Fists clenched, hands on hips, chin slightly raised, eyes gazing forward with a look that seemed to survey all of creation.
A few days later, Ding Zhitong received a phone call.
It was HR from M Bank, saying: “Congratulations! You’ve passed the first round of interviews. Please come to Manhattan on November 3rd for this year’s campus recruitment Superday event.”
At that moment, she had just finished class and was walking out of the lecture hall. Ithaca was true to form—windy, snowy, with an overcast sky.
She maintained her composure while confirming the time and place, waiting until the caller finished and hung up before nearly jumping with joy. However, surrounded by people, she restrained herself, unsure who to share the good news with. Feng Sheng hadn’t made it to the interview and might still be upset. With only the first hurdle cleared, it didn’t seem appropriate to make a fuss in front of Song Mingmei, who had already secured a position.
After a moment’s hesitation, she found “A-Gan” in her contacts and sent a brief message: “Made it to Superday.”
He replied almost instantly: “I’ll come running with you tomorrow!”
Ding Zhitong had only wanted to hear him say “Senior, you’re amazing,” and hadn’t expected him to still remember the running. She immediately refused: “No, let’s wait until I get the offer.”
Gan Yang compromised: “Then how about we have a meal first?”
Why another meal? It seemed like he was taking advantage of the one favor she owed him. Ding Zhitong looked at the message with a wry smile, but in her good mood, she finally replied: “All right.”
They agreed to meet at the dining hall again, this time at Okenshields on the central campus.
The temperature had dropped a few more degrees since last time, but Gan Yang still seemed impervious to the cold. He wore only a hoodie with the school emblem on the chest—gray last time, black this time—revealing a pure white T-shirt underneath. With his broad shoulders and long legs, he was quite pleasing to the eye. Although he was nearly half a head taller than her, Ding Zhitong still maintained her senior air, spending another meal ticket to treat him to lunch.
They queued for their food and found a place to sit, talking across the table.
Gan Yang compared dates and realized that on the weekend of her Superday, he happened to be going into the city as well.
On November 4th, he would be running his first New York City Marathon.
“Let’s go together! You can ride in my car,” he suggested, his eyes brightening.
Before that moment, Ding Zhitong had always thought such descriptions were merely literary devices found in textbooks.
“When are you planning to go?” she didn’t immediately agree.
Gan Yang considered for a moment, then answered, “I have an exam on Friday afternoon. Let’s leave in the evening.”
Ding Zhitong shook her head, saying, “It’s at least a four-hour drive. We’d arrive in New York too late. I need to rest well that night, not like last time…”
But he wasn’t giving up, suggesting again, “Then how about we leave earlier?”
“What about your exam?” Ding Zhitong countered. “Let’s forget it. I’ll take the Greyhound. If I leave Friday morning, it’s a six-hour trip, but I’ll arrive by afternoon…” As she spoke, she watched his gaze dim.
“How about this…” her heart softened, and she proposed another plan, “I’ll come watch you run on Sunday, then ride back to Ithaca with you afterward. How’s that?”
“It’s a deal then!” The pair of eyes across from her brightened once more.
Strangely enough, Ding Zhitong suddenly realized she quite enjoyed seeing this.
For the rest of the meal, she listened to Gan Yang rambles on about the “NYC Marathon.” He even took out paper and pen from his backpack, drawing a map for her while explaining:
“This is the starting point, Fort Wadsworth on Staten Island. After the start, we cross the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge to Brooklyn, a 1200-meter uphill climb of about 50 meters—the highest point of the entire route. After the bridge, it’s relatively flat through Brooklyn, and that’s about half the race. Then we cross the Pulaski Bridge to Queens, and three kilometers later, we’re on the Queensboro Bridge into Manhattan. We run six kilometers along First Avenue, cross the Willis Avenue Bridge to the Bronx, and 2500 meters later, we’re back in Manhattan via the Madison Avenue Bridge. We run 2500 meters on Fifth Avenue, enter Central Park, and at the 37-kilometer mark, there’s another big uphill climb of 30 meters. After that hill, it’s just the final five kilometers…”
Ding Zhitong listened without real processing, already realizing a very practical problem—her casual agreement had added an extra night’s accommodation expense. She tried to console herself that at least she’d save on a one-way ticket by riding back with him. But then she realized that wasn’t quite right either; out-of-town students attending Superday could have their transportation costs reimbursed by M Bank, but this extra night’s stay would come out of her pocket.
