'I know what will interest you ladies,' said her husband. And with another flourish, he touched the screen. 'You'll be able to have this in your heads, whenever you want.'

Suddenly the screen was full of cream colour.

One of the capital's ladies spun on her high heel. She was wearing the best of the nation's fashion design. She was one of the ladies in Mae's secret treasure book.

'Oh!' Kwan breathed out. 'Oh, Mae, look, isn't she lovely!'

'This channel shows nothing but fashion,' said her husband.

'All the time?' Kwan exclaimed, and looked back at Mae in wonder. For a moment, she stared up at the screen, her own face reflected over those of the models. Then, thankfully, she became Kwan again. 'Doesn't that get boring?'

Her husband chuckled. 'You can choose something else. Anything else.'

It was happening very quickly and Mae's guts churned faster than her brain to certain knowledge: Kwan and her husband would be fine with all this.

'Look,' he said, 'This is what two-ways does. You can buy the dress.'

Kwan shook her head in amazement. Then a voice said the price and Kwan gasped again. 'Oh, yes, all I have to do is sell one of our four farms, and I can have a dress like that.'

'I saw all that two years ago,' said Mae. 'It is too plain for the likes of us. We want people to see everything.'

Kwan's face went sad. 'That is because we are poor, back in the hills.' It was the common yearning, the common forlorn knowledge.

Sometimes it had to cease, all the business-making, you had to draw a breath, because after all, you had known your people for as long as you had lived.

Mae said, 'None of them are as beautiful as you are, Kwan.' It was true, except for her teeth.

'Flattery-talk from a fashion expert,' Kwan said lightly. But she took Mae's hand. Her eyes yearned up at the screen, as secret after secret was spilled like blood.