Self-Introduction Part 2

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Tell me, if the “Number One President” of the United States and I, the world’s “Number One

Prostitute,” were to “fight,” who on earth would dare step in to break it up?

Trump would declare, “I’m the greatest in the world…”And I would answer, “No — I’m the

greatest. Greater than the sky, greater than the earth, greater than the planet itself by several

circles…”

By then, our “battle” would turn the world upside down. Chaos everywhere. Reporters from

every country would flood into Canberra until half the city was filled with journalists.

The big, chubby twenty-one-year-old Australian I mentioned earlier would probably scold me

again: “Now half the men in Australia know you.”

I would answer, “Not quite. It’s probably half the men on earth. No—that’s still not right. It

should be all the men on earth. Actually, not even that is enough. It should be the entire

universe that knows me—God in heaven, Jesus, Adam, and Eve as well. This ‘fight’ between

Trump and me would go on for years, until we’d practically turn the whole planet upside

down.”

By then, the map of China would have drifted over to India, the map of the former Soviet

Union to Europe, and Venezuela to the United States. After Trump and I finished our battle

and he returned to America, he would even set Venezuela’s president and his wife free.

Europe and Russia would have no more wars. The whole world would finally enjoy peace

and freedom. And I would return to heaven to meet God, Jesus, Adam, and Eve.

And by then, half of Canberra’s manhood — the big ones, the small ones, the long, the short,

the dark, the fair, even the reddened ones (those who stay home too often with only their own

hands for company), the hard, the soft, the old, the young — would be sprawled on the

ground wailing: “Number One, where have you gone? Where are we supposed to put

ourselves now?”

The moment I left, President Trump would be overjoyed. “At last I can be the greatest in the

world. I’m Number One now—no one left to fight me!”

From heaven I would laugh and call down, “Trump, come up here—come up to heaven and

let’s continue our fight. I won’t let you rest until you admit that I’m the greatest, that I’m

Number One.”

Of course, the idea of Trump coming to fight me is just a joke. But sometimes I do wonder: if

the complete series of Humanity and God were ever to win the Nobel Prize in Literature,

might Trump take me to court? I’ve already thought about what I would say if he did. Once

we stood before the judge, I would deliberately play the fool:

“I’m talking about the President Te Lang Pu, that’s what we call in Chinese. But your real

name is Donald Trump, is it? What’s that? You want money from me? I don’t have any

money. All I have is one pussy—if you want it, you can take it.”

You see, I’m always making up jokes to make people laugh. How could something like that

ever really happen? Obama never came after me with a lawsuit, and Trump certainly won’t.

Speaking of Obama, more than a decade ago, when I was writing Goddess God, Obama was

the President of the United States. In my book I wrote many humorous stories involving him.

Before Obama ever had the chance to take me to court, he left office.

I do have a dream instead: once the complete series of Humanity and God wins the Nobel

Prize in Literature, perhaps Trump will come to visit me at my home. The moment he steps

through the door, I’ll ask him for one million US dollars—enough to buy me a luxury BMW.

Of course he won’t be carrying that much cash, so he’ll have to write me a cheque.

Then I’ll lead him into my “workroom.” The moment I slip off my skirt, Trump will protest:

“For this pussy, you’re asking me for a million dollars? I wouldn’t even give you one dollar!”

And I’ll reply, “Mr. President, please don’t say that. Many of my clients say it’s a five-star

one.”

At that, Trump will say nothing more, simply take back his cheque, board his private jet, and

fly straight back to America. What a disappointment that would be—I’d become the

laughingstock of the whole world.

Of course, all of this is just joking. I love telling stories that make people laugh.

Speaking of dreams, I have an even bigger one—though it’s a little embarrassing to say out

loud. You could say I’ve had too many dreams in my life.

After Humanity and God wins the Nobel Prize, I hope the King of the United Kingdom might

grant me an official title. Peter told me that in Britain, the King gives titles to famous athletes,

film stars, writers, and artists. If the King gave me the title “Number One Prostitute,” then

Trump would never again say my pussy isn’t worth anything. When he walked through my

door, I’d ask him for two million dollars—and the price of a new house. Then people all over

the world would say, “This Number One Prostitute really knows how to do business.”

