The boy does as much as he can. He befriends as many Hun’Kui as he can. Many of them are pleasant. Many of them are amusing.
But they have so little potential. They are so primitive. It is difficult to connect with them on anything other than the most superficial of subject matter.
They are wild. They are impulsive. They are little better than animals, driven almost entirely by their instincts. Civilizing them will take many, many years, the boy feels.
But that, too, is fine. For the Hun’Sho are blessed with immortality. However long is required, the deed will be done.
And yet...
Father spends so much time with the Hun’Kui. They are constantly demanding his attention, constantly in desperate need of it. Of course they are. They cannot help themselves. They are as pitiful as newborn babies and even slower to learn. Entire generations of Hun’Kui come and go, making the same essential mistakes their entire lives.
So why does Father seem to enjoy their company so much more? Why does He forgive and forget their transgressions so easily? This was not how He raised the Hun’Sho. He was strict. He was instructive. He was attentive. Yet now He is none of those things. Now He spends almost all of His time with the Hun’Kui, not even bothering to teach them anything. He simply idles among them, which surely only serves to reinforce the Hun’Kui’s own problem of idleness, no?
Slowly, it is all falling apart. The boy sees it, day by day. The world that he and his brethren have built under Father’s guidance--it is beginning to rot. Progress is being lost. Potential is being lost.
The boy does not know what to do. This is when Father would normally encourage him or teach him something new, something useful and helpful to everyone. But Father is not doing that. Father is too busy attending to the Hun’Kui.
Their work is failing. They cannot seem to help the Hun’Kui. They are outnumbered so greatly. The Hun’Kui multiply at such a rate that the Hun’Sho cannot keep up. It is too much work, trying to help all of them.
The boy tells Father of these concerns.
But Father does nothing. He says only to keep trying.
It makes so little sense. Did He not design the Hun’Sho to achieve His ideal? Why, then, does the good behavior of the Hun’Sho go unrewarded? Why does the bad behavior of the Hun’Kui always seem to earn Father’s attention? His affection, even?
The boy does not understand. Were the Hun’Sho not Father’s favorite? How could that be? They work so much harder than the Hun’Kui. They try every day to better themselves, to follow Father’s teachings.
Why must this feel so painful? Even the Hun’Kui, with all of Father’s attention, seem to be largely miserable. There are so many of them in need, and they cannot all bask in the glory of Father’s presence simultaneously.
The boy is not sure for how much longer he can withstand it. And his peers, the other Guong, are all expressing similar sentiments.
But what can be done? This is Father’s will, no?
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