Inside the gallery, many visitors walked around, but one figure remained motionless. It was a man with a hat, staring at a picture for more than half an hour. His eyes reflected the pretty face of the little boy in the picture. If any visitor was willing to stop and look carefully into his eyes, he would have found that this man seemed to be remembering something. In fact, it was the glovemaker’s boy. Although he had already grown up, his eyes still shone with a pure light.

The young man stood still for another five minutes and then took a few steps slowly, turning his head towards the picture once again. When he moved, he collided with a man violently, and his hat fell onto the ground. “Sorry, sir,” the young man said tremblingly, bending down to pick up his hat. “Are you the painter, Hayden Jones?” the man said in excitement. The young man looked up. It was a middle-aged man with a thick beard and gold glasses. “Yes, I am,” Hayden said. He was shocked that the man could recognise him. “Would you like a cup of coffee so that we can have a chat?” The man smiled kindly.

They came into a coffee shop in Porta Rosa. “Two cups of cappuccino, please.” The man began to introduce himself. Through his words, Hayden learnt that the man was a mer- chant and had just moved to Florence two weeks ago. “You can call me Mr. K, I love appreciating artwork very much.” He took a small sip of his coffee and said, “Today’s exhibition was very impressive, especially the painting of a boy on a metal pig.”

Hayden’s heart started to beat wildly.

“Re…really? I love it, too,” said Hayden in a trembling voice. Mr. K was surprised by his strange reaction. “However, I don’t know why the little boy would sit on the metal pig.” Since the merchant seemed confused about this and looked sincere, Hayden decided to tell him the childhood experience he had had with the metal pig. “So you are the boy in the picture! That’s unbelievable!” Mr. K laughed. Although Mr. K still thought that Hayden was telling an absurd joke, an evil idea came to him instantly. 

After a few days, Mr. K called Hayden out again. “These days I’ve been thinking about whether you have the interest to draw the scenes you had seen to keep them as souvenirs that will exist forever.” Seeing that Hayden was still hesitating, Mr. K hastened to per- suade him further. “It’s not only for you, but more people will also know the story of the metal pig.” Hearing this, the memory of that cold winter night flashed back to Hayden’s mind. Over the years of adversity, it was this memory that had given him power. And now, he wanted to encourage those who were suffering.

He nodded.

“I’m so happy that you have made the right decision!” A greedy smile appeared on the merchant’s face.

A week later, when the cold winter wind blew over the city, Hayden appeared with a wad of scratch paper under the metal pig as promised. The merchant then arrived. A greedy light sparkled in his eyes when he saw those pieces of paper held in Hayden’s hands. He took the paper instantly and began to read. On those wrinkled papers, he saw the moon- light shining brightly, the vivid metallic groups of figures, the charming Venus de’ Medici, the picture of children who believed they would arrive in heaven. The paintings were so real, like plots of a movie.

At the same time as the exhibition, Mr. K held a new exhibition showing Hayden’s paint- ing. He advertised it as the behind-the-scenes story of the popular picture. Within one day, the miracle story of a metal pig and a little boy soon spread over the city. More and more people wanted to view it with their own eyes. However, to Hayden’s surprise, the tricky businessman started to collect an expensive admission fee. Some poor people who couldn’t afford the fee were not allowed to enter the exhibition. Hayden found Mr. K and said, “My original intention was to let people know that no matter how unfortunate their lives are, as long as they keep their hearts pure, they could still reach the world of heaven. However, now people who are as poor as I am are not allowed to see the exhibition.” “But who cares if the story is true or not! The magical world is just a joke!” The greedy merchant counted the bills and said coldly without looking up.

He was right.

Only kids would believe in his story. Adults just saw it as an absurd joke. Suddenly, Hayden felt like his world had collapsed, and it was hard for him to believe that the fantastic experiences that had shown up in his dreams countless times were just a joke for many people. He felt desperate, and maybe there were too many ugly things in the world, so only a few people could believe that good things truly existed.

On that cold winter night, when the freezing wind blew coldly over Porta Rosa, Hayden came to the metal pig again and sat on it just as he did when he was a little boy. He leant forward and fell asleep. It was midnight; the young man heard a voice coming from the pig. “I know that you will come back someday. Time flies, but your heart remains as innocent as when you were a child. Let’s go to heaven, as there will be no pain anymore.” The pig began to run. They entered the long gallery and passed from hall to hall. Once again, he saw that the two kids who appeared to have full confidence would reach heaven at last. There were also the older people who stood as if they were uncertain, yet hopeful, and they bowed in humble adoration to the Lord Jesus…

“Now I’m going to heaven, too,” he murmured.

The next morning, the young painter was found dead on the back of the metal pig, with a peaceful smile on his face.*