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her had not really gone away; the tide had just subsided for the time being, but was waiting to well up like a tsunami at any moment. She knew that the gift was wrong, that she had not really done anything to deserve it, but as she looked at the shiny ripe persimmons, she felt special. Someone had noticed her, someone had thought of her enough to buy her nice things. It had been a long time since anyone had done that, so she accepted the gift.

      As she carried the basket down the corridor to her dorm, she could feel the other girls’ hot stares burning her with their envy. She was sweating, and her heart was heavy with guilt, heavier than the basket she was carrying. But as she walked into the dorm she found herself talking freely, the words flowing easily from her mouth. Ei, everyone, look what I have! A cousin of mine in Hong Kong got married to a very rich man and they had their wedding. I couldn’t afford to go so they sent me some tokens of their big celebration. Come, come, let’s all share!

      Hei, you did not tell us you are from Hong Kong.

      Yes, Phoebe said. From just near the border, in the New Territories.

      Oooh, the girls said as they reached for the fruit. So I guess it’s natural that you speak Cantonese! We thought you just learnt it to curry favour with the boss!

      This is how things happen in China, Phoebe thought as she sat watching her new friends sharing the basket of fruit. Things change so fast. From then on all the girls knew who she was, and they were nice to her. They took her clothes and washed them for her when she was on a long shift, and some of them began to talk to her about their private lives – where they were from, their boyfriend problems, their ambitions. One day she was talking to a girl, just someone she shared meal breaks with in the canteen sometimes, not really a friend. The girl’s mobile phone rang, and she just looked at the screen without answering. Her face twisted into a pained expression and she handed the phone to Phoebe. It’s the boy I was telling you about, the one who bullies me. Phoebe took the phone and did not even say hello. This is your ex-girlfriend’s cousin, she said. This mobile phone belongs to me now. Your ex has a new boyfriend and he is rich and educated, not a stupid peasant like you, so just go away or else I will make trouble for you. I know who you are and which lousy place you work at.

      Wah, you are amazing, Phoebe! Everyone was laughing and someone even reached out and put her arm around Phoebe’s shoulder.

      On her first day off that month she went with some other girls to the cinema. They stopped at a fast-food place and had bubble milk tea before buying a box of octopus balls which they ate while strolling through the night market, linking elbows as if they were still in middle school. They turned their noses up at the cheap clothes, far cheaper than the ones they made in the factory, stall after stall of thin spangled nylon. The music on the speakers was loud, thumping in their ribcages and drowning out their heartbeats. It made them feel so alive. The smell of fried food and charcoal grills felt familiar to Phoebe – she did not feel so very far from home after all. They saw posters advertising the latest concert of the Taiwanese singer she liked, and the ticket prices did not look too expensive.

      Hei, we should all save up some money and go! someone said. Phoebe, you love Gary, don’t you? Maybe we can share the cost of your ticket, because you are always cooking for us and sharing your food with us. I hear he’s going to sing some Cantonese songs too, since it’s here in Guangzhou, so you can teach us to sing along! She was happy that they offered, but she knew that these were empty promises and that no one would actually buy her a ticket.

      She stopped to buy a shiny black top decorated with beads, but the other girls scolded her. Forty kuai! Too expensive. Aiya, new girls are always the same, always spending money on useless things instead of sending it home. Besides, you should be buying nicer clothes, something that suits your slim figure better, not some Old Mother style! But Phoebe bought it anyway, she didn’t care. It had pretty embroidery, a red rose adorned with silver beads that fanned out from each petal.

      But as swiftly as the bright cool days of autumn give way to the damp chill of winter, life also changes. Phoebe knew this by now. Nothing ever stood still in China, nothing was permanent. A person who is loved cannot expect that love to remain for long. There is no reason for them to keep this love; they do not have a right to be loved.

      She shared her third basket of fruit and other delicacies with her dorm friends. This time there were bags of dried scallops and a tin of abalone, which none of them had ever tasted before, and they gathered to cook a meal together. It was too luxurious for lowly people like them, one girl remarked – this meal was all thanks to Phoebe.

      Really, said another girl, lifting her rice bowl to her mouth. Boss Lin says this kind of thing is not so special in Hong Kong, everyone eats it over there.

      How would you know? When do you ever talk to Boss Lin?

      Hm, it’s true. I rarely get a chance to speak to him. The only person he speaks to is Phoebe.

      I wish he didn’t, Phoebe joked. He is so boring. Hai, it’s only because of my stupid job that I have to have contact with him.

      It seems he takes a special interest in you. He even calls you into his private office.

      Yes, but only to scold me for tasks I haven’t done! Come, eat some more!

      The next month, Mr Lin summoned Phoebe to see him as soon as he arrived. He shut the door; the blinds were already down as usual. There was no fruit basket this time, only a small box. He opened it and held out a brand-new mobile phone, the type with no buttons on the screen, just a smooth glass surface. It was something a tycoon’s daughter would have, or a businesswoman. Phoebe didn’t even know how to turn it on.

      But I already have a phone.

      It’s OK, take it. Just tell your friends you won it in a competition.

      She held it in her hands, turning it over and over again. She held it up to her face. It was like a mirror – she could see herself in it.

      You like it? Mr Lin was standing next to her, though she had not heard him approach her. He put his hand on her buttock, the palm flat, burning through her jeans. Hours later, she would still feel the imprint of his hot hand on her, leaving its mark where it had stayed for less than half a minute, maybe not even that long.

      In the dorm someone said, What’s happened to your cousin in Hong Kong? No food hamper this month? I think the cousin must have suddenly died and turned into a ghost!

      Next day, two Shaanxi girls from the next block were taken away by the police. When Phoebe asked why, one of her dorm mates said it was because they didn’t have the right papers. They were illegal, and one of them was underage.

      But I thought you said that kind of thing doesn’t really matter, that the employer doesn’t ask too many questions, where you’re from and all that, Phoebe said.

      Sure, that’s right, her dorm mate replied, smiling. But rules are rules. You can dodge the regulations for so long, but if someone makes a formal report there’s nothing anyone can do. Half the girls here are lying about something, and most of the time it’s OK. Even if you don’t have a proper hukou or your papers are fake, who cares? Only when you step out of line do others make trouble for you. Those girls were unpopular, they were arrogant and made enemies. They thought they were better than everyone else, so what could they expect? It was just a matter of time.

      One morning Phoebe came back after a night shift and saw that the poster by her bed had been defaced. The pop singer’s moon-bright complexion had been dotted with acne and now he wore round black glasses and there were thick cat whiskers sprouting from his cheeks.

      Time was running out for Phoebe. From the first moment she set foot in China she had felt the days vanishing from her life, vanishing into failure. Like the clock she stared at every day at work, her life was counting down the minutes before she became a non-person whom no one would ever remember. As she sat during lunch break on the low brick wall next to the volleyball court, she knew that she had to act now or she would forever be stepped on everywhere she went. The grey concrete dormitory blocks rose up on all four sides of the yard and blocked

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