As she was frantically calculating in the background of her mind, Gan Yang also thought of the accommodation issue and asked, “Where are you planning to stay?”
“Probably Flushing…” Ding Zhitong answered. She had stayed there during her summer internship. Flushing had a large Chinese population, and Yan Aihua had many acquaintances there who had recommended several cheap and safe homestays.
Gan Yang blurted out, “Isn’t that too far? Your interview should be in Midtown Manhattan, right?”
“I have relatives living there…” Ding Zhitong evaded, thinking to herself, “I’d like to stay in Manhattan too, but are you going to pay for it?” Then she realized this thought sounded a bit odd and quickly pushed it out of her mind.
Gan Yang didn’t press further. He looked at the hand-drawn map that only he could understand and calculated, saying, “Starting from Staten Island, going through Brooklyn, then to Queens—that’s about 30 kilometers. It’s right around the ‘wall’ period. You won’t see me at my best in Queens…”
Ding Zhitong held back a smile and said very sincerely, “Then I’ll be there to cheer you on. After you pass that section, I’ll take the subway to the finish line to meet you.”
Gan Yang smiled, seemingly couldn’t be more satisfied.
How could there be such a naive child? Ding Zhitong almost felt bad for him.
This innocent thought persisted until that afternoon when she encountered Song Mingmei in another large lecture.
Song Mingmei sat down next to her, leaned in, and gently asked, “Hey, who were you having lunch with earlier?”
Hearing this, Ding Zhitong knew she had been seen in the dining hall. Intending to avoid suspicion, she acted as if she wasn’t very familiar with him: “A junior from Financial Engineering, also Chinese. He was asking me about interviews.”
But Song Mingmei directly named him: “It was Gan Yang, wasn’t it?”
Ding Zhitong continued to pretend, opening her laptop while answering nonchalantly, “YeAh did he ask you for interview tips too?”
It was a natural question, but Song Mingmei laughed as if she had seen through everything, and asked Ding Zhitong in return: “Would Gan Yang ask for interview tips? Don’t joke. He’d only ask, ‘Hey, do you want to go running with me?'”
The last part was said imitating Gan Yang’s tone, and it was quite accurate.
Ding Zhitong’s heart skipped a beat, but she maintained her composure and asked, “He asked you?”
“Yeah,” Song Mingmei answered straightforwardly, also opening her laptop to prepare for class. “He hit on me when I first arrived, and then he asked if I wanted to go running with him…”
“Did you go?” Ding Zhitong asked.
Song Mingmei shook her head, saying, “If it was running on a treadmill at the gym, I might have considered it. But he insisted on running outdoors, so I passed.”
“Then what happened?” Ding Zhitong didn’t know why she kept asking.
The professor had already taken his place at the front, dimming the lights to start the PowerPoint presentation.
Song Mingmei used the last few seconds to finish her story: “After that? I guess he went and asked someone else.”
Ding Zhitong didn’t say anything more, already starting to look for notes from the previous class. But in her ears, she seemed to hear that voice again, saying to her: “Ding Zhi Tong, want to consider running with me?”
F*ck! She cursed inwardly. What kind of person was he?
For just that second, Ding Zhitong wanted to rush over and confront him directly. But by the time the class ended, she felt it wasn’t necessary.
In 1940, Bai Liusu had told Fan Liuyuan that the standard Chinese woman appeared pure and chaste on the outside, but was full of seduction on the inside.