Once Humanity and God wins the Nobel Prize, I want to go to Hollywood—like Xaviera

Hollander—and turn my story into a film. In fact, my assistant has already sent the full

manuscript to an Australian film production company in Melbourne. They said they would

reply within sixteen weeks. I hope this dream comes true.

Since being interviewed by Sydney Today, the largest Chinese-language media in Australia, I

have also dreamed that Chinese filmmakers in Australia might adapt my story. Some Chinese

friends told me that mainland tourists visiting Hong Kong often go to see adult films like Jin

Ping Mei. But that story reflects sex life from 900 years ago, half hidden behind classical

language. My stories are direct and modern—men from over a hundred countries, real

experiences. On screen, it would be far more interesting. I hope some visionary Chinese-

language director will read Follow the Dream and Humanity and God.

Ever since I came out of my mother’s womb, I’ve been telling jokes. Before school, I

entertained neighbourhood kids. In primary school, I entertained classmates. In high school, I

entertained entire year groups. At police academy, I told jokes not only to classmates but

even to teachers.

But when I worked in prison, I couldn’t joke freely. In front of prisoners, I had to keep a

serious face—eyes wide like glass balls, face stiff as a blackboard, speaking only of laws and

regulations. Walking with straight posture, maintaining the authority of a state police officer.

In 1993 I left the prison and started running a restaurant for seven or eight years. As a female

boss, life became easier. Every morning at 9 a.m., I held staff meetings in the lobby and joked

with employees until they wanted to laugh but didn’t dare. During those years in Beijing’s

Huairou district, I became a kind of “universal glue,” knowing local government leaders,

police chiefs, court officials, and transport authorities.

After coming to Australia and marrying an Australian man, within two months I began

working as a prostitute in Canberra. At first, I worked in a brothel. My English was poor, and

I was shy—terrified anyone might discover my profession.

Later I rented my own place and started working independently from home. I had no

experience and poor English. When clients called, I couldn’t even explain my address clearly.

I wanted to joke with clients but couldn’t.

After a few years, many clients began calling me “Number One.” My English started to

improve. When joking in bed, I used gestures and broken sentences. Sometimes I didn’t

explain myself clearly, and the client didn’t understand—but I’d laugh anyway. He’d ask,

“Why are you laughing?” I’d say, “I don’t know.” Then he’d laugh too. We’d lie face to face,

both laughing without knowing why.

After the Chinese edition of God Goddess was published in June 2013, and later the English

book The Number One Prostitute in 2016, everything changed. My English improved

dramatically. Now I understand everything clients say. When we joke and tell stories, we

laugh until our stomachs hurt. When Peter moved in with me in 2014, he brought even more

humour into my life. Sometimes we joke so much we even argue over misunderstandings.

I believe my success as “Number One” in Canberra and across Australia has a lot to do with

humour and storytelling. In this business, skill matters—but so does conversation. Many

clients come as much for laughter as for sex.

One day a client walked in and asked,

“Linda, what new book are you writing?”

I said, “My new book is Follow the Dream.”

He said, “Then my book is called Follow My Cock.”

I replied, “Then my next book will be called Follow My Cunt.”

Yesterday, a driver who transports senior Australian government officials came in. He said,

“Linda, these weeks are exhausting. The Prime Minister keeps going to meetings.”

He showed me a photo of a black Rolls-Royce. “When the British King or Queen visits

Australia, this is the car we use to pick them up. When China’s premier comes, I drive him

too.”

He said driving for national leaders is extremely stressful. “I’ve heard those cars have

bulletproof glass,” I said.

“Driving isn’t the scary part,” he replied. “It’s after I step out. I have no body armour, no

helmet, no gun. If someone fires a shot, I’m finished. Prime ministers and presidents have

bodyguards. I have nothing.”

I burst out laughing. “So even drivers for world leaders have dangerous jobs!” He said,

“Sometimes my legs shake when I stand beside the car.”

We both laughed for a long time. Then he told me another story.

“One night around 10 p.m., I picked up a senior female government leader from a party. I

won’t say her name. When I dropped her at home, she held my arm and said, ‘Come inside.

We can have sex…’

I panicked. I said, ‘No, no—please. You’ve had too much to drink. If I go in, I’ll lose my

job.’”

