The world was once a beautiful place for him, filled with smiling faces, until now.
That day, Ding Zhitong received two friend requests. One was from Wilson on WhatsApp, the other from Gan Yang on WeChat.
She accepted Wilson’s request but left Gan Yang’s pending. At the airport that evening, she met Li Jiaxin in the waiting lounge and allowed him to create a group chat. It included the three of them plus Yuan Chao, named “Training Box.”
Gan Yang waited anxiously, finally receiving the group invite. Feeling frustrated, he couldn’t find words to speak.
On second thought, it felt like old times. He sent her an invitation: “Ding Zhitong, let’s go running together.” She replied: “Ah Gan, let’s talk after I get the offer.”
He smiled at her profile picture in the group member list – just a rounded gray square without an image, like his own.
Late that night, he crouched in the corner of his home, watering the scallions planted in a pot, then went to bed contentedly.
Over the next three days, Wilson occasionally messaged Ding Zhitong. They discussed the weather in Hong Kong, Beijing, and Singapore, as well as the recently released movie “Joker.”
Their conversations weren’t intense but pleasantly engaging. Ding Zhitong noticed Wilson’s good habit of never asking, “What are you doing?” Instead, he’d share what he was up to, naturally introducing topics. If she didn’t reply immediately, it wasn’t an issue.
Perhaps it was his emotional intelligence honed from years of serving wealthy clients or his experience with long-distance relationships. Ding Zhitong found chatting with him comfortable, without the pressure typical of matchmaking situations where one feels compelled to immediately disclose personal details and past experiences for evaluation.
She recalled Song Mingmei’s pros and cons analysis, especially the pros.
Currently, M Bank’s China CEO was indeed a woman born in the 1970s who studied in the U.S. in the 1990s. She later married a white American working in cultural exchange in Beijing, had three children, and the whole family exuded warm, cheerful smiles – perfectly aligned with M Bank’s desired corporate image.
After years of crises and scandals, major investment banks were striving to reinvent themselves. Terms like “scum,” “overwork,” and “sophisticated self-interest” were taboo. Their official websites now emphasize sustainable development, diversity, inclusion, social responsibility, and positive employee images.
Ding Zhitong wondered if she truly had a chance if she put in the effort. Then she smiled and dismissed the notion. In her twelve years in the industry, she had always been good at trading but not particularly adept at office politics. She only joined the company’s Business Women Alliance and Asian Employee Alliance at her boss’s insistence, as Qin Chang himself was too lazy for such formalities.
Meanwhile, the “Training Box” group chat mostly discussed general topics.
Li Jiaxin pitched online, starting with an overview of M Bank, claiming top rankings in relevant transaction areas, and then introducing several well-known investors. Industry insiders knew these “top” rankings could be technically manipulated – if not globally, then just in China; if not at the 10 billion level, then above 15 billion. Ding Zhitong observed silently, Gan Yang remained quiet, and only Yuan Chao engaged in the conversation.
During these three days, the Chinese Basketball Association announced the suspension of cooperation with the Houston Rockets. NBA Commissioner Adam Silver exacerbated the situation by publicly supporting Morey’s freedom of speech. Consequently, the upcoming NBA China Games faced a media boycott, broadcasts were halted, and celebrities scheduled to attend withdrew. Press conferences, fan meetings, and post-game events were all canceled. Sponsors terminated partnerships, and many people posted videos of tearing up game tickets online.
Hours before the Shanghai game, Gan Yang finally shared a photo in the group chat.
Ding Zhitong was on another conference call when her phone vibrated. She opened the message, initially unsure what she was seeing. Upon zooming in, she recognized it as a shot outside the Mercedes-Benz Arena, with sponsor booths, game posters, and entrance signs all removed.
She frowned, then smiled silently. He knew what she was up to as well.
That night’s game proceeded as scheduled. Some had predicted an empty arena, but it was packed, with cheers and applause echoing throughout.
Ding Zhitong learned this from a video of the event, similar to those circulating online. With Shanghai’s turnout, the Shenzhen game two days later would likely be similar. Many expressed dismay, saying Chinese fans’ submission made it even less likely for NBA Commissioner Silver to apologize.
This suggested the boycott wouldn’t end soon, affecting numerous parties.
By Friday, Ding Zhitong had her usual day of meetings, going through ongoing projects one by one.
