“I hate the opera,” Zhi Li said, still looking out the window. “And I hate Bo Jintao.”

“Zhi!” Lu Song said, a note of distress in his voice.

She turned and looked at him, his massive frame, that hard, muscular body, wrapped up so elegantly in a formal tuxedo. His broad face with its wide lips and strong jaw. The long luscious black hair she loved to run her fingers through, tied back in a single black braid today.

His eyes were gesturing towards the front, towards her drivers.

“Oh please, Lu,” she said. “Qi and Dai have heard and seen a lot worse than that from me. From both of us.” She pitched her voice louder. “Haven’t you, boys?””

Laughter came from the front. “Yes, ma’am.”

Not that they were really drivers, of course. No one needed drivers. They were there to show off. And because they were useful. And deadly.

Lu Song shrugged, then squeezed her hand again. “Just cheer up, Zhi. You’re the most famous actress in all of China. You’re a billionaire. Half the people on the planet have seen one of your films. Hundreds of millions talk to you every day.”

Zhi shook her head. “They talk to a bot with my face, that uses my voice to lie to them, to feed them false honey instead of bitter truth. Millions more talk to a bot that uses your face to lie to them.” She turned to look at her lover. “Why do we allow it?”

Lu was so patient when she got like this. “The fans love you, either way,” he said. “And as for tonight, it’s a great honor to sit in the Premier’s booth at the Opera.” Then a smile came to his face. “They say the new Premier is a great fan of my films, actually.”

Zhi Li laughed. “Oh, does that flatter you, lover?” She reached over and poked him gently in the side with her free hand.

Lu grabbed her small hand, lightning fast, in his massive grip. A flash of desire shot through her. “I prefer the female fans, myself,” he said, staring down into her eyes.

Zhi bit her lip.

Then she shook her head, her hands still trapped by her lover’s. “Lu,“ she started. How could she say this? The male ego was so fragile. Even that of a superstar like Lu Song, the action hero of the moment.

“Yes, my love?”

“We’re not here because he’s fans of ours, lover.” She said, wrestling her hands back, smoothing the folds of her too-long emerald gown. “We’re here because he’s seized power in a coup. There are rules of succession, rules of how things happen – rules he’s broken. And now he’s going to use celebrities like us to sell it to the people. He’s going to use us to legitimize it. We’re the new opiate of the masses.”