A Minh arrives at the small door within minutes. He is not a boy — he is a young man of about fifteen, with a calm, narrow face and short, neat black hair. He is only a little taller than Toan, but he moves and speaks like someone much older. He kneels in front of the door without saying anything. After a long silence, he says very quietly, "We must go in." He looks at Anh. "But the door has no lock. If it closes behind us, we cannot get out. I need something to hold it open — something heavy and solid, so it cannot move." Toan looks around the garden. He picks up a round rock from the base of the old wall and holds it up. Minh nods once. "Good," he says.

B They bend and go through the low door one by one. Inside, Minh places the rock carefully in front of the open door. The room is completely dark. Anh holds his hand in front of his face and cannot see it at all. He hears Toan walk into something solid and say "Ow" very quietly. Then Minh reaches into his robe. There is a scratching sound — and a small warm flame appears. Minh holds it up. Its light falls on the walls, the shelves, the books. In his hand, a little wax drips slowly from the base of the flame, onto his finger.

C The room is small — perhaps the size of Anh's old bedroom at home. But every wall, from floor to ceiling, is covered in shelves. And every shelf is packed with books. Old books, thick books, books with dark covers and faded gold letters on the spine. There must be hundreds.

D Toan sneezes. Then sneezes again. His eyes begin to water. He waves his hand and a small grey cloud rises from the nearest shelf. Anh runs his finger slowly along the reading desk near the centre of the room. When he holds his finger up, the tip is entirely grey.

E Anh wants to look at the books, but the highest shelf is too far above his head. He looks around the room. Against the far wall, he notices something with four legs and a flat seat. He carries it to the shelf, stands on it, and can now reach the top row easily. He pulls out a thin book and blows dust from the cover. He looks at the title. He frowns. The letters are not letters he has ever seen before. They look like nothing he knows. He puts the book back carefully.

F Meanwhile, Minh moves slowly along the shelves, reading each spine in turn. His lips move slightly as he reads. Then, on the lowest shelf in the far corner, he stops. He picks one book up with both hands — very carefully, the way you carry something that might break. The cover is dark brown. When he opens it gently, the pages are yellow and very thin. He stands still for a long moment. He closes his eyes.

G Toan leans toward Anh and whispers, "He has been searching for that book for years. I did not even know if it was real." Anh watches Minh's face. There is a very small smile at the corner of his mouth, and something wet at the corner of one eye, which Minh quickly blinks away and pretends did not happen.

H Then a low sound comes from somewhere near Anh's middle. He presses his hand flat against his stomach and stares at the floor. Toan looks up at the ceiling. His mouth is working very hard not to smile. "We should return," says Minh, without looking up from the book. "It is past lunchtime." He places the book carefully inside his robe, close to his chest. Then he looks at both boys. "We tell no one about this place. Not yet."

I The three of them move back toward the small door. They go through one by one, and Toan pulls the plants back into place across the entrance so that nothing looks disturbed. Minh presses the door gently and it closes with a soft click. Then Anh asks the question he has been holding since Paragraph F. "Minh," he says quietly. "That book — why did it make you close your eyes like that?" Minh is quiet for a moment. Then he says: "Because I have been looking for it for eight years. And because I was not sure it still existed." He pauses. "After lunch, I will tell you what is inside it. We will come back tomorrow — with a lamp, and paper, and more time."