Henry Tyler made the catch of the year on the weekend. When he saw a young child hanging from a sixth-floor apartment balcony (阳台), Henry ran one hundred metres, jumped over a 1. 2-metre fence, and held out his arms to catch the     1     (fall) child.

…

Eric woke up a little later when he heard children playing outside. He pushed a chair onto the balcony, and climbed up     2     (see) them.

8 . We journalists live in a new age of storytelling, with many new multimedia tools. Many young people don’t even realize it’s new. For them, it’s just normal.

This hit home for me as I was sitting with my 2-year-old grandson on a sofa over the Spring Festival holiday. I had brought a children’s book to read. It had simple words and colorful pictures — a perfect match for his age.

Picture this: my grandson sitting on my lap as I hold the book in front so he can see the pictures. As I read, he reaches out and pokes (戳) the page with his finger.

What’s up with that? He just likes the pictures, I thought. Then I turned the page and continued. He poked the page even harder. I nearly dropped the book. I was confused: Is there something wrong with this kid?

Then I realized what was happening. He was actually a stranger to books. His father frequently amused the boy with a tablet computer which was loaded with colorful pictures that come alive when you poke them. He thought my storybook was like that.

Sorry, kid. This book is not part of your high-tech world. It’s an outdated, lifeless thing. An antique, like your grandfather. Well, I may be old, but I’m not hopelessly challenged, digitally speaking. I edit video and produce audio. I use mobile payment. I’ve even built websites.

There’s one notable gap in my new-media experience, however: I’ve spent little time in front of a camera, since I have a face made for radio. But that didn’t stop China Daily from asking me last week to share a personal story for a video project about the integration of Beijing, Tianjin and Hebei province.

Anyway, grandpa is now an internet star — two minutes of fame! I promise not to let it go to my head. But I will make sure my 2-year-old grandson sees it on his tablet.

9 . He was an old man who fished alone in a small boat in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish. In the first forty days a boy had been with him. But after forty days without a fish the boy’s parents had told him that the old man was now definitely and finally salao, which is the worst form of unluck, and the boy had gone at their orders in another boat which caught three good fish the first week. It made the boy sad to see the old man come in each day with his boat empty and he always went down to help carry either the fishing lines or the spear. The sail was old and, rolled, it looked like the flag of permanent defeat.

The old man was very thin with deep wrinkles in the back of his neck. The brown spots of the skin cancer the sun brings from its reflection on the tropic sea were on his cheeks. The spots ran well down the sides of his face and his hands had the deep scar from handling heavy fish on the thick ropes. But none of these scars were fresh. They were as old as erosions (侵蚀) in a fishless desert. Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same color as the sea and were cheerful and undefeated.

“Santiago,” the boy said to him as they climbed the bank from where the boat was pulled up. “I could go with you again. We’ve made some money.”

The old man had taught the boy to fish and the boy loved him. :

“No,” the old man said. “You’re with a lucky boat. Stay with them,”

“But remember how you went eighty-seven days without fish and then we caught big ones every day for three weeks.

“I remember,” the old man said. “I know you did not leave me because you doubted.”

10 . I was with my mom one day as we took a walk while window shopping. We both knew we wouldn't be buying much. I remember I was looking up at the people we passed as we walked. Ladies wore 5-inch heels and bright clothes. Men wore expensive perfumes and creams that wiped away the wrinkles on their faces. An uneasy feeling started to settle in my chest. I could deny it no longer and I was ashamed of my mom.

We were in a high-class neighborhood. We lived in a small, expensive apartment building at the edge of our county. Mom chose to move there because she knew the schools were good. I realized for the first time that we didn't belong there.

I could see the heavy lines around my mom's eyes and mouth. She wore cheap clothes and worn-out shoes. Her eyes were tired from working long hours to make ends meet, and her hair was too gray for her age. She was nothing extraordinary, yet at that moment, she stood out because she was just so plain. I didn't want to be seen with her although there was no one important around to see me anyway. I felt embarrassed about being at her side. We were standing in the middle of a high-end store, and she was holding a sweater.

Mom said, “Anna, this will look good on you. Do you want it?” It Was much too expensive, but I almost thoughtlessly answered “Yes”. Then I took a closer look at the small, tired woman with a big smile and a sweater in her hands, happy to be giving me something so nice. My words died in my throat. Her clothes were worn and old because she spent her money buying me new ones. She looked so tired because she was busy working to provide for me. She didn't wear jewelry or perfumes because she was content with spending what little money she had on me. Suddenly, my mom was beautiful and extraordinarily wonderful in my eyes. I was no longer ashamed of her, but of myself.

“Do you want it?” Mom repeated.

“No, thanks,” I replied.