She laughed along with him and made a bold declaration: “If I get an offer from M Bank, I’ll go running with you.”
After finishing their meal, they left the dining hall. Logically, it was time to say goodbye, but for some reason, neither took the initiative.
They stood facing each other, the cold wind biting their faces. Students passed by, asking them to make way, accentuating the awkward silence.
Finally, Gan Yang broke the ice: “Want to go for a drink?”
“Sure,” Ding Zhitong replied casually, surprising even herself. She thought, “Ding Zhitong, shouldn’t you be doing homework instead? Or checking Wall Street Oasis for finance interview tips? It started as a forum in ’07 but now sells courses. You could review interview experiences or catch up on financial news.”
But it was too late to back out. Gan Yang smiled, his hand hovering behind her back as he guided her along.
He led her to the library, saying he wanted to try the caramel apple cider sold on the first floor. It was an Ithaca autumn specialty, made from locally harvested apples. Ding Zhitong loved it, always buying a cup when passing by, savoring it in the cold breeze. Though an extra expense, it was only available for a short season. She was surprised that a guy like Gan Yang would want such a sweet drink, but she ordered two cups anyway, eagerly paying first.
She had promised to treat, after all.
Gan Yang watched her, seeming to suppress a smile. Ding Zhitong noticed but didn’t know what to say.
The conversation that had flowed at the dining hall now stalled.
Struggling for a topic, Ding Zhitong asked, “Did you create that ‘Ink Bond’ two-choice game yourself?”
Gan Yang nodded, “Yes.”
“What about M Bank’s online test?” she probed.
“Of course, that too,” Gan Yang replied, looking at her curiously.
Fearing misunderstanding, Ding Zhitong explained, “I have a friend who’s great at written tests but didn’t pass. He said it was because of the final psychological assessment.”
Gan Yang furrowed his brow, meeting her gaze for a second before lowering his head with a smile, seeming to grasp her implication.
Ding Zhitong felt awkward, sensing she might have appeared too eager to establish a connection, only to be seen through.
But then Gan Yang suggested, “Why don’t we… try again?”
“Try what?” Ding Zhitong asked, confused.
Without answering, Gan Yang pulled out his laptop, connected to the internet, and found an online psychological test. He took it first, then invited Ding Zhitong to do the same.
The free online test was much simpler than M Bank’s screening questions. Ding Zhitong finished quickly, clicked submit, and laughed at the results.
“What is it?” Gan Yang inquired.
“It says I’m not good with money management,” Ding Zhitong replied, amused considering her career aspirations.
“Huh? I got that too,” Gan Yang remarked.
“Really?” Ding Zhitong doubted.
Gan Yang showed her his results page.
In the brief analysis, Ding Zhitong noticed several similarities between their scores of 86 and 87:
Strong curiosity, adventurous, generally well-liked.
Average career ambition, adaptable to work situations, but sometimes driven by a sense of duty to do things they’d rather not.
Good at finding interesting things, but lacking patience. Willing to take risks, yet sometimes timid.
Longing for romantic love, but practical about marriage.
Poor financial management.
Disbelieving, Ding Zhitong asked Gan Yang, “Did you peek at my answers?”
Gan Yang retorted, “I did it first. If anyone peeked, it was you.”
Ding Zhitong was stumped. She knew she hadn’t looked, and the more logical explanation was that these free tests were lazy, giving similar results regardless of answers. Yet, deep down, she preferred to believe another interpretation – that she and Gan Yang had passed another psychological test with matching results.
“Could he be your soulmate?” Song Mingmei’s joke echoed in her mind.
The room was warm, with poor ventilation in the evening. Ding Zhitong felt feverish and touched her face, finding it hot. Noting it was past 9 PM, she expressed her gratitude again: “Thanks for this morning, and sorry you missed your interview because of me…” implying it was time to end the evening.
“Why bring that up again? I told you it wouldn’t have mattered if I’d gone,” Gan Yang replied nonchalantly, naturally standing to accompany her out.
Ding Zhitong tried to decline: “I can go back by myself.”
But Gan Yang insisted: “No way, I’ll walk you.”
His tone was authoritative, leaving Ding Zhitong no room to refuse. They headed towards the West Campus dorms. Snow began to fall again, visible only in the cones of streetlight, like crystal balls extending to the end of the road.
As they walked, Gan Yang fell behind and asked, looking at her back, “Hey, Ding ‘Cylinder’, how tall are you?”
Embarrassed, Ding Zhitong retorted without turning, “A-Gan, how tall are you?”
“184 cm,” Gan Yang replied frankly.
“I’m 167 cm,” Ding Zhitong reciprocated.
