Song Mingmei knew that someone like Bian Jieming would naturally be drawn to people similar to himself. It felt like admiring oneself from an outsider’s perspective.
Her current strategy was to expand their shared experiences and abilities while maintaining emotional distance. She was never too available and never revealed too much of her personal feelings in front of him. This wasn’t playing hard to get; rather, aware of her limited life experience, she feared he might see through her easily. Keeping some distance allowed her to maintain an air of mystery.
Although Song Mingmei believed in Pareto improvements and win-win situations—principles that had served her well in relationships—Bian Jieming was different. The power imbalance between them was too great. She couldn’t expect an older man to restrain himself based on moral standards alone. If their relationship were to continue, whether in the way Bian Jieming hoped or as she wanted, she firmly believed she needed leverage for negotiation, even if it was just bluffing.
However, Bian Jieming wasn’t her only concern.
After the eventful summer of 2007, 2008 ushered in an even more extraordinary spring.
Following the French trader incident in January, February brought news about Auction Rate Securities (ARS), a cousin of subprime loans. Media reports suggested brokers might lack funds to guarantee redemptions. Fearful investors rushed to sell. Many ARS issuers were local governments, hospitals, and student loan agencies. The market crash left college students without tuition and disabled and older citizen without benefits. They tearfully accused Wall Street of deceiving the public on TV news.
The streets buzzed with anxiety as everyone prioritized safety. The market continued to decline and tighten, revealing ugly truths like a receding tide exposing the riverbed.
Still, in training, Song Mingmei received G Bank’s internal “redlist” from the risk control department. It included previously unthinkable names like Bear Stearns, which had been named “America’s Most Admired Securities Firm” by Fortune magazine just months earlier. Now it had moved from the orange “restricted” category to the red “prohibited” one, indicating imminent bankruptcy. A quick check with Ding Zhitong confirmed M Bank’s list was similar. The two joked that they were truly witnessing history.
Around the same time, Feng Sheng posted his qualification exam score of 95 on Facebook.
Friends congratulated him, with some jokingly asking if he felt pressured as a new trader in the current market.
In reality, their entire cohort of newcomers faced similar challenges, having entered the industry just as major events unfolded.
Song Mingmei was no exception. With her ten-week training ending soon, she would officially start work in G Bank’s IBD, facing unknown challenges.
Absurdly, even the “suitor investment portfolio” she and Ding Zhitong had jokingly devised suffered significant losses during this period.
Song Mingmei had always been a role model among her peers—the perfect child others’ parents wished for. She excelled academically, was beautiful, and always caught the camera’s attention. As she grew older, she attracted many suitors.
Despite this, she wasn’t just popular with men. Her kindness and loyalty made her well-liked among women too.
If she had one flaw, it was that she seemed never to have fallen in love.
She had many suitors and would pursue relationships when appropriate. However, she always maintained an objective view of their strengths and weaknesses, as if completing a teacher’s assignment on company valuation.
Over the past six months, Suitor No. 2 in Pasadena had been trying to convince her to work in San Francisco after graduation. Upon learning she had accepted an offer in New York, he bowed out of the competition and started dating a junior from his school. When he confessed this to Song Mingmei, they were already living together.
Song Mingmei found this amusing. Why hide it from her? The geographical distance was a practical issue; she would have done the same. She had no right to criticize. So, she calmly wished them well and withdrew from this “investment.”
Then there was Suitor No. 1, Deng Baiting from Shanghai.
Deng Baiting attended the same university as Song Mingmei, two years her senior. Known as “Old Deng,” he was a slim, fair-skinned young man with soft, slightly curly hair that made him resemble Tintin from “The Adventures of Tintin.”
They met during Song Mingmei’s freshman military training, or more accurately, Deng Baiting noticed Song Mingmei.
At that time, male students claimed that “military uniforms are the best test of true beauty” and went to the field to watch the new female students. Deng Baiting, along with many others, spotted Song Mingmei in the formation. With her pink lips, black hair, and delicate features, she was strikingly beautiful, though she carried herself as if it were perfectly natural.
From that day on, Deng Baiting secretly admired her for three and a half years. He learned everything about her—her name, major, grade—and even guessed her email address from her campus network ID. It wasn’t until the winter break of his second year in graduate school that he finally gathered the courage to write her a letter.
He expected rejection or no response at all, possibly ending up in her spam folder. To his surprise, Song Mingmei not only received the email but, embracing the idea of making new friends, suggested meeting in person at the start of the semester. She treated him to a meal at a small restaurant off campus.
Letting her pay wasn’t Deng Baiting’s intention. As they sat in the small restaurant talking, it all felt surreal. It wasn’t until he returned to his dorm that he realized Song Mingmei had picked up the bill.
He sent her an apologetic message explaining his oversight. Song Mingmei replied that she had just received a scholarship and had planned to treat him all along, ending with “You can pay next time.”
Old Deng stared at his phone screen, once again in disbelief. There would be a “next time”!
Unfortunately, Song Mingmei was nearing graduation and had already received an offer from McKinsey. They maintained a relationship that was “more than friends, less than lovers” until she left for studies abroad. Old Deng graduated with his master’s degree, worked for a while, and then decided to start a business, creating a social networking site with some friends.
