The Sun Doesn't Want to Rise

"Master, why does the sun rise?" The little boy clutched the sleeves of his father beside him, looked up at his little face that was stained by the sunlight, and looked at his father beside him with burning eyes. The middle-aged man, who did not expect his son to ask such a question, pondered for a moment, and then spoke in a clear voice wrapped in the mountain breeze: "The sun rises to bring an end to the dark night and to illuminate a clear path for those who are on the road." The boy blinked his shining eyes and said with a stubborn tone like a child: "But no one has ever asked the sun if he wants to do this! He gets up early every day to illuminate and warm everyone. Will he feel tired?" The middle-aged man was startled when he heard the words. He looked at the boy's eyes as clear as a stream. He raised his hand to push away the sweat-dampened hair from the boy's forehead. His fingertips were slightly cooled by the mountain breeze: "Silly boy, maybe you don't need to 'think' about the sun." He pointed to the sun that was rising higher and higher. The golden light was dazzling. "Its rise is a duty engraved in the bones and blood, just like the clear springs in the mountains that want to flow and the buds on the branches to bloom." The boy tilted his head and frowned: "Duty? What if Taiyang doesn't want to keep his duty?" The middle-aged man laughed: "If it really didn't want to, it wouldn't have this morning and dusk glow. You see, the grass and trees on the mountains and the travelers on the road are all nourished by its light." He paused and looked at the sky: "The real 'duty' is never to force oneself, but to illuminate others, oneself also becomes the light." The boy pursed his lips as if he didn't understand, and reached out to grasp the golden light in his palm, only to find a piece of warmth on his fingertips.