In September 2019, Ding Zhitong felt she had finally grasped the essence of “soulmates.”
It was during a training session she attended after her promotion to Executive Director, held in Bangkok, gathering newly promoted directors from M Bank’s various locations. In one class, the trainer introduced them to the 16 personality types.
After taking the test on-site, Ding Zhitong’s result was INTJ.
I – Introvert
N – Intuition
T – Thinking
J – Judging
She scored over 90 in three categories, making her a textbook example.
According to the trainer, INTJ was the rarest among the 16 types, natural strategists and perfectionists with unique ways of thinking, great vision, and ideals. They made up only 1% of the total population, with their most distinctive traits being rarity and intelligence.
Ding Zhitong should have felt honored, but in reality, many INTJs emerged among the attendees. The female colleague from Beijing on her left was an INTJ, as was the male colleague from the Tokyo branch on her right. It was as common as getting another scratch card.
The trainer explained this wasn’t surprising because investment banks consciously screened for these traits during recruitment. INTJs were best suited to become bankers.
The audience laughed, as nowadays, the term “banker” sounded almost like an insult.
Ding Zhitong recalled the online aptitude test from years ago – the long personality assessment following the math and logic questions, and Song Mingmei’s words: “Could this person be your soulmate?”
Twelve years later, the truth was revealed. So-called soulmates were just employers screening for personality traits they deemed suitable.
Still, she found it somewhat magical, considering how different she and Gan Yang once were.
Twelve years? Had it been that long? She hadn’t thought of him in ages, but now, recalling everything, all the details were vivid.
This year, the Shanghai Composite Index peaked at 3,288 points, the three-year fixed deposit rate was 2.75%, and the average price of commercial housing in first-tier cities exceeded 50,000 yuan per square meter.
This year, finance professionals have become just another type of migrant worker. The inflated titles like “manager,” “vice president,” and even “director” printed on business cards were well-known to be largely meaningless. Some securities firm employees were even suing their employers for wages, just like migrant workers.
This year, Ding Zhitong was 34 years old, serving as Executive Director in M Bank’s Asia-Pacific IBD, based in Hong Kong.
For her, the Bangkok training felt more like a vacation, though it was nearly over with just one day left.
Early rising had become a habit. As usual, she went to the hotel gym for a morning run. Most guests were still asleep, even the trainer hadn’t arrived yet. The place was empty, with floor-to-ceiling windows in front of the treadmills overlooking most of the “City of Angels.” The sunlight had a unique tropical hue as if the sky had awakened early while people hadn’t. The city seemed to have just shed its nightlife, appearing particularly real and tranquil. Ding Zhitong especially loved this moment, feeling as if she were the only person left in the world, able to run aimlessly, emptying her mind.
After running 5 kilometers, she showered, and then sat on the restaurant terrace for breakfast, wearing earbuds for a video call with Song Mingmei.
Shanghai was an hour ahead of Bangkok. Song Mingmei had already sent her two children to school and just returned home.
“Have you met anyone interesting in Bangkok?” she asked Ding Zhitong.
Ding Zhitong knew what she meant and immediately reminded her, “This is Director-level training. Everyone here is at least 35 years old, mostly wearing wedding rings. Some have gray hair, and others have no hair at all.”
Song Mingmei didn’t believe her, saying, “Do you have a group photo? Let me see.”
Ding Zhitong laughed and sent her one, proving she wasn’t lying.
“This one’s not bad,” Song Mingmei still found a target, “Fifth from the right in the third row, right behind you…”
Ding Zhitong couldn’t be bothered to count, saying, “I promised my boss I wouldn’t date colleagues.”
“How can people in different locations be considered colleagues?” Song Mingmei questioned.
“Forget colleagues,” Ding Zhitong added, “Lawyers, accountants, and clients on the same project are all off-limits.” She had a history.
“Then can you date your boss?” the other side offered creatively.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Ding Zhitong laughed, interrupting. Her current boss was Qin Chang.
“Otherwise, who else can you meet in your circle?” Song Mingmei pointed out the key issue.
Ding Zhitong had no answer and could only ask in return, “Why are you also pressuring me about marriage? I don’t even dare go back to Shanghai to avoid this.”
“I don’t have that malicious mentality of married women,” Song Mingmei immediately denied, “You know I’m not pushing you towards ‘marriage.'”
“Then what are you pushing for?” Ding Zhitong feigned ignorance, asking a question she knew the answer to.
“How long has it been since you last dated?” Song Mingmei calculated for her, “Two years? Three years?”
“I don’t remember, never counted,” she gave up.
“Adults who go long periods without sexual activity are 1.5 times more likely to develop psychological disorders than normal people,” Song Mingmei quoted data.
Normal people? Ding Zhitong chuckled.
“I’m looking at a project with some thought-provoking numbers. In 2017, 58 million young people were living alone in China. In 2018, it was 77 million. This year, it’s over 80 million, half of whom have no sex life. These people are mainly concentrated in Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, and Shenzhen. If there was a problem, everyone on the streets would be crazy.” She countered with data, feeling a sense of safety in numbers.
But Song Mingmei had already changed the subject, asking, “What project is this?”
“I can’t tell you,” Ding Zhitong became alert.
“My small business isn’t in competition with yours.”
“I still can’t say.”