In 2007, Ding Zhitong stood at 1.67 meters tall, weighed 47 kilograms, had a negligible waist-to-hip ratio, and wore glasses.
To be fair, she shouldn’t have harbored such delusions in the first place. Besides, he hadn’t done anything to her, so where did all this drama come from? Her life goals should be graduating, finding a job, and making money. How could she have time to think about anything else?
In the days that followed, she continued as before—trudging through snow to attend classes and camping out in the library to finish assignments. During this time, two more of her job applications passed the initial screening, and she scheduled phone interviews with those companies.
Before each phone interview, she would return to her dorm half an hour early, drink water, use the bathroom, wash her hands, light incense, lock the door, put on her headphones, open her computer, take out her resume, and pen and paper, and finally place a mirror in front of her to manage her expressions. She felt like a call center customer service representative.
Apart from this, she also had to prepare for M Bank’s Superday.
The so-called Superday, known as an assessment center in earlier years, was essentially multiple rounds of interviews compressed into a single day.
For campus recruitment, Superday was the final round. While it seemed like she was just one step away from her goal of making big money, the attrition rate was even higher than the D-Day Normandy landings.
However, among all the applications she had submitted, this was her ideal and closest chance at success.
During those days, Gan Yang would still send her messages. As she pondered how to reply, she kept thinking of those Taiwanese romance novels she had read in middle school. There was often a line in them—”I don’t have time to play these games with you!” Perhaps due to its abnormally high frequency of appearance, and the fact that the speaker often hadn’t done anything serious themselves, she used to laugh every time she saw this line. Now, she wanted to throw these eleven words in his face.
Of course, she didn’t. She just responded briefly each night before bed. She believed he should understand her attitude, and when the time came, she would just say, “Sorry, I can’t come watch your race.” Whether he was looking for a running partner or just flirting, this matter would be over.
Before she knew it, Friday had arrived. Ding Zhitong set out from Ithaca, taking a six-hour Greyhound bus ride into New York City.
Exiting the long-distance bus station, she first confirmed the route to Midtown for the next day’s interview using a map, then took the subway to Flushing and checked into the pre-booked homestay.
It was a small house with five bedrooms, red brick walls with gray tiles, and tiny gardens in both the front and back. All the residents were Chinese international students, some studying nearby, and others in New York for short-term work. The landlady was Yan Aihua’s card game partner, part of the generation of middle-aged people who had left China in the 80s and 90s through overseas connections. Her English wasn’t great—she still called “tax” “taxi” and “salad dressing” “dress”—but her language skills hadn’t hindered her from living here for over a decade, buying a house and car, and in her spare time, offering life advice to young people.
That evening, Ding Zhitong had dinner with the landlady, and the conversation inevitably turned to the next day’s interview. Ding Zhitong was modest, saying she was just giving it a try and probably wouldn’t succeed. Unexpectedly, the landlady also tried to comfort her, saying, “You’re already doing very well. Just think of it as gaining experience. Let’s put ourselves in their shoes—why would Americans pay high salaries to hire Chinese people? You know what I mean?”
Ding Zhitong didn’t know how to respond, only wanting to say “touch wood.” Fortunately, the landlady didn’t continue on this topic. Instead, she brought out several colorful boxes to show Ding Zhitong, saying she was now an agent for a health product brand. If Ding Zhitong bought from her, she would give her a 42% discount off the retail price, considering Yan Aihua’s connection. The landlady enthusiastically promoted it: “This job is great! Students and housewives can do it. Just by making phone calls from home each month, you can easily earn several thousand dollars.”
Multi-level marketing was legal here, and many middle-aged women were involved. Ding Zhitong had heard about this before and quickly said, “No, thank you.” After some more persuasion, once the landlady was convinced that she was truly broke, she finally accepted payment for the meal and let Ding Zhitong return to her small room upstairs to rest.
