The broken limb is a memory I have hidden since I was a child. White gauze, white cotton ball, slowly pale fingers and bright red blood make up a picture of permanent frame. In 1982, mother was injured on business and her finger was broken. In 1992, mother and I went to Shanghai prosthetic factory to customize the prosthesis. The fingers in the iron box became the objects I used to play with when I was a child. The soft texture of flesh colored silica gel, the hard nail cap and the joints that sometimes crumble inject curiosity, fear, excitement and cruelty into the memory of 5-year-old children. The work "limb" is my childhood memory of the broken limb through casting process, making the same proportion and size of the turnover mold with my fingers, and then arranging them in complex order, magnifying the conflict between perception and reality, increasing the sense of fear, in order to achieve coexistence and digestion with childhood memory. Physical trauma can be seen and intuitive, while time trauma can not be touched and hidden. The only similarity between the two is the degree of visual injury after 30 years, 40 years and 50 years: wrinkles and spots on the back of mother's hand.