He reversed the law of causality, suggesting, “If you start running, the offer might just come.”
The very next day, Ding Zhitong began running with Gan Yang.
Initially, she had refused, using her ready-made excuse: “Let’s wait until I get the offer.”
But Gan Yang flipped the causality, saying, “If you run, the offer might just come.”
What kind of mysterious cosmic rule was this? Ding Zhitong knew he was talking nonsense, but at that moment, whether she could get the offer seemed equally mystical.
According to rumors in the gold-digging circle, during each campus recruitment season, a BB investment bank would receive over 2,000 resumes. After initial screening and online tests, about 200 candidates remained. The first round of interviews, whether in-person or by phone, would halve that number. Ultimately, only single-digit positions were filled. This meant an acceptance rate of less than 1%, while Harvard’s acceptance rate was 6%.
So, Ding Zhitong decided to indulge in a superstition and give running a try.
Due to her long-term physical inactivity, Gan Yang devised a training plan for her: three times a week, gradually increasing from twenty to thirty minutes per session. The first phase aimed to complete a 5-kilometer run smoothly.
The memory of running 800 meters in PE class had long faded. Ding Zhitong had no concept of these numbers and had only one requirement: to find a place without familiar faces. She told Gan Yang it was because she ran poorly and looked awkward, fearing embarrassment. In reality, she couldn’t explain why, but she didn’t want others to see them together.
Fortunately, the weather had turned cold. Although one of Kangcun’s features was that classes continued regardless of wind or snow, most normal people had moved their workouts to the school gym.
At dusk, Ding Zhitong changed into sportswear and met Gan Yang on the jogging path behind the campus hill. It was an overcast day, with a biting wind. The world had reduced to just three colors: black, white, and gray. Apart from the two of them, no one else was in sight.
The location was perfect, but the plan’s execution didn’t go smoothly.
The first attempt failed because Ding Zhitong wore the wrong shoes.
Of course, she thought they were fine. NB574 – aren’t they sports shoes? But Gan Yang said these were for everyday walking, and running in them would surely hurt her soles and knees. Ding Zhitong was puzzled and asked, “Isn’t that normal after running?” Gan Yang was speechless and took her down the hill to buy proper running shoes in town. It was in that store that Ding Zhitong first learned about her foot problems: “overpronation” and “pes valgus.” Moreover, her shoe size was a full 38, not the 37.5 she claimed.
She had known about the size 38 for a while. She just thought 38 sounded big, so she preferred to say 37.5 and planned to continue doing so.
By the time they finished shopping, night had fallen and it started snowing. The snow quickly accumulated to about four inches, with snowplows not due until the next morning. The plan was temporarily halted, and they decided to have dinner instead.
The second attempt involved some running.
However, in Gan Yang’s eyes, everything about Ding Zhitong’s form was problematic – from her arm swing to her foot strike, even her breathing was wrong. He told her to stop running and stand by the roadside. Standing behind her, he encircled her with his arms, placing his hands over hers on her stomach. Lowering his head to her ear, he guided her through abdominal breathing: “Inhale, exhale…”
Before them lay a deep river valley, Kangcun’s infamous suicide spot where students jumped each year. Normally, Ding Zhitong never lingered here, fearing a moment of weakness might leave her 80,000-dollar goal unfulfilled. But at that moment, she seemed to understand the desolate allure of this place. Low clouds hung overhead, and a biting north wind swept across their faces. The air in her nostrils was ice-cold. It felt as if the entire world had gone cold except for her and the warm body pressed against her back. She could feel so clearly the heartbeat in that broad chest behind her, deep and slow.
They had barely started running when Ding Zhitong felt out of breath.
It was then that she suddenly understood something and deliberately asked, “Gan Yang, why do you always invite people to run?”
Gan Yang, clearly unaware of her intent, answered as he always did: “Because I enjoy it.”
“So, does that mean when you meet someone you like, you want to invite them to run with you?” Ding Zhitong continued her analysis.
The person behind her blushed, though she couldn’t see it. She only felt him nod, his chin lightly brushing her ear.
“So, you’ve also invited Song Mingmei,” she smiled silently, curious to hear his explanation.
But Gan Yang laughed too, his chest vibrating as he said, “I invited her because I knew she would refuse.”
“What kind of reason is that?” Ding Zhitong didn’t understand.
Gan Yang explained, “She’s so forward. As a guy, it’s not nice to reject her directly. So whenever she approaches me, I suggest we go running together. She says ‘No, thanks,’ and it saves face for everyone.”
