As the days grew shorter and the winds whispered tales of snow, a very cold winter settled over Li’s village. The river turned to ice, and the trees stood bare and shivering. Soon, the village grew quiet and sad. Many families had very little to eat, and their clothes were thin, offering little warmth against the biting chill.
Li watched from his window, his heart aching for his neighbors. He saw little children huddled together, their cheeks rosy from the cold, and older folks shivering by their empty hearths. He knew he had a secret, a wonderful gift, and he suddenly knew exactly what to do with it.
Carefully, Li took out his silver-wood brush. He found a large, clean scroll and began to paint. First, he painted a big, steaming bowl of rice, plump and white, with little wisps of steam curling up from it. He painted dozens of bowls, each one perfect and inviting. My word, what a sight met his eyes when he finished!