Painting Dreams
by Li Faqiang
About This Novel
The day my father died was the eighteenth day of the twelfth lunar month, and the weather in Maidi Village was extremely cold. It has been snowing for several days. It snowed during the day and froze at night. The snow was so frozen that it felt like a trance when you stepped on it. My father was lying in the tomb, his whole body cold. He ended his life in such an unexpected way. I knelt before the grave, caressing his body with my hands. The snow light reflected into the tomb, and I saw my father's face. His eyes were closed and his expression was peaceful, like a child sleeping peacefully. Yes, my father is asleep, he is dreaming. I stood up and shouted "Dad". I wanted to wake him up, but I knew he was dead and my father was dead. My voice slid across the snow, causing the scattered snowflakes on the icy trees to fly away. I looked at my father. There are no tears on my face and no sadness in my heart.
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