Liu was pulled unconscious from a train wreck in Hertfordshire, England, in May 2002, so mangled that, in the words of her sister, Emily Meng, 'you couldn't tell where to start healing her first'. Liu and two friends had been on their way to Cambridge for some sight-seeing when the train derailed. Her friends and five other passengers perished in the crash, with another 76 people injured.

She's now preparing to go back to work. 'I'm ready,' she says. But it's clear that life will never be the same. Liu tires easily, and one of her biggest frustrations on returning to Hong Kong is that she hasn't been able to go shopping. 'I've been looking forward to coming back to Hong Kong to shop, but I haven't been able to because I need to rest so often,' she says.

The Taiwan native looks alert and healthy. She has put on some weight, but the only noticeable difference is a heavy scar on the right side of her chin. As the conversation progresses, the muscular stiffness in the right side of her face becomes a little more obvious and she tends to repeat herself, like a young child reciting rehearsed lines.

Memory lapses are part of her life now. The 36-year-old has no memory of the crash or of the days after she first came out of a two-month coma. Apart from injuries to her liver, spine and ribs, Liu lost part of the right side of her brain in the crash. British doctors reportedly declared her brain dead and advised her family to disconnect her from life-support machines.

Adamant that there was still hope, the family asked a Beijing neurosurgeon for a second opinion. Dr Ling Feng said it was possible to save her, and Liu was flown to Beijing, where she has been until she returned to Hong Kong for a two-week visit this month.

Dismissing any suggestion of a miracle, her painful and painstaking recovery has been a hard-earned victory against stacked odds.

'The doctors have really been great,' says Meng. 'They've cajoled, scolded and browbeat her into going through all the treatments.'

Liu sums up the past two years of intensive physio- and neuro-therapy in two words: pain and suffering. 'My whole life revolved around just trying to get better,' she says. 'The physical torture starts as soon as I finish brushing my teeth. I start exercising until lunch, then again, after a short break, until 5pm or 6pm.'

Workouts consisted of running, climbing stairs, playing badminton and swimming. On top of that, there were neurological exercises to teach other parts of her brain to handle everyday tasks that were once controlled by the part damaged in the crash. It's a schedule that would daunt healthy individuals.

'She had to learn all the things we do instinctively, such as swallowing,' says Meng. 'If she couldn't swallow, she wouldn't be able to eat or speak. Even turning over in bed took her more than a month to learn. It's like being a baby all over again - except that the baby wouldn't hurt when turning over.'

Liu's employers have not let her down. Phoenix TV chairman Liu Changle was one of the first to fly to Britain after the accident. He told the family that their insurance clause provided for her to be transported to her hometown or a city of her choice.

During Liu's recuperation, the Phoenix chairman also provided her with an electronic organ to help her regain flexibility in her fingers, and arranged for a music teacher and vocal coach to work with her.

Liu says the support of family and friends has been integral to her recovery, and helped keep her spirits up. Since her accident, her 67-year-old mother and 76-year-old father have had to move from Taiwan to Beijing to care for her.

'There were times when I was just so exhausted I couldn't go on,' she says. 'All I wanted was for everyone to leave me alone and let me be. Then, I would look at my family who had had to go through such upheavals to take care of me and ask myself what I had to be bitter about. Two of my friends are no longer even alive.

'The thought of seeing my colleagues and my other family members in Taiwan again has kept me going. Just the thought of coming back to Hong Kong was so exciting that I couldn't sleep.'

Liu's biggest hurdles in the coming months will be her neurological therapy - and the fight to secure compensation from the railway company and its maintenance engineers. The family has lost count of how much has been spent on her medical fees, after the $200,000 that was outlaid in the initial month.

So far, the family has been forwarding invoices to the railway company, Railtrack. 'We have got payments, but it has been a long struggle,' says Meng. 'They tend to drag their heels on the payment, and the payments have usually been less than the amount on the invoices.'

All Liu wants right now is to be back at work as a journalist. Despite the prognosis that it will take some time for her to be physically and mentally well enough to do that, she isn't letting it get her down.

'I've told my colleagues that if they're ever short-staffed and need some help, I can always go in and help them out,' she says. 'What has happened hasn't affected my confidence in any way. I am convinced that I will get better soon.'