I laughed so hard I couldn’t stop. He laughed too and continued:

“There’s another senior official—married with six kids. First time I picked him up, I drove

him home. Second and third time, a different address. Fourth time, back home again. I joked,

‘How many houses do you own in Canberra?’ He sighed: ‘My girlfriend kicked me out.’”

I laughed again. “This happens to officials everywhere,” I said. “Look how many beautiful

women surround Trump. No wonder his wife rarely follows him.”

The driver said, “If I were Trump’s wife, I wouldn’t follow him either—it’s too dangerous.”

Everything people say comes from their own life and job.

To be funny, your mind must react quickly. When someone says something, you must

immediately understand and respond—often with the opposite of what they expect. You can

use contrast, puns, exaggeration, absurd comparisons. Humour requires intelligence and

flexibility. It’s not something everyone can do.

People who are funny make others feel close to them. No matter what business I do, I always

have what Chinese people call Ren Qi—personal appeal. People like being around me.

Last week, a regular client in his sixties who works as a mid-level government official

walked in, grabbing his crotch and saying: “This morning my cock has been hard in my

trousers all day.”

Before he could continue, I asked, “So what happened? Another woman came into your

office?”

He said, “At 9 a.m., just after I sat down, a female subordinate in her thirties walked in. She

wore a bright green tight top—half her tits showing, deep cleavage. A matching mini skirt,

green high heels. Half her ass exposed. She swayed over and picked up my cup: ‘Boss, let me

pour you coffee.’”

“I jumped up, grabbed the cup. ‘I already made coffee,’ I said. My hand touched hers—soft

and white—and instantly my cock got hard. I sat down quickly. She stood there, swaying her

hips: ‘Boss, do I look pretty today?’”

“My eyes moved from her tits to her face. ‘You’re very pretty… young… capable…’ My

heart was pounding. She said: ‘That new position upstairs—give it to me.’”

“I said no, no — ‘You’d need at least six months of training for that position.’

“She replied, ‘I can do it. If you give me that job, my annual salary will increase by thirty

thousand Australian dollars. It will help me pay off my mortgage.’”

“I said, ‘And if I give it to you, what will you give me?’ She answered, ‘I can give you sex.’”

“I asked, ‘What if your husband finds out?’ She said, ‘I’ve already talked it through with him.

He agrees.’”

“I said, ‘Let me think about it carefully.’ She insisted, ‘Just give it to me. I promise I’ll do the

job well and won’t cause you any trouble.’”

“I said, ‘All right. Go back for now.’”

“She turned lightly and swayed out of the office. My eyes followed her — the curve of her

hips, the long pale legs. Afraid she might notice the state I was in, I didn’t dare stand up.”

I laughed and gave him a playful squeeze. “Looks like today you’re in need of my

professional care,” I said with a grin.

He said, “I had to come. Who knows how many more young women might wander into my

office today?”

Then he continued, “Listen, there’s more. Less than ten minutes after she left, another

subordinate—this one in her forties—pushed open my office door. Before I even had time to

stand, she walked straight up to me, rested a hand on my shoulder, and said, ‘Boss, tell

me—why does my husband always watch porn by himself?’”

“I looked up at her face and said, ‘He watches those videos because he’s searching for

something in them that he doesn’t find in everyday life with you.’ She moved a little closer,

as if about to sit on my lap.”

“I quickly shifted my chair aside, but she leaned in again. ‘Boss, do you think I’m pretty?’ I

said, ‘Yes—you’re very pretty.’”

“She said, ‘Then give that new position to me.’ I replied, ‘Several of the senior managers are

still discussing it.’”

“She shook my shoulder gently. ‘Just give it to me. We need the money. My annual income

would go up by twenty-five thousand Australian dollars.’”

“I thought to myself — one had just left, and now another had arrived. I asked her, ‘Have you

discussed this with your husband?’”

“She said, ‘He agrees.’”

“I asked, ‘You really want that position? It sometimes requires working night shifts.’”

“She smiled and said, ‘If I work nights… I’ll get to be with you.’”

“I asked, ‘If your husband finds out, won’t he make trouble?’ She shrugged. ‘There won’t be

a fight. Some nights he doesn’t come home either—who knows which woman he’s with.’”

“By then I was already in a difficult state again. I didn’t dare stand up. I took a sip of coffee

to steady myself and said, ‘All right, go back for now. Let me think about it carefully.’

She smiled. ‘Fine—but don’t take too long. I’ll be waiting.’”

