Gerile qimugehehe

I have seen horses in different seasons, but horses in winter have always impressed me.

That winter, a once-in-a-century snowstorm roared past Xilin Gol, which was what herders called a white disaster, and countless livestock fell down because of the cold. In the vast grassland territory, the natural forces carried by snow and ice easily kill fragile lives.

It was already dawn when I walked into the grass. In the gray-blue sky, the snow is boundless. Far away, because the colors are similar, it is almost impossible to tell the outline of the horizon, and the sky and the earth are connected. The car moved forward on the road with nearly one meter of snow. There is almost nothing in the snow on both sides. There is not a yurt, a livestock or even a bird in front of us, only white without any emotional color, which may be the palest season of the grassland in a year.

Endless monotonous colors make people sleepy.

Finally, a black shadow suddenly flashed in the snow ahead, which made me feel refreshed. As the distance gets closer, its image becomes clearer and clearer, like a black flower blooming in the snow.

As the car approached, I clearly saw that it was a group of horses crowded together.

When the car stopped, the distance was close, but there was no commotion among the horses that clung together. They still huddled together with low eyebrows and stood there motionless, as if they had found warm comfort after a cold night in their companions' necks.

Although their long manes and tails fluttered gently in the wind, announcing the vitality of life, I still found something strange. In this cold season, I didn't see the white fog brought by breathing immediately.

My friend in the grass confirmed my guess. This is a group of horses killed by the cold last night. They will stand here until the ice and snow melt next spring.

The horses in front of me who used to run, mate and bathe on the green land in summer are standing peacefully at this time. I wonder what time it is in Xilin Gol in the morning. The soul finally couldn't stand the terrible attack of the cold, leaving the horse slowly stiff and the rock-like body flying away. This is a herd of horses after a snowstorm. You will never forget it as soon as you see it. This kind of horse, which is closer to the semi-wild state, looks hard and calm on these bodies that snuggle together tightly and smell of cold grass. The slender four-legged pony, perhaps the first one abandoned by life, snuggled up to his mother's abdomen. In its eyes as deep as lake ice, I don't see a trace of fear of snow and ice. Its mother, with her head down, is trying to warm her child with her lips.

They stay in this position and freeze.

This is a group of sculptures that despise snow.

Maybe you've never been to the grass, or you've never really understood the meaning of winter, so you should go and see the horses, and go to the grass in winter to see the horses that are still standing after death. They are waiting for you, just like waiting for a brother. When you see them, you will think that they are just resting for a while and ready to ride the earth again. When you see them, you will understand that winter is remembered by the earth.

These horses, like giant sequoias after a thunderstorm, still stand upright, so they stand all winter, until spring, when grass grows all over the earth, and they will fall to the ground like a flood that breaks its banks.

My friends on the grass told me that where the horse fell, the grass would be unusually rich and show a calm color like night. Moreover, as long as you believe, in the silent night of midsummer, you will hear the roar of horseshoe stars in the depths of the earth.

(Excerpted from Literary and Art Newspaper on June 6, 2002+2065438)