As they were talking, the footsteps of a waiter approached. Ding Zhitong turned around and saw that someone had sat down at the table behind her.
Moreover, it was a familiar face. An American named Wilson, newly promoted Director of Charitable Business Management for the Asia-Pacific region, based in Singapore. Crucially, he spoke Chinese well.
Ding Zhitong suddenly felt embarrassed but still smiled. Wilson smiled back, and they both turned to look at the scenery.
The project Song Mingmei was inquiring about wasn’t even concrete yet.
It was an online fitness app called “Training Box,” offering HIIT, Zumba, and yoga, with a unique feature of building communities inspired by CrossFit, combining social networking with fitness. Ding Zhitong was representing potential buyers, intending to help with the next round of financing. The founder and CEO had been persuaded, but after board discussions, it wasn’t approved. The response was that they weren’t short on cash and weren’t in a hurry for the next round.
At the time, Ding Zhitong thought this sounded familiar.
Over a year ago, in the same sports and fitness field, she had heard similar responses from two projects: not short on cash, not rushing for the next round. That period was indeed a low point for the internet industry, with capital cooling down and valuations low. Many startups preferred to wait. It wasn’t until she encountered this situation again this year that she realized the connection.
Ding Zhitong recalled those two precedents and then discovered a common name in the shareholder lists of these three startups: LT Capital.
The associate responsible for this project was a young man named Li Jiaxin, whom she had mentored from intern to his current position. He was capable of handling any task she assigned.
Ding Zhitong asked him to look into LT Capital, and the results came quickly. It was a capital management company registered in Hong Kong, a subsidiary of LT Group. Each time, they acted as the VC providing the first investment, with similar term sheets, investing between 5 to 10 million for a 10% stake – quite fair. They continued to participate in each subsequent round of financing, confidently maintaining their position as the second-largest shareholder.
LT Group was a company founded by an overseas Chinese in the early 1980s. The founder’s surname was Chen, with a string of titles including Hong Kong Justice of the Peace, Datuk of Malaysia, and Honorary Doctor of Xiamen University. They started with OEM clothing for Europe and America, and after over 30 years of development, had become a multinational group involved in real estate, culture, technology, and financial investment.
However further investigation into LT Capital yielded no specific personnel information.
This wasn’t surprising; Ding Zhitong knew many investors were low-profile. The more low-profile, the more likely they were to be profitable. They wouldn’t waste a minute talking to you because even that minute would cost them money.
Sure enough, after Li Jiaxin had a detailed discussion with the CEO, he reported back to her that LT had offered to invest another 100 million, suggesting they hold off on external financing for now.
“What kind of person is this?” Ding Zhitong was curious. Most investors sought quick entry and exit to secure profits, and with M Bank’s reputation, it wasn’t an unreliable offer.
Li Jiaxin replied, “I heard the investors behind them also run their businesses. They had a failed IPO attempt on the A-share market in the past, so they’re very averse to these things.”
Ding Zhitong understood, picturing an old-school businessman – old, but genuinely wealthy with good cash flow, who wouldn’t give a shit about financing or IPO conditions.
But from her position, she had to continue pushing the project forward. Breaking up the alliance between the major and second-largest shareholders was a necessary step. She was familiar with such divide-and-conquer tactics, and the script was always similar.
Li Jiaxin was sent out again, telling the CEO, “Are they encouraging you to pursue your ideals and strive for the common progress of humanity? Of course, it’s easy for capitalists to say such things.”
But the CEO replied, “No, he told me to focus on profitability, make some real money, and not rush into any pre-revenue models. He said not to blindly pursue high valuations and round after round of financing, that windfalls aren’t always easy to digest.”
Hearing this response, Ding Zhitong was speechless. Pre-revenue models were the essence of the Internet economy! If you don’t even recognize this, what game are we playing?
So she had Li Jiaxin approach from another angle, telling the CEO, “You’re making a fitness tool app, with 60% of users being young and middle-aged women. But LT Capital has also invested in a sports live-streaming platform and a sports community forum, both notorious male-dominated spaces that objectify women, boycotting this today and doxxing that tomorrow. Do you want your name to be associated with them?”
“Also, you’re the founder, owning 70% of the company. They’re willing to provide funding now, but have you discussed how the equity will change? Moreover, what successful cases have this investor been involved in before? From our perspective, you have the potential to become the next unicorn in this field. Do you think they can produce a unicorn with just their investment?”
However, that evening, as Ding Zhitong was at Bangkok airport preparing to fly back to Hong Kong, Li Jiaxin called from Shanghai to report, “Tammy, you know what happened?”
“What?” Ding Zhitong told him to get to the point.
“The second-largest shareholder showed up, wearing a Burberry T-shirt.”
“So what?” Ding Zhitong pictured the typical beige check pattern, fitting the image of the old-school capitalist she had imagined.
Li Jiaxin, unsure how to describe it, directly opened Shopbop and sent her a seller’s photo.
It was a 2019 new release, without the beige check pattern. Just a plain white T-shirt with a small line of text below the neckline. The image was small, and only upon zooming in could she read the all-caps text: I AM A UNICORN.
The founder and CEO had switched sides at the last moment, telling them everything Ding Zhitong’s team had said. And this person responded in this way, declaring their victory.
Ding Zhitong was stunned and then burst into laughter. It was the feeling of meeting a worthy opponent.