Published: May 26, 2026

Children of the Stars

On May 16, I traveled to Xiaotangshan Town in Beijing’s Changping District for Xingyuan Charity, an artistic gathering dedicated to the “children of the stars.”

In Chinese culture, this phrase offers a gentler way to speak about autism, softening the clinical weight of Autism Spectrum Disorder. It imagines these children as travelers from distant constellations, each moving along their own orbit, experiencing the world in ways we are still learning to understand. Rare in Southeast Asia, the metaphor is deeply rooted in the Chinese imagination — inviting us not only to see difference with compassion, but to approach it with quiet curiosity.

The day I arrived, the sky hung heavy with grey clouds, yet nothing could dampen the crowd’s enthusiasm. Many had journeyed to this remote corner of Beijing simply to watch the children perform and to browse the craft market selling their hand-made products.

Drums and Little Red Flowers

The outdoor opening began with thunderous drumming. More than a dozen children, guided by a parent instructor, performed with striking energy and precision. Some were visibly nervous, yet they gritted their teeth and finished bravely. Others lost themselves in the rhythm, drumming louder and louder until uninhibited laughter broke through. Their smiles were pure, radiant, and deeply contagious.

Behind them, a few children waved small flags with solemn focus, as though guarding something sacred. I wondered then how much courage and joy such a performance might bring into their lives.

Pathways through the market were lined with children’s paintings — vibrant, hopeful, alive with unusual imagination. Stalls displayed handmade soaps, drinks, and fabric flowers, each item a testament to countless hours of practice and quiet perseverance, glowing with a light entirely their own.

Inside, a warm sign-language rendition of “Your Smile Looks So Beautiful” filled the room. Ms. Feng Xin and I found ourselves instinctively echoing the hand movements, singing softly along. Later, a young man sang “Friend” with a voice so rich it seemed to wrap around the audience. His hand trembled as he held the microphone, yet his expression stayed composed — a quiet triumph over nerves that left a deep impression on me.

The choir’s performance of “Beginning of Spring” was unforgettable. Bright artificial flowers adorned their costumes, each child blooming like a living blossom. One girl danced lightly as she sang, like a tiny fairy drifting through a garden.

When the band played “A Little Red Flower for You,” the air itself seemed perfumed with blossoms. People clapped softly and hummed along, their hearts warming with the melody. Between songs, a Huangmei opera skit, “A Bowl of Noodles,” performed jointly by parents and children, revealed the quiet devotion and tireless companionship behind every family’s journey.

None of the performances were flawless. But their sincerity made them beautiful. Bit by bit, these “stars” lit up the stage, and warmed every heart in the room.

A Different Frequency of Light

Autism is neither an illness nor the result of parenting. It is a neurodevelopmental condition — a different way of understanding and processing the world. Because each autistic person’s experience is unique, it is called a spectrum. Some live independently; others need more sustained care.

Many find verbal expression challenging. Some are highly sensitive to sound, light, or touch. Others immerse themselves in specific interests or routines. Yet autism is not a deficit. Many autistic individuals possess extraordinary gifts in art, music, memory, and analytical thought. Increasingly, society is learning that autism is not a flaw to be fixed, but a different way of being.

I Imagine…

In 2017, I was running Atelier Huifong Ng in Brunei — a creative space using art to nurture children’s imagination and independence. Over four years, I traveled often to special education centers, volunteering through art classes for these “children of the stars,” and arranging for them to exhibit alongside my students.

I remember when Brunei was the host country for the 5th ASEAN Children’s Forum. My atelier collaborated with the Ministry of Culture, Youth and Sports on “I Imagine…”, an exhibition featuring works by both my students and children with special needs who took up my training lessons. The exhibition later drew praise from the Minister and visiting UNESCO (the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization) representatives — affirming the children’s efforts in ways they would never forget.

Children do not carry the same layers of judgment as adults. As they painted, exhibited, and stood side by side, understanding grew quietly between them. My students learned to meet difference with gentleness, and to approach these friends without hesitation. Art truly brought them closer.

I remember one special boy — once restless and withdrawn — who gradually softened through painting. One day, looking at his finished work, he told me earnestly:

“Painting brings me a lot of joy.”

I still remember those words.

The Moment You Are Allowed Closer

So when I was invited to Beijing for Xingyuan Charity, it felt like reuniting with an old companion. Memories I thought time had buried rose again — vivid, insistent, pulling me back nearly a decade.

