In her fourteen years working at the Child Welfare Institution, Li Huijun has cared for countless innocent orphans—and has been deeply moved time and again by their warmth and resilience. Through Chunhui Family Program, a home-like environment is created where orphaned and disabled children are nurtured by a devoted "mother" and accompanied by brothers and sisters. Here, their lives are filled with love, laughter, and a true sense of family.
Li Huijun is the foster mother of four lovely boys. The youngest, Han, had only been in the family for a little over a year, but had already become an inseparable part of it—the family’s little treasure. Han was a gentle and affectionate boy, a little bundle of sunshine whose every gesture could melt hearts. When he smiled, his eyes turned into little crescents—it was impossible not to adore him.
As Spring Festival approached, the institution organized a special performance to bring warmth to the elderly and to help the children build confidence. When the children heard they’d be performing for the elderly at a local nursing home, their excitement buzzed in the air.
On the day of the performance, Han didn’t go on stage. Instead, he sat quietly among the audience, his eyes glued to the stage from beginning to end. The performances were vibrant—some children sang with clear, bright voices; others danced with joyful, lively moves. Han was mesmerized. Now he clapped so hard that his little hands turned red, and now his face lit up with a delighted grin.
After the show, the elderly residents presented gifts to the children. Though modest in value, each gift was handmade and filled with warmth. One elderly lady slowly walked up to Han, her kind eyes full of affection. She gently handed him a piggy bank made from an empty formula can. The can was beautifully decorated: white twine wrapped in perfect circles around the outside like a delicate coat, adorned with colorful flower petals, and a fuzzy bear sticker clung tightly to its side, as if protecting something precious.
Han held the can with both hands, carefully and tenderly, as though it were the most precious treasure in the world. He ran all the way home with it. The moment he stepped through the door, he shouted excitedly: “Mama, Mama, look!” His face beamed with joy, eyes sparkling. “Grandma gave me a piggy bank—let’s put coins in it together!”
Li Huijun looked at Han’s crescent-moon smile and his glowing cheeks, and felt a rush of warmth surge straight to her throat. This home—this nest of warmth—was everything to the children. Watching Han grow up alongside his foster brothers, stumbling and laughing through their days, she knew that life’s sweetness often lived in the smallest of moments.
The little toy car wasn’t just for one child anymore—it was shared, pushed and pulled among several eager hands. The candies tucked away in the drawer? Often, a little hand would sneak out an extra piece for a brother who’d just been scolded. And if someone lay listless on the bed, there would be a clumsily poured glass of water by their side, or a crumpled card with crooked letters cheering them on.
These tiny acts were like flecks of gold, filling the cracks of daily life with brightness and joy.
Li Huijun saw it all—and her heart softened. The children hadn’t learned grand life lessons. Instead, they were simply growing up surrounded by love, love that flowed like the air they breathed. They understood, without being taught: joy is multiplied when shared, those around you should be cared for, and even the sunlight outside the window feels like a gift wrapped in sweetness.
She knows the road ahead is long, and there will be storms. But as long as this home stands behind the children, they will never face the world alone. And her? She will always be here—rooted like a tree, watching over their every dash forward, and catching them with open arms each time they fall.
The children’s shadows grow longer and longer, but her gaze will always remain at that very starting point—gentle and unwavering—as she watches them take one step after another toward the future.
This is her life: holding onto the noise and warmth of it all, guarding each fleeting moment of their growing up. Her heart is full—like a quilt dried in the sun, warm through and through.
Twenty-five years have passed. Enough time for a child to grow up, for dark hair to turn silver, and for a belief in love and protection to take root and blossom into thousands of heartwarming stories.
On the occasion of the 25th anniversary of Chunhui Children’s Mama’s Time Museum and the founding of the program, we revisit the past through 25 precious “timeworn objects,” launching a journey of reflection and remembrance.
Through them, we hope to show: Mother-hood is not a one-sided sacrifice, but a shared process of nourishment and growth between a caregiver and child. Being a mother isn’t about scoring a perfect 100—it’s a living journal full of creases, revisions, and even teardrops.
Because only what’s real can truly move the heart.