Honesty pays in the end

This was an unduly told story recounted in a minutely different way.

I did not realise the presence of my son until he dragged the right cuff of my shirt, causing the handwriting on my report to go awry. I sighed inwardly at the scribble, then turned to the ten-year-old, more out of concern than annoyance. "What d'you want, Danny? It's time to sleep."

"But I wouldn't now. Tell me one more story please, daddy," his voice was soft but insistent. Observing my hesitation, he simply hopped onto my lap, clinging to my chest. "Pleeaase."

I looked away at the pile of documents on my desk in despair, before turning back to him in regained composure. "You see, daddy's got lots of work to do tonight. Go to mommy, just once, all right?" I caressed his rosy cheeks with my left hand, then realised how weary I seemed to have become within a single day.

He did not answer, but held me tight, swaying slightly as he buried his head in my arms, so that I could only see a mass of soft, black hair. As I learned he would not relent, the narration began without delay. "There was a young shepherd who owned a flock of sheep with six other people. They took turns to keep vigil. One night, he noticed an ominous shadow looming around their sty, so he woke up his companions without delay. However, the others couldn't find a single beast around. So they believed the young man had played a trick, and blamed him for having disrupted their sleep¡­"

Tenderly I tapped Danny's back, but there was no response. Sighing with relief, I quickly called Cathy to carry the fast-asleep boy to bed so that I could resume my heavy work. I pondered over the report unfolding in front of me. It was indeed an exceptionally important case. My eyes alighted on this major error in the budget during a recheck this morning, and I had no clue of who was responsible for it; the most notable implication, however, was that some underlying greed would jeopardise the future prospect of my company. I felt the urge to inform the manager of this as comprehensively as possible tomorrow.

The next evening, Danny came to my desk again. "Can you finish that story today, daddy?" He eyed me wistfully. I painfully pushed aside the restarted report, wondering how much of the story the child had paid attention to the previous day. Nevertheless, I continued telling the tale without resisting. "Because of his fault, the shepherd was punished to stay outside once more the following night. This time, he saw two wolves circling their pasture stealthily. Unable to check his anxiety, the young man immediately stormed into the tent and dragged out the others. Yet again, nothing could be seen. So they beat him and warned, 'If you dare to do this again, we'll chase you out of our community.'"

"Was he lying?" my son was listening intently, and thus raised his query. "No," I looked into his big gleaming eyes, smiling. "He was an honest man." "So why did his friends still blame him? Does that mean it's not good to be honest?" I frowned upon his seemingly reasonable deduction and shook my head, "Who'd told you that? It's his friends who did the wrong thing. Honesty pays in the end." Somehow his face appeared blank, as he became bewildered and subsequently lost his interest. He slipped down my thighs and trotted out of the room, leaving me alone once more in the room. I moved toward the desk, looking down at the heap of files, feeling weak and giddy.

The night outside was as stormy as my mood within. I propped my lead-heavy head with the left hand while spinning a pen in the other, my eyes affixed on the lines of the account in black, whose apparent dominance was all stolen by a single word in red. "Rejected", it read. I had never expected such a curt reply from the manager. Nor could I see any reason that my report on this expenditure issue should be readily repudiated. It was not an accusation; it was a mere request for further notice and investigation into the matter. He ought not to be so confident that all his personnel made no error, by chance or by intention. Repeatedly I mumbled my evidence in an attempt to gather strength, until I became resolute enough to finish a most convincing report tonight, which would reveal the hideous truth under the polished cover of this company.

Another eventful day passed by. In the end I seated myself beside the desk again, Danny on my lap. "I want to hear the ending of that shepherd story now." He said. "What happened to him, and what about the wolves?" I gazed sulkily at his curious face, thinking over how in the tale the mistrusted young man failed to avert the loss of their ranch to those ravenous wolves because nobody believed in his honesty. That inevitably led to the story of myself, in which everyone doubted the veracity of my report. Wasn't I a dolt to have stirred up so much trouble for the sake of an organisation that nobody actually cared for? Otherwise I would not have been sacked today.

Haltingly but assertively, I told my son, "The story's to be continued, but let's wish the shepherd all the best. Shan't we? After all, honesty would pay." He nodded his head in agreement, his smile all the more carefree.