Jack Stewart had a dream, a dream of his childhood.
They were memories from a long time ago.
Before he turned five, he had a seemingly happy and perfect family; his parents were in love, and the family was affluent.
In his memory, his mother was a gentle woman, like a lady from the water towns of Jiangnan, always loving to wear long dresses, her waist-length hair loosely held with a pin.
His mother loved flowers, so there were always flowers blooming in the yard in front of the house all year round.
When the weather was nice, his mother would go to the yard to prune the branches of the flowers, and when she bent over, some strands of hair would fall beside her ears, then she would tuck them behind her ear.
The sun was just right, a faint layer of warm light, loved most when cast in people's memories.
At that time, he was still naive, and while his mother wasn't paying attention, he ruined several blooming camellias.
