By Chenyi Andrew

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“Temper of the Snow” is an excerpt derived from the short story “That Boy I Named” that depicts Ling Xu’s recount of one of his most precious memories in the winter 7 years ago.

“Ling, what is that?” A boy with a foreign European appearance asked suddenly, while pointing to the snowflakes falling down from the sky.

“That’s snow, Ilos, ” Ling Xu whispered to him, “it snows in the winter sometimes when it gets really cold.” 

This was the first snow in Yan Cha in many years. Ilos frowned as a snowflake hit his face. He had just turned seven years old and he had never seen anything like it before.

Ling Xu turned around and laughed as he saw the snowflakes landing on Ilos’ slightly flushed face.

“Snow is fascinating if you look at it closely,” Ling Xu captured a few snowflakes then held out his hand in front of Ilos, “every snowflake has a different shape, and is unique, just like fingerprints” he pointed at one of the snowflakes, “look, this is a hexagonal shaped snowflake, and that one is in the shape of triangular crystal…” The last time Ling Xu saw snow had been when he was five years old. Ever since then, he had read many books about snow and winter. Just like cherry blossoms in spring seasons, snow is a form of beautiful scenery in this world, from the moment of its arrival to its fond farewell in a swift transient blow.

Ilos blinked, half understanding while looking at the snowflakes in Ling Xu’s hands. He had never thought about winter like that before. Winter to him had always just been just cold, but now the snow was full of wonder. 

As the snow melted and faded in Ling Xu’s hands, he squatted down and dug two clumps of snow from the ground. 

“If you gather many of these snowflakes together, you are able to create many different shapes from them. For example, you can create something like this,” said Ling Xu, as he showed Ilos the star-shaped snow ball rolled in his hands.

Ilos stared at the star in Ling Xu’s hands for a good while, as if he was processing something very difficult, then finally laughed happily. He squatted down next to Ling Xu and started to dig and play with the snow. 

“How is it, do you like it?” Ling Xu asked.

“It’s fun,” Ilos responded quietly, then held up a smaller star-shaped snowball and showed it to Ling Xu, “I like snow, it’s really pretty.”

Ling Xu patted Ilos on the head, who was brimming with satisfaction and joy.  

The two of them played for hours. In the distance, snowflakes lightly fell on top of the orphanage, seeming to create a gentle white mink coat on the rooftop. The sky became dim with gentle touches of pink and orange as the sun slowly hid behind the western hills of Yan Cha, and the coldness intensified with the fading light. 

“It’s getting cold, let’s go home.” Ling Xu whispered, softly pulling Ilos’ hand. His comforting scent of maple trees reached Ilos. 

“It’s not cold,” Ilos replied. 

“Don’t lie to me, both of your hands are red,” Ling Xu lifted Ilos from the ground and stuffed his hands into his own pockets. “It’s warmer this way.”

“I’m not!” Ilos laughed, “I am actually not cold.”

“Well it’s getting dark too,” said Ling Xu, pressing his forehead against Ilos’, “come on, let’s go home, we can always play tomorrow.” 

Being two years older, Ling Xu was about a head taller than Ilos. In close distance, Ling Xu looked into Ilos’ eyes. His pupils were like a pair of amber stones, full of childlike mischief. At that moment, Ling Xu felt an urge of protection, a desire to hide Ilos away from anyone besides himself.

Ilos giggled. The warmth of the maple, like the drifting dawn in the autumn embraced him and shielded him away from the coldness. 

“I want to play in the snow with you in all the upcoming winters.” 

Seven years later, another winter, another round of snow, the wish that was once made seemed to be so unattainable now. He had waited, hoped, and dreamed, but he was still unable to find the boy from his memory. There were times where he stayed up all night, looking up at the stars, hoping they would one day guide him to find the boy that he had lost. Ling Xu looked down at the few snowflakes that landed in his palm, overwhelmed by an unexplainable emotion. 

“…Ling Xu?”

“Huh?” He was taken aback by the sudden interruption. 

“Are you okay? I’ve been calling you for a long time,” asked Hong with a concerned voice, “is there something on your mind?”

Almost imperceptibly, Ling Xu froze, but immediately replied, “Sorry, I’m fine, Hong, just a bit cold.”

“You look a little lost,” Hong said as he patted Ling Xu on the shoulder, “come on, shake it off. Let’s go for some noodles.”

“Yeah…” said Ling Xu.  He gently pressed the lasting temper of the melted snowflakes into his palm.

 “Let ‘s go.” 

Process

When I came to America seven years ago, I could only speak one English word- hello. The idea of writing this story came five years ago, but my language barrier prevented me from transforming it into reality. I lacked confidence in my writing.

I wanted to complete this unfinished segment of a story written in Chinese that I had spent countless hours daydreaming about. My mentor, Victoria, who also writes in her native language, happily agreed with my idea and cheered me up with her vivacity.

I struggled with many obstacles during the process of writing this story. Transforming my vast fictional world into reality was difficult, but with the help of my mentor, I didn’t stop.

I received so many incredible suggestions that guided my way to the end. After this priceless experience, I am proud to announce that this time, I was able to transform a childhood dream into reality- with confidence.