She washed up early and went to bed early, but whether due to nervousness or unfamiliarity with the bed, she tossed and turned, still unable to fall asleep after eleven. In the darkness, her phone, charging in the corner, lit up once, then again a few seconds later. The room was narrow like a corridor; she could reach the phone by stretching out one leg from the bed. Leaning over the edge, she saw two text messages, both from Gan Yang.
The first said he had arrived in New York and was staying with a friend near Columbia University.
The second wished her success for tomorrow and said he wanted to pass on a secret strategy for conquering Superday.
Ding Zhitong couldn’t resist asking: What strategy?
Gan Yang began his instructions: Stand up now.
Ding Zhitong crawled out of her blanket with messy hair, standing barefoot on the floor.
He sent the next step: Feet shoulder-width apart.
She followed the instructions.
Step 3: Open your shoulders, and chest out.
She was only wearing a tank top and underwear and felt a bit strange, but she did as told.
Step 4: Clench your fists and place them on your waist, slightly towards the back.
Step 5: Slightly raise your chin, and gaze forward. Remember, use that look as if you’re surveying all of creation.
Ding Zhitong finally couldn’t help but ask: What is this?
Gan Yang answered: Superman.
Ding Zhitong: ???
In her mind, she pictured Christopher Reeve’s 1978 Superman, with blue tights, red underwear on the outside, and that S-shaped curl of hair on his forehead.
Gan Yang continued explaining: Before the interview, find a private place and hold this pose for at least a minute. It helps increase testosterone levels and decrease cortisol levels…
The blue light from her phone screen illuminated her face from below. Ding Zhitong didn’t finish reading, thinking to herself how foolish she was to have followed his instructions. She turned off the phone, tossed it aside, and crawled back into bed, burrowing under the covers.
This time she fell asleep, and when she opened her eyes again, it was the next morning, with her phone alarm going off right on time. She jumped out of bed, washed up, got dressed, had breakfast, applied her makeup, and packed her luggage before leaving, dropping it off at a storage facility at the long-distance bus station.
Everything was prepared, and each step went smoothly. She arrived at M Bank’s office building in Midtown, gave her name at the reception, received a temporary access card, and was led to a conference room on the 37th floor. It was still half an hour before Superday was set to begin.
Other candidates were already waiting there, with more arriving continuously, gradually filling the entire room. Each of them, viewed individually, was different, yet together they seemed quite similar—young, sharp, fully dressed up, smiling, undoubtedly all with resumes that could serve as templates, heads full of well-practiced logic problems, and various anecdotes to showcase their extraordinary experiences and excellent qualities.
Time ticked away: twenty minutes, fifteen minutes, ten minutes…
Ding Zhitong stood up and walked out of the conference room.
The assistant at the door saw her and said, “We’re about to start.”
She replied, “I’m going to the restroom. I’ll be right back.”
The assistant, probably used to seeing nervous candidates with urgent bathroom needs, pointed her in the right direction, telling her to hurry back.
She walked across the carpeted hallway, swiped through two security doors, and entered the women’s restroom. It was spacious and clean. She glanced around, making sure she was alone, then stood in front of the sink facing a wall-sized mirror.
Step 1: Feet shoulder-width apart.
Step 2: Shoulders back, chest out.
Step 3: Hands on hips, fists clenched, chin slightly raised, eyes gazing forward with a look that seemed to survey all of creation.
…
Many years later, Ding Zhitong still remembered that moment. She even mentioned it in a speech after a promotion, though her listeners probably dismissed it as just another motivational story. After all, in their line of work, such stories were a dime a dozen. No one knew she had done this. Moreover, in that instant, she seemed to truly see a red cape hanging behind her, not blown by the wind, but floating slowly in an almost surreal manner, defying gravity.
Just then, the bathroom door opened, and another nervous candidate rushed in, looking startled to see her standing there like that. Ding Zhitong quickly dropped the pose, nodded with a smile at the newcomer, and walked out in her high heels.