Inside Man
Huang Jia did not know what she was supposed to do. "What do you mean pretend to be a maid?" was this some kind of a sick fetish?! Had they finally resulted in the most inhumane way of getting their money back?
Reading the expression on her eyes, Mr. Dong shook his head. "Nothing of that sort. You're really going to be doing cleaning, folding clothes—that sort of mundane job."
She knew she shouldn't be asking more—her and her son's life were being spared and she was not being sold as a sex slave. But she could not help but ask. "A maid for who?"
"Not who," he answered, leaning back against his chair, showing off his huge belly. She reminded him so much of a pig--glutton and greed. Take, take, take. That was probably what was going in his head. "You are going to serve as a maid to the Qings. This is a favor for an old friend. You're going to be their inside man."
Me? Inside man? She asked herself. When had I qualified for something like that?