In Ithaca, where winter seems to last all year, October already brought snow. Ding Zhitong trudged through the snow-covered hills for her interview.
Investment banks on Wall Street are divided into three categories: BB, Middle Market, and Boutique, ranging from largest to smallest.
BB stands for Bulge Bracket.
Bulge: to swell or protrude.
Bracket: a grouping or classification.
After completing an IPO or M&A project, companies issue announcements. All participating investment banks are listed on the announcement’s cover. The lead banks’ names are at the top, with their logos printed prominently – hence “bulge out.” Over time, banks frequently occupying these positions became known as the bulge bracket.
As the doormat of the Ivy League, Cornell was considered a target school for BB investment banks. M Bank sent a representative to conduct on-campus interviews in a conference room at the Statler Hotel, a teaching hotel on campus for Cornell’s hotel management program.
Nervous, Ding Zhitong barely slept the night before.
The radiator valve in her room was broken, making it feel like midsummer. She couldn’t even bear a thin blanket. Before bed, she heard Song Mingmei on a long phone call with suitor number two from the West Coast. In the middle of the night, a party somewhere sent vibrations through the walls with heavy bass. Ding Zhitong felt like she was lying on a railroad tie, hearing a train approaching closer and closer, ready to run her over at any moment. In her dreams, she tried desperately to escape but couldn’t move. She tossed and turned all night, neither fully asleep nor awake.
To make matters worse, her period was due around this time.
Having been physically weak and sensitive to cold for years, she always suffered from pain for a day or two during her period. The severity depended on her mood – minor pain when relaxed, severe when stressed. Important events like exams or competitions made it unbearable.
During her college entrance exam, she had taken progesterone to delay her period. But this situation was different. Taking medication would only postpone it for two weeks at most, and it would still come eventually. Avoiding the first round might mean it would coincide with the next round, which would be even worse. She decided to take her chances and let nature take its course.
But as often happens, what you fear most tends to occur.
On the morning of the interview, her alarm woke her. She felt nauseous and skipped breakfast, only mixing some chocolate powder with hot milk. After a few sips of the sweet, warm drink, she felt a sharp pain in her lower abdomen. A quick trip to the bathroom confirmed her fears.
The box on the toilet tank was empty. Ding Zhitong called for help, and Song Mingmei passed her a tampon. Waiting outside the door, Song Mingmei asked, “Are you okay?”
At this point, she had no choice but to be okay.
Ding Zhitong nodded, swallowed ibuprofen with her hot chocolate, changed into her suit skirt and high heels, and threw on a down jacket before shivering her way into the cold outside air.
In Ithaca, where winter seems to last all year, October already brought snow. Ding Zhitong trudged through the snow-covered hills for her interview.
Arriving at the hotel lobby with fifteen minutes to spare, the familiar pain returned in waves, rendering the painkiller she had taken earlier useless. Her mouth felt bitter and sticky, and she felt nauseous. Like countless times before, she regretted staying up late, not exercising, drinking four cups of coffee daily, and often substituting Subway sandwiches and Snickers bars for proper meals. But it was too late for regrets now. In the bathroom mirror, she looked pale and sickly. She applied more blush and lipstick, painting on fake color and a healthy glow.
Leaving the restroom, it was her turn to enter. She followed the assistant, feeling as if the air around her was full of needles, every breath painful.
The interview was held in a conference room. A man sat across the table, standing to shake her hand as she entered. Driven by her powerful desire to make money on Wall Street, she smiled at him, using the handshake technique Song Mingmei had taught her – palms touching, thumbs interlocked, firm but not crushing, holding still for half a second without shaking, looking into the other person’s eyes with sincerity and confidence. At this point, she could barely focus on what the man looked like, but Song Mingmei had also told her that confidence was more important than sincerity here – a crucial point to remember.
The man was in his thirties, a VP, with Asian features but a very authentic English accent. Ding Zhitong initially thought he might be ABC (American-born Chinese), until he pronounced her name in perfect Mandarin, confirming he was genuinely Chinese.
