Six in the morning, the corridor outside the ICU at the Sanbo Research Institute.
Zhou Min curled up on a chair, covered with a thin blanket given by Doctor Li Chao from Shanghai. Seven days felt like walking back and forth on the edge of a cliff. Her husband Shen Guohua's jaundice had faded, his consciousness was clear, and his CA19-9 levels dropped. It was the dawn of a miracle, but this dawn was still faint, liable to be extinguished by the next gust of wind at any moment.
Inside the ward, Shen Guohua was half-reclining, connected to seven or eight tubes. The blood circuits of the artificial liver emitted a low hum, dark red blood flowing out from one side, passing through the cold membrane columns, then returning from the other side. His cheeks were sunken, and his eye sockets were hollow, but there was a glimmer in his eyes, a spark reigniting with the relief from pain.
