My Father Was Celebrating His Adopted Daughter's Birthday When I Was Torn to Pieces by a Bear.

My father is a corpse painter in the village. He has a pair of wonderful hands. No matter how broken the corpse is, it will look as peaceful as if it had just fallen asleep. My sister abandoned me in the mountains. I fumbled and took out my mobile phone to ask for help, but the call was hung up. I was torn into pieces in despair by the black bear. But he was accompanying his sister to buy new clothes for her birthday. Three peaceful days later, my body parts were delivered to my father. This was the last time he drew a corpse. Even he felt sorry for the endless inhuman experiences of the deceased, but he never thought that this blind girl who had changed beyond recognition was me.