After the first afternoon session, she returned to her office. Li Jiaxin informed her of the next meeting room and suggested she change into sneakers.
Ding Zhitong looked at him, puzzled.
Li Jiaxin explained, “LT’s people don’t wear formal attire. Last time we met, CEO Gan wore a T-shirt, shorts, and slippers.”
“Slippers?”
“Said he broke a toenail playing soccer…”
Ding Zhitong was speechless.
The dress code at white-shoe investment banks had changed. They are now dressed to match their clients.
Starting this year, it was officially documented – the HR-issued Dress Code clearly stated, “Attire should meet client expectations.” For TMT project specialists like Ding Zhitong, this meant embracing a programmer-like style.
Li Jiaxin, who enjoyed custom suits from W.W. Chan and various Oxford shoes, felt the new rules signaled a decline in standards.
However, it suited Qin Chang, who often wore Oxford cloth shirts with khakis, carrying a thermos, looking like the guy next door.
Ding Zhitong didn’t say much, replacing her Nicholas Kirkwood shoes with the Nikes she wore for commuting. While waiting in the meeting room, she caught up on recent NBA news, feeling prepared.
Then Li Jiaxin brought in the guest, knocking and saying, “Tammy, CEO Gan is here.”
Ding Zhitong looked up, feeling breathless.
CEO Gan wasn’t in a T-shirt, shorts, and slippers, but in a suit, reminding her of that interview in Ithaca in November 2007.
Looking closer, she realized it was just an illusion – the man before her was different from before.
Back then, Gan Yang’s usual attire was a school hoodie. If he suddenly wore a suit, it was obvious he was going to an interview. But now, he no longer gave that impression. Even up close, even though she thought she knew why he was here when he looked at her and smiled silently, she couldn’t be certain of anything.
It was a small conference room with a round table and four chairs.
Ding Zhitong stood up, not even having time to extend her hand before Gan Yang spoke: “I’d like to speak with Director Ding privately if that’s alright?”
Li Jiaxin’s smile remained, but his eyes betrayed slight surprise – he was actually in charge of this project.
Ding Zhitong nodded, and only then did he excuse himself, returning briefly to bring two bottles of water.
As the conference room door finally closed, leaving just the two of them inside, Ding Zhitong felt a strange confinement despite the room’s openness. On one side was a glass partition, beyond which lay the corridor and the open office area. The other side featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Victoria Harbour, with the setting sun casting a red glow on the shimmering water.
“Today, let me do the pitching,” Gan Yang finally broke the silence.
Ding Zhitong thought she had misheard, but Gan Yang was already standing, picking up a pen, and walking to the glass whiteboard that covered an entire wall of the room.
“CEO Gan, you’re from PE. Why would you pitch to us intermediaries?” she teased, expecting a counterattack.
Gan Yang just smiled and said, “Before we get to business, we should get to know each other, right? Your pitchbook introduces your company and team. I don’t have prepared materials, so I’ll just share how I got to where I am today.”
It sounded reasonable. Ding Zhitong nodded, watching him write years on the whiteboard: 2008, 2009, 2010…
The numbers were written high up, suggesting this would be a long story.
After the Spring Festival in 2009, many factories in the new district of their small city never reopened. News of business owners fleeing spread frequently.
But Gan Yang stayed.
After that overseas call, he didn’t know where else to go. Besides earning money to pay debts, he couldn’t think of anything worth doing.
He had sold or mortgaged all his trusts and properties, investing the cash into production lines. This attitude helped him negotiate with investors to delay share repurchases. He also built relationships with banks over drinks, finally securing a loan to upgrade the wastewater treatment system at the midsole material factory.
But just before the loan was disbursed, Gan Kunliang called the bank’s account manager, warning of shareholder disputes and suggesting they cancel the approved credit line.
At that time, Gan Senior had allied with two brothers, trying to persuade Gan Yang to file for bankruptcy and cut losses. Since he wouldn’t listen, they decided to force him to stop.
Receiving the bank’s call, Gan Yang realized things couldn’t continue like this. Gan Kunliang’s infighting had reached the point of harming the company’s interests.
So he sat down with Gan Senior, listened to his reasoning, and agreed to his demands. He consented to transfer all shares under his and his mother’s names, letting Gan Senior become the controlling shareholder. His only condition was for Gan Senior to explain to the bank that the shareholder dispute was resolved, so they could secure the loan, as the wastewater treatment issue couldn’t be delayed further.