His surname was Qin, and his full name was Qin Chang. The “Q” consonant is a challenge even for those with advanced Chinese language proficiency.
For a moment, Ding Zhitong felt lucky to have a Chinese interviewer for the first round. But she quickly remembered another of Song Mingmei’s sayings – “Bai bosses, Indian cliques, Chinese infighting.” A strange phenomenon in the North American workplace, with no exceptions.
She mentally crossed herself and clasped her hands, preparing for what was to come.
Fortunately, the questions weren’t difficult. They were all in Feng Sheng’s question bank, and she had practiced them several times with Song Mingmei. Ding Zhitong knew every answer by heart, even having enough mental space to hope it would end quickly so she could crawl back to her dorm and curl up with a hot water bottle.
Q: Why did you choose to study finance?
A: It all started in my first year of high school when I took a college-level finance course. I discovered that all problems could be quantified, analyzed, and even used to predict the future using mathematical models and functions. For me, it was an eye-opening experience… (In simpler terms: I wanted to learn everything about making money.)
Q: Why do you want to become an investment banker?
A: The more I studied, the more I realized the variables and uncertainties in the market. As an investment banker, you go a step further, trying to judge and even control these uncertainties. I find this to be a fascinating and challenging job… (The real reason: I heard this field pays extremely well.)
Q: Why did you choose M Bank?
A: This bank gathers the most excellent investment bankers. I’m attracted to an environment that offers both challenges and growth opportunities… (Because you’re ranked in the top five on Wall Street, and I believe working for you would allow me to earn a lot of money.)
…
After going through both the Technical and Behavioral parts of the interview questions, Qin Chang asked about the main project she had been involved in during her summer internship.
It was a failed acquisition. Ding Zhitong hadn’t expected to encounter such a disastrous deal so early in her career.
Company A wanted to acquire Company B. After more than a year of preliminary work, they finally reached an agreement. But as soon as the deal was announced, B was summoned to court for suspected financial fraud and bribery. A unilaterally announced the termination of the acquisition, willing to pay a breakup fee. B then sued A, demanding the continuation of the acquisition contract. A countersued B for concealing the company’s actual situation before the transaction.
According to the original plan, Ding Zhitong’s ten-week summer internship would have covered the entire process of completing the deal. Instead, she witnessed A and B’s courtroom drama. As of the interview day, the litigation was still ongoing, with A’s stock price and credit rating continuously declining.
She told the story vividly, making Qin Chang laugh. He asked her to predict the outcome.
Clenching her fist under the table, her fingertips digging into her palm, Ding Zhitong endured the pain and said, “Both parties will compromise, lower the price, and complete the acquisition.”
Qin Chang asked why.
Struggling to concentrate, she answered, “B’s revenue is declining, they’re entangled in lawsuits, and their cash flow is problematic. Selling is their only option. A’s old product patents are expiring, their R&D has failed, they can’t launch new products, and they don’t have time to negotiate other acquisitions. Buying B is their only choice.”
“You seem very certain,” Qin Chang smiled.
“They call me the Gambling God,” Ding Zhitong’s voice was slightly trembling, her laugh sounding more like a sharp intake of breath, but this statement was true. Her classmates often bet on financial news, and she always won.
This time was no exception. More than a year later, A and B did indeed come together as she predicted. Of course, that’s a story for another time.
Even though the outcome was unknown at the time, she was confident in her answer. The timely arrival of her menstrual pain seemed to have even helped her performance.
At that moment, the cramping and nausea overcame her nervousness, overshadowing all self-doubt. She was like a first-time stage actor, initially terrified until the curtain rose and the spotlight hit, revealing a sea of white where the audience should be. Whether the seats were filled with people or carrots didn’t matter. Like singing in the shower at home, the new actor easily entered a flow state and completed the entire performance.
Thirty minutes later, the interview ended. She shook hands with Qin Chang, her vision blurry but still smiling brightly.
Leaving the conference room, she allowed her mind to fog over, noticing that the pain seemed to have subsided a bit. She headed for the elevator while messaging Song Mingmei.
