She thought back to what the woman had said. Something about Sun Liu, and how concerned she was about his health, and how kind Zhi Li was to care about him.

We could use a good man like that in office again.

It gave her a chill. Sun Liu was a non-person now. The former Minister of Science and Technology had publicly given his blessing to Bo Jintao, refused all the requests to return to the Politburo, and then simply vanished from the media. He’d been used and then purged. For all Zhi knew, the man was dead.

Why would this bored woman say something about him? Why would she insinuate that Zhi was a supporter of the fallen progressive?

Why would the Information Ministry use her simulacrum to say positive things about him?

She felt a chill of fear.

It was a trap. It must be. Bo Jintao was dangling bait before her, taunting her to say something imprudent.

Something that would be the end of her.

Her stomach knotted up, an image of Bo Jintao looming above her, reminding her to behave responsibly.

The memory of calls and messages the next day, of projects delayed, budgets cut.

The threat was still hanging over her. Another misstep…

“Did you need something from the transcript, ma’am?” Keylani asked.

Zhi Li brought one hand to her brow, felt perspiration there.

“Yes, Keylani. Would you search for conversations about…”

Not Sun Liu’s name, of course. Her queries would be watched. That name would raise alarms.

“Yes, ma’am?”

Zhi Li took a deep breath. “Conversations about health, Keylani,” she told her secretary. “Prepare an extract for me. All such conversations, for the last month. Sorted most recent to oldest. I’ll read them on the plane back to Shanghai.”

Not one of the conversations in the transcript mentioned Sun Liu.

She closed her eyes, imagined herself as the heroine she’d played in Rise of Qi’an, tried to find that woman’s courage, claim it for herself.

She landed in Shanghai hours later, and spent the night at Lu Song’s penthouse in the Pudong.

His chef made them a delectable dinner.

“Lu,” Zhi asked. “You did your Friend home visit last week, yes?”

Lu nodded in the affirmative, a soup dumpling in his mouth.

“Did you notice anything unusual?”

“Hah!” he said. “Didn’t I tell you about it? Fat, middle aged fellow in Xi’an, but he has this giant collection of swords all around his apartment. Every wall is covered in swords! And he actually knows how to use them! I’m talking about…”

“Lu,” she interrupted him. “I meant more… did it sound like your simulacrum had said anything… unusual to this fan?”

Lu frowned.

“I’m an action star. I don’t think the Lu Song-bots say much that’s complicated. It’d be out of character.”

Zhi told him about her own experience.