CHAPTER 78

2026-07-28

Finding joy amid hardship, growing through adversity. If we want to keep living, we must find a way forward.

It has just passed six o'clock in the morning. Daylight has already filled the sky outside. Since five o'clock, Lun has been pacing back and forth in his hospital room. There is no hope of persuading him to go back to sleep for now, so I write to pass the time—a firsthand account of what I am witnessing.

Half asleep, I heard a sound. In the darkness, I looked toward where Lun was sleeping and could just make out a large plush toy lying on the floor. It is his bedtime companion in the hospital, an Artificial Individual (AI) brought from his group home—a unicorn doll with a large head and oversized eyes.

Its entire body is covered with reversible sequins. After dinner each evening, Lun sits on his own "dragon throne" sofa, running his fingers back and forth over the blue-and-white sequins, enjoying the ever-changing reflections while also feeling the texture beneath his fingertips.

At bedtime, he keeps the doll beside his pillow. During the night, as he tosses and turns, the large toy inevitably ends up squeezed onto the floor.

It was still dark, so I went back to sleep...

Then I heard the sound of the mattress being compressed, followed by a faint, rhythmic noise, and then, "Mm... mm... ah." It was Lun.

For the past several months, this has become his daily routine: pacing back and forth while making anxious, monotonous sounds. The only differences are the speed of his pacing, how long it lasts, the volume of his voice, the pitch, the frequency, and whether it is accompanied by shrieks or wails.

At his worst, while in the hospital emergency department, he angrily shook his head violently up and down. His upper and lower jaws slammed together, causing his teeth to chatter rapidly with sharp clicking sounds. Watching this broke his father's heart.

With both hands clasped behind his back, his slightly stooped figure moved back and forth through the dark room. Feeling around in the darkness, I found my watch. After checking it several times, I concluded it was about five o'clock in the morning.

I calculated that Lun had gone to bed at eight o'clock the previous evening and fallen asleep soon after the lights were turned off. By now, he had actually slept for nine hours. He had slept enough. He had simply gone to bed early and woken early. It was unrealistic to expect another twelve-hour sleep like the previous night, from 8 p.m. to 8 a.m.

I took out the warm slippers I had brought him the night before and helped him put them on. A male staff member from his group home, who rides a motorcycle, had suggested that they might help prevent the blisters on the soles of his feet from worsening because of his prolonged pacing. I also helped him put on a long-sleeved jacket to keep warm.

I lay down for a little while longer, but Lun simply could not stop pacing. Hearing the sounds, the nurse on duty came several times to help, bringing snacks, medication, and clean bedding. By then, I was fully awake, so I brushed my teeth to freshen up.

Since childhood, Lun has experienced similar episodes every year. Most of the time, his anxiety subsides on its own. This time, however, it has lasted for more than two months. At one point, in the middle of the night, he carried the drawers out of his room in the group home and placed them outside. On another occasion, during the day, he suddenly ran into traffic. That was the most serious incident of all.

It is now 7:15 a.m. At one point, exhausted, he sat quietly on the sofa for fifteen minutes. But now he is back on his feet, repeating the same familiar pattern.

Now that I am retired, I only have to wait until nine o'clock, when the group home staff arrive to relieve me, and I can finally have some time and space to rest. In the past, when I was still working and Lun faced similar challenges, I had no choice but to compress my schedule, work at full speed, and eat heartily to maintain my strength. Every day, I drove at least sixty kilometres commuting to and from work. Although exhausting, concentrating on the road helped clear my mind and shifted my stress elsewhere, restoring some balance. Back at work, interacting with colleagues and clients reconnected me with the world. I had opportunities to express myself instead of isolating myself on an island. My mind was stimulated in a different way.

Life is full of things and stories that seem true but are false, and false but appear true. I learned this as a child in Hong Kong from the comedy sketches on the classic television variety show Enjoy Yourself Tonight. They entertained others while entertaining themselves, easing stress from beginning to end.

After being tempered by Lun for so many years, whenever he becomes agitated, I usually choose to watch quietly rather than argue, because words accomplish nothing. Sometimes all I need is a moment to catch my breath.

So I have learned not to do things that accomplish nothing, not to say words that serve no purpose, and not to concern myself with people who have no heart. Losing my temper helps not at all. If sadness and grief cannot improve the situation but only drag me down, then I must stop dwelling on them.

It is simply a matter of not indulging in unnecessary sentimentality.

Finding joy amid hardship, growing through adversity. If we want to keep living, we must find a way forward.