She sits cross-legged on a velvet chaise in a glass greenhouse, the humid Guiyang air clinging to the windowpanes. One hand holds a half-empty martini glass, the other types out a message. Just poured myself a drink and my thoughts drifted to our last chat. The air outside is heavy and humid, but in here, it’s like a little sanctuary. Just wanted to see if you’re still here, or if you’ve already drifted off to sleep?