“I don’t need one,” she said, blushing. “My life is very full.”

The right man hadn’t shown up yet, she said, but he was out there. Someone from a good family with an excellent education and a respectable job, with eyes only for her. She would wait patiently for him.

“And you?” she asked awkwardly.

“Yours hasn’t shown up yet, mine has already gone. Now, I think men are all about the same, neither good nor bad. I’d be fine with any of them.”

“Your worldview is problematic.”

“I have no worldview. I’m just getting through life one day at a time.”

Over the next two weeks, Peixuan was busy with endless production meetings, getting ready for the shoot. I’d wake up at noon and, finding her gone, make myself something to eat, then sit at the computer to work on my manuscript, look for jobs online, and email out my CV. She’d usually come back around dinner time, as I was getting ready to go out. It was summer, and friends would ask me out to bars every few days. I always said yes, no matter who called. Peixuan would be sound asleep by the time I returned. We barely saw each other despite living under the same roof, which was just as well. I’ve always done this, adjusted my body clock to avoid people I don’t get on with.

One rainy night, I came home after twelve, soaking wet. She was still awake, arranging neatly folded clothes into her suitcase. My heart grew heavy. Was the shoot over? Now I’d have to find somewhere else to stay—an exhausting thought. But no, she said, she was just going to Yunnan and Myanmar for a few days with the production team.

“Yunnan? Since when is this a travelogue?”

“Did you know Grandpa was in the expeditionary army? Qilu University moved to Chengdu during the Anti-Japanese War. He joined up there, and was deployed to Yunnan and Myanmar. I found him in a photograph with General Sun Li-jen and the rest of his company.”

I’d had no idea about any of this, of course. I didn’t even know who General Sun Li-jen was.

Peixuan handed me a book about the expeditionary army that had been sitting on the table for a few days now. I flicked through and put it down. She grabbed it back and swiftly found the right page: a young soldier in a blurry photograph, from a distant time and place. It could have been anyone.

“He was a medic, then when British troops came over to help, he served as an interpreter too.” Peixuan was flipping through the book again.

“Okay, whatever. I’m still not going to be in your documentary.”

“You think I’m telling you this to persuade you?” she said frostily, closing the book. “I thought you ought to know, that’s all. Whether or not you admit it, Grandpa is the glory of our family. I wanted to share this glory with you. If you accept that, it will enrich you and give you strength.”