Кевин Кван - China Rich Girlfriend

Kitty was indignant. “Ms. Ko-Tung, I know exactly what I’m doing. Just do a Baidu search under my name. Look at all the magazines and newspapers. The bloggers and gossip columnists can’t stop writing about me. My pictures are in all the magazines every month. I’ve totally changed my style over the past year, and in last week’s Orange Daily , they ran three pages on my red-carpet looks.”

Corinna shook her head dismissively. “Don’t you see that those magazines are just exploiting you? Sure, the average reader of Orange Daily living in Yau Ma Tei must think your life is a dream come true, but at a certain level of Hong Kong society, it doesn’t matter if you wear the finest couture and millions of dollars’ worth of diamonds. At this level, anyone can do that. Everyone is rich. Anyone can make a twenty-million-dollar donation if they really want to. To these people, having your picture in the party pages all the time actually does more damage than good — it is seen as desperate. Trust me, being in Tattle is not going to help your image. It won’t get you a membership at the Locke Club, or an invitation to Mrs. Ladoorie’s annual garden party at her villa in Repulse Bay.”

Kitty didn’t know whether or not to believe her. How could this woman who looked like her hair had been cut by some cheap hairdresser in Mong Kok dare to give her advice on her image?

“Mrs. Tai, let me tell you a bit about what I do. I advise people who want to secure a place among Asia’s elite, among the real people of influence.”

“With all due respect, I’m married to Bernard Tai. My husband is one of the richest men in the world. He’s already influential.”

“Oh really ? Well where is Bernard these days, then? Why is he not at all the functions I go to? Why wasn’t he at the Chief Executive’s *5lunch honoring the Fifty Most Influential Leaders in Asia last Thursday? Or at the party that my mother threw for the Duchess of Oxbridge last night? Why weren’t you there?”

Kitty didn’t know how to respond. She felt a wave of humiliation sweep over her.

“Mrs. Tai, if I may be very frank, the Tais have never had the best reputation. Dato’ Tai Toh Lui was a corporate raider from some Malay backwater. The other tycoons despised him. And now his son is seen as a ne’er-do-well party boy who inherited a fortune but hasn’t worked a day in his life. Everyone knows Carol Tai still controls the purse strings. No one takes Bernard seriously, especially after he married a former porn star turned soap-opera actress from Mainland China.”

Kitty looked like she had been slapped in the face. She opened her mouth to protest, but Corinna pressed on. “I don’t care what the truth is — I’m not here to judge you. But I feel that you need to know this is what everyone in Hong Kong has been saying about you. Everyone except Evangeline de Ayala, who we both know is very new in town.”

“She was the first person who has been nice to me since I got married,” Kitty said sadly. She looked down at her napkin for a moment before continuing. “I’m not as stupid as you think. I know what people are saying. I’ve been treated horribly by everyone, and it started long before the Pinnacle Ball. I was seated next to Araminta Lee at the Viktor & Rolf show in Paris last year, and she pretended like I didn’t even exist. What have I done to deserve this? There are so many other socialites with murky pasts, much worse than mine. Why am I being singled out?”

Corinna assessed Kitty for a few moments. She had expected her to be far more mercenary, and she was unprepared to discover the naïveté of the girl sitting in front of her. “Do you really want me to tell you?”

“Yes, please.”

“First of all, you are Mainland Chinese. You know how most Hong Kongers feel about Mainlanders. Like it or not, you have to work extra hard right out of the gate to overcome all the prejudices. But you handicapped yourself early on in the race. There’s a whole crowd who will never forgive you for what you did to Alistair Cheng.”

“Alistair?”

“Yes. Alistair Cheng is immensely popular. When you broke his heart, you made enemies out of all the girls who have adored him and all the people who respect his family.”

“I didn’t think Alistair’s family was that special.”

Corinna snorted. “Didn’t Alistair take you to Tyersall Park?”

“Tire-what?”

“My God, you never even got near the palace gates, did you?”

“What are you talking about? What palace?”

“Never mind. The point is, Alistair’s mother is Alix Young — because of her, Alistair is related to almost every important family in Asia. The Leongs of Malaysia, the aristocratic T’siens, the Shangs — who own practically everything. I’m sorry to have to break this to you, but you placed your bet on the wrong horse.”

“I had no idea,” Kitty said in a whisper.

“How could you? You didn’t grow up among these people. You’ve never been properly schooled in the ways of the manor-born. Let me assure you, if we choose to work together, you will get the insider’s view on everything. I will teach you the ins and outs of this world. I will share with you all the secrets of these families.”

“And how much is all this going to cost me?”

Corinna took a leather folio out of her battered Furla tote bag and presented it to Kitty. “I charge an annual retainer, and you are contractually obligated to sign on for a minimum of two years.”

Kitty looked over the schedule of fees and burst out laughing. “You’ve got to be joking!”

Corinna’s expression turned grave. She knew the moment had arrived for the hard sell. “Mrs. Tai, let me ask you something. What do you really want out of life? Because this is where I see your life heading: You’ll keep flying around Asia for the next few years, going to galas and benefits and whatnot, getting your picture in the magazines. Over time, you might strike up friendships with other rich Mainlanders or the gweilo *6wives of men stationed here with three-year contracts at some foreign bank or private equity firm. You might even be invited to join the boards of inconsequential charities started by these bored expat wives. Your in-box will be filled with invitations for cocktails at the Chopard boutique or art openings in Sheung Wan. Sure, you may occasionally be invited to one of Pascal Pang’s parties, but the real Hong Kong will always be closed to you. You will never be asked to join the best clubs or attend the most exclusive parties in the best houses — and I’m not talking about Sonny Chin’s mansion on Bowen Road. Your children will never get into the best schools and have playdates with children from the top families. You will never get to know any of the people who move the economy, who have the ear of the top politicians in Beijing, who affect culture. People who truly matter in Asia. How much is that worth to you?”

Kitty remained silent.

“Here, let me show you a few pictures,” Corinna said, placing an iPad on the table. As she began to scroll through an album of images, Kitty recognized a few of the city’s top social figures posing casually with Corinna in private settings. Here was Corinna at breakfast on board the plane of a certain Mainland tycoon who now lived in Singapore, at the graduation of Leo Ming’s son from St. George’s School in Vancouver, in the delivery room at Matilda Hospital holding a famous Hong Kong socialite’s newborn baby.

“These are people you can introduce me to?”

“These are my clients.”

Kitty’s perfectly mascaraed eyes suddenly widened. “Ada Poon? She’s one of your clients?”

Corinna smiled. “Let me show you a picture of what she looked like before I began working with her. For your eyes only.”