“She swayed out of the office just like the first one. After she left, I locked the office door,

got into my car, and drove straight here to you.”

I laughed. “You don’t need to tell me the rest—I can already guess.” We both burst out

laughing.

Lying together on the bed, he began telling me stories from his youth.

“When I was sixteen,” he said, “I once had sex with my girlfriend on the sofa in her living

room. Suddenly her mother came home. She looked at me and asked, ‘May I join in?’”

“I looked at my girlfriend. She said, ‘Sure, Mum, you can join us.’ So I started with her

mother, while my girlfriend sat on the other sofa watching. After a while she got up and went

back to her own bedroom. I was with her mother for quite some time. When I finished, I had

no idea whether she reached orgasm—I was too young to know.”

“A few days later, I called my girlfriend. She said, ‘We should break up.’ I asked why. She

said, ‘I can’t accept that you slept with my mother.’”

“After that, her mother kept calling me. She was thirty-eight. We continued seeing each other

for quite a while, until I met a new girlfriend. The funny part was that with this new

girlfriend, we could hug and kiss. She even let me go down on her—but she wouldn’t let me

sleep with her.”

“One day she said, ‘We should break up.’ I asked why. She said, ‘My mother says we

shouldn’t have sex before marriage. If we stay together, sooner or later you’ll end up sleeping

with me.’”

“Not long ago, I went to a colleague’s place for drinks. We all drank too much. He suggested

calling his partner to join us—maybe we’d all have sex together. When she arrived, I realized

she was that second girlfriend. She whispered to me, ‘Don’t tell him about our past.’ But

when she took off her skirt… nothing happened. I couldn’t respond at all. The pink pussy

she’d had when she was young had changed with time.”

When he finished, I burst into laughter again. “What a coincidence—stories like that really

exist.”

He got dressed and handed me fifty dollars.

I asked him, “So, have you decided which lady will get that new position?” He grinned. “I’ve

given the job to you.”

I laughed. “I don’t want your job. If I took it, I’d earn tens of thousands less a year. I make

more than you do.”

Still laughing, I walked him out through the back door.

Stories like this—funny, absurd, full of sex and human weakness—I hear them every day. In

Humanity and God, there are more than four hundred different sexual stories. My clients

provide endless material for my writing.

Writing a book is like any other profession—it requires years of experience. Since 2003, I

have recorded stories from my daily work. By the time I began publishing, more than twenty

years had passed. These years gave me deep experience in literary creation.

I developed strong abilities in structuring language, organising narratives, and shaping the

logic of stories. I know which story should come first, which should follow, and once the

beginning is written, the later language flows naturally onto the page. I have an intense urge

to write. The moment I pick up a pen and sit at a desk, stories form in my mind. With

imagination, careful design, and literary techniques—chronological narration, flashbacks,

inserted stories, exaggeration, metaphor, contrast, description—everything comes naturally.

When I write, my thinking becomes vast. I talk about heaven and earth, past and present.

Characters and stories form naturally in my mind. Humorous language flows easily, never

repeating itself.

Australia’s largest Chinese-language media outlet Sydney Today once interviewed me and

introduced my experiences to more than a million Chinese Australians. The journalist asked

many questions. I want to share some of those answers.

Journalist:

“You’ve lived a remarkably varied life—from prison officer, to businesswoman, to sex worker,

and now a writer. Such a journey would astonish, even inspire envy in many people. It almost

feels as if you’ve lived several different lives. Could you tell us about these turning points in

your life—what drove you to make those choices, and which stories or experiences from each

stage have remained most unforgettable for you?”

All the unforgettable experiences from different stages of my life can be found in Follow the

Dream. It is an autobiographical novel that will continue as long as I live. As long as I am

alive, Follow the Dream will continue.

My ten years working in prison left the deepest memories. Stories of executions in Xinjiang

will stay with me forever. When colleagues described the execution grounds, they cried while

telling me. I cried with them. Two young lives in their early twenties vanished in an instant

because they breached the law. Life is fragile.

Journalist:

“How do you see sex work today? Has your understanding of it changed since you first

entered the profession? After so many years in this field, when you are with a client, do you

experience more than physical pleasure—perhaps even a sense of happiness or emotional

connection?

