们的后辈还是一气，宏儿不是正在想念水生么。我希望他们不再像我，又大家隔膜起来……然而我又不愿意他们因为要一气，都如我的辛苦展转而生活，也不愿意他们都如闰土的辛苦麻木而生活，也不愿意都如别人的辛苦恣睢而生活。他们应该有新的生活，为我们所未经生活过的。
我想到希望，忽然害怕起来了。闰土要香炉和烛台的时候，我还暗*乩镄λ*以为他总是崇拜偶像，什么时候都不忘却。现在我所谓希望，不也是我自己手制的偶像么？只是他的愿望切近，我的愿望茫远罢了。
我在朦胧中，眼前展开一片海边碧绿的沙地来，上面深蓝的天空中挂着一轮金黄的圆月。我想：希望本是无所谓有，无所谓无的。这正如地上的路；其实地上本没有路，走的人多了，也便成了路。
一九二一年一月。
□注释
⑴本篇最初发表于一九二一年五月《新青年》第九卷第一号。
⑵猹：作者在一九二九年五月四日致舒新城的信中说：“‘猹’字是我据乡下人所说的声音，生造出来的，读如‘查’。……现在想起来，也许是獾罢。”
⑶大祭祀的值年：封建社会中的大家族，每年都有祭祀祖先的活动，费用从族中“祭产”收入支取，由各房按年轮流主持，轮到的称为“值年”。
⑷五行缺土：旧社会所谓算“八字”的迷信说法。即用天干（甲乙丙丁戊己庚辛壬癸）和地支（子丑寅卯辰巳午未申酉戌亥）相配，来记一个人出生的年、月、日、时，各得两字，合为“八字”；又认为它们在五行（金、木、水、火、土）中各有所属，如甲乙寅卯属木，丙丁巳午属火等等，如八个字能包括五者，就是五行俱全。“五行缺土”，就是这八个字中没有属土的字，需用土或土作偏旁的字取名等办法来弥补。
⑸鬼见怕和观音手，都是小贝壳的名称。旧时浙江沿海的人把这种小贝壳用线串在一起，戴在孩子的手腕或脚踝上，认为可以“避邪”。这类名称多是根据“避邪”的意思取的。
⑹西施：春秋时越国的美女，后来用以泛称一般美女。
⑺拿破仑（１７６９—１８２１）：即拿破仑·波拿巴，法国资产阶级革命时期的军事家、政治家。一七九九年担任共和国执政。一八○四年建立法兰西第一帝国，自称拿破仑一世。
⑻华盛顿（１７３２—１７９９）：即乔治·华盛顿，美国政治家。他曾领导一七七五年至一七八三年美国反对英国殖民统治的独立战争，胜利后任美国第一任总统。
⑼道台：清朝官职道员的俗称，分总管一个区域行政职务的道员和专掌某一特定职务的道员。前者是省以下、府州以上的行政长官；后者掌管一省特定事务，如督粮道、兵备道等。辛亥革命后，北洋军阀政府也曾沿用此制，改称道尹。