When I worked in China 42 years ago, my interpreter was a magnificent concert violinist. He was incredibly talented. But the symphony already had it’s full of violinists and told him “You are now an interpreter.” He dutifully became an interpreter.
We all love what we’re good at (unless we’re Jon Snow). He was probably a bit shattered by having to give it up, but hey, the Communist party still pays for his handful of rice per day. That’s all that matters.