I recalled the exhaustion of those early days. Teaching these children required endless patience, slow guidance, and constant adaptation. Sometimes a gesture had to be repeated countless times. Sometimes a question lingered unanswered until, at last, a reply came.

And perhaps because of that, every small response felt extraordinary. A moment of eye contact. A painting alive with feeling. The first time they reached out to hold your hand.

These moments carried a joy impossible to fully describe — not the satisfaction of being needed, but the quiet honour of being allowed, however briefly, into their world.

Your Smiles Look So Beautiful

Near the close of the event, the mothers of the children took the stage. Wearing shimmering cheongsams, they embodied both elegance and resilience. What struck me most was not only their beauty, but also the enduring love etched into every silhouette.

As the program ended, organizers, guests, parents, children, and volunteers gathered for a group photograph. Behind me stood the young man who had sung “Friend.” I congratulated him; he smiled politely and said, “Thank you.” Beside him, a girl began chatting with me, then gently removed a tiny twig from my hair.

Beijing’s cool afternoon wind slowly turned warm. The breeze still carried the faint chill of early summer, but it also carried our laughter into the distance — quietly watering the little red flowers blooming in each of our hearts.

And truly —

their smiles looked so beautiful.

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北京的风里，有一场星星的艺术盛会

发布日期：2026年5月26日

星星的孩子

5月16日，我走进北京市昌平区小汤山镇，赴一场名为《星缘公益》的约定——这是一场属于“星星的孩子”的艺术盛会。

“星星的孩子”这个说法，有一种东方式的温润与诗意。它像一层柔软的薄纱，轻轻覆在 Autism Spectrum Disorder（自闭症）的医学定义之上，既消解了冷峻的病理感，也邀请我们以更温和的目光靠近、理解。这样的比喻在东南亚并不常见，更像中文语境里独有的修辞——仿佛这些孩子来自遥远的星系，各自运行在独立的宇宙轨道中，以我们还未能完全解码的频率，默默感知着世界。

抵达那天，天色阴沉，云层低垂，却丝毫没有浇灭人们的热情。许多观众专程赶来这片稍显偏远的地区，只为了见证孩子们的演出，也用行动支持他们的手工艺公益市集。

鼓声与小红花

户外开场的是热闹的鼓乐。十几位孩子在一位家长的带领下，铿锵有力地敲响《中国范》与《中国龙》，鼓点整齐、气势十足。我留意到，有的孩子明显紧张，却仍咬牙坚持完成了整段表演；有的则彻底沉浸其中，越打越响亮，甚至忘情地笑了起来。那笑容，纯粹、明亮，极具感染力。鼓声间隙，还有几个孩子在后排摇晃旗帜，神情认真得像是在守护什么重要的仪式，透着小小的骄傲。那一刻我忍不住想：这样的一场演出，会给他们带去多少精神上的鼓励与快乐啊。

市集小径旁，静静铺展着孩子们的画作，色彩斑斓，透着独特的想象力。摊位上，手工香皂、自制饮品、布艺花朵等作品整齐陈列——每一件都藏着反复练习后的笨拙与努力，也闪着他们独有的光芒。

随后，舞台转入室内。一首《你笑起来真好看》，化作温馨的手语歌表演。我和身旁的冯新老师不约而同地跟着比划起来，一边哼唱，一边感受那份简单而真实的幸福。紧接着，一位男士独唱《朋友》。他的声音厚实有力，听得人几乎“听出耳油”。我注意到，他握麦克风的手一直在微微颤抖，可表情与歌声却始终稳稳当当。那样从容地面对自己的紧张，让我由衷敬佩。

《立春》合唱更是惊艳。孩子们头戴、衣饰上都缀满艳丽的假花，仿佛每个人都开成了一朵花。目光扫过，我忍不住好奇：这样明亮的装扮，是哪位心灵手巧的家长设计的呢？其中有个女孩，边唱边轻盈起舞，像一只穿梭在花间的小仙女，灵动得让人移不开眼。

当乐队奏响《送你一朵小红花》时，室内空气仿佛也被染上了花香。大家轻轻拍着手，跟着旋律哼唱，心情就像那朵小红花一样，明媚又柔软。除了丰富的歌唱节目，黄梅小歌剧《一碗面条》由家长与孩子共同演绎，从策划到登台，处处可见家长们的用心与陪伴。

