Even though all the insignificant details felt like flashbacks of memory, the past remained in the past.
Despite her preparation, Ding Zhitong had overestimated both her strength and that of time.
In that instant, everyone and everything else in her vision rapidly receded, becoming a blurred background. Only Gan Yang remained in focus.
She didn’t dare stare at him, but his image had already seared itself into her mind, persisting even after she looked away.
Once again, she wondered how long it had been since they’d last met.
Their final encounter was in June 2008. 2008 to 2019 – a simple subtraction problem, yet she struggled to calculate it. The answer was 11. It had been eleven years since she’d seen him.
They say men age better than women, but the changes in men from their early twenties to their thirties are no less significant than those in women.
Though not one for social gatherings, she had attended a few class reunions, both from high school and university. She had witnessed many once-youthful faces grow plump, bald, or transform into smooth-talking middle-aged men with faces that betrayed excessive indulgence despite their self-satisfaction. But she had never tried to imagine how Gan Yang might look now, rarely even thinking about him.
Initially, it was because she didn’t dare. Later, she believed she had forgotten.
The first three years after their separation were the most challenging. Only the pursuit of money could divert her attention. Unfortunately, even the most demanding projects eventually came to an end. Sometimes, Qin Chang would give her an ultimatum, setting a deadline for her to use up her long-overdue annual leave. “If you keep saving them, they’ll expire. You can’t exchange them for money.” This argument still held some sway over her money-oriented mindset.
During those vacations, she wouldn’t travel or shop like others, squandering her newly allocated bonus. Instead, she’d stay home during the day, drawing the blackout curtains, curling up in bed to sleep, watching TV series when awake, and drifting off again when tired. The cleaning lady at her Hong Kong serviced apartment had stumbled upon her several times, wearing a hooded sweatsuit, watching “The Walking Dead” in the dark living room. The maid would quickly change the bedding, dust a bit, and retreat, probably thinking Ding Zhitong was mentally unstable.
Until today, she suddenly realized that she had indeed imagined his appearance. Perhaps during those afternoons watching “The Walking Dead,” or later when she decided she couldn’t continue like this and resolved to make changes, or even more recently when she asked Li Jiaxin to extend this invitation.
Whatever she did, she might have been unconsciously picturing his face in her mind, like a virus program running in the background of a computer that couldn’t be shut down. So much so that at this moment, she could spot him instantly in the crowd and fit him perfectly into the image she had imagined.
Eleven years later, Gan Yang hadn’t grown fat or bald, nor had he become a worldly-wise, slick middle-aged man. His shoulders were still broad, his posture upright. He even looked more muscular than in his early twenties, with defined muscle lines on his exposed arms. The contours of his face had sharpened, as if a photograph had suddenly been enhanced, revealing the same person but without the transparent youthfulness of before. He was now unmistakably a man.
Ding Zhitong knew that such a man must have a story, though she couldn’t guess what it was. But she was certain he was no longer the Gan Yang with an unscarred face who planted vegetables and jogged in Ithaca.
He didn’t look her way, and she wasn’t disappointed. Instead, she felt relieved, observing him covertly from within the crowd.
In the brief minutes before the competition, the teams were posing for photos. His team also consisted of three men and one woman. The female teammate looked young, with a luxuriant ponytail, wearing eye-catching pink Lululemon attire. Among the three men, besides Gan Yang, there was a bald, impressively wide man and a thin man wearing glasses.
The four of them unfurled a team banner bearing the logo of a comprehensive training gym.
Was he also into CrossFit? Could this be why he agreed to participate?
After 11 years, Ding Zhitong once again found it strange that she and Gan Yang had independently chosen the same niche fitness regimen. What are the odds?
“Look, over there, in the fifth lane,” Li Jiaxin reported, having spotted their target.
Ding Zhitong was startled, feeling caught in the act, suddenly remembering why she was here today.
What are the odds! she thought again. The shareholder they wanted to buy out was her ex-boyfriend, and their breakup had been particularly ugly.
However, once back on the topic of making money, she felt more at ease. So what if he was her ex? Those who needed to exit would exit, and the money that needed to be made would be made.
Li Jiaxin had already put on his professional smile, waving in their direction. He informed Ding Zhitong that the thin man was the CEO of “Training Box,” and the one dressed in all black was the second-largest shareholder who had worn the unicorn T-shirt.
“That’s right, he’s my schoolmate,” Ding Zhitong confirmed with a nod, no longer looking in that direction as she focused on warming up.
“What’s his background?” Li Jiaxin inquired.
“Rich second generation,” Ding Zhitong gave the simplest, most direct answer.
“Oh~” Li Jiaxin nodded in understanding, clearly feeling everything had a reasonable explanation now.