In your relationships with clients, how would you describe the balance between sexual

satisfaction and emotional warmth? How do clients who like you usually show their affection

or pursue you?

How do you treat the youngest and the oldest clients you have ever received? When you face

rude or disrespectful clients, have you ever regretted choosing this profession?

And when serving married clients who may be deceiving their families, do you ever feel a

sense of guilt?

Finally, what would you like to say to women around the world who are working in—or

considering entering—this profession?”

My views on sex work are explained clearly in both Humanity and God and Follow the

Dream. I have never regretted choosing this profession. On the contrary, I feel proud of

becoming Australia’s most well-known “Number One Prostitute.”

More than twenty years of sex work have given me thousands of connections across

Australia. Many clients became trusted friends. We talk about everything—our lives,

families, secrets no one else knows.

These decades also allowed me to write sexual stories few writers in human literary history

could ever reach. Many people think sex is instinctive. In reality, some men know nothing.

One client in his forties from Bhutan asked me: “How to make my wife cum?” They had

been married over twenty years. He had never given her an orgasm. I have heard countless

stories like this. Sex is both ancient and something people must learn. In that sense, Humanity

and God is also a textbook of sexual knowledge.

After more than twenty years in this work, my body remains very healthy. I rarely get sick. I

haven’t had a cold in five or six years. Seeing fifteen to twenty clients a day, running around

the house, moving constantly in bed—it’s physical exercise. I’ve served tens of thousands of

young men aged eighteen to twenty-five. If I woke up sore every morning, I couldn’t work.

Over the years I bought four houses. After my divorce in 2010, I lost two properties in

Sydney, which are now registered in the names of my former Australian husband's son and

his family, but I still have two in Canberra. I’m not rich, but I never lack money for daily life.

My greatest success in life was bringing both my mother and my sister to Australia. When

my sister was fifty-eight, she came to Canberra in September 2022 to visit me. Two months

later, in November, she married one of my Australian clients, a forty-four-year-old man. He

had been my client for eighteen years but never had sex with me—only massage and hand

jobs. He had never married. My sister is divorced with children and grandchildren but still

pretty. Everyone says she looks forty rather than sixty. These stories all appear in my books.

I have now reached a point where I am almost passionately in love with my life as a

prostitute. Each morning I wake in good spirits. When long-time regulars walk through the

door, we greet one another warmly, and I feel a deep sense of familiarity and comfort. New

clients sometimes tell me, “Linda, you have the smile of the most beautiful woman in the

world,” and my heart blossoms with quiet delight. At my age, to still receive such praise

makes me truly grateful to my parents for the face they gave me.

When a young man of eighteen or nineteen lies beside me, fulfilled and content, and calls me

“baby,” I feel as if I too have returned to that age. When a client hands me $120 and carries

me with him to the height of pleasure, and I cry out freely in bed, I cannot help thinking to

myself: what an extraordinary profession this is — men pay for the privilege of giving me

enjoyment. In those moments, I feel like the happiest woman in the world.

In my work I encounter all kinds of people. I have always been a strong-willed woman,

capable of handling every sort of situation. How I deal with different kinds of men is

described clearly — and often with humour — in Humanity and God. As for the boundary

between sex and love, I have always kept it distinct. With clients I genuinely like, the

physical experience can reach its highest intensity, yet it never becomes romantic love.

In my personal life, I have lived with Peter since 2014. We have genuine love between us. He

was once a client for several years. Since moving in, we have never slept in the same

bedroom—his snoring is too loud. After a day’s work, I need quiet sleep. But we understand

and care for each other deeply.

Through decades in sex work, I clearly understand that sex and love are separate. This is

explained throughout Humanity and God. When I first started, I sometimes felt guilty serving

married clients. Over time I realised sex and love are different things.

Through physical intimacy with thousands of men, I came to see sex work as a profession

with compassion and human value. In my view, a prostitute provides a service to humanity

just like any other profession—even like a president serving the public. Readers can

understand this perspective through the stories in my book.

Sometimes my work feels like that of a caregiver. I provide intimacy to men in their eighties

and nineties near the end of life. Sometimes I even have tears in my eyes during sex with

them. Through these moments I truly understand both happiness and hardship in life. From

birth to death, life is filled with struggle.

Over the years I have heard countless life stories from clients. We all learn from each other’s

experiences, no matter our age.

