Yao could not sleep that night. The silence persisted since they arrived in the morning. He spent the day with sparse conversations with Ivan, setting away his belongings and occasionally eating something. Ivan then took him to the backyard for a moment—it grew colder as the day went on—and showed him. In the distance there was a dark stretch of material. Ivan told him that they were train tracks. Beyond them was a more densely populated village. Yao wanted to go there but the biting wind forced him to go back in.
Occasionally the rattle of trains passed through, seemingly rumbling the very earth. Yao grumbled and tried to find a more comfortable position. He could not, however, and only grew more discomforted with every shift. His mind became more active, electric, and refused to simmer down and allow him even an hour of sleep. So he stood up and paced around the house. His hair was loose at his shoulders, clashing with his white night gown. He padded down to the kitchen, examining it in the moonlight. It looked ethereal in this light and he enjoyed that. The night always changed something's appearance; giving it almost other-worldly feel.
In another room Ivan was softly snoring. Outside the wind whispered words just below Yao's comprehension. It was like a song sung in a different language.
Yao ended up falling asleep on the couch. He woke up to find a blanket atop him and Ivan walking out the door. Yao shot up stiffly. "Where are you going?" He said, stifling a yawn.
Ivan stopped at the door. He turned to look at Yao. He wore his fur coat and hat, his scarf covering his mouth so that only his large nose and bright eyes were visible. His slim eyebrows furrowed.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Ivan chuckled.
Yao began to protest, but Ivan interrupted.
"I'm going to the post office and some other errands. I will be back in an hour…" Ivan paused, shutting the door and, his boots clicking. He bent down, as though to kiss Yao's cheek. His breath tickled Yao's soft skin. "You see," he whispered, "spring is starting to rise from her slumber. Winter is at her end. Soon it will be warm enough to venture out without a jacket. I promise then that I will take you on adventures. We can go to the forest and collect mushrooms. We can go to the lake and feed the ducks that come. We can feed the geese that go 'gra, gra, gra' and laugh at how they stretch out their necks to us. I promise that the spring and summer will bring beauty and joy to us. But you must suffer through this winter only a little bit longer." Ivan pulled away. His soliloquy ended on a strange note. Mystery lined the entire monologue and Yao could make little of it. He especially could not explain the rising hope and happiness in his chest.
Yao wanted to say something but Ivan continued speaking in a louder voice.
"No, dear Yao, we'll have to wait for spring. Though the sun shines faintly there is still another frost yet to come. Tell me, do you know how to ice skate? The lake I told you of is frozen over, just perfect to ice-skate on. In fact, some of the peasants are already there. When I come back, with some skates, I'll take you there."
"I don't know how," Yao said, eyes widening. He had seen several people ice skate before. How they balanced on those thin slices of metal and slid around, jumping and twirling, was beyond him.
"I'll teach you." Ivan said happily and this time he bent over and kissed Yao's cheek good-bye. He turned away, shutting the door behind him, and leaving Yao again in the insufferable silence.
Yao spent the day studying Russian and reading. Ivan took longer than an hour, coming back at noon when Yao had decided to eat lunch.
"Would you rather go in the night?" Ivan said, setting two pairs of ice skates down on a chair and taking off his coat. He sat beside Yao, picking up a slice of bread and spreading butter over it. He bit into it happily, opening the jar of pineapple jam. He swallowed, "Do you want some champagne?"
Yao refused, not wanting to be tipsy while he skated. He would be unbalanced enough then. So Ivan ate hungrily and huddled in blankets on the couch. Yao had discovered in the past few hours more about Ivan. The kind demeanor had proven to be only an outer shell. Although his genuine kindness and good will did come from inside, he had a bitter layer between them. He was often impatient and mysterious, taking his time to speak or to scowl. When he ate he ate hungrily and dismissed all manners. He laughed loudly and, when he spoke of serious things, became grim.
As promise, when night fell, the two bundled up in their coats and went outside. The walk from the house to the lake was short. A hill sloped down into crevice of the land where the lake was. It glistened in the silvery moonlight; frozen over with thick ice.
Yao pulled on the ice skates and Ivan did as well. Yao sat on a patch of grass, unable to balance upright on the skates. Ivan slid onto the top seamlessly, skating smoothly around it and testing where the ice was thin. None of it was too thin, fortunately, and Ivan, on one leg, with his left foot pointed forwards and hovering above the ice, slid towards Yao. He came to a halt, spraying fine, icy mist before him. It glittered like fairy dust, Yao fancied as he stood. Wobbling over to Ivan, he held out his hand. Ivan strongly pulled him on to the ice.
Yao yelped as his legs slid back behind him. Ivan laughed in response, crouching down to pull Yao with him. For an hour he taught Yao how to skate. Yao's legs became sore and his back stung. But he was relentless, never giving up and continuing on, determined to learn. By the end of the first hour he could sufficiently skate without Ivan's assistance, though he still fumbled.
The night drew on, growing darker. Stars speckled the sky and the moon hung low and full over them. It caught in Ivan's hair. Yao watched in awe, slipping and, holding Ivan's hands, falling into his chest. Ivan laughed again, just as he did whenever Yao fell, and encouraged him to go on.
Yao squeezed Ivan's hands and, standing straighter, went off on his own for a bit. Ivan lingered close by.
By the third hour Yao was exhausted, unable to lift his legs. They left the ice, which looked as though an insane writer had scribbled all over it in white ink. Yao dropped on the grass, taking off his skates and feeling free without them. When he pulled on his fur boots he was welcomed with even more comfort. The soft lining was welcome to his strained feet. Ivan grinned and, touching Yao's shoulder, took him home.
The second Yao's head hit the pillow he fell asleep. Ivan had to carry him the final stretch of the way. Yao was able to undress, though his head felt heavier and heavier with every button he undid. In the end, dressed in only his undergarments, he fell back and curled into the quilt.
Ivan left happily, his dark heart filled with pure joy. For once, something had gone just as he wanted it to.
It was now Ivan's turn to find it hard to sleep. He kept thinking about Yao. Yao had grown irate whenever he made a mistake and continued to work with even greater motivation. Ivan enjoyed that strong, fiery personality which shrunk away when confronted with strangers. Yao's determination was admirable.
That was not what troubled Ivan. What troubled him was how, whenever he imagined those dark eyes or accented voice, his heart soared in his chest. It thudded harder and he flushed all over. He grew excited and breathless whenever he thought more about this. He had never felt this emotion before.
He knew love. He loved his sisters, he loved his friends, he loved the way bells sounded when the tinkled on the bridles of horses, and he loved the way the moonlight looked on snow. But this was a whole other brand of love. This was new, exhilarating, and altogether an anomaly.
Ivan shifted in his bed, now laying on his back and staring at the ceiling. A cool comfort rolled over him when he remembered that Lena and Sveta would be joining them soon enough. He fell asleep, keeping in mind to ask them about it. This feeling was short-lived, however.