In front of Deng, Song Mingmei, usually known for her high emotional intelligence and methodical approach to everything, seemed to be a different person.
Periodically, Song Mingmei would search online for Bian Jieming’s name in both Chinese and English, checking if he had been arrested yet.
Since “Yineng Environmental Protection” was shorted in 2010, Bian never lacked lawsuits. His LinkedIn profile was a spectacle. The “Publications” section, once filled with interviews and magazine articles, now mostly listed various lawsuits involving him – both those he filed and those filed against him. Yet, he remained at large, never arrested.
Finally, in 2015, fate fulfilled Song Mingmei’s expectations. Bian Jieming made the news when prosecutors, who had long been investigating his reverse mergers, gathered enough evidence to bring criminal charges of fraud and insider trading against him. Bian was arrested in his luxurious Manhattan apartment. The SEC also filed civil lawsuits against him, his family, company partners, and two of his lawyers. More sensationally, a female intern sued him for sexual harassment, claiming he had taken nude photos of her and threatened to send them to her family.
Song Mingmei was astounded. Years had passed, yet this older man was still up to such behavior!
As the saying goes, misfortunes never come singly. That same year, Guan Wenyuan’s father was taken away for investigation on suspicion of serious disciplinary violations. About twenty days later, he was stripped of all his positions, becoming one of many officials to fall from grace that year.
A year later, the investigation and trial concluded in China. Guan’s father was ultimately sentenced to eighteen years in prison for bribery, with a fine of over ten million yuan.
As for Bian Jieming in the U.S., while Ding Zhitong and Song Mingmei thought he was done for, things turned out quite differently.
Bian’s two defense attorneys performed brilliantly. The court ruled there was insufficient evidence, and the criminal charges of fraud and insider trading were dismissed. Only the sexual harassment charge stuck, with the jury ordering him to pay the intern $2 million in damages.
Compared to the initial charges, this was an unexpectedly light sentence. Yet Bian wasn’t satisfied. He counter-sued both the intern and the SEC for defamation and malicious prosecution.
He won both cases.
The lawyers who represented him still feature these cases on their firm’s website, with the headline: “Brilliant Litigation Strategy Clears Chinese-American Businessman of Multiple Charges.”
Meanwhile, Guan Wenyuan continued posting various photos on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. In these photos, she still lived in luxurious homes in Manhattan and East Hampton, drove sports cars, and enjoyed a peaceful life with Bian.
Ding Zhitong once ran into her at the airport during a business trip to the U.S.
Seeing Ding’s boarding pass, Guan asked in surprise, “Aren’t you only allowed to fly economy for intercontinental flights now? Why don’t you pay the difference to upgrade yourself?”
This was indeed a policy that came out after the financial crisis. Ding Zhitong wanted to tell the truth: because she was poor and didn’t see the need. But she just smiled and moved on.
Afterwards, she vented to Song Mingmei. Song Mingmei had already come to terms with it, merely sighing once again: “America is just so damn free!”
They changed into bathrobes and entered a double room, surrounded by aromatic fragrances.
Even as they lay on the massage beds, Song Mingmei hadn’t forgotten about Wilson. She said, “Really, consider it. I think this guy could work.”
“Let’s not,” Ding Zhitong refused, half-jokingly. “You know I’ve already decided to live alone.”
“How old are you to have already decided that?” Song Mingmei laughed.
“I’ve decided,” Ding Zhitong quoted data to her. “Retire at 60, assuming I live to 80, to ensure a decent 20-year retirement life in China, I need at least 4 million yuan. That’s a number calculated by actuaries.”
“That’s not much,” Song Mingmei teased, “Just about your annual bonus.”
“Right, so I think this plan is feasible.” Ding Zhitong had indeed received such bonuses, though not consistently. But there was no need to be modest in front of her wealthy friend.
Unexpectedly, she heard: “But you probably won’t die at 80.”
“How can you say that?” Ding Zhitong scolded.
“Hey!” Song Mingmei protested, “I’m complimenting your good health!”
That was true. Ding Zhitong accepted it with a smile and said, “Anyway, I think it should be fine. I’ve already bought a house. If I can’t take care of myself later, I’ll move into a nursing home and rent out the house. It’s like using the house to support my retirement.”
“What if the nursing home staff mistreats you? Who will stand up for you?” Song Mingmei challenged.
“My godson, of course.” Ding Zhitong laughed, speaking as if it were obvious.
“I see,” Song Mingmei had a revelation, “No wonder you’re so good to Yulin.”
“Oh right,” Ding Zhitong took this opportunity to make a request, “I’m not flying to Hong Kong until tonight. Can we take Yuqi and Yulin out to play this afternoon?”
Unfortunately, their mother didn’t agree. She said, “Yuqi has dance practice, and Yulin hasn’t finished his homework yet.”
Ding Zhitong tried to negotiate: “I won’t interfere with the homework. I’m the cool aunt, I’m just responsible for taking them out to play. It’s a rare opportunity.”