Ding Zhitong could guess what he was thinking.
In recent years, focusing on buy-side projects, she knew that while the second-generation rich had money and resources, they were the type of professional investors least wanted to deal with.
People bustled about, all for a few pieces of silver. Only those born with silver spoons could ignore this universal law. They were willful, stubborn, obsessive, and prone to causing all sorts of strange situations. The most extreme example she had experienced was a merger negotiation suddenly going silent, only to learn from the news that the person had been arrested for harboring others for illicit activities, plus intentional injury. No, there was an even more extreme case – midway through a project, she received a funeral invitation. Drunk driving.
She wanted to say Gan Yang was different. But on second thought, she found herself ridiculous. What did she know? Perhaps she had never truly understood him.
The electronic bell rang at that moment, signaling the start of the competition.
She finally said to Li Jiaxin, “Let’s go talk to them after this is over.”
The first event was a 1000-meter relay warm-up, with each team’s four members taking turns on the treadmill. There was no set order, but everyone seemed to agree on ladies first, perhaps as a strategy – if they fell behind, the stronger members could catch up later.
Ding Zhitong certainly didn’t consider herself the weakest in the team, but this 1000 meters brought back memories of high school PE classes.
Her heartbeat had never really returned to normal, her breathing rhythm was off from the start, and her stomach churned with nausea. Only years of muscle memory from exercise kept her running, pushing on until she finally completed the distance.
She was among the last few to step off the treadmill, but Wilson, clearly the type of foreigner who praised indiscriminately, high-fived her and said, “Tammy, you were amazing!”
A few minutes later, more male contestants finished their runs. Some took off their shirts, and soon others followed suit, turning the competition area into a sea of pectoral and abdominal muscles. They used the most common shirt-removal technique seen in gyms and sports fields – reaching behind to grab the collar, pulling it over their heads in one motion, then tossing it to the sidelines with one hand.
Li Jiaxin watched excitedly, tempted to remove his shirt too, but hesitated due to his female superior’s presence.
Ding Zhitong never quite understood the habit of exercising shirtless. Wasn’t it uncomfortable to have sweat freely running down your body? And the image – onlookers might think they were about to engage in some kind of martial arts showdown.
She unconsciously glanced toward Gan Yang’s lane. He hadn’t removed his shirt.
Then again, for him, a thousand meters wasn’t even enough for a proper warm-up.
Judging by his physique, his performance must have improved significantly. He might have collected marathon medals from major cities worldwide, perhaps even finishing in under two hours and thirty minutes… Her mind wandered.
The electronic bell rang again, signaling the start of the non-stop exercises.
Ding Zhitong took a deep breath before starting. Burpees, rowing, box jumps, push-ups, sit-ups, kettlebell squats and presses… The women’s requirements were relatively low, even less intense than her usual training. She was leading after the first round.
Looking back at her teammates, Wilson’s triathlon experience showed in his explosive power, flexibility, and rhythm control, outperforming the others. The fitness trainer lived up to his role, completing the tasks smoothly. Only Li Jiaxin struggled, gritting his teeth. Though the movements weren’t challenging and the weights were light, his cardio endurance couldn’t keep up despite his regular weightlifting routine.
After the first round, Ding Zhitong noticed Li Jiaxin’s pale face. With two more rounds to go, including barbell presses and pull-ups, she asked, “Are you okay? If not, speak up. I’ll ask if we can switch.”
Li Jiaxin refused, shaking his head while catching his breath, “No need, I can manage.”
However, problems arose in the next round. His pace slowed, his form deteriorated, and his heart rate remained high. He was forced to rest after each set, taking a long time to recover.
Ding Zhitong had finished when Li Jiaxin was only on his third exercise. Not wanting to finish last and concerned for her colleague’s well-being, she called for the referee.
For the final round, they switched exercises, causing a small commotion. The big screen showed a close-up of Ding Zhitong, and spectators came closer to film her. While many women in CrossFit boxes could do pull-ups, it was rare in amateur competitions. Ding Zhitong had to admit she was showing off a bit.
So what if he was her ex-boyfriend? So what if she was going to make money at his expense? She reminded herself again: those who needed to exit would exit, and the money that needed to be made would be made.
Completing the final round, she dismounted from the Smith machine and pressed the finish button with her teammates. Their result was average, ranking fifth out of ten teams. But Wilson high-fived her again, exclaiming, “Tammy, you were amazing!”
She stood with her hands on her hips, regulating her breathing. Once composed, she looked towards Gan Yang.
Through the chaotic crowd, he finally noticed her and walked over, close enough for her to see the sweat-soaked patches on his chest and the prominent veins on his arms.
