“Is she a movie star?” Nick asked the manager, staring at the girl as she posed glamorously with her fans. With long, voluminous raven hair piled up into a loose beehive, a perfectly sculpted ski-jump nose, and bee-stung lips, she seemed larger than life—like a Chinese Ava Gardner.

“No, that’s Colette Bing. She is famous for her clothes,” the manager explained.

Colette finished autographing some dinner napkins and headed straight toward them. “Ah, I’m glad I found you!” she said to Rachel as if she was greeting an old friend.

“Are you talking to me?” Rachel stared at her, utterly stunned.

“Of course! Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“Um, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. We’re meeting some people for dinner here—” Rachel began.

“You’re Rachel, right? The Baos sent me—the plans have changed. Come with me and I’ll explain everything,” Colette said. She took Rachel by the arm and began walking her out of the room. The girls in the hallway started squealing again and taking more pictures.

“Where is your service elevator?” the woman with the faux-hawk demanded of the manager. Nick followed along, baffled by everything that was happening. They were shuffled into an elevator and then down another service corridor on the ground floor. But as soon as the doors opened onto Guangdong Road, they were met by the blinding flashbulbs from a pack of paparazzi.

Colette’s security guards tried to clear a path through the phalanx of photographers. “Back off! Back the fuck off!” they yelled at the jostling pack.

“This is nuts!” Nick said, almost colliding with an overzealous photographer who had jumped right in front of him.

The woman in the faux-hawk turned to him and said, “You must be Nick. I’m Roxanne Ma—Colette’s personal assistant.”

“Hi, Roxanne. Does this happen everywhere Colette goes?”

“Yes. But this is nothing—these were only photographers. You should see what happens when she walks down Nanjing West Road.”

“Why is she so famous?”

“Colette is one of China’s foremost fashion icons. Between Weibo and WeChat, she has more than thirty-five million followers.”

“Did you say thirty-five million?” Nick was incredulous.

“Yes. I’m afraid your picture is going to be everywhere tomorrow. Just look straight ahead and keep smiling.”

Two large Audi SUVs suddenly pulled up, almost running into one of the photographers. The bodyguards quickly hustled Colette, Rachel, and Nick toward the first car, shutting the door firmly behind them before the swarming photographers could take any more shots.

“Are you okay?” Colette asked.

“Besides my barbecued retinas, I think I’m fine,” Nick said from the front passenger seat.

“That was intense!” Rachel said, trying to catch her breath.

“Things have really gotten out of control in Shanghai. It all started after my Elle China cover,” Colette explained in a carefully modulated British accent tinged with the staccato tones of a native Mandarin speaker.

Still on high alert, Nick asked, “Where are you taking us?”

Before Colette could answer, the car came to a sudden halt a few blocks away from the restaurant. The car door opened and a young man jumped in beside Rachel. She let out a quick gasp.