“No,” Song Mingmei still refused and started complaining, “Yulin is struggling. Yuqi wasn’t nearly this difficult when she started elementary school.”
“Aren’t they both in international schools?” Ding Zhitong was puzzled. She knew Deng Yulin would turn six in August and was in first grade. School had only been in session for a little over a month, so it was understandable if a young boy temporarily couldn’t keep up.
“You think it’s like when we were kids?” Song Mingmei informed her, “Their school is bilingual in Chinese and English. The entrance exam includes an English essay, and they’re required to recognize at least 2,000 Chinese characters. They start learning the Karatsuba algorithm in second grade.”
“Divide and conquer?” Ding Zhitong was shocked. “I remember that was in the Math Olympiad when I was in ninth grade!”
“Don’t bring up things from almost thirty years ago.” Song Mingmei teased her.
“It hasn’t been nearly thirty years!” Ding Zhitong protested.
Song Mingmei finally laughed and said, “Well, it’s close enough.”
“Oh, don’t worry so much,” Ding Zhitong comforted her. “With yours and Deng’s genes, these two kids can’t be bad.”
But Song Mingmei didn’t see it that way. She said, “Don’t overestimate Deng Baiting. Yulin takes after him – willful, impatient, afraid of difficulties. He’s barely started school and he’s already nearsighted. His teeth are a bit underbite too. He wears OK lenses and MRC every night, and he cries about it. It’s like a battle every time.”
“What do you mean ‘takes after him’? Mr. Deng is a successful person,” Ding Zhitong reminded her.
“It’s precisely because he’s successful that it’s troublesome,” Song Mingmei’s sarcasm was at its peak. “People like him were strictly controlled by their families when they were young, never really got to enjoy their childhood, and spent their whole lives overcompensating. If his later circumstances had been ordinary, this chuunibyou syndrome would have been cured. But he found success early and achieved financial freedom young. Not to mention educating children, he can’t even tie his shoelaces or tell left from right, and he thinks it’s cute.”
Ding Zhitong laughed and said, “Why are you always putting down Mr. Deng? Isn’t he your husband?”
Song Mingmei just calmly replied, “What’s wrong with me putting him down a bit? There are plenty of people out there praising him…”
Ding Zhitong found this a bit strange. In the past, when she was dating men, Song Mingmei always lectured her, saying that the “positive reinforcement method” used for children also applied to boyfriends – if they did something wrong, don’t complain, but when they do something right, be sure to praise them greatly, bring it up and praise them again even when nothing’s happening. Because human nature is such that everyone likes to hear flattery, only this way will the other person do more and more of what you like. To put it bluntly: training a spouse is like training a dog.
However, in front of Mr. Deng, Song Mingmei, usually known for her high emotional intelligence and methodical approach, seemed to be a different person.
With the beautician nearby, Ding Zhitong felt it wasn’t appropriate to ask more questions. She simply offered another reassurance: “An underbite and myopia? Those aren’t big issues. If they can’t be corrected naturally, a simple surgery can fix them when she’s older.”
“Can plastic surgery ever compare to natural beauty?” Song Mingmei changed the subject, not wanting to discuss Deng Baiting further. “Haven’t you noticed that recent female celebrities aren’t as beautiful as those from before?”
“That’s a fixed mindset,” Ding Zhitong criticized. “Have you considered another possibility?”
“What’s that?” Song Mingmei asked.
Ding Zhitong explained, “Maybe we’re getting old and our tastes are outdated. Have you heard of the 35-year-old theory? Once a person turns 35, they start to view all new things in the world as strange or wrong.”
“Thirty-five? We’re not that old!” Song Mingmei protested.
“We’re close enough,” Ding Zhitong retorted.
Song Mingmei felt like hitting her.
Ding Zhitong continued, “It’s like my dad. In his eyes, no one is more beautiful than Chen Yanhua.”
“Who?” Song Mingmei, not being a Shanghai native, had never heard of the 1980s Shanghai TV host.
Ding Zhitong shrugged, “See? That’s the generation gap.”
They continued chatting and laughing. After finishing their spa treatment at the Waldorf, Song Mingmei accepted Ding Zhitong’s suggestion to pick up the two children from her house and go out for lunch together.
“Should we invite Mr. Deng?” Ding Zhitong suggested, as it was Sunday and the National Day holiday wasn’t over yet.
Song Mingmei shook her head, “No need. Deng Baiting isn’t home. He’s in Hangzhou for a venture capital conference.”
About four years ago, when the lock-up period for Mr. Deng’s stocks ended, he promptly resigned, cashed out, and left his position.
Afterward, the couple started a tech startup incubator together. Song Mingmei handled the business models while Deng Baiting oversaw the technical aspects. They had invested in several projects, yielding decent returns.
Besides this, Song Mingmei had a hobby of buying properties everywhere – Shanghai, Hangzhou, Sanya, London, and San Jose. She’d purchase them one by one, then renovate them.
