The Old Well

East of the village stood an old well that never ran dry even in drought, its water sweet and clear. By the well lived an old woman, surname Sun, whose son had been sent to the frontier ten years and from whom no letter came. Daily she drew water from the well, weeping as she watched the great road, hoping for his return, but there was no news. One evening, worn out, she threw herself into the well and died.

From then the well water grew each night a little sweeter than before, and those who drew at midnight often saw her shadow bend over the well, washing clothes as in life, vanishing at cockcrow. The villagers pitied her and set a small stone by the well, reading Mother Sun.

Years later her son at last returned, his hair and beard all white, and knelt by the well three days. That night the well boiled as if weeping; at dawn the water returned to its usual taste, and her shadow was seen no more.

The Chronicler of the Strange says: A mother's longing does not cease even at death; that the well water was sweet was not the water but her tears. The son was gone ten years and the mother watched ten years; when she died the water turned sweet, for her tears had entered it. When her son returned, the tears spent, the taste turned back, for her longing was repaid and there was nothing left to weep. You who are sons, roaming far and forgetting home, can you face this well without shame?