He didn’t smile much, just looked at her and said, “Hello, it’s been a long time.”
“Yes, it has…” Ding Zhitong replied with a smile, her tone seemingly natural.
She wanted to say more, perhaps ask how he’d been or what he’d been up to like old classmates would. But her mind went blank, and by the time she thought of what to say, the moment had passed.
Wilson was nearby, but it was her wingman Li Jiaxin who came to her rescue.
Despite having just suffered through the competition and experiencing low blood sugar symptoms, Li Jiaxin determinedly approached Gan Yang, extending his right hand, “Mr. Gan, I’m Carson Li from M Bank’s Capital Markets Department. We met at ‘Training Box’ last week.”
Gan Yang shook his hand briefly without speaking.
Ding Zhitong couldn’t tell if his reaction indicated surprise or pure arrogance. But Li Jiaxin’s words reminded her of the real purpose – making money was paramount, regardless of who they were dealing with.
“This is my classmate from Cornell…” she began introducing Li Jiaxin.
“What a coincidence!” Li Jiaxin acted surprised.
“You could say that,” Ding Zhitong glanced at Gan Yang, as if seeking his agreement, then explained to Li Jiaxin with a smile, “Mr. Gan did his four-year undergraduate degree there. I only stayed for a year and a half. American undergrads typically don’t consider one-year master’s students like us as true alumni.”
“Surely not, our school was never like that…” Li Jiaxin played along, laughing. Being an American undergrad himself, he expressed unfamiliarity with such discrimination.
Following this exchange, Ding Zhitong turned to Gan Yang and said, “It has been a long time. Shall we have dinner together?”
The invitation was out there, and Gan Yang stood looking at her. She maintained her smile but didn’t dare scrutinize his expression. Her heart felt like a feather suspended in air, rising and falling with the rhythm of his breathing, uncertain where it would land.
“Alright, let’s have dinner,” Gan Yang nodded after only a half-second pause, then added, “My phone number is still the same as before. Do you remember it, Ms. Ding?”
He called her “Ms. Ding” now, completely different from before.
But his words reminded Ding Zhitong of the past – outside the West Campus dorm at Cornell when he had asked her similarly if she had his phone number. The metaphorical feather of her heart seemed about to land, only to be caught by a mysterious breeze and sent soaring again. “Do you remember?” For a moment, she wanted to ask him the same.
In reality, she just shook her head and said with a smile, “I’m sorry, I changed my SIM card after returning to China and switched phones a few times. I didn’t keep many old contacts. Please don’t mind, could you tell me your number again?”
Gan Yang didn’t respond verbally. Avoiding her gaze, he took out his phone and dialed her number.
The scenario was familiar, but this time there were no surprises. She had Li Jiaxin give him her business card, and he noted her phone number. However, in the days leading up to the competition, he did not attempt to contact her. Ding Zhitong wasn’t sure what to make of it, telling herself it didn’t matter. Even if all the trivial details felt like recurring flashbacks, the past was in the past.
Just then, the DJ changed the music, signaling the start of the award and donation ceremony. Everyone gathered near the stands. The big screen displayed each team’s results, with Gan Yang’s team ranking third, called up to receive medals.
Li Jiaxin looked to Ding Zhitong, wondering if they should continue the conversation.
Ding Zhitong shook her head: They had already arranged dinner, so why rush?
M Bank’s participation was primarily for charitable purposes; winning hadn’t been her goal. Yet watching from below, she felt a subtle sense of competitiveness. She regretted her poor performance in the initial 1000-meter run, but remembering Li Jiaxin’s struggle, she had to admit that fifth place was a fair result given their limitations.
After the awards, it was time for donations.
Giant printed checks were presented on stage, met with a flurry of camera flashes. M Bank had their turn, with Wilson invited up to symbolically present their check. He gestured for Ding Zhitong to join, waiting until all four team members were present to pose together behind the oversized check.
As the ceremony concluded and the day’s activities wound down, Ding Zhitong descended from the stage and encountered Gan Yang again. She smiled at him, said goodbye, then turned to leave. She sensed his gaze on her back but didn’t look back. It wasn’t intentional, but for some reason, this action gave her a small sense of satisfaction.
Turning the corner at the exit, she realized she might have been mistaken – it was the female teammate from Gan Yang’s group watching her. This woman must have noticed Ding Zhitong performing the men’s exercises in the final round. Now, she jumped onto the Smith machine and executed several pull-ups – without bent knees or crossed legs, and without swinging. Only her ponytail bounced with each movement. Her form was more polished than Ding Zhitong’s, drawing admiration from onlookers.
Ding Zhitong smiled quietly to herself as she entered the changing room, mentally acknowledging: Yes, she’s a muscle Barbie.