Treading on Frost, Hard Ice Comes: Family Problems Never Arise Suddenly—You Just Missed That Layer of Frost

What do you do when family relationships are strained? I’ve been asked this question so many times.

Every time, I start with the same line: The problems in your family didn’t just pop up out of nowhere today.

A while back, a friend of mine got divorced. I was pretty shocked when I found out, because from what I’d seen, he and his wife had always seemed really loving. I asked him, “How did you just decide to split out of the blue? Weren’t things fine not long ago?”

He gave a bitter smile and said, “Nothing ever happens ‘out of the blue.’ It all builds up slowly, bit by bit.”

He gave me an example. Back when they first got married, he always forgot to pick up the hair from the shower drain after bathing. His wife reminded him several times, and every time he’d say “I forgot” or “I’ll be more careful next time” — but he still kept forgetting.

After a while, his wife stopped saying anything about it.

At the time, he was actually kind of glad. He thought she’d finally stopped nagging him.

Looking back now, he realizes it wasn’t that she stopped nagging — it was that her heart had gone cold. It started with one small thing, then another, and another, until the cold just froze everything solid.

I didn’t say anything after he finished. I thought of the six characters from the First Line of the Kun Hexagram: 履霜，坚冰至 (Lü shuang, jian bing zhi / Treading on frost, hard ice is coming).

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What “Treading on Frost, Hard Ice Is Coming” Really Means

The Line Text for the First Line of the Kun Hexagram reads: 履霜，坚冰至 (Lü shuang, jian bing zhi / Treading on frost, hard ice is coming).

When you step on frost, you should know that colder weather and thicker ice are on the way.

These six characters look simple, but they’re actually the most profound early warning system in any relationship.

The Kun Hexagram is a hexagram of pure Yin; it speaks of bearing, adapting, and accumulating. The First Line is the very first Yao of Kun, where Yin energy has just started to condense — it looks like just a thin layer of frost, not that cold, no big deal, like you can just step over it and move on.

But the trend is already set.

Follow that trend all the way, and you end up with freezing cold weather and ice three feet thick.

The Xiang Commentary puts it even more clearly: “‘Treading on frost, hard ice is coming’ — Yin has just begun to condense. Following this path steadily leads to hard ice.” It doesn’t come out of nowhere; you walk step by step down that road until you reach the hard ice.

Family relationships work the same way.

No couple is head-over-heels in love one day and dead set on divorce the next. No kid is cheerful and outgoing one day and suddenly hates school the next. No mother-in-law and daughter-in-law are polite and cordial one day and at each other’s throats the next.

None of it happens suddenly.

It all starts with “it’s just a small thing, let it go.” Let it go once, and the frost gets a little thicker. Let it go ten times, and the frost turns to ice.

The First Line of Kun isn’t about prediction — it’s about observation. You have to be willing to look down at the frost on the ground, instead of only looking up at the sky far away.

Lots of people ask me what to do about strained family relationships, and my answer is always the same: Don’t start by thinking about how to fix the big problems. First, look at all the small problems you’ve been ignoring.

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The Three Most Common Kinds of “Frost” in Families

I’ve observed a lot of families, and I’ve found that before conflicts blow up, there are always warning signs. Most people just don’t see them, or they see them and act like they don’t.

Let me list the most common ones — see if any of them sound like your home.

First kind of frost: You talk less and less.

Back in the day, after dinner, the two of you would sit on the couch and chat about anything and everything for ages. Stuff from work, things you saw on the way home, random news you came across — you talked about it all.

Then at some point, after dinner you both just scroll on your phones separately. You watch your short videos, I watch my sports game. At the end of the day, the total number of words you say to each other is less than ten.

“What’s for dinner?” “Whatever.” “Did the kid finish homework?” “Yeah.” “Let’s sleep.” “Mm.”

A lot of people think this is totally normal — you know, we’ve been together a long time, that’s just how it is.

Normal my ass.

Between a couple, arguments aren’t the scary thing — silence is. Arguing means you still care, you still want to communicate. What’s silence? It’s thinking there’s no point in talking, being too tired to talk, your heart already halfway cold.

Talking less is the first layer of frost.

Second kind of frost: You start hiding things from each other.

You used to tell each other everything. If you had a fight with a coworker, you’d come home and rant about it for ages. If you saw something funny on the way, you’d come home and tell it all dramatically.

Then what happened? You started keeping some things to yourself.

You get a bonus and don’t tell your partner, you just save it yourself. You go out drinking with friends and don’t say who with, just “I’ve got some stuff to do.” You’re stressed out and don’t talk about it, just say “I’m fine” or “don’t worry about it.”

Why hide things? Because you think there’s no point in saying it, it’ll just start a fight, they won’t understand anyway.

But think about it — what’s the scariest thing about being with someone? It’s not fighting. It’s you having your world, me having mine, and the two worlds drifting further and further apart.

Eventually, you end up as strangers living under the same roof.

Hiding things is the second layer of frost.

