Wen Yunuosu, curled up on the carpet, gave a faint, almost imperceptible shudder. It was no act, but a physical reaction as her taut nerves abruptly relaxed. Slowly and with great difficulty, she pushed herself upright, as if every bone were groaning under the strain. Fine dust clung to her plain white linen dress. Sweat-soaked bangs stuck to her paper-pale cheeks, and she looked as if she had just been hauled from the water, so weak she could barely stay on her feet. Yet when she raised her eyes to the sharp-gazed old man with white hair behind the long table, her clear eyes held more than deep exhaustion. Far beneath it, a faint but stubborn spark had caught fire: hope in the face of utter despair.
