CHAPTER 91

2025-10-01

The shaping of one’s character rests largely on two foundations: the qualities we are born with, and the nurture we receive afterward. Yet the environment and conditions in which that nurture takes place also play a decisive role.

When our younger son was about a year old, we noticed a telling habit. While watching television, he would often turn his head toward us, his face brimming with expression, and babble as though eager to share his impressions. From this, we knew he had the desire and capacity to communicate, as well as a lively curiosity about his surroundings and the animated stories before him. He also imitated us as we wrote, quietly sitting with paper and pencil in hand, filling the page with markings that already had order and intent.

But once he began school, it became clear that in unfamiliar settings, his nervousness showed itself as shyness. He seldom revealed the abilities we had glimpsed at home.

The pace of growth between the two brothers was markedly different. The younger one developed quickly, and once it was confirmed that he was not on the autism spectrum, my wife and I divided our roles. I continued to devote myself to Lun, while she cared for the younger boy’s daily needs. As for discipline and moral guidance, the final say fell to me. For the sake of efficiency, my methods were strict; punishment was stern. Both boys feared me.

In truth, I treated them differently. Lun had been an only child for six years before his brother was born. After Lun’s autism diagnosis at age four, our attention became even more concentrated on him, with patience and indulgence given almost without measure.

By contrast, when his younger brother arrived, I could only share with him what little time remained. He never received the same depth of attention. By then, Lun was already six, full of restless energy, requiring constant vigilance from me. Given the demands of daily life, I managed the younger boy almost as one manages crises—decisively, briskly, with little room for leniency.

When he entered preschool, my wife gently pointed out that I was too severe, that my sternness only heightened his anxiety. From that moment, I began to soften, to interact with him more warmly. Over time, the relationship eased, and he grew more at ease with me.

I recall one incident vividly. My wife was waiting by the roadside with our younger son for the school bus to bring Lun home. Suddenly, a puppy slipped its leash, darted across the street, and ran straight at the boy. My wife had no time to stop it. Though the dog meant no harm, it startled him badly. Turning to his mother, he said: “If only Daddy were here.”

My wife and I interpreted those words with a wry smile. To him, his father was more fearsome than a charging dog. That was the image, and the authority, I held in his heart.