Winter had always been Mingxi’s favorite season. The cold that bit at his cheeks somehow eased his pain, as if the snow itself were shielding him. He especially loved it during the times when his mama was angry, when the chill outside seemed to balance the storm inside the house.

In contrast to the snowy streets of Beijing, the Lee household simmered with the anger of a single woman, Adoella Robert Lee, Mingxi’s mama. She cared little for the child she had brought into the world. She hadn’t intended to bring him to her meetup with friends, but when the request came to see the so-called ‘scandal child,’ she couldn’t refuse.

Adoella despised the association with that term, the connection to her son, yet she arrived with Mingxi in tow, hoping her friends would feel the same disdain she did but the child, innocent and bright, drew attention and affection instead. He was loved more than she ever wished to admit, and it fueled her hatred. She wanted her son to understand humiliation, to feel the sting she had carried since marrying Qiang Lee.

“Mama, did I do something wrong?” The boy asked, his voice small. At seven years old, he was barely more than a child, yet he could tell something was wrong when his mama refused to meet his eyes. They had arrived at their apartment half an hour ago, and Adoella had said nothing. The silence frightened Mingxi, for it often preceded anger, yet he also hoped he had done well enough to make her proud in front of her friends.

Before Adoella could answer, the knob of the main door turned. Mingxi’s face brightened at the sound, a spark of happiness in his eyes, but she silenced him with a gesture, pointing toward his room.

“Bedroom. Now.” Her voice left no room for argument.

The boy hesitated, torn between obedience and fear, before shuffling to his room. He closed the door behind him, his small frame hunched, hair falling over his eyes. He sank to the floor, pressing his ear to the wood, straining to catch the words. They were muffled, but the hatred in his mama’s voice cut through clearly, and the calm, steady tone of his baba brought a strange comfort.

“How was your meetup with friends, honey?” Qiang’s voice was gentle, warm, the same sweetness he reserved for his wife and son.

“It was going well…until they started admiring your son,” Adoella’s voice spat the words with barely hidden venom.

“Oh? Did Mingxi charm them?” Qiang asked lightly, a teasing tone to his voice. “He always has that effect on people and how many times do I have to tell you, Adoella? He is our son. How long are you going to detest him? He has done nothing wrong.”

Adoella simply stared at her husband before snatching her handbag and slamming the main door with as much force as she could muster. Qiang remained still for a moment, removing his snow-dusted coat and pulling a scarf from beneath it. His briefcase had been left forgotten on the floor.

“Mingxi?” he called his son.

He walked toward his son’s bedroom and gently opened the door. Mingxi’s brown eyes peeked out from beneath a curtain of brown hair, wide and cautious. Qiang smiled and bent down to meet him at eye level, hiding the scarf behind his back.

“Were you listening to the adults’ conversation…again?”

“Yes! I mean no! I didn’t mean to…I just wanted to make sure mama didn’t fight with baba,” Mingxi stammered, his hands clenching his grey sweater.

“Mama is not angry, dear. She is just…disturbed,” Qiang said gently, his voice more comforting than any words of reprimand could ever be. “How about we do something fun? Close your eyes for me.”

Mingxi’s face lit up at those words, knowing it always meant baba had a little surprise for him. He shut his eyes eagerly. Warmth brushed over him, and when he opened them, he saw Qiang wrapping a soft scarf around his neck. Mingxi buried his face into it, a giggle escaping him.

“It’s so soft,” he murmured in awe.

Qiang chuckled and lifted him into his arms. “Let’s watch the snow together.”

Mingxi nodded enthusiastically, and they moved to the living room. Settling onto the floor, facing the window with Mingxi perched on his lap, Qiang held him close as they gazed out at the city, the snowflakes drifting quietly.

The window stretched from ceiling to floor, letting them take in the snowfall in all its beauty. Qiang rested his chin on Mingxi’s head and enclosed his small hands within his own. The gesture was warm, their own little world untouched by anything outside.

“Did you enjoy your day, Mingxi?” Qiang asked softly.

