Musings of a reading addict

Keywords: Chinese literature, Hong Kong, mystery thriller, Chan Ho-Kei

Genre: Thriller

Length: short medium long

Country: China

Review

“Dear Stranger, By the time you see these lines, I might no longer be here. Recently, I’ve been thinking about death every day.”

Going into Second Sister, I wasn’t exactly brimming with enthusiasm. The title felt vague, the cover of my edition didn’t do much to intrigue, and I’ve had my fair share of forgettable thrillers. Sure, I knew the book had won some literary prizes—but let’s be honest, as I’ve said before (see my review of James by Percival Everett), awards these days don’t necessarily guarantee quality. That said, once I started reading, I was quickly hooked.

This book does what every thriller should do: it thrills. But beyond that, it anchors its story in an unsettlingly realistic setting—modern-day Hong Kong, where income inequality, housing struggles, and corporate negligence are very real and very raw. These elements give the narrative a grounding that’s often missing from more formulaic mystery plots. You’re not just following a trail of clues—you’re looking at a society in miniature.

The plot is sparked by the apparent suicide of Siu-Man, a teenager who throws herself off her apartment building’s 22nd floor. Her older sister, Au Ngan-Yee (or Nga Yi), refuses to accept it at face value. She turns to a mysterious hacker known only as “N,” and from there, things take off into a cyber-infused investigation. The pacing was solid, the twists (mostly) satisfying, and the sense of dread grew steadily as new truths unfolded.

Nga Yi as a protagonist? Well… interesting. I appreciated her emotional depth and commitment, but I found it difficult to buy how completely removed she was from technology and social media. She’s a young librarian living in hyper-connected Hong Kong—a city where nearly everything runs on tech. Her digital ignorance felt a bit anachronistic, bordering on implausible. That said, her emotional arc—her grief, guilt, and isolation—was well-rendered and easy to empathize with.

At its core, Second Sister isn’t just a cyber-thriller. It’s a sharp commentary on capitalism, family sacrifice, and digital morality. There’s a powerful quote in the book about how money is supposed to protect what we love—our relationships, our well-being—but we end up sacrificing those very things for money. That hits hard. Through Nga Yi’s relentless work life and the emotional distance between her and her sister, Chan exposes the silent costs of hustle culture and economic pressure.

“Earning money was a means to an end: to support the household and let her family live happily. But capitalist society lulls us into believing our wages are a goal in themselves, turning us into slaves of money. We forget that as crucial as money may be, there are even more important things that we can’t afford to lose.”

As the book dives deeper into online spaces and hacking culture, the complexity ramps up. And here’s where I had some issues. By the time the story started to resolve, it leaned a bit too hard into the whole “but actually it was this person… using another person’s identity… to frame yet another person” kind of plot twistery. It felt unnecessarily convoluted at times, and characters holding back vital information because “you didn’t ask” rang a bit false—especially when the stakes are as high as life and death.

Still, despite that over-complexity, Second Sister delivers a message that feels incredibly relevant—especially in a world increasingly shaped by artificial intelligence (hi, ChatGPT). It’s a loud wake-up call about how little privacy we really have once we’re online. From public Wi-Fi to Bluetooth to cloud storage, our lives are digital glass houses. And once information is out there—whether a file, a video, or a thoughtless comment—it doesn’t go away.

Even more importantly, the novel reminds us that what happens online is never just online. Digital harassment, viral humiliation, identity theft—these aren’t virtual injuries. They have real consequences, and they disproportionately affect those who are already vulnerable, especially young people. In that sense, I think this book should be essential reading for parents, educators, and anyone responsible for teenagers navigating social media.

Because ultimately, it’s not about whether you have a Facebook account or know how to encrypt your emails. It’s about building real-life relationships strong enough to withstand the noise of the digital world. About being a human safe space—so kids don’t have to turn to anonymous forums or faceless avatars when things go wrong.

“But human beings naturally love expressing their opinions more than they want to understand other people. We always talk too much and listen too little, which is why the world is so noisy. Only when we understand this will we finally see progress in the world. That’s when humanity will be ready to use the internet as a tool.”

So yes, Second Sister is entertaining. But it’s also urgent. Even with its flaws, it offers something far more enduring than thrills: a reason to think, and maybe even to act.