CHAPTER 46

Original: 2006-09-01

Rewritten: 2026-01-20

It turns out that when Lun does something wrong, he worries that his father will make him accountable afterward.

Because Lun cannot speak, it is very difficult for the two of us to understand his inner world. We often wonder: does he feel sorrow or worry?

I often joke with others, saying that Lun has pain, but no worries.

By saying he has pain, I mean that, like anyone else, he does suffer. For example, when he cannot get what he wants, he becomes uneasy and irritable, and may even burst into tears.

By saying he has no worries, I do not mean that he never feels anxious. Whenever he is not sure what the next day’s program will be, he becomes restless and sleeps poorly.

But when it comes to the word “worry,” its meaning goes deeper. Ordinary people worry about daily necessities such as supplies and food whereas he certainly does not. He simply places his “orders” (that is, gives instructions) and never worries about food or drink. We, like servants, always place the foods he loves right in front of him.

As for worrying about the country or the people, such ideas are utterly meaningless to him. I believe that in his world there is no nation and no populace. As for the people around him, he only distinguishes whether they are familiar and kind. Matters unrelated to him are completely ignored; he does not worry about the fate of the nation, nor about his own future.

I also do not believe that he lives in the past—harboring regret over past mistakes or feeling proud of any achievements.

Basically, he lives only at the moment, here and now, as well as anticipating the program of tomorrow.

That is why, on that day, when I went to visit him at the group home and he looked at me with frightened eyes, it was a new discovery for me. It turned out that earlier that morning, when he went with housemates and staff to a supermarket to buy food and daily necessities, he suddenly lost his temper and even struck the staff member who was primarily responsible for his care.

After returning to the residence, the staff reported the incident to the manager and recorded it in his log. Later in the afternoon, when he seemed about to lose his temper again, the staff on duty told him that his father would be coming to visit that evening. As soon as he heard the word “father,” he was so frightened that he immediately turned and ran away.

When my wife and I visited him, we noticed something unusual in his eyes but did not know why. We even thought he wanted to know what the next day’s program would be. My wife, being perceptive, flipped through Lun’s log. She told me that Lun had done a “good deed” that morning. My face immediately darkened, and Lun instantly sensed it.

I ignored him and read aloud the contents of the log. Lun grew tense, standing about two feet away from me, head lowered, staring fixedly at the side of my face. I told him that he had hit someone that morning and that it was wrong. At once he used both hands to plug his ears, knowing he was in trouble. Yet he still smiled—a mischievous, naughty child’s smile. I had no choice but to put on a stern face and act fierce, leading him to his bedroom and scolding him. Only after he learned to repeat after me once, saying “Sorry,” did I stop.

It was only that day that I realized: after doing something wrong, when Lun sees his father, he worries that I will make him accountable. And he knows that the log can convey messages. For me, this was a great gain.