Born in Chinatown

May 14th, 1984.

The weather was stifling this evening. On the school’s athletic field, students played basketball, while others practiced baseball or American football. The scene was lively and full of energy.

The cheerleaders were rehearsing nearby, clad in white cropped tops and red pleated skirts. Their youthful beauty attracted the attention of many boys, who gathered not far away, pointing, laughing, and animatedly debating which girl was the prettiest. These vibrant, spirited young women were always the most popular in the school.

On the third floor of a modest four-story white building, a boy’s face could be seen by the window. He was young, with a soft mustache above his lips. He gazed at the cheerleaders busily practicing below. The school emblem on his chest bore the name “Leon Su.” In Chinese, it was “Liang Su.”

In fact, his real name was Mu Su. On the first day of first grade, the teacher had asked all the Chinese students to choose English names—most likely so she could more easily remember her students, since Chinese names always sounded strange to her. Mu Su no longer remembered why he’d chosen “Leon.” Now, he thought names like “Jones” or “Anderson” sounded much better, but after nine years, he was used to it. Except for his family, everyone at school—teachers and classmates—called him Leon.

From a Chinese perspective, Mu Su might be considered rather handsome; at the very least, his features were pleasant enough. But this was Los Angeles, and here, those popular cheerleaders never spared him a glance. Every American-born Chi