This is a true story. Cuigu was the nanny who brought me up. My mother gave birth to four children. We grew up in different nanny homes. When I was three months old, my mother left me with my aunt. My mother was very busy and rarely visited me. I didn't return to my mother's house until I entered kindergarten at the age of four. Before, I always considered my aunt as my mother, and my aunt's house was my home. My aunt is very good to me and she loves me very much. I went to school, and every time I passed by her house downstairs, she would stand on the balcony upstairs waiting for me, calling me upstairs and giving me snacks. She treated me as her own daughter, so when I grew up, I would visit her every festive season with gifts. The neighbors downstairs were jealous and said, "It's better than my biological children." Their biological children didn't bring them gifts, and they often quarreled, which caused them a lot of trouble. This book was written in memory of her, and I shed tears while writing it.