Third kind of frost: You can’t be bothered to argue anymore.

You used to argue for ages over the smallest stuff. You’d nag me about leaving socks everywhere, I’d nag you about buying too many clothes. You’d be mad after the fight, but you’d make up after a little while.

Then what happened? You leave socks on the floor, I don’t say anything. You spend money recklessly on stuff, I don’t say anything. No matter what you do, I just don’t care.

A lot of people think, “We don’t fight anymore — our relationship must be better.”

Wrong.

There are two kinds of “not fighting.” One is when you’ve really worked things out, you understand each other, and you don’t need to fight anymore. The other is when you’re completely disappointed — whatever, do what you want, I don’t care anymore.

The second one is way scarier. Because the first is reconciliation; the second is giving up.

Not being bothered to argue anymore is the third layer of frost.

When you’ve got all three layers of frost, how far can hard ice be?

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What to Do When You See the Frost

“Treading on frost, hard ice is coming” doesn’t mean you should panic the second you see frost, and it doesn’t mean you should pretend you don’t see it.

What it really means is: When you see the frost, it’s time to do something about it. Don’t wait until the ice is thick to try chipping it away — by then it’s too late.

How do you do it, exactly? I’ve got three tips for you.

First: Don’t wait for “big problems” — talk about the small stuff.

A lot of people have this bad habit: they put up with small things, then blow up over a big one.

Leaving socks on the floor — small thing, let it go. Chewing with your mouth open — small thing, let it go. Coming home and just lying around scrolling on your phone — small thing, let it go.

Let it go, let it go, let it go, until finally some tiny little trivial thing sets off an explosion.

Why? Because it’s not about that one thing — it’s the anger from a hundred small things you bottled up before, all blowing up at once.

So don’t bottle it up. If something bothers you, say it right then. And note: say it, don’t yell it.

For example, if he leaves his socks everywhere, don’t shout “Can you stop leaving your socks all over the place! I’ve told you a million times!”

Just say, “Honey, you left your socks on the floor again. It kind of bugs me. Can you put them in the laundry basket next time?”

It’s that simple.

Talk about small things right away, and they won’t build up into big problems. Say it nicely, and it won’t turn into a fight.

Maintaining family relationships never depends on some big, earth-shattering gesture — it’s all about these little daily communications.

Second: Set aside ten minutes every day to talk about nothing important.

You read that right — talk about nothing important.

People these days, couples only talk about “important” stuff all day: the kid’s homework, the mortgage, the parents’ medical bills, household expenses. All serious stuff, all stress.

After a while, the second you see your partner, you think of a whole list of to-dos. How could you not feel tired? How could you not feel annoyed?

That’s why you need to set aside some time to talk about nothing important.

Like when you’re lying in bed about to sleep, chat a little: “That orange cat from downstairs came by again today. It’s as fat as a ball.” “I saw a video today that made me laugh so hard.”

These kinds of meaningless little chats are the best thing for a relationship.

Because what those meaningless words say is: I don’t just want to go through life with you — I want to talk with you, too.

Third: When the relationship has problems, start by looking at your own side.

The First Line of Kun says “Yin has just begun to condense.” What’s Yin? Yin is the stuff on your own side — internal, invisible things.

When there’s a problem at home, a lot of people’s first reaction is: It’s all their fault. They’re bad-tempered, they’re irresponsible, they don’t care about me.

It’s all the other person’s problem.

But think about it — a relationship is two people’s business. How could a problem be entirely one person’s fault?

That’s not to say you have to take all the blame. It just means: first look at your own side, see if there’s anything you can adjust.

Have you also gone a long time without really talking to each other? Do you also get impatient a lot? Do you also save your worst temper for the people closest to you?

Start by adjusting your own side. When you change, chances are the other person will change too. Even if they don’t, you still come out ahead — at least you’ve become a better person.

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A Few Final Words

My friend who got divorced said something to me later that stuck with me really hard.

He said, looking back now, there were actually so many chances to fix things back then. But he was young, thought it didn’t matter, thought nobody needs anybody else to survive.

And now? Now he thinks, when you can have a good, steady life together, you should hold onto it.

I told him he was right.

Times change, and methods get simpler and simpler. But one thing never changes: A good relationship isn’t one without conflicts — it’s one where, as soon as a conflict starts to show, someone is willing to bend down and sweep that layer of frost away.

The First Line of Kun’s “treading on frost, hard ice is coming” isn’t a scary warning meant to frighten you.

It’s a reminder.

A reminder to look down at your feet.

If there’s frost, sweep it away early. Don’t wait until it freezes into ice to try chipping it. The pain of chipping ice is a hundred times worse than the tiredness of sweeping frost.

Wen Laoshi often says that the I Ching doesn’t teach you how to predict the future — it teaches you how to observe the present. Every small thing right now is a seed for the future.

Plant frost, and you’ll grow ice.

Plant warmth, and you’ll grow a home.

What are you planting today?