That voice seemed to unveil Rosalie's dust-sealed memory like an old chest.

An image from that year flashed across her mind in an instant.

Under the sweet-scented osmanthus tree, Mama and Aunt Lou were eating cakes, chatting and laughing over tea. As the sun set, Rosalie came from the kindergarten on the corner of the street, lugging her schoolbag as she rushed home, less than a hundred meters away.

Then, she exclaimed. "Mama, I'm home!"

At that time, Mama was so healthy. Her eyes were alway