A year or two ago—maybe even a month ago—Haiwen’s heart might have been swayed by talk of patriotism. But now the word rang hollow to him—no, it angered him. What did it mean, to love his country? And furthermore, did his country love him back? He recalled a conversation he’d had with Suchi months ago, the way he’d vigorously defended the Nationalist cause, how blindly he had believed that everything Chiang Kai-shek did, he did for the betterment of all Chinese people. He could no longer muster the same fervor. Nationalists, Communists—they were all the same. Asking ordinary people to
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