“Nailed it!” she wrote, feeling she had performed well, saying and doing everything she should have.
The message was sent successfully as the elevator reached the ground floor. She walked out and then collapsed in the middle of the lobby.
Cold sweat, ringing ears, heart palpitations, her heartbeat slowing down, the pain disappeared, replaced by a comfortable, numbing tranquility that gave her a sense of detachment from the world.
This was Ding Zhitong’s first fainting spell, lasting only a few seconds.
As she hit the ground, she lay face-up on the inlaid marble floor, gazing at the chandelier lights that transformed into clusters of black spots. Before these spots filled her vision, she saw a blurry yet familiar face.
It was Gan Yang, dialing on his phone.
“Don’t!” She immediately woke up, startled. She struggled to stand, thinking only of the cheapest international student insurance she had bought. How much would a hospital bill cost? How long would it take to negotiate with the insurance company? A string of numbers tangled into chaotic black circles in her mind.
“Don’t call an ambulance! I’m fine!” She grabbed his hand, almost snatching the phone away.
Gan Yang steadied her, advising, “You just fainted. You should go to the hospital…”
“There’s no need. This happens every month. I’ll go back, take some ibuprofen, and sleep it off,” she insisted.
“Oh…” he looked at her, seeming to understand.
Hotel staff gathered around, but she had spoken in Chinese when she fainted, so only he understood. Somehow, he became her interpreter.
The front desk manager and several staff members asked in a jumble: Do you know her? Are you a students here? Should we call 911?
Gan Yang responded to each: Yes, she’s my friend. That’s right, we’re both students here. No need, I’ll take her to the emergency room.
“No emergency room!” Ding Zhitong panicked again.
“Okay, no emergency room,” he assured her in Chinese, then suggested, “How about I take you back to your dorm?”
She nodded, finally relieved.
When she fully regained consciousness, she found herself lying on a leather sofa. The pain persisted, and she heard a humming sound as warm air, like a fever, blew on her face.
A few seconds later, she realized she was in a car, with someone in the driver’s seat.
The driver had just settled in and was reaching back to adjust the rear air conditioning vents. Seeing her open her eyes, he asked, “Feeling any better?”
“Much better,” she replied, not remembering how she got into the car and too embarrassed to ask. They barely knew each other, but outside, the sky was a bleak white, and water froze instantly. She was shaking all over, unsure if it was from pain or cold, lacking the resolve to walk back on her own.
The car started, its engine roaring to life. She briefly pointed out the direction, then leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.
It wasn’t until the car reached the West Campus dormitories that she thought of a crucial question.
Gan Yang wore a high-quality white shirt. His dark blue tie with a small G pattern was loosened, hanging with his suit jacket on the back of the passenger seat. Half of the Giorgio Armani label peeked out from inside the collar – the brand Feng Sheng wanted but couldn’t afford to buy. This was his interview attire.
“Did you finish your interview?” Ding Zhitong asked.
Gan Yang smiled without answering, first finding a place to park. Then he glanced at his more expensive watch and said, “I was scheduled right after you. That time has already passed.”
He hadn’t gone at all.
“What are you going to do? Didn’t you reschedule with them?” Ding Zhitong worried for him, momentarily forgetting her stomach pain.
Gan Yang just shrugged and said, “Forget it. I hadn’t prepared any way, and even if I passed, I might not have time for the next round.”
“Do you have other interviews? With which company?” Job hunting was the only task in Ding Zhitong’s mind.
Gan Yang laughed, shaking his head, “It’s not an interview. I’m running the New York Marathon in early November.”
Marathon? Ding Zhitong couldn’t comprehend it, unsure what to say. After a pause, she managed, “Well, thank you so much for today. I’ll treat you to a meal sometime to make up for it.”
She was just being polite, expecting Gan Yang to decline. Instead, he asked, “Do you have my phone number?”
Ding Zhitong shook her head, thinking, “Why would I have your number? We barely know each other.”
Then she watched as Gan Yang took out his phone and called her.
Ding Zhitong was surprised to find that he had her number.