Palmer's hands were tightly bound with hemp rope as thick as an index finger; his left palm had a small hole through which blood had dried to a black stain.
A breeze would occasionally blow through the woods, passing through the hole and causing his palm to tremble slightly.
"I can give you a lot of money, a whole lot of money, please, let me down."
When Bi Fang approached Palmer, the latter seemed to sense something, slightly lifting his eyelids with breaths so faint they resembled murmuring to himself.
The rope stretched over the thick tree branches and wound around the trunk, half-suspending Palmer. He knelt on the ground, his hands pulled high, his heavy head resting in the crook of his arm.
Bi Fang, in reality, hadn't hung Palmer very high, which would have suggested a "deliberate torture."
