Shan-tung. I hope you had a good journey. Please, will you come this way? I will take you to your rooms. Mr. Shan-tung invites you to join him for dinner at eight o'clock." It was one of the most beautiful houses I had ever seen. Everything was very simple but somehow arranged for maximum effect so that a single vase on a shelf, sitting under a spotlight, let you know that it was Ming or something and probably worth a million pounds. The floors were polished wood, the ceilings double height, the walls clean and white. As we went upstairs, we passed paintings by Chinese artists. They were very simple and clean, and they probably cost a fortune too. We all had bedrooms looking out over the garden, on the same floor—Jamie and me sharing, Richard on his own. The beds had already been turned down with sheets that looked brand-new. There was a TV and a fridge filled with Coke and fruit juice. It was like being in a five-star hotel, but (as Richard said) hopefully without the bill. We were all dirty and tired after so much traveling, and Jamie and I tossed a coin to see who got to shower first.
