Song Mingmei declared, “I will never forgive anyone who has betrayed me.”
Books say that stock prices reflect investors’ expectations for the future. Sometimes, this future is incredibly near. Just one day later, on March 18, 2008, L Bank released its first-quarter financial report. Due to their larger position in real estate-related securities compared to competitors, they were more severely affected by the credit market contraction. Their net income for the past three months had fallen by more than half compared to the same period last year. Upon this news, the stock price dropped another 20%.
Everyone now realized that Bear Stearns wasn’t the only firm with liquidity issues. Any further negative news could trigger mass withdrawals or even a bank run. Fortunately, the Federal Reserve implemented various market rescue measures: TAF (Term Auction Facility), TSLF (Term Securities Lending Facility), and PDCF (Primary Dealer Credit Facility). These acronyms flew around, dubbed “alphabet soup therapy” by the media, but surprisingly, they seemed to work.
As spring arrived, the stock and bond markets warmed slightly, and the crisis appeared to have passed.
However, the job-seeking squad members working on Wall Street knew things weren’t that simple. April was the crucial time for the H1B visa lottery, and Ding Zhitong, Song Mingmei, and Feng Sheng had all submitted applications. A key factor in determining the success of the lottery was the current year’s unemployment rate.
During this period, the U.S. unemployment rate noticeably increased, clearly affecting more than just that year’s H1B quota. They all knew the situation hadn’t truly improved, as the unemployment rate was the most genuine economic indicator. After all, dollars could be printed, but job opportunities weren’t so easily created.
In early April, the three managed to meet for a meal. Song Mingmei wanted something hot, so they agreed to meet at Ippudo.
Near Midtown, besides burgers, burritos, and salads, Japanese fast food was most common – ramen, udon, and tonkatsu rice. The kitchen’s steam, wheat aroma, and the smell of soy sauce on the tables gave Chinese stomachs a slight illusion of curing homesickness.
The restaurant was always busy. When Ding Zhitong and Feng Sheng arrived, it was already full, mostly with nearby office workers. Only corner seats at the ramen bar were left. They sat facing the wall, ordered their meals, and chatted while waiting for Song Mingmei.
Ding Zhitong inevitably asked about the situation at L Bank, but Feng Sheng wasn’t too worried. “Look at Bear Stearns,” he said. “Even if things go south, we’ll just change employers and continue working.”
While success might not be shared, failure certainly triggers a chain reaction. Currently, no one on the street was much better off than anyone else. If any firm truly failed, the most likely outcome would indeed be a takeover, like Bear Stearns.
“What about layoffs?” Ding Zhitong had other concerns. Things weren’t that simple, of course. Capitalists were known for not keeping idle workers, and post-merger integration and layoffs were standard practices.
“Does worrying help?” Feng Sheng countered. “Besides, people like us still have some advantages.”
“What advantages?” Ding Zhitong didn’t understand.
Feng Sheng smiled, “We’re cheap.”
Ding Zhitong laughed, knowing it was true. Newcomers like them could only go with the flow, and they might survive, as they could be used as tools with lower salaries than veterans.
“I see you have a great attitude now,” she complimented Feng Sheng.
Feng Sheng didn’t act modestly, joking, “Now that I’m dealing with trades worth hundreds of thousands, my salary seems insignificant in comparison.”
As they chatted, Song Mingmei arrived fashionably late. She took off her trench coat to reveal a formal dress underneath – low-cut, off-shoulder, ankle-length.
Wall Street had strict dress codes for men, but female employees weren’t necessarily required to wear full suits. Ding Zhitong didn’t quite understand the boundaries, so she opted for suits daily for convenience and to avoid mistakes. Song Mingmei was different, wearing dresses almost every day. During the recent Bryant Park Fashion Week, she was mistaken for a fashion editor and interviewed by a TV reporter on the street. But today’s outfit was excessive, especially in this ramen shop, drawing glances from other customers.
Ding Zhitong asked curiously, “Why are you dressed like this for ramen?”
Song Mingmei sat down and looked at the menu, saying, “I have a dinner event tonight.”
