What frightened Mei most was that when her husband, Han, was angry, he exercised no restraint. With one hand, he would hold her hands behind her back and with the other, he would pound her, punching ruthlessly.

One day Han took Mei to a bar. ‘Stay and work here today. I’ll come back later and get you,’ he said. Mei worked as usual, serving drinks, but when one customer wanted more, she went straight to her manager. She hadn’t agreed to anything like that. But the manager was unrelenting. ‘You must do it!’ he ordered.

Fuming, Mei went to the phone and called her husband. His words were unbelievable. ‘Just stay there, and do what they tell you,’ said the man on the other end of the line. The man who, for a hefty sum, had sold his own wife into prostitution.

Mei, like many of Taiwan’s working class, was entangled in abuse, addiction and idol worship. Her life seemed hopeless, with no way out. Could anyone save her?

As Mei lay in bed, a cool breeze swept over her. There was no window or fan, but by now she was used to such strange occurrences. The breeze blew into her and she started to tremble. ‘

Go to the top of the house.’

At the sound of the voice, the spirits that usually surrounded Mei scattered. She shuffled to the roof.

‘Hold out your hands.’

Mei extended her arms, her body forming the shape of a cross. Two beams of light came down and touched her hands.

‘I am huo shen, the fire God,’ Mei thought she heard. Years would pass before she realised what had really been said – the difference lying in two typically insignificant Chinese characters -‘I am huo zhe de shen, the living God.’

ISBN 978-0-8254-6158-3

432 pages