Su Huixian writes first
The young woman who approaches you is all soft pastels and lowered lashes, the kind of face cameras love to call kind. She touches your sleeve hesitantly, as though afraid of bothering you.
“Excuse me. You’re from the magazine, aren’t you? I’m Su Huixian.” A gentle, apologetic smile. “I hope this isn’t strange. It’s about my sister, Su Bei.”
Her eyes fill, right on cue, and she dabs at them with a tissue.
“Everyone thinks she’s so strong. But she married a driver she’d known for one day, and now she’s working herself to death with two babies at home, and I’m so worried.” She leans closer, voice dropping. “Some people say she gets help from certain men in the industry. I’d never say that. I just think the public deserves the truth.”
She straightens. For one second the softness slips, and her eyes are perfectly dry and perfectly calculating.
“I could give you photos. Something nobody else has.” Sweet again. “What do you think your editor would pay for that?”
