The Great Dream God

Dahu felt that he was just an ordinary postman in the inn. His life was like the unchanging aroma of wine in the inn. Although it existed, it was often ignored. Compared with those postmen who galloped in the vast wilderness, accompanied by the wind and horses, he seemed too silent and too quiet. Their days passed by in the galloping of horses, but Dahu was rooted in the soil of this inn, day after day, year after year.

His world is gray, with no distant scenery, only the coming and going of guests in front of him. Every time the horse bells ring, it seems to remind him of the monotony and boredom of life. He looks at the smiles, tears, expectations and disappointments of the travelers, but cannot blend in with them. He can only watch silently in the corner, like a lonely tree, quietly watching the change of seasons, but unable to follow the direction of the wind.

Dahu's life is like a forgotten poem, with each page repeating the same chapter, without magnificent adventures or exciting encounters. His days flow in the shadow of the inn, like a low elegy, full of endless regrets and a touch of melancholy. However, even in such a life, Dahu still sticks to his post. Although his heart has been wrapped in layers of pessimism, he still illuminates this small inn with a faint light, waiting for every soul that needs to rest.

Da Hu is a postman trapped in the fog of the post station. Like an unknown star, he is embedded in the edge of history and performs the most inconspicuous tasks. Stationed in the rarely visited post station, his life is like a forgotten poem, plain and lonely. Here, wind, frost, snow and rain are his only companions, and the stars and moonlight are his closest friends.

Dahu's status is humble, just like the dim candlelight in the post station, weak but indispensable. His job is menial, just delivering official documents and receiving passing travelers, but it is an important link in maintaining the veins of the empire. Despite this, he has never complained, because he knows that every small role is weaving a grand narrative.

His life is simple and stable, with a virtuous wife, filial sons and obedient daughters. Sitting around the warm kang every night, enjoying the simple warmth, is his greatest happiness. Despite the turbulent outside world, the world in the post station is like a pool of still water, with a hint of tenacity in the strange calm.

Yesterday, a rare thick fog quietly descended, like a huge gray curtain, ruthlessly covering this vast land and plunging everything into a chaotic fog. The fog was thick and oppressive, as if it had life, squeezing every breath and making it hard to breathe. As far as the eye could see, there were only vague outlines swaying in the fog, and everything was swallowed up by the endless whiteness.

At dawn, the fog slowly dissipated, and the sun struggled to penetrate the clouds, sprinkling on the land that had just awakened from the fog. However, when Dahu trembled and pushed open the door of the post station, what greeted him was not the warm morning light, but an unspeakable nightmare. He widened his eyes, and everything in front of him made his soul tremble - the once warm home, now only two lifeless human skins were left, quietly hanging on the wall, like a weird painting, silently telling the horrible fact.

The laughter, crying, and calling of Da Hu's wife and children seemed to still echo in his ears, but now, they only stared at him with empty eyes. The once familiar faces have become so strange that it is creepy. The fog dissipated, but it took away all the colors in his life, leaving only a cold black and white, and the silence that pierced his heart.

Deep in Da Hu's heart, there was a dark despair like a bottomless abyss, swallowing up all his hopes and beliefs. He stared with empty eyes, as if questioning the injustice of heaven, his voice trembling, filled with unspeakable pain. "God, I, Da Hu, have lived an upright life and have never done anything wrong. Why do you treat me like this? What kind of punishment is this that makes me suffer such heart-wrenching pain!"

His wife, a gentle and kind woman, always had twinkling eyes when she smiled, and their child, whose young face was always filled with innocent smiles, these two most precious people in his life just disappeared before his eyes, dissipating like smoke. He could not accept, nor could he understand why fate had to take away his beloved so cruelly.

"How could they just leave me like this, leaving me alone in this cold world, facing endless darkness and loneliness?" Da Hu's tears fell on his bearded cheeks like pearls from a broken string, and every drop carried his sorrow and helplessness. His heart seemed to be torn apart by a wild beast, and every beat was accompanied by piercing pain.

That day, the sky was covered with dark clouds, as if the heavens were listening to Da Hu's deepest call. Da Hu's prayer was like a silent cry, passing through the thick clouds and reaching the sky. His wife and son, the two people he cared about most in his life, left this world due to an accident, leaving him alone to struggle in endless grief.

However, just when he was almost in despair, a miracle seemed to happen. That night, the moonlight was obscured by dark clouds, and only a faint lightning illuminated the dilapidated hut. Da Hu stared with his eyes wide open, unable to believe the scene before him - the two human skins lying flat on the bed seemed to be injected with life, slowly and strangely began to swell up.

At first, only the blood vessels under the skin were vaguely visible, like red veins drawn on fragile paper. Then, the skin began to soften, like a rubber membrane that had been blown up, and gradually the familiar outlines appeared. The two human skins, like two forgotten dolls, were awakened by an invisible force and slowly and terrifyingly regained their three-dimensional sense.

Da Hu was horrified, but he couldn't look away. His heart was trembling, fear and hope intertwined, forming a suffocating tension. He didn't know whether this was a gift from God or a more terrible punishment. In any case, he could only watch, watching the two human skins, like dolls in a nightmare, step by step towards the edge of resurrection.

After the suffocating silence, Da Hu and his wife and children in human skin seemed to be washed away by the tide of time and returned to the old days. Every minute and every second was filled with uneasy speculation. Da Hu was like being tightly entangled in a spider web of fear. He kept his eyes on his wife and children, fearing that at some inadvertent moment, they would reveal traces of inhumanity. Reflected in his wide eyes were those two familiar faces, even though they were now wrapped in strange skin bags.

Day after day, Da Hu spent his days in fear. In the morning, his wife still prepared breakfast for him, and his son still ran around laughing. Everything seemed so normal that it was unbelievable. He tried to find a trace of abnormality in their laughter, but he only heard the dullness and tranquility of life. At night, the moonlight sprinkled on the human skin, and the cold silver made them look more real, which made Da Hu's nerves even more tense.

Time is a cunning magician. It cleverly conceals the truth and makes Dahu begin to doubt his memory. He tries to convince himself that it was just a nightmare, an illusion caused by fatigue and stress. So he forces himself to adapt and believe everything in front of him, even though there is always an unhealed crack in his heart, reminding him of the horrible fact. In this way, day by day, Dahu's life swings between horror and pretended calm, as if walking on thin ice, and every step may fall into the abyss.