“Yes. She’s really a beautiful woman. She told me not to disturb you. She said you work too hard and she cherishes you. She’s such a considerate girl.”

“How are your daughters doing?”

“Very well. I’ve brought you a rose cake. Doesn’t it smell good?”

“Yes, wonderful. Why don’t you have some, too?”

“I’ve already had some. Mrs. Yi, I saw that Angelica keeps your photo in her breast pocket. She said you’re her sweetheart! I’m a little jealous.”

“Why are you jealous, Ginger? You know you’re my sweetheart, too.”

“Mrs. Yi, I’ll have wonderful dreams tonight. See you later.”

Mrs. Yi tried a piece of the rose cake: it was delicious. She sighed. Aunt Yossi had a gift for understanding people. She had seen the essence of her daughter-in-law. She stood up to go home.

The moment she opened the door, she saw a man in black from Blue Mountain.

“We Blue Mountain villagers want to thank you,” the man said.

“Why?”

“For many, many things—things that started a long time ago.”

“I see. Dear sir, are you leaving now?”

After the man in black left, Mrs. Yi remembered that Angelica kept her picture in her breast pocket. How could Angelica have a picture of her? She didn’t have a camera and was rarely photographed. Not long ago, however, she did go with Kay to see the director, who had a very old camera. They took some pictures with the director, and also a few individual photos of themselves. Angelica must have gotten her picture from the director. The director, Kay, Angelica, and herself—magically connected, as if by a predestined bond! No wonder the man in black said many things had begun long ago, but she hadn’t been aware of this.

She was emotional on the way home. She noticed many of the villagers loitering like shadows.

“Yuan, what are you doing?” Mrs. Yi asked.

“Just walking around. I’ve been burning with passion for days, and I love it. Mrs. Yi, you cured me of malaria, and now I have a vision that I shall never die.”

“That’s good. It’s fine to think of it that way. What are you carrying?”

“Fried fish. When I set out today, I had a hunch that I would run into you, so I brought it for you.”

“You had that kind of hunch?”

“True enough. I also heard your footsteps. I became familiar with them when I was sick. Oh, those days and nights!”

Mrs. Yi went home. When Mr. Yi asked if she had seen Angelica, she said no but that it had been more real than seeing her in person, and even more thrilling.

Her husband nodded and said approvingly, “The girl Angelica is just like you when you were young. She looked familiar the first time I saw her.”

“Perhaps our Yun Village, Blue Mountain, and Deserted Village are the same clan, but geological disasters later scattered us. We’re still together . . . Actually, we never scattered.”

Mrs. Yi had never again found the banyan tree forest on Niulan Mountain. But she knew it wasn’t a dream; her experience in the forest was real. She had dug hard with that hoe, hadn’t she? Wasn’t her arm sore when she got home? Her husband’s memory agreed with hers. Mrs. Yi felt that after that incident she had become more broadminded and more confident. One afternoon she remodeled her henhouse and built a small passageway so that the weasel could visit the black-and-white chicken whenever it wanted to. Mr. Yi appreciated his wife’s idea. Afterward, the visits did take place, but quietly, without struggle or bloodshed, and it was only by careful examination that Mr. and Mrs. Yi could find any traces of the weasel. The black-and-white chicken became more lively and alert.