Gan Senior readily agreed. Long Mei, listening nearby, was stunned. She felt Gan Yang’s forehead, asking, “Have you gone mad?”
He brushed her hand away, saying, “I just don’t want to manage anymore. Let whatever happens, happen.”
Long Mei was speechless and left.
Even Gan Kunliang hadn’t expected things to be so simple. The inexperienced youth had been subdued with just three moves.
Gan Yang had lawyers draft the share transfer agreement, and both parties signed. Gan Kunliang, lacking funds, transferred money from the midsole material factory’s account to pay for the shares.
Upon receiving the money, Gan Yang went straight to the city’s Economic Crime Investigation Unit to report Gan Kunliang for misappropriating company funds and embezzlement.
Initially, hearing they were father and son, the unit considered it a civil dispute and refused to file a case.
Gan Yang returned with a lawyer, clearly explaining the company’s ownership structure.
In 1993, when Gan Kunliang got into trouble, his two uncles had already withdrawn their shares. Years later, as the company improved, they demanded to return. The family-oriented Liu CEO found a compromise, giving Gan Yang’s grandfather their original shares along with Gan Kunliang’s portion, settling that dispute. Later, preparing for an IPO, another adjustment left them with only 12% ownership.
This meant Gan Kunliang was no longer a company shareholder, and even the portion he represented had no controlling power. Bank transactions clearly showed the transferred sum was substantial and used to pay for share transfers, indicating not just misappropriation but intentional embezzlement.
The Economic Crime Unit finally filed the case, and Gan Kunliang was arrested.
The two uncles, supporting their father, came to Gan Yang, demanding he write a letter of understanding to release his father.
Gan Yang had contracts ready. He laid them out, saying, “Certainly. Convert your shares to debt claims at these figures, and I’ll immediately write the letter to release Gan Senior.”
His grandfather’s cane struck his face. Long Mei watched anxiously, but Gan Yang finally succeeded.
Afterward, Gan Yang made many decisions Long Mei thought were problematic.
He built the wastewater treatment plant and renewed all workers’ contracts ensuring compliance with minimum wage, overtime, and leave regulations. He didn’t repay old debts but incurred new ones.
Even Long Mei wondered if his education had addled his brain, telling him this wasn’t how things were done. Larger Hong Kong and Taiwanese enterprises in the area couldn’t achieve these standards. Two-day weekends? Unheard of.
Gan Yang persuaded Long Mei, the banks, and investors single-handedly. Since they thought his education had made him foolish, he told them Ford’s story, moving from anecdotes to theories, articulating his points clearly.
Only when he closed his office door did he become so anxious he vomited.
In those moments, all confidence vanished. He felt like a misfit. In America, he couldn’t accept Wall Street’s ways; back home, he still didn’t belong.
But these decisions proved correct.
In 2009, several major sports brands issued environmental statements, eliminating many competitors due to substandard emissions. Then, a worker’s suicide incident temporarily sidelined a large manufacturing group from competition.
Long Mei stopped saying his education had made him foolish. Banks and investors were willing to wait and see.
Only he knew the situation remained dire. Money was being earned but spent rapidly. The company’s asset-liability gap hovered around zero. Just one-quarter of slowed order growth, decreased sales, or slightly delayed payments could push them back to the brink of a cash flow crisis. He checked shipping movements for each batch of goods daily, calculating where every penny came from and where it should go. Bank managers feared seeing him, wanting to refer him to other banks.
The world had once been a beautiful place for him, full of smiling faces, until now. But he found he could understand that after the disaster, all survivors avoid risks; no one needs to help anyone else.
Meanwhile, he learned the tricks Long Mei taught him, like drinking.
He attended various dinners. At one late-night drinking session, he heard news of a brand launching a new shoe upper material series, requiring factories to purchase machines for exclusive use. Whether this technology could be widely promoted or how long it would last was uncertain.
With such harsh cooperation terms, a large factory in Zhejiang abandoned the business. Others said, “Who knows what will happen?”
Only he remained silent. That night, reeking of alcohol, he flew to Ningbo, slept for two hours in a small hotel, woke to his alarm, took a cold shower, and set out to view samples.