Wang Shu is constantly talking on the phone in Chinese to various important contacts back home. Making deals. At this very moment, Wang Shu is on the phone talking in Chinese.

Ying Yue grew up in North Wales and cannot speak Chinese. At least she doesn’t feel like she can speak Chinese. Perhaps she can. Yes. Perhaps she can. But she doesn’t feel like she can, somehow. It’s like not remembering that you can ride a bike until you are seated on the saddle and then you pick up your feet and suddenly, instinctively, start to pedal …

Ying Yue has never owned a bike or ridden on one. It is a dream of hers that one day – one day – she will ride on a bicycle. As she stands in the hallway she rests her hand on the saddle of Charles’s late mother’s bicycle that is parked there: it’s a heavy, old-fashioned, deep blue British Roadster with a wonderful, brown sprung saddle, full mudguards, a sturdy chain case, useful kickstand and bell.

Ying Yue is twenty-seven years old and has never really been given the opportunity to relax, to unwind and to play. She is – and has always been – on perpetual guard; on watch duty for Wang Shu. Because she has never been able to let loose and have fun in her day-to-day life, she gently rebels (although she would never see it in these terms – she is not remotely rebellious) by constantly playing funny little games inside her mind. Ying Yue is extremely earnest. On the surface, at least, Ying Yue is a perfect picture of submissive conformity. Of polite obedience. Ying Yue always takes everything very seriously – aside from herself, that is.

As long as she can remember, Ying Yue – the true daughter of Wang Shu – has been completely grown up and burdened by a huge number of weighty responsibilities. Even as a toddler she worried about – and felt the burden of – Wang Shu’s immense import and majesty.

Ying Yue is Wang Shu’s mirror. She reflects Wang Shu back at her (but a nicer version of Wang Shu. A better, more contained and more obliging version of Wang Shu). That is Ying Yue’s job – to be a mirror.

The name Wang Shu belonged originally to the god who drives the carriage of the moon. The moon, to the Chinese, represents gentleness and tenderness, so the god who drives the carriage of the moon is a renowned and important figure. Ying Yue’s name, on the other hand, means simply ‘reflection of the moon’.

Ying Yue is almost … but not quite.

Ying Yue is very nearly … but not actually.

Aw. Never mind.

What people don’t realise about Ying Yue is that she is invisible (to all intents and purposes). Nobody ever really notices her. Even that ‘special’ teacher at school – who you always see featured prominently in heartfelt documentaries about the gradual decline of the British educational system – even that special teacher never bothered to notice Ying Yue.