‘Is it worth dying over, Siew-Yong?’ asked Mrs Moulage.

Peng sighed. ‘I know that both of you will understand how to get to this position I have had to fight every step of the way. In China our most influential philosopher, a man called Confucius, believed “women are to be led, and to follow others”. He died nearly two and a half thousand years ago and his influence is still ingrained in most of the government’s way of thinking. That is what I am up against.’

Peng put her teacup back on the table.

‘Over my years in office I’ve seen average men thrive without any real effort. And I’ve seen brilliant women sidelined and ignored. Ling Ling and the rest of my staff, the ones who really know me, they call me biàn sè lóng. The chameleon. Because that is what I have had to be. I don’t get the privilege to be myself. I don’t get to just turn up. Each meeting I have I prepare for, I have to research everything I can about who will be sitting across the table from me. I find out what kind of “me” they will respond to. Respectful, grateful, pleading, strong, fearsome. If I need to charm, if I need to threaten, what I need to do to win them over.

‘I’m sixty-four now. I’ve worked my whole life to get to this ministerial position. And this will be as far as I ever get. But at least right now there will be girls growing up getting to see me here. In a position of power. And that is all I want. To be seen here, to be seen doing my job well, and bowing out still with my head held high.’

Peng’s voice never wavered as she spoke. I knew I wouldn’t be able to convince her to do what was best for her own safety. She couldn’t show weakness, she couldn’t fail, she couldn’t stop. She was fighting for her legacy.

‘I understand, Minister.’

‘I’m glad we met, Lex. I feel in good hands with you.’

‘I will do my best,’ I said. I meant it. Meeting Peng, being impressed by her, made me all the more determined to keep her alive.

We all got to our feet. Mrs Moulage shrugged on her fur coat and picked up her snakeskin handbag.

Peng and Mrs Moulage embraced. ‘Stay safe, Siew-Yong.’

‘And you, Doris.’

*

Mrs Moulage and I got into the waiting lift together. I pressed the ground-floor button and the doors closed.

‘Doris Moffett,’ Mrs Moulage announced into the silence. ‘That was the name I was born with. Little Doris Moffett had no control over her life. She didn’t get to say where she lived, what people did to her or who she really was. So one day Doris Moffett became Mrs Moulage. And everything changed.’ She turned to me and smiled.