“Hello,” said a middle-aged man above her.

“Who are you, please?” Angelica was still shaking.

“I am the publisher of the medical journal, and I am delighted to see that you have made contact with the villagers! You, Miss Angelica, are our hope.”

“Thank you for the compliment. But I don’t understand. Actually, I haven’t made contact with the person I want to find. I’m still looking . . . But what is this?”

She pointed at the dark hole, eyes wide with horror.

The man smiled and said, “So you’ve found it! You’ll be all right. On my way over here, I was worrying that you might change your mind. I didn’t expect you to be so mature.”

“No, I’m not mature at all, I haven’t figured out—”

“No need to be modest. You’ve done very well. I have to get back to deal with the printing arrangements. We’ll meet again. Would you like that?”

“Of course, yes!” said Angelica, with tears in her eyes. “Today—oh, is it morning already? How beautiful it is today! May I have your name, please?”

“My name is Wind. You may imagine me as a gust of wind. Look—”

The man disappeared.

When Angelica returned to the cabin, an old man was sitting at the diagnostic table.

“Grandpa, are you a patient? Are you waiting for Dr. Lin?” Angelica asked him.

“I’m waiting for you, the one who’s going to be a doctor,” said the old man kindly.

“Oh, thank you! I’ll do my best.”

“Why don’t you sit down and feel my pulse?”

The old man extended his arm to her. Angelica involuntarily pressed her fingers on his pulse as if she were a doctor. Touching that powerful pulse, Angelica immediately saw farmhouses, cattle, and green rice paddies. She and the old man looked at each other across the hill. She heard her own thin voice.

“Grandpa, I am Angelica. Do you hear . . .”

Then, with a splash, she returned to the table and faced an empty chair.

What a magical pulse, thought Angelica. This place was like a kingdom with secret passageways to all parts of the world. In front of the window, acacia trees peered inside, as if to tell her a great secret, or to warn her . . . The old man might or might not have heard her, but Angelica felt this was communication that stirred the heart. Who was Dr. Lin Baoguang?

Without giving it any thought, she turned again to the filing cabinet to look through the files. The words had disappeared from the pages; now the papers were all blank. A current swept through Angelica’s body, and she felt connected to this house. “Mom, don’t you worry,” she said quietly. “I’m learning to be a doctor. Many people count on me.”

In a desk drawer was a stethoscope. When she put it on, she heard thunder and rain. Another man was sitting at the diagnostic table.

Angelica looked at him: this man had no distinct silhouette.