“And your weight?” he pressed on.
Ding Zhitong, unused to such directness and unsure of his motive, stopped and glanced back at him.
Gan Yang, oblivious to any impropriety, just waited for her answer.
Speechless, Ding Zhitong raised her chin, implying he should go first.
“70 kilos,” Gan Yang said.
“About 47, 48 kg, I guess…” Ding Zhitong reluctantly answered, always self-conscious about being either flat-chested or short.
Gan Yang’s next comment surprised her: “You’re interviewing for M Bank’s IBD, right? Their hours are brutal. How will you manage with your build if you don’t exercise?”
“So?” Ding Zhitong looked at him, perplexed.
Gan Yang just smiled and said, “So, want to consider running with me?”
“No, thanks,” Ding Zhitong flatly refused, walking ahead. “Intern hours are even worse, and I managed those, didn’t I?”
“Hey,” Gan Yang caught up, “Internships are just over two months. Full-time work is different.”
Ding Zhitong smiled, replying, “Thanks for the concern. Let’s talk about it if I get the offer.”
After this round of interviews, there was still the Superday – a recruitment model combining several interviews in one day, even more competitive than getting into top universities. Her response was essentially equivalent to “Maybe next time.”
But Gan Yang interpreted it differently: “It’s a deal then. If you’re hired, you’ll run with me.”
Ding Zhitong looked at him again, feeling conflicted but not refusing outright.
In the night, his eyes shone brightly, white mist forming as he spoke. She found herself wanting to reach out and touch it, just to feel its temperature. To clarify, she meant only the mist.
Gan Yang, taking her silence as agreement, began to muse: “Too bad we can’t stay in Ithaca until next autumn.”
Ding Zhitong paused slightly, realizing he had remembered her fondness for Ithaca’s autumn.
Unaware of her reaction, Gan Yang continued: “…There are so many chestnut trees along my running route. In October, the ground is covered with chestnuts. My first year here, I filled a backpack with them and tried to roast them…”
Ding Zhitong hesitated again before asking, “How were they? Edible?”
“Forget it, they were bitter,” Gan Yang laughed heartily, his eyes crinkling into lines, revealing perfectly white teeth, his whole being radiating transparency.
This time, Ding Zhitong finally knew how to describe it – it was the kind of smile that made you want to smile along, usually seen only on children or fools.
Giving up resistance, she smiled too and made a bold declaration: “If I get an offer from M Bank, I’ll go running with you.”
“Great!” Gan Yang patted her shoulder enthusiastically, the force making her lurch forward slightly.
It was a gesture more suited to close male friends, startling Ding Zhitong and suddenly making her unsure of his intentions.
They had reached her dorm building. She stopped and said, “I’m here.”
As someone cycled past, Gan Yang pulled her hand, waiting for the bicycle to pass before leading her across the path. Ding Zhitong, sensitive to cold, wore gloves in this weather, but Gan Yang’s palm felt warm through the wool.
“So…” At the dorm entrance, he rubbed his nose.
“Yes?” Ding Zhitong mirrored his gesture, then felt she had responded too quickly and was imitating him.
Fortunately, Gan Yang didn’t notice her awkwardness. Hands in his jacket pockets, he lowered his head and said, “I’ll wait for news about your interview.”
Going running? Ding Zhitong thought of the 800-meter run and shuddered, changing the subject: “I’ll head up now.” She turned to open the door but realized she’d forgotten her card. She pressed the buzzer, which beeped for a long time with no response.
They stood on the steps, feeling like something should happen, yet sensing it wasn’t quite the right moment. Finally, someone came out, and Ding Zhitong quickly caught the door. Warm air rushed out, bringing both relief and a hint of disappointment.
“Goodbye,” she said to Gan Yang.
Gan Yang, hands still in his hoodie pockets, waved slightly and said, “Go on up. I’ll come find you for a run next time.”
Ding Zhitong didn’t linger, rushing upstairs to her room. Without turning on the lights, she rolled up the blinds and looked out the window.
Though he hadn’t said anything at parting, Gan Yang was still waiting outside. Seeing her peek out, he waved. Ding Zhitong waved back, and only then did he turn to leave.
For the next few seconds, she watched his retreating figure, as if admiring a scene from a movie. The figure had an athlete’s upright, relaxed posture – broad shoulders and long legs, crossing the street in front of the dorm in just a few strides.
She had to admit, it was quite a sight.
But the cinematic moment lasted barely three seconds before he suddenly started hopping, taking large steps to jump over a pool of light cast by a streetlamp.
Ding Zhitong couldn’t help but laugh, thinking to herself, “How childish.”