Chapter 7 (2/2)

It was the chair the Chen Zhang An sat in thethere throughout, his eyes closed, listening to him play quietly

'Zhang An, did it sound nice?’ Lu Feng spoke to hi

He stood up fro around the dark rooh the ,up a portion of a wall in the room

On that lighted portion hung several portrait paintings

On one of the paintings was a ar and the other a glass of wine His lidded eyes seeht

The painting beside it showed aon His broas lightly furrowed as though his sleep was uneasy His pale body, littered with red , rapped in a nest of black satin sheets

Portrait after portrait, the roo held the same face

Thea croith a conte in a hu viewers outside the painting with remote and indifferent eyes

Without any exception, all of the An

'Zhang An… …’

Chanting the hed in a craze He rather Chen Zhang An killed him with his bare hands than to live in this unbearable reality

'You aren’t dead, you can’t be dead, you definitely can’t dead’

As though he was ently caressed the face of the man in the portrait When he closed his eyes, it felt like thathim