There once lived an old man who spent his later years alone. His son, often claiming to be busy with work, rarely visited or properly cared for his frail father. One day, while cleaning the room, the son noticed a wooden chest he had never seen before. When he asked his father what was inside, the old man merely smiled and said nothing.
Finding this strange, the son later shook the chest when his father wasn’t around. From inside came a faint clinking sound. Convinced it must contain treasures his father had quietly saved over a lifetime, the son’s attitude changed at once. From that day on, he prepared his father’s meals with care, took walks with him, and kept him company with warm conversation, tending to him devotedly.
A few months later, as his illness worsened, the old man placed the key to the chest in his son’s hand and quietly passed away. After the funeral, the son opened the chest with trembling hands, his heart heavy with expectation. But instead of jewels or gold, he found only a few pieces of scrap metal and a letter. As he read the words, tears filled his eyes. He unfolded the letter and began to read:
“As I grew old and frail, the people around me drifted away one by one. You were all I had left to lean on, but you were so busy with your own life that I could hardly see you at all. So I came up with a small plan. It was the only way I knew to keep you close. Please forgive me for tricking you. Because of you, I am able to close my eyes in peace. Thank you, my son, for the love I felt in my final days.”
Gripping the chest, the son wept bitterly.
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