The alphabetical seating at Oxford High School’s graduation ceremony last June put Korbin Yang in one of the last rows, surrounded by a clutch of Chinese classmates whose surnames begin with the letters X, Y or Z. They formed a sort of school-within-a-school, watching the parade of American graduates they barely knew. Many local students received raucous ovations as they crossed the stage. Korbin’s name — “graduating summa cum laude, Jinkai Yang” — elicited only a muffled clap or two. In the fall, Korbin headed to Pennsylvania State University. His parents were proud that he had gotten into a Top 50 university where almost 2,500 Chinese students were already enrolled.

When I visited Korbin last summer in Shenyang, he took me to an American-style craft-beer pub his father partly owns. Over a game of pool, he spoke positively about his experience at Oxford. Still, he admitted, he left Michigan after two years without a single American friend. That surprised him. “Weirdly, I think the experience made me appreciate Chinese culture even more,” he said. It’s a common sentiment among Chinese students abroad, who find that their foreign experiences sharpen their sense of national pride. Over the summer, Korbin started delving into Chinese history books and training in kung fu. In America, he found his Chinese core.

Now halfway through his first year at Penn State, Korbin can spend entire days without speaking a word of English. “I’m around my Chinese friends all the time,” he says. “I can’t get a chance to know American friends.” The current political climate may only isolate him further. Korbin is in America legally, studying hard and leaning toward a major in electrical engineering. But how welcoming is a country that increasingly regards his homeland as an economic and security threat? If Trump is serious about being tough on trade, Chinese students, while not in the foreground of such a fight, could be an easy lever for either side to pull. The collateral damage of restricting visas would be devastating, not only for the students themselves but also for high schools and universities, especially across the Midwest, that have become dependent on the billions of dollars the Chinese contribute economically every year.

An even bigger threat may lie within China. Late last year, President Xi’s ideological campaign against foreign influences targeted the kind of schools that prepared Korbin for America. How this crackdown will affect the flow of Chinese students overseas is unclear. Parents may be compelled to send their children abroad at even younger ages to escape the closing cage.

For Korbin, the lack of American buddies and reawakened sense of national identity notwithstanding, high school in America still left a deep impression on him. Last Christmas, after exams, he went back not to Shenyang, but to Oxford. His second host mother gave him two hoodies and some of his favorite chocolate, and cooked a Christmas meal. Korbin presented her with a mug and played with the dogs he had helped care for as puppies. “I definitely wish I was still there,” he told me, and he sounded like just another first-year college kid, missing home.