With that introduction, the elevator doors opened onto the ninety-ninth floor, and Kitty was momentarily blinded by the light. She found herself standing in the apex of the tower under a soaring atrium, its cathedral-like ceilings constructed almost entirely of glass flooding the space with intense sunlight. Kitty wanted to put on her sunglasses, but she suspected this would elicit another scolding from Corinna.

The next thing to assault her senses was the blaring rock music. As they took a seat in one of the back rows, Kitty saw hundreds of worshippers with their hands raised and waving in unison as they sang along to the Christian rock band. The band was made up of a strapping blond lead singer who could have passed for a Hemsworth brother, a Chinese female drummer with a buzz cut, another white guy on bass guitar, three college-age Chinese girls singing backup, and a scrawny teenage Chinese boy in a green Izod shirt three sizes too big pounding away frantically on a Yamaha keyboard.

Everyone sang: “Jesus Christ, come into me! Jesus Christ, come fill me up!”

Kitty took in the whole spectacle with childlike awe—none of this was anything like what she ever imagined a Christian church service to be: the celestial light, the thumping music, the hunky rock god onstage, and best of all, the view. From her seat, she had a jaw-dropping bird’s-eye view of Hong Kong Island, from Pacific Place mall in Admiralty all the way to North Point. If this wasn’t heaven on earth, what was? She took out her phone and began snapping a few covert pictures. She had never seen the top of 2IFC up close before.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing? Put that away! You’re in the house of God!” Corinna hissed into her ear.

Kitty put away her phone red-faced, but whispered to Corinna, “You lied to me—look how everyone is dressed to the nines except me!” Kitty said, pointing to the young woman in the front row in a white Chanel suit, the three enormous Bulgari gemstone rings on her fingers sparkling brightly as she waved her arms back and forth.

“She’s the pastor’s wife. She is entitled to dress like that, but as a new visitor, you can’t.”

Kitty was aggravated at first, but as she gazed at the gigantic cumulus clouds in the crisp azure sky, with the roar of the catchy chorus in her ears and everyone around her singing their guts out, she began to feel strange new emotions stirring within. The dapper guy in the hounds-tooth jacket and tight Saint Laurent jeans next to her was screeching off-key, “Everything I need is right here, Jesus! Everything I neeeeed,” tears of joy streaming down his face. She found it strangely sexy to see this young hipster crying so openly. After half an hour of singing, the blond lead singer—who turned out to be the pastor—said to the congregation in an American accent, “It fills me with so much joy to see all your bright happy faces today. Let’s share the love! Let’s share the joy by passing it along to the person next to you! How about that?”