Folk singer of Asian ancestry at a rock festival from the 1973 Inspector Wexford novel Some Lie and Some Die by Ruth Rendell.
The soft buzz of conversation had broken out after Betti Ho had left the stage. Wexford couldn't sort out a single word from it, but from the concentrated intense atmosphere, the sense of total accord and quietly impassioned indignation he knew they were speaking of the songs they had just heard and were agreeing with their sentiments.
The little Chinese girl, as pretty and delicate and clean as a flower had sung of tides of filth, of poison, of encroaching doom. It had been strange to hear such things from such lips, strange in the clear purity of this night, and yet he knew, as they all knew, that the tides were there and the poison, the ugliness of waste and the squalor of indifference. She had been called back to sing once more their favourite, the ballad of the disappearing butterflies, and she had sung it through the blue plumes of their woodsmoke while the Kingsbrook chattered a soft accompaniment.