Claire opened her eyes, and the morning light shone through the carved wooden windows in the strange 19th-century Spanish colonial room.She looked down at the indigo printed skirt she was waving with the morning breeze, and the ink fragrance of wax paper copied last night's "Declaration of Human Rights" remained at her fingertips.The mobile phone has long been lost in the whirlpool of time and space. What is in your hand is the "Social Contract" with a slightly hot gold pattern on the cover of the sheepskin - this is the era of awakening and struggle under the pen of Jose Rizal. The corridor came the symphony of church bells and the whistle of the Manila sailboat docking, mixed with Spanish rebukes and suppressed sobs of the Filipino natives.She suddenly remembered the yellowed "Don't Touch Me" in the library last night. When her fingertips passed through the passage of Rizal describing Sister Eva's secret school, the old-fashioned ceiling fan in the ancient book restoration room suddenly rotated wildly... At this moment, in the square outside the window, she clearly saw the cholera isolation tent described in her nursing textbook, confronting the colonial prison described in "Tyranny". The stethoscope in the nurse's skirt pocket turned into a quill pen. Claire touched the school emblem on her chest and realized that the embroidered text had become "Kapwa" in the Philippines.The noise of student gatherings came from afar, and she finally understood why the faces of those revolutionaries looked so familiar - they had fought fiercely with white blood cells and phagocytic bacteria on her pathological map.