Her face showed rapt attention through it all, wide smiles and open-mouthed laughs at the pathetic attempts at humor, anxiety at the utterly un-tense moments of tension, thoughtful introspection at the weak tea it passed off as social commentary.

Next to her, Lu Song managed to stay awake through the whole thing.

Behind her, she was aware of her drivers Qi and Dai, on their feet perpetually on alert for threats against her safety. Along with Bo Jintao’s aide, Gao Yang, and another half a dozen bodyguards to protect China’s most powerful man.

At the end of the opera, the audience surged to its feet, clapping with gusto. Bo Jintao, two seats from her, on the other side of Lu Song, rose with them.

“Splendid,” the new Premier said, clapping deliberately.

Zhi Li smiled broadly as she stood and clapped. She turned and looked up to see Lu Song roll his eyes. She resisted the urge to kick her lover in the shins.

“Zhi Li, how did you like the opera?” a reporter yelled out from the mass in front of her.

An array of microphones were pointed in their direction. Dozens of media drones hovered overhead. Scores of cameras focused on her, Lu Song, and Bo Jintao. Not that Bo Jintao would take any questions, of course. He was above that. But his presence here said enough: Zhi Li and Lu Song had the official nod of approval.

And Bo Jintao had their support – a message their hundreds of millions of fans would see and hear again and again.

Zhi Li ignored the bitter taste of that, kept the smile on her face, made eye contact with the cameras.

“Very nice!” she said, still smiling. “Very wholesome! Traditional, even. Something my grandmother would have loved.”

She heard laughter from the reporters. She knew many of them by name, many more by face. A few she thought of as friends. They all knew this game, and how it was played. They’d all understand that she had instructions to praise the opera, not so different from their own. And they’d all know what she really thought.

The tiny, futile show of disobedience soothed her, made this moment more bearable.

Behind the reporters, Zhi Li saw fans, honest to goodness fans. Girls and boys, men and women. But girls most of all. Her heart rose. She was a role model for these young women. Let them hear what she was saying. Zhi Li pitched her eyes and smile for the phones the girls held aloft.

You hear what I’m saying? She thought at them. You can choose. You can think for yourself.

“Lu Song,” a reporter yelled out. “Is it true that you’re in negotiations to play the male lead in Swords of Revolution, opposite Zhi Li? That you could be on screen again with your real-life partner?”

Zhi smiled at that, and looked over and up at her lover.