Ding Zhitong inquired, “Then why are you meeting us? Will you have enough time?”
Song Mingmei replied, “The invitation says dinner starts at 10 PM. I probably won’t eat much there, so I’m having a snack first.”
“10 PM? That’s a high-end supper!” Feng Sheng teased.
Song Mingmei smiled without elaborating, but asked Ding Zhitong, “Is that Brother Three still causing trouble?”
Ding Zhitong honestly said that after the Denver incident, JV seemed to treat her a bit better.
Although there was still little communication between them – he might not even respond to her “good morning” in the elevator – he would answer her work-related questions when asked. If she made mistakes, he would tell her directly instead of emailing her superiors.
But Song Mingmei said, “If it were me, I wouldn’t let him off so easily. I absolutely won’t forgive anyone who has wronged me unless they grovel before me. Such people won’t change unless you make them feel pain.”
Ding Zhitong knew she meant it. Business school students had all played zero-sum games with similar rules: if both parties cooperate, each gets 3 points; if one cooperates and one betrays, the cooperator loses 5 points while the betrayer gains 5; if both betray, neither scores.
Song Mingmei’s game logic was always clear. She would initially choose to cooperate, but if the other party betrayed her once, she would never give them another chance, immediately retaliating. Even if every result was mutual betrayal with no points and the lowest ranking, she wouldn’t make the first move to reconcile until the other party surrendered, chose to cooperate again, and returned her 5 points.
However, Ding Zhitong still felt she had handled her situation well, with decent results.
Song Mingmei arrived last but left earliest. After wolfing down a salad, her phone buzzed, displaying the name “Benjamin.”
She stood up, put on her coat, and told Ding Zhitong, “This meal’s on you.”
Ding Zhitong asked, “Didn’t you say you wanted something hot?”
“This dress has zero millimeters of give. I’m afraid I’ll burst the seams,” Song Mingmei pointed to her waist and left, drawing glances from other diners.
Ding Zhitong laughed, guessing tonight must be an important occasion, and Song Mingmei was probably competing with someone. That was her nature – when she wanted to crush someone, it would be a complete obliteration.
Ding Zhitong’s guess was right; there was a “someone.”
During that time, the special projects team continued to expand, adding another young member. He was a white intern from Yale named Nathan, introduced by a partner on his first day.
G Bank still maintained a partnership system with a few partners, all of whom were significant figures. For a new intern to be introduced by a partner, shaking hands with economists and MDs, one could imagine he was quite important.
Song Mingmei had heard the saying before – networking in America is no less prevalent than in China; if you think otherwise, you probably haven’t even reached the threshold for networking.
Optimistically thinking, she had probably reached that threshold now.
At the time, Song Mingmei had been working for less than a month, slightly more senior, and was assigned to train him on a task.
Initially, Nathan couldn’t tell where she was from. Compared to most Chinese international students, Song Mingmei spoke more fluent English, had whiter and straighter teeth, and smiled more. But she didn’t have an American accent, had very fair skin, and was thinner, unlike ABC girls with broad shoulders and athletic builds.
“Where are you from?”
“I mean, what kind of Asian are you?”
“What’s your ethnicity?”
Nathan asked, rephrasing three times, probably wondering which sounded least racist, letting her choose.
The wording wasn’t inappropriate, but Song Mingmei found it strange and answered briefly and directly: “I’m Chinese.”
She taught him everything necessary, and Nathan learned quickly, completing the task well in half a day.
After reviewing his work, Song Mingmei sincerely said, “You’re amazing! It took me a whole day to figure this out.”
Nathan politely expressed his thanks, and then went to lunch with his partner and MD.
But Song Mingmei caught a microexpression that seemed to say, “Isn’t it natural that I learn faster and do better than you?”
Subsequent events further confirmed her suspicion; microexpressions indeed don’t lie. She realized he was a person “white” to the core, who had just read more books, learned political correctness, and knew how to hide it.
During that lunch, Nathan might have expressed disappointment in his little mentor to the partner. Afterward, he worked directly with the group’s VP, attending various investor meetings and economic seminars. Meanwhile, she, a full-time employee, was still buying coffee and lunch for everyone.