"That summary is a little inaccurate," I said. "The full story is a lot more complicated. When you take these events out of context, it sounds like my life is crazy." To the class, I said, "I want to tell you about my daily life, what it's like at the Shilin Night Market, where I have a stand called Unknown Pleasures. Visitors from every continent around the world love our skewers, but don't sleep on our stews, to borrow an American phrase."

Mr. Chiang was still scrolling through his phone, so I spoke quickly before he could interrupt me again.

"My stand's name and decor is based on the cover art of the first album by post-punk band Joy Division. Many people think those jagged lines from the artwork are mountain ridges, but those in the know and obsessed with Joy Division—my people—know those lines are radio waves from a pulsar." I noticed some nods, and was relieved to find that some of my classmates were my people.

Mr. Chiang wasn't, though. He returned to his chosen narrative of me.

"That's not the only trouble Jing-nan has found himself mixed up with," he declared. "Any person reading about him would think he's a bit of a publicity hound, trying to drive the popularity of his outlet at the night market with all these, well, stunts. He's had a number of scrapes with the law, including allegedly assaulting an officer. This man associates with figures from Taiwan's underworld, and has spent time in illicit gambling dens. On the other hand, he's also been documented advocating for marriage equality before it was legalized." He looked at me with a cocked head. "You have to wonder, after taking all of that into account, if Jing-nan's food is indeed good enough to stand on its own."

He pointedly didn't bother to repeat the name of my business.

I cleared my throat. "None of my misadventures were intentional," I said. "And Unknown Pleasures has a four point eight out of five rating with more than ten thousand reviews. Guys, I've never studied business, and yet by almost any measure I have a wildly successful night-market stand. Our skewers are so good, I think we're the only stand in the country that was visited by all three presidential candidates in the last election. Check out our social media. We keep up an active presence with our past and future customers, and we remind everyone that no visit to Taipei is complete without getting a selfie at Unknown Pleasures."

Did Mr. Chiang just roll his eyes at me as he turned back to the class?

"What I find most remarkable about this young man," my teacher said, "is that he doesn't even have a college degree. Yet he's doing quite well. This proves you don't need to be educated to be a success."

My face grew hot. "I consider myself educated," I said.

"You attended UCLA for less than two years," said Mr. Chiang. "Was it too hard for you?"

That was it. He had crossed a red line with me. Leaving UCLA broke me, and although I was mostly fine now, I didn't appreciate someone circling my scars with a Sharpie.

I squared my shoulders and addressed my classmates. "I left UCLA because my father was sick with cancer. I thought I was going to be gone for a semester or two, but before my plane landed, my mother was killed in a car accident. She was actually on her way to the airport to pick me up."

Everybody in the room seemed to stop breathing. Man, this really wasn't how I wanted to introduce myself to my classmates. Now that I had started, however, I had to bring it home.

"While my father was dying, it was up to me to keep the family business going." I lifted my eyes to the ceiling and saw an afterimage of the bad dark days of the past hanging over me. "The stall at the night market was in bad shape, with an outdated menu, and unwelcoming decor. It wasn't even on the radar of the tourists, who are, let's face it, the big spenders at the night market. Luckily, I was able to bring the business into the present, and now we have a robust social media presence. We're on so many 'Top Ten in Taipei' lists, I've lost track." Well, that last bit wasn't true. We were on 23, as of that morning.

"You had major help, though, didn't you?" asked Mr. Chiang as he crossed his arms. "Thomas Lee Tong-ming, whom I've mentioned earlier is a dining companion of mine, is the father of your old classmate Peggy Lee, and is also your landlord at the night market. Something tells me the Lees must have cut you a break, especially after your family tragedies."

"I didn't get any 'breaks,'" I said, clenching my fists. "And I didn't ask for any, either."

"Thomas Lee Tong-ming saved your life, and he could've saved you some money, too."

"My margins are good enough," I spat.

"Well," said Mr. Chiang, holding up his hands, "to be clear, class, there's nothing wrong with asking for better deals, to renegotiate fixed costs such as leases. It's good business sense to reduce expenses where you can." He clapped his hands. "Well, that's enough of that. Who else among you could withstand a barrage like that? That's a mark of a winner. Jing-nan is someone who doesn't shrink from a spotlight that can be unsympathetic at times. Please, have a seat, Jing-nan."