Sexual desire is one of the most fundamental parts of human life—like eating when hungry or

drinking when thirsty. Many doctors believe a healthy sex life is essential to physical well-

being. That Australia recognises sex work as legal reflects the country’s humane values.

I want to say, being a prostitute is not easy, and becoming the “Number One Prostitute” is

even harder. A friend of mine, Lili, whom I met while working in a brothel, once told me,

“Sister, this line of work is truly not something just anyone can endure.”

To those women who are curious about trying sex work, I always say: it depends on the

individual. You may try it, but you must consider it from every angle—your physical and

emotional resilience, your family situation, and the circle of people around you. Only after

weighing all these factors can you know whether you are truly suited to this profession.

Journalist:

“In your view, what matters more in life than money? How do you understand the ideas of

dignity and success? And what are your thoughts on the difference between good and evil?”

As for values and belief, I truly believe that in this world there are things far more important

than money—those of the spirit. What ultimately matters is what you are able to leave behind

for humanity. Van Gogh left the world thousands of paintings that will never fade from

human memory.

I do not follow any particular faith. I am not a religious believer, yet in my books I have

written about the soul, about God, and about the creation of humankind—stories that an

ordinary person could not easily imagine or write. Through writing Humanity and God, I feel

that I have discovered the human soul. I am completely certain that every human being

possesses one.

Regarding good and evil, everyone has their own views. I have always tried to live honestly

and treat others kindly.

Regarding success, I never deliberately pursued it. Money does not equal success. Van Gogh

died poor but became one of the greatest painters in history.

Journalist:

“You once worked as a prison officer—a place where people’s physical freedom is taken

away. Yet a person’s lack of freedom does not come only from physical restrictions; it can

also come from within, from beliefs, traditions, and the judgments of others. In many ways,

your later life, your choices, your emotions, and your writing all seem to express a strong

sense of freedom. How do you understand freedom? And what do you think a person should

do in order to truly live freely?”

As for freedom, I believe that any person’s freedom must be grounded in the country in

which they live and built upon a foundation of abiding by the law. I have lived a life of

freedom precisely because, whether during the thirty-eight years I lived in China or the

twenty-five years I have worked as a prostitute in Australia, I have always been a thoroughly

law-abiding person.

Journalist:

“What first inspired you to begin writing? When you were young, were you already someone

drawn to literature and the arts? What does literature mean to you personally?

How do you view the relationship between fiction and non-fiction? When you write, how do

you balance the fictional elements with the real stories from your life?

How do you evaluate your own writing? What kinds of responses do you usually receive from

readers? Has the influence of your work reached the level you once expected?

Could you also introduce the books you have completed and published so far, and tell us

about your future writing plans?

And finally, between the titles ‘Number One Prostitute’ and ‘famous writer,’ which one do

you prefer?”

Since 2010, when I first decided to organise the many stories I had recorded from my years of

life as a prostitute into a book, fifteen or sixteen years have already passed. From the very

beginning I had to look for typists, Chinese editors, Chinese publishers, English translators,

English editors, and English publishing companies. At every step there were expenses. The

journey was truly difficult, one step harder than the last. By now I have spent more than

200,000 Australian dollars on the books I have written. I have not made any money from

them, yet I continue to write with persistence. I believe that one day I will succeed. Whatever

you do in life, as long as you do not give up, there is always a chance that success will be

waiting ahead of you.

I can now see my direction and my goal clearly. On the path of writing, I will continue to

press forward, climbing with confidence toward the highest summit of the literary world.

The story of how I struggled to publish my books will be described in detail in my two long

works, Humanity and God and Follow the Dream. In short, no matter what you pursue in life,

achieving success is never easy…

You ask whether I prefer the title “Number One Prostitute” or “famous writer,” I must say:

call me Number One Prostitute. It is unique. No one else in history has used it. There may be

millions of famous writers—but only one Number One Prostitute.

If anyone should one day dare to call herself the “Number One Prostitute,” I would take her

to court for infringing upon my name. There are millions upon millions of so-called “famous

writers” in this world; that title sounds far too ordinary.

Again, it’s just joking.

One request: when publishing my story, please use only the name Linda, not my full surname.

My family still lives in China and they have even more relatives. For many Chinese people,

accepting my profession is still difficult.

