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On a rainy October day, a mother and daughter left the country where they lived and met in Tokyo: they walked along the river, escaped from the typhoon, shared delicious food in cafes and restaurants, visited galleries, and appreciated the most radical modern art in the city. At the same time, they chat about the weather, zodiac signs, clothes and objects, and even family, distance and memories. The mother grew up in Hong Kong and immigrated before her two daughters were born. They were polite to each other, but not intimate. A feeling of mixed disappointment and hope hangs over their interaction, like a knot tied together with longing and despair. The trip probably didn't go as well as my daughter had hoped, although almost everything went according to plan and there were no bad surprises. "So Cold It's Snowing" uses the most delicate brush to describe the tolerant, reserved, and alienated East Asian mother-daughter relationship. It also questions whether we have a common language to speak, what dimensions can accommodate love, and whether we are qualified to truly understand the inner lives of others.