Wang Lili's Cinderella story

In the plush interior of the Glamour Bar, a self-proclaimed "simple country girl" from Henan, poured her heart out to the crowd at the Shanghai International Literary Festival. Speaking in mix of broken English and Chinese, Wang Lili read powerful passages from her book  My Tears Won't Fall, detailing her life as a migrant worker in Shenzhen and the abuses she encountered. Though not revelatory, these scenes were chastening to the wine-sipping audience, who paid the equivalent of 2-days' wages (for a migrant worker) for a seat at the talk.

The tannins in the wine were certainly enhanced by her bitter tales of woe. Wang spoke of a sleazy factory manager, who said she was lucky to be a virgin, or chuzi, because the boss preferred 'innocent' girls rather than deflowered dagongmei, or "migrant worker sisters". In another instance, she related how her boss (laoban) held her identification card hostage, refusing to pay her back wages, which for many in the audience, Wang excepted, was a laughably small sum.

In Wang's world, sexual harassment is everywhere and exploitation is rife. None of this is news, at least not for those who read the newspaper. So why is Wang so impressive? Her strength, and that of her first semi-autobiographical novel, lies in the small, visceral details, in the authenticity of her words, words that could only come from someone who has experienced real hardship …

"As I counted, my heart would beat very quickly, afraid that the money would be eaten by rats, or that it  might be stolen someday … Counting money, worrying that it would be stolen and calculating how long it would take to accumulate a thousand dollars to remit home, was my homework everyday." 

That packet of money, tucked away under a pillow, was Wang's only hope at the end of each grim and dehumanizing day, a day in the company of inhumane bosses, and thieving and abusive co-workers.

Of course, Wang triumphed in the end. She ran away from the factory; won assistance from the police, and eventually became a writer with a hip audience at M on the Bund.

As Wang herself points out, "I am not a successful migrant. I am something of a successful writer." But her success, as well as her relentless self-promotion and self-confidence, has resulted in misunderstanding, and of course, envy.

After her book reading (during which she exploded into tears), the audience couldn't muster up more than two questions: the somewhat naïve, "How did you learn how to write a book?" from an expat woman who wasn't aware that migrant workers could write. And a question from a Shanghainese girl, delivered in a contentious tone and in relatively fluent English: "How did you learn your English?"  In addition, a Shanghai reporter mocked her accomplishments with an itemized list of her "lies and boasts", and even her choice of fashionable dress, implying she was a fraud.

All this reveals that there is still a huge gulf between the well-heeled urban residents of Shanghai and hard working migrants. Indeed, the latter, if given the choice, would likely pass on Wang's books in favor of a Hollywood movie or fantasy novel.

So perhaps it's no surprise, then, that Wang has moved into the realm of fantasy herself. Her latest novel,  which translates rather awkwardly as  Sunshine on the Body, describes the inner lives of twelve legendary women, including Princess Di and a Tang Dynasty princess.

Wang herself may have no pretensions to royalty, but with her success, evident in her body of work, and her smart wardrobe, bright lipstick and high-heeled boots, she can't be faulted for dreaming. After all, for many struggling migrants, she too is something of a legend.