I would like to make one request here: whenever my story is published, please use only the

English name Linda, and not my real surname. My family still lives in China, and they all

have relatives and friends there. For Chinese society to accept my profession is still very

difficult.

It reminds me of my friend Lili, whom I met years ago in a brothel and who now lives in

Sydney. One day I received a phone call from her, and the first thing she said was a stream of

furious insults, accusing me of having no shame.

As I’ve said before, I’m not someone who lets words go unanswered. I fired back just as

fiercely, and we ended up shouting at each other until both of us were too angry to sleep that

night. Looking back now, what was the point of it all? A friendship turned into estrangement.

The quarrel began around September or October of 2010. When I started turning my years of

recorded stories into a book, I called Lili for help. On one visit to my home, Lili took about a

hundred pages of my manuscript and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll find a professional editor in

Sydney to type this up for you.” A few days later, she mailed back the typed manuscript, and

I transferred 500 Australian dollars to her account. She told me the rate was fifty dollars per

thousand Chinese characters.

Later, while looking through the typed manuscript, I noticed the editor’s phone number

printed on it. I thought perhaps he had something to tell me directly,so I called him. In fact,

he simply asked a few questions about my writing. Somehow Lili found out about the call,

and that led to the furious phone call in which she berated me. She assumed I intended to tell

the editor that she and I had met in a brothel.

As I mentioned earlier, my books contain many humorous stories involving presidents and

prime ministers. My English translator once warned me, “Don’t name China’s president

directly…” But after reading my stories and finding them amusing, he still translated them

into English and wrote “the President of China” in the text.

I sincerely hope that the presidents and prime ministers I mention in My Self-Introduction and

Humanity and God will not take my words seriously if they ever read my book. These

references are simply part of a comedic literary style — exaggeration and satire, nothing

more. More than a decade ago, when the Melbourne-based Chinese poet Ouyang visited me

at home, he said, “Once your book reaches the market, you can never predict how people

around the world will react. Some consequences are impossible to foresee.”

That, too, is one of the reasons I revised God Goddess once again and changed its title to

Humanity and God. No matter what a person does, once they become known, recognition

often comes with risk. My boyfriend Peter once told me that about ten years ago, a very

famous British singer was shot and killed while performing in the United States, simply

because someone disliked his music.

In 2016, the American publishing company that released the English edition of The Number

One Prostitute invited me to tour major bookstores across the United States to promote my

work. I declined. Several of my American clients who now live in Australia strongly advised

against it. They told me, “Linda, you really shouldn’t go to America to promote your book.

Some religious people there can be extreme — you have no idea how they might react to

what you’ve written.”

But enough of such ominous talk. I’ll repeat what I’ve always said: I write not to make

money, nor to seek fame. A simple life as a working prostitute suits me best. I have no desire

to be rich. I am simply an ordinary person who earns a living through her own labour.

The money I earn one day I toss into a drawer, and the next day I use it to buy things for my

clients, and it’s gone again. Peter and I often argue in the car. He says, “You’d need a truck to

carry all your things!” When I buy food for my clients—ten boxes of chips, for

example—they block the rear window completely. He can’t see anything behind us when he

drives.

I am the kind of person who earns ten dollars and spends twenty. When I see something I

like, I buy it without hesitation. If I don’t have enough cash, I simply use my credit card and

borrow the money to spend. Fortunately, my business has always supported this way of

living. During the twenty-five years I have lived in Australia, I have more or less always

lived with debt.

My clients often joke with me: “You’re a famous doctor of cock. I should bring my wife here

to learn from you. You ought to open a university of sexual knowledge—be the president of

the school. When they graduate, you can award them master’s and doctoral degrees.”

Though said in jest, these remarks have given me insight. Sexual literature, too, is a field of

knowledge—an ancient and fundamental one. In the past, few people have systematically

written about it in literary form for society and even governments to consider.

One of my clients once told me that in some Australian government departments, there are

even private rooms set aside for people under heavy work and life pressures, where they can

go with someone they are close to at work to release their desires.

I don’t know whether this is actually true. But in my twenty-five years living in Australia, I

have come to feel that the laws and regulations here are fundamentally people-oriented and

deeply humane.

In short, I write because I hope, like Van Gogh, to leave behind something of a spiritual

nature in the history of human literature.

Love you all.

Linda Li

Canberra