The leader was a stocky man with white hair, sixtyish but pumping away 
vigorously on an unexceptional black bicycle, wearing drab worker's clothes. He 
moved it down the street with deceptive speed and pulled into the horseshoe 
drive. An embolism of bicycles formed on the street as hundreds tried to crowd 
in the narrow entrance. And here came another classic moment: The head bellhop 
skirted his stand-up desk and ran toward the bicyclist, waving him off and 
hurling abuse in Cantonese—until he got about six feet away and realized 
he was looking at Zhang Han Hua.