The website’s name, “Moqi,” was coined by Song Mingmei. Initially, she thought it was just Old Deng’s hobby project, but she enthusiastically promoted it among her friends and classmates. Seeing the user growth data, Old Deng realized this girl, two years his junior, had an impressively wide social network.
However, this period also marked the beginning of their conflicts. Old Deng had always thought Song Mingmei was out of his league, but her friendliness made him happy even if he couldn’t win her over. Yet when it came to his startup, she offered nothing but straightforward criticism, showing no mercy.
During her internship at G Bank, Song Mingmei worked on two TMT projects and analyzed numerous comparable companies. She applied this knowledge to offer Old Deng several pieces of advice:
First, several domestic companies had started similar projects at the same time, some already quite mature and claiming to be China’s largest. How would he compete?
Second, “Moqi” was copying Facebook’s model. If he could copy, others could too. How would he differentiate?
Third, with a user base mainly comprised of students, future growth potential was limited. How would he attract investors?
Fourth, she pointed out Old Deng’s limitations. Fresh out of school, he still thought like a student. While product development and technology weren’t issues, and team management was manageable due to the small team size, he lacked practical experience in sales, marketing, finance, law, and investment.
Initially, Old Deng didn’t take her seriously, but Song Mingmei persisted. She explained that during her internship, she reviewed dozens of business plans weekly, wrote various analysis reports, and created models. She understood which companies caught buyers’ attention and which were just student projects.
She advocated for finding new selling points, developing more effective strategies to induce purchasing power, and even providing direct purchase opportunities.
Old Deng accepted her first round of advice, restructuring the website and shifting the target audience to college students and urban white-collar workers – those about to enter or already in the workforce. These users might start by sharing exam and job-hunting experiences, but would soon discuss consumer information, from food and entertainment to cars and real estate, eventually covering topics like home decoration, marriage, parenting, and finance – all business opportunities to induce purchasing power.
What started as a small project gradually became serious. They were preparing to launch a web game within two months, again copying Facebook. The original was called “Parking Wars”; they simply translated it to “Qiang Chewei” (Fighting for Parking Spaces).
Song Mingmei was exasperated, suggesting they at least modify it. Facebook’s “Parking Wars” was visible to everyone; if he could copy it, couldn’t others? Within months, all domestic SNS sites would likely launch similar games, with slightly different interfaces and operations but the same core concept.
Old Deng once again accepted her advice and came up with a new idea – “Fighting for Houses,” but still using the parking space gameplay mechanics.
Song Mingmei was again frustrated. During her training, she rewrote the entire ruleset and sent it to Old Deng, predicting it would be an instant hit if implemented as she suggested.
Intrigued, Old Deng asked what it was.
Song Mingmei replied, “Instead of fighting for houses elsewhere, invite others to live in your home.”
“What’s the difference?” Old Deng didn’t understand.
“It’s virtual cohabitation,” Song Mingmei explained. “In a real-name community with authentic classmate, colleague, and friend relationships. Isn’t that exciting? ‘Sex sells’ – it’s the most basic business principle.”
Perhaps overwhelmed, Old Deng, who used to report to her frequently, hadn’t contacted her for over a week.
Song Mingmei felt somewhat disappointed, not because of Old Deng, but because of “Moqi.”
Around this time, as she was about to start her job, Bian Jieming invited her to dinner again. This time, however, they were joined by an MD from G Bank’s Special Projects Group.
At the dinner, Bian Jieming chatted amiably, introducing her to the MD not as his date, but as a junior colleague he admired.
Song Mingmei was surprised. She knew about the “Special Projects Group,” which sounded a bit like “special agents” and was rumored to be G Bank’s highest-bonus team. What was Bian Jieming planning? She had a vague guess but couldn’t quite believe it.
After dinner, saying goodbye to the MD, they got into the car. Bian Jieming finally asked, “Would you like to join the Special Projects Group?”
“To do what?” Song Mingmei inquired.
Bian Jieming replied, “Raise pigs.”
Song Mingmei laughed, knowing it wasn’t just a joke. The Special Projects Group had been acquiring pig farms in China that year.
Working on China-related projects suited her better. Considering the current situation in European and American markets, the bonuses would likely be more generous. But why was she being offered this opportunity when so many were vying for it? She sat there, her mind racing with calculations.
Bian Jieming seemed to see through her thoughts and stopped beating around the bush. “I don’t know how you see me. Maybe there are some unsavory rumors on the street about someone like me and my private life. But why don’t you judge using normal logic? Every minute of my time is valuable. If I only wanted a woman, I could easily hire an escort. I could choose race, age, height, looks, even education level, like ordering from a menu. Would I need to go to all this trouble?”
“Then how do you see me?” Song Mingmei asked frankly.
Mr. Bian looked at her and replied, “You’re different, Mingmei. Give you fifty-seven dollars, drop you at JFK Airport, and in seventeen years, you’d be in the same position I am now.”
“Really?” Song Mingmei could hardly believe it.
“No, that’s not right,” Mr. Bian shook his head after thinking for a moment. “You’d be even better than I am now.”
“Why?” Song Mingmei waited for his praise.
Bian Jieming just smiled and said honestly, “Your English is much better than mine was back then.”
Song Mingmei laughed along with him. At that moment, she felt that perhaps her original perception of him had been wrong.