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“My guests!” said the host, now standing once more. There was another empty chair to his right. Who had been there? A man with a mustache or a woman with a braid. Someone with a gleaming emerald ring. I drank more wine. “You are far too polite!” the host said. “We have hundreds and hundreds of song…

I’ll start my story again, this time with family. Call it filial piety. I am the daughter of a capitalist; that is to say, my mother needed money to feel safe. I don’t hold this against her. She was raised Chinese in the San Joaquin Valley in the 1950s. I don’t intend to explain this further; if yo…