The boy told me their Chinese teacher had set them an essay: “An Admirable Person.” They were both children of professors at the Medical University, and having grown up hearing about Grandpa, they were here to interview him. I said his health was too poor. The girl batted her eyes and said, How about we interview you, then? You’re his granddaughter, aren’t you? I said I didn’t know anything about him, but they refused to believe that, and kept pestering. I told them to make something up. They looked at me, wide-eyed. Okay, they said, but if our teacher comes asking, you have to back us up. Fine, I said, and they left satisfied. An admirable person needs to be surrounded by many touching stories, whether or not they are true.

When Grandpa was appointed a fellow, it caused a stir through the whole university, including the attached elementary school. Unfortunately I’d already transferred out by then, and no one in my new school knew that the most famous heart surgeon in China, whose story took up two whole pages in the evening paper, was my grandfather. Some mysterious force had pulled me away, preventing me from sharing in his glory. Sometimes I wonder: if I hadn’t left, but instead spent my entire life in his halo, would I be a different person now?

The night before last, I was in the living room watching a documentary about Chinese soldiers who’d stayed in Myanmar and ended up teaching Mandarin or opening dry goods stores. The camera lingered on their elderly faces. In a foreign land, even their aging was tentative, and not one wrinkle dared to be too prominent. Their bodies were still sturdy, but some had been deaf or senile for years, as if their senses were deliberately shutting down so this unfamiliar place could feel more like home. Unwilling to take part in the civil war and see their fellow countrymen killing each other, they’d refused to return after defeating the Japanese, sending their lives off track. No longer at the whims of the era. At peace, yet also useless. If a pawn chooses not to cross the board, what further use is it?