I quickly whipped my hand out of her grasp and got up to go. She didn’t try and stop me, just asked me to sit with her for a little longer. I was worried that she was up to her old tricks, and insisted on leaving. She was clearly upset but still walked me to the door, turning expectant eyes upon me. She clearly wanted to talk to me and was holding herself back painfully, which made me feel profoundly uncomfortable. I sensed that if I stayed there any longer I might no longer be able to resist her, so I was even more determined to leave. On the road home, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of something that Anderov once said to me: ‘Until you have cracked a cipher, only an idiot would be sure that he can do it. This isn’t a plot of land and a cipher isn’t a potato, from which if you plant it and look after it carefully you can be guaranteed a harvest.’ Involuntarily I found myself becoming more and more depressed by the horrible nature of cryptographic work, and I didn’t sleep the whole night.

18

Late one evening a few days later, just as I was getting ready to have a wash, I suddenly heard a knock on the door. I went to open it somewhat suspiciously, and it was Huang Yiyi who was standing there. I was more than a little surprised. ‘It’s really late, why aren’t you at home? Is something up?’

She stared at me but didn’t speak. I saw that her hair was in a mess, and she didn’t look at all well – in the yellowish lamplight she looked as white as a sheet, as if there really was something wrong with her. I was worried that she might be getting ill, so I quickly told her to come in, and asked, ‘Are you OK? You really don’t look well – are you coming down with something?’

She suddenly seemed to become completely boneless as she pitched forward against my chest silently, her eyes closed, as if she had fainted. I got her down into a chair, called to her, felt her forehead, and rushed around in a panic not knowing what to do for the best. I had just decided to put her down and phone for help when she suddenly opened her eyes, shook her head, and said, ‘I’m fine, don’t bother phoning anyone.’ Then she looked at me silently, lovingly.

‘You just fainted,’ I said. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

She nodded as if she were at the very end of her resources. ‘I’m tired … I am so very, very tired … Between you, you … and RECOVERY … have worn me out …’ As she spoke, she took hold of my hand.

I tried to remove my hand from her grasp. ‘What’s wrong with you?’