It was an explanation of sorts, but Ding Zhitong felt there was still a flaw. She countered, “Then what made you think I would agree?”
Gan Yang replied, “Because I would keep asking until you said yes.”
Ding Zhitong turned to look at him. He wore a self-satisfied expression, his forehead hair lightly ruffling in the mountain breeze, his eyes clear. In her heart, she thought, “Look how pleased you are with yourself,” but she remained silent for a long while, her breathing off again.
This wasn’t the answer she had anticipated. She had expected him to be embarrassed, allowing her to tease him: “Tell me honestly, how many girls have you invited here to ‘inhale, exhale’? I won’t be mad.” Then, the words she had used to agree to date him that night could be considered nullified.
But he didn’t give her that satisfaction. They still stood at that high point overlooking the river valley, his hands over hers on her stomach, his head lowered to her ear, saying, “Inhale… exhale…”
By the third attempt, they finally started running properly, and Ding Zhitong regretted it terribly.
Less than two kilometers in, she slowed down, clutching her stomach, panting as she said, “I can’t go on. Let’s stop here.”
But Gan Yang, like a merciless PE teacher, turned to face her, jogging backward while shouting, “Don’t stop, Ding Zhitong! You can slow down, but don’t walk! Keep running, Ding Zhitong!”
Ding Zhitong tried to negotiate, “Why don’t you consider others? I’m not a good person.”
“How so?” he smiled at her.
Ding Zhitong said, “I’m money-grubbing, vulgar, unromantic, I like to swear, and I’m not even that good-looking…”
Gan Yang nodded in agreement, “That’s true. If it weren’t for seeing you, I wouldn’t have known my aesthetic taste could be so warped.”
Excuse me?! Ding Zhitong had self-awareness, but this was the first time someone had said it to her face.
“I’m not talking about your face, that’s fine. It’s just that before, I always liked those…” He gestured two large spheres in front of his chest, his hands spread wide, indicating at least a G-cup.
Ding Zhitong angrily chased after him, and Gan Yang turned and fled.
Somehow, they completed that day’s plan. She collapsed onto the snow by the roadside, suddenly realizing that snow could be as soft as a mattress.
Gan Yang sat down beside her, patting her shoulder, “I think you’ve got potential. Next year, come with me to the New York Marathon again. I’ll run the full course, you can do the 10K.”
“Didn’t you just run the New York Marathon?” Ding Zhitong thought he was crazy. 10K? Why not just kill her outright?
Gan Yang paused before answering, “I… didn’t finish this time…”
“What? That bad?” Ding Zhitong perked up, sitting up to laugh at him.
Unexpectedly, he said, “It was because of you, so you have to run with me next time.”
“How is it because of me?” Ding Zhitong wasn’t about to accept blame so easily.
Gan Yang buried his head between his knees, grinning stupidly, “…I can’t… I’m too embarrassed to tell you.”
“Fine, then don’t,” Ding Zhitong feigned indifference, pushing him away.
As expected, he continued grinning, then leaned in again, cupping his hand around her ear, “I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell anyone else.”
Ding Zhitong thought he was being silly, nodded, and gave the cheapest verbal promise: “Mm, I definitely won’t tell.”
Only then did Gan Yang confess, “That day when I saw you at Queen’s, I jumped up to wave at you, and one of my nipple guards fell off, and then…”
Ding Zhitong didn’t understand, “And then what? What’s a nipple guard?”
“It’s…” Gan Yang didn’t know how to explain, gesturing vaguely, “…it got chafed, you know?”
Ding Zhitong still didn’t quite get it, “How is that my fault?”
Gan Yang looked at her earnestly, “I could have pushed through to the finish line, but there was a lot of blood, visible on my shirt. I thought you might be waiting in the cheering area, and I didn’t want you to see, so I dropped out.”
Now the mental image was clear, and Ding Zhitong laughed uncontrollably, rather unkindly.
Gan Yang covered her mouth to stop her laughter. She broke free and teasingly asked, “Are you that delicate?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized how suggestive they sounded. She thought Gan Yang would respond, but he didn’t. His hand still covered her mouth, his eyes fixed on her, no longer laughing. They were very close, their breaths warm and moist. She thought something might happen, but then a cyclist sped by on the path behind them, ringing their bell continuously.
They separated, and Ding Zhitong stood up, covering her cheeks with her hands as if cold. In reality, her face was very warm.