It was a great challenge, my fi rst interview ever in 2010, Shenzhen.
The guide carefully shut the door behind me and left me alone with the interviewer. He was a young Chinese man, his face was quite charming with fi nely smooth skin and a slight imitation look of James Dean. His height was charming too in the eye of many traditional Chinese girls, not short but exactly a head taller than me. I greeted him with a respectful smile and bow and nod and a prepared brief self-introduction in English. Without even looking at me, he gestured for me to sit opposite him. That gesture of his was unfeelingly cool. It chilled me, as if an indication that I shouldn’t wear a pink tweed suit on that occasion. I took the seat and was given a piece of paper. His authoritative silence made me feel that I was sent for trial in a court and he was the judge.