Her experiences are typical of many Chinese graduates who have returned to the mainland after living abroad. Known dismissively as haigui, which translates colloquially as 'sea turtles', they're some of the mainland's most highly educated people and often have years of work experience in the west. But they face discrimination from compatriots who haven't been overseas, as well as the difficulty of re-adapting to life in a country where workplace practices are radically different from those

in the west.

The Chinese government has made it a priority to encourage the students' return as it seeks to create a genuine market economy that can compete with the US and Europe. Last October, Vice-Minister of Education Zhang Xinsheng described the haigui as 'the country's great treasure' and praised their role in bringing back advanced technology and management skills. But of the 1.07 million people who have gone abroad to study since the first 3,000 mainland students were sent to overseas universities in 1978, only just over a quarter, 275,000, have returned. In 2005, there were 118,000 Chinese studying overseas. By 2010, that number is expected to reach 200,000 and by 2020, 300,000. If the trend continues, most will stay abroad after they complete their studies.

Now, the government hopes to reverse the brain drain by enticing the return of 200,000 overseas graduates in the next four years with a series of incentives. Returnees will be able to work wherever they like, regardless of where they hold a hukou, or residence permit, and will be entitled to higher pay and preferential treatment for their families. Those haigui who wish to start up hi-tech companies are being offered low-interest loans, tax breaks and places in the entrepreneurial parks being set up across the country.

Michael Lee is among those who took advantage of earlier government schemes. After completing an MBA at New York University, he worked as an investment banker on Wall Street and then for a venture capital company in San Francisco. He returned to Beijing three years ago to set up Menllo.com, an online community where young people can share music, photos, videos and experiences.

'I did get a little help from the government, but it was more spiritual support than money. I think they could do more,' he says. Lee suggests that mainland start-ups should be offered similar incentives to those in the US. The US government offers so-called seed capital to people with good business plans, he says. They're also able to borrow from banks, so small businesses can grow quickly. 'China isn't short of entrepreneurs, it's short of the money to support them,' Lee says.

As his own boss, Lee has been able to avoid many of the hurdles that haigui working for Chinese companies face. 'A lot of returnees struggle,' he says. 'The business practices are vastly different here. I think it takes two years for a returnee to adapt to the working practices; to learn how to deal with your boss and your colleagues.'

Their lack of knowledge of the local work culture is one reason mainland companies are reluctant to employ haigui. 'They're at a huge disadvantage because they don't have Chinese work experience,' says Zhang Yue, an HR consultant with graduate placement company Wang & Li. 'It doesn't matter if they've worked in the US or Canada, mainland companies are looking for people who can manage mainland workers and who understand the culture of the local employees.'

A returnee herself, Zhang says some haigui also have unrealistic pay expectations. 'They've spent more on their education, so they think that justifies a higher salary than people who haven't been abroad. So a new returnee graduate will ask for 6,000 yuan a month, whereas a local graduate would get 3,000 yuan.'

Even those with enviable connections struggle to adapt to life back home. Many of the first wave of haigui who went overseas in the 70s and 80s were the children of high-ranking government officials, the so-called 'red princelings'. Hung Huang, whose mother was Mao Zedong's English interpreter and whose step-father was briefly foreign minister, was one of 28 privileged teenagers selected to go to high school in New York in 1973. She stayed on to study political science at Vassar and worked in New York, returning to Beijing in the late 80s.

Now the head of publishing company CIMG, Hung says she was shocked at the hostility encountered on her return. 'People would be nasty to you for no reason,' she recalls. 'I'd go into a meeting and it would be like the Spanish Inquisition. People would ask, 'Have you got a green card? How did you get it?', 'Have you ever dated a westerner?', 'Do you want to marry a foreigner?'. It was partly because the Chinese were very insecure about foreigners in the 1980s and so if you'd been abroad you were suspect.'

'It's not a cultural thing, it's political,' says Wang Cangbai, a fellow at the University of Hong Kong's Centre of Asian Studies and a specialist on the Chinese diaspora. 'It especially stems from the Cultural Revolution. China was separated from the outside world and treated the west as the enemy. That suspicion of the west is much less now, but there's still a legacy of it and so deep down people are still suspicious of returnees.'

Given the prejudice and practical problems they face, it's no surprise the haigui tend to stick together. The Western Returned Scholars' Association was formed as early as 1913. It has since been joined by new organisations and online forums, including the Haigui Club.

Wang Guowei, 32, set up the club in 2004, two years after his return from studying project management in Britain. It's targeted particularly at the haidai, literally 'seaweed', the twentysomething haigui who have been unable to find suitable jobs after they came home. With 6,000 members, mostly in Beijing, Shanghai, Shenzhen and Guangzhou, his club aims to provide people with the contacts they lack after spending time abroad.

'It's much harder for the younger haigui than for the older ones, because they don't have any work experience,' says Wang. 'We help people find jobs, but more importantly we offer emotional support.'

Call it an anchor for talent cast adrift.