还有许多精彩的表演，虽不完美，却因每一份认真的投入，而多了一种朴素的真诚。这些“星星”一点点点亮了舞台，也悄悄把我们每个人的心照得更暖、更亮。

另一种频率的光

自閉症，也称“孤独症”，是一種神經發展特質。它並不是疾病，也不是後天教養造成的結果，而是大腦理解世界與處理資訊的方式，與多數人有所不同。由於每個人的表現差異很大，因此被稱為「譜系」——有些人能獨立生活與工作，只是在社交互動上較為困難；也有些人需要較多的陪伴與支持。

有的人不善表达，有的人对声音与光线异常敏感，也有人执着于某种热爱与秩序。

然而，自閉症並不代表能力不足。許多自閉症人士在藝術、音樂、記憶、邏輯分析等領域，往往擁有細膩而獨特的天賦。近年來，社會也逐漸開始理解，自閉症不是需要被「修正」的缺陷，而是一種不同的思考與感知方式。

《我想象……》

二零一七年，我在文莱经营黄慧芬艺术坊——一个以绘画为媒介、培养孩子创意思考与独立能力的空间。那四年间，我也经常往返于特殊教育中心与相关机构之间，为这些“星星的孩子”进行公益艺术培训，并安排他们与艺术坊的学生们一同参与作品展出。

我记得，文莱曾在二零一八年主办第五届东盟儿童论坛。那一年，艺术坊有幸与文莱文化、青年及体育部合作，在大厅举办《我想象……》（I Imagine……）儿童画展，展出的不仅有艺术坊学生的作品，也包括特殊孩子们的画作。画展后来获得文化部长及联合国儿童基金会代表的高度评价，也给了孩子们很大的鼓励。

那几年，其实不仅改变了这些孩子，也悄悄影响着艺术坊里的学生们。孩子之间的相处，没有成人世界那么多预设与标签。当他们一起画画、一起布展、一起站在作品前分享时，理解便在那些细碎的互动里慢慢生长。艺术坊的学生们，也因此学会了更温柔地看待“不同”，更自然地靠近那些特别的朋友。

而绘画，也真的一点一点拉近了孩子们之间的距离。我曾亲眼见证，一名星星的孩子如何因为艺术而慢慢改变。原本急躁而封闭的性格，开始逐渐柔软、安静下来。有一次，他望着自己的作品，很认真地对我说：“因为绘画带给我很多快乐。”直到今天，我依然记得那句话。

被允许靠近的一瞬间

所以，当担任理事的唐毅老师邀请我来到北京，参加这一次《星缘公益》的活动时，我的内心其实有一种久违的激动与亲切。许多几乎被时间覆盖的记忆，也忽然被轻轻翻开，像旧画纸上重新浮现的颜色，一点一点，将我的思绪拉回近十年前的岁月。

我仍记得，当年第一次接触这些孩子时，常常会感到疲惫。每一次教学，都需要比平常更多的耐心、更缓慢的引导，以及不断调整的方法。有时候，一个简单的动作，需要重复很多很多遍；一句话，也可能需要等待很久，才能得到回应。

可也正因为如此，那些微小的回应，才显得格外珍贵。

也许是一次主动的眼神交流，也许是一幅突然充满灵气的画，又或者，是他们终于愿意轻轻拉住你的手。那些瞬间，总会在你毫无防备的时候，带来一种难以言喻的喜悦。那不是来自“被需要”的满足，而更像是在他们安静而独特的世界里，你终于短暂地，被允许靠近了一点点。

笑起来真好看

《星缘公益》接近尾声时，最后一场节目，是星星孩子妈妈们带来的旗袍表演。她们身穿闪烁而优雅的旗袍，步伐温柔而坚定。那一刻，人们欣赏的不只是美丽，更是一位位母亲长年累月、不曾言说的爱与力量。

最后，主办方、嘉宾、家长、孩子与志愿者们一同合影留念。我忽然发现，站在我身后的，正是那位独唱《朋友》的男孩。于是我轻声祝贺他演出成功。他有礼貌地笑着回应：“谢谢。”紧接着，旁边另一位女同学也主动和我聊起天，还轻轻替我拨开落在头发上的干树枝碎。

北京那天的风，仍带着一点初夏未至的微凉。风把笑声轻轻吹远，悄悄滋润着每个人心里的那一朵小红花。

大家笑起来，真的很好看。