My summer vacations at my grandparents’ home were once veiled in a “rose-tinted glass” of childhood innocence. My earliest memories of tenderness are composed of the scorching summer sun, the fragrance of gardenias, and the hard yet warm touch of wooden furniture.

Returning to Hangzhou as an adult, I found these memories entangled with real-world interests and the worldly

calculations of the elders I once idolized. This disillusionment made me realize that purity never truly existed in isolation; the complexities of the adult world had already seeped into my only sanctuary, “contaminating” the peace I once took for granted.

This series is deeply personal. It revisits those beautiful moments of childhood, only to uncover a cruel discovery: the very sanctuary I cherished was never free from the reach of reality. By planting subtle, unsettling undertones within these scenes, I wish to capture the hidden ache of realizing that even the most sacred warmth is already riddled with cracks.