Mingxi giggled, slipping his hands free to tug playfully at his scarf. “Yes! After baba dropped me at the pool, I swam for an hour. I even broke my own record! The people there said it wasn't a good idea to swim in such cold weather, but the cold helps, baba. I felt warm and fuzzy after the swim. Then I played in the snow…and when I came home, Mama made me change into nice clothes and took me to meet her friends.”

His voice dimmed at the mention of her. “Mama’s friends liked me, but she didn’t seem happy. She had that face again, the one she wears when she’s angry with me.”

Mingxi stood from his baba’s lap and cupped Qiang’s cheeks with his hands. “Why doesn’t Mama smile when she’s with us? I saw her smile when she talked to her friends. I’ve never seen it before, but I want her to smile like that for us…”

Qiang leaned into his son’s touch and pressed a gentle kiss to his hands. “She used to smile so brightly when we first met,” he said with a soft sigh, his voice carrying the weight of memory. “But as time goes on, people change. Sometimes, the things that once made them smile become the things they grow to resent.” His eyes lowered, as if he regretted how their love had quietly shifted over the years.

“Do you think I’ll change, Baba?” Mingxi asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you want to change?” Qiang asked in return.

Mingxi turned his head away, and in the quiet of the house, a small sob escaped him. Qiang’s heart hammered at the sound. He gently turned Mingxi’s face back toward him and saw the tears streaking down his cheeks. Panic flickered across his features as he quickly wiped them away.

“What’s wrong, Mingxi? Did you remember something scary?” Qiang asked, his hand rubbing circles on his son’s shoulder.

Mingxi shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, his voice trembling. “I…I want to be more than the ‘scandal child.’ Mama’s friends whispered that name the same way my classmates do. W-why am I called that, Baba? Why can’t I just be Mingxi?”

His words quivered, and his gaze dropped to the scarf around his neck. “A few days ago, when you were away, our teacher asked us what happiness means to us. But everyone laughed when it was my turn. They said…w-what would I know about happiness…when I’m a m-mistake…”

His sobs grew quieter, but the ache in his voice remained. Qiang felt something twist deep in his chest. He wanted to curse the world for being cruel to a child who had done nothing wrong yet he forced a smile, for Mingxi’s sake.

“Ask me,” Qiang said softly.

Mingxi blinked up at him in confusion. “B-Baba?”

“Ask me the same question your teacher did.”

Mingxi hesitated for a moment before whispering, “What does it mean to be happy, Baba?”

“Happiness has many meanings,” Qiang replied, his tone gentle and thoughtful. “Which one do you want to hear, Mingxi?”

“The one you believe in!” the boy said quickly, wiping his tears with his sleeve.

Qiang chuckled and pulled him into his arms. “My happiness,” he began, his voice warm and low, “came the day these little hands held mine for the first time and refused to let go. When I stayed awake just to make sure the boy they belonged to could sleep peacefully. When that same boy called me ‘Baba’ for the first time.”

Mingxi’s fingers curled into his father’s shirt as he smiled faintly through his tears. “So…I’m your happiness?”

Qiang pressed his chin lightly against Mingxi’s head, holding him closer. If only love could shield you from the world, he thought. “You are my happiness,” he murmured into his son’s shoulder, “and my peace, Mingxi.”

They stayed like that for a long while, wrapped in quiet warmth, until Qiang felt his son’s breathing grow slow and even against his chest. Gently, he lifted Mingxi and carried him to his bedroom, careful not to wake him. He tucked the boy beneath the blanket and sat at the corner of the bed, holding his hand.

Through the window, snow drifted softly against the dark sky. Then, between the flurries, Qiang caught sight of a streak of light.

“It’s a shooting star, Mingxi,” he whispered, though his son was already half asleep. “You can’t see it now, but wish with all your heart. Someday, when you’re grown, you’ll have everything you dream of.”

And in that quiet moment, even in his sleep, Mingxi made his wish.

I want to be Baba’s happiness…forever.