[The children, at least, don't argue with Xingchen so he stands there in front of his door, wiping the snow he imagines is there off of his clothing. He's still smiling, the sounds of the snowball fight next door - across the street? it must be a neighborhood effort and that's delightful - echoing around. Once he's satisfied with his own efforts, he steps down into the walkway, only to sink into a good amount of snow. It immediately starts to melt into his slippers and, really, he should have expected this. So back up onto the steps he goes, shaking his feet in the process.
Until someone calls out using terms no one else here has used. The first one can't apply to him, he's sure, but the second is all too familiar. Xingchen turns toward the voice, not recognizing it.]
Yes? Can I help you?
[He's hoping this young man will call him Daozhang again. It's comforting after being in this strange place.]
no subject
Until someone calls out using terms no one else here has used. The first one can't apply to him, he's sure, but the second is all too familiar. Xingchen turns toward the voice, not recognizing it.]
Yes? Can I help you?
[He's hoping this young man will call him Daozhang again. It's comforting after being in this strange place.]