At first, Ding Zhitong found this strange. The Deng family of four lived near an international school in the southwest suburbs for the convenience of their children, Yuqi and Yulin. Song Mingmei herself admitted that having children limited her freedom, rarely visiting other places more than a few times a year.
Ding Zhitong had once asked, “Can you live in so many houses?”
Song Mingmei corrected her, “Houses aren’t homes, they’re financial products.”
“Then why put so much effort into renovating them?” Ding Zhitong still didn’t understand.
“Renovation is for appreciation,” Song Mingmei lectured her. She explained how the townhouse she bought in London doubled in value after renovation and adding two basement levels. The duplex in San Jose also saw its value double after connecting the two floors. It was the same principle as repackaging an acquisition before exiting.
Ding Zhitong was impressed, realizing she had never applied her business acumen to her personal life.
She only owned one small apartment, bought in Hong Kong after frequent health issues made her think about the future. It coincided with a bonus from Qin Chang, allowing her to buy it without a mortgage.
At that time, she had been away from Shanghai for several years. During a brief business trip back, she didn’t have time to look at many properties, only familiar with the area near her grandmother’s old home. Song Mingmei had recommended several developments, but Ding Zhitong kept coming back to a complex she used to pass on her way to school, called Oriental Manhattan.
She ended up buying an 85-square-meter two-bedroom apartment on the 36th floor of the high-rise section. The ten-year-old building looked a bit dated, and the layout wasn’t great, suitable only for someone who didn’t care much about orientation or sunlight and just needed a place to sleep. But she felt it was good enough and made the decision. It wasn’t until after signing the contract at the transaction center that she remembered mentioning this place to Gan Yang before.
They ate at a restaurant in a large shopping mall not far from Song Mingmei’s home.
After lunch, Song Mingmei took Yuqi to dance class, while Ding Zhitong looked after Yulin.
The six-year-old boy already had his ideas. Following their usual routine, he led her to the 4D racing simulator in the arcade area of the mall, saying he wanted to ride it.
They had been to this mall many times before.
Previously, Yulin’s legs were too short to reach the pedals of the racing simulator. Ding Zhitong had to hold him, helping him press the accelerator while he steered. Despite being short, the boy had steady hands. Ding Zhitong only needed to focus on pressing the pedal hard. Working together, they always won.
But on this day, they suddenly realized he could now reach the pedals. Yulin was overjoyed, and Ding Zhitong found it amazing how the passage of time was reflected in children.
She let Yulin play while she watched the nearby CrossFit gym.
A couple of years ago, CF boxes were rare in Shanghai, but this mall had one. Whenever Ding Zhitong was in town for business, she would try to squeeze in a drop-in class if she had time. If the timing worked out, she would meet up with Song Mingmei and the kids afterward.
Back then, Song Mingmei suspected she was obsessed with working out, not even taking a break during business trips.
Ding Zhitong found it hard to explain this compulsion. She could only say that CrossFit’s group classes were perfect for someone as lonely as her. In a regular gym, she’d just be by herself, mindlessly lifting weights.
“You may be lonely now, but you’re not anxious. Compared to anxiety, loneliness is an easy problem to solve,” Song Mingmei had observed at the time.
Women who excel at CrossFit often don’t fit mainstream beauty standards, but it suited Ding Zhitong well. With her naturally fine bone structure, she had gone from being excessively thin to looking as elegant as an arrow.
“Who says I’m not anxious?” Ding Zhitong, sensing another attempt to encourage her to date, started venting. “I have a multi-million dollar revenue target on my shoulders this year, and I don’t know how I’ll meet it. I’m traveling 20 days a month. Even if I were reduced to ashes, I’d have to crawl back and close the door before I could cry.”
Song Mingmei dismissed this with a smile and asked, “You think I can cry at home? Dream on.”
It was just a joke, but Ding Zhitong was stunned. She wanted to ask, “What’s wrong?”
But Song Mingmei had already continued, “I have a rule for Yuqi and Yulin: once their baby teeth are all in, they can’t cry freely anymore. I have to set an example, right?”
Listening to this, Ding Zhitong suddenly felt that loneliness wasn’t so bad. If solving loneliness meant losing the chance to cry, maybe it wasn’t worth it.
Before she could inquire further, Song Mingmei changed the subject, suggesting another possibility: that Ding Zhitong might be interested in a teammate.
Ding Zhitong denied this, saying, “The Hong Kong CF Box is full of foreigners.”
“What’s wrong with foreigners?”
“Nothing, it’s just that when I see men now, I only think about whether their physical condition is as good as mine.”
“Surely some are in better shape than you?”
“Then I’d probably just ask them for training tips,” Ding Zhitong laughed.
In the past, she would often develop feelings for those who rescued her in moments of vulnerability. But now, she was becoming less and less vulnerable. Her weight had finally reached 50 kilograms, she stood more firmly, had excellent core strength, could clean and jerk her body weight, couldn’t remember the last time she had a cold, and had almost forgotten what menstrual cramps felt like.
She remembered her therapist analyzing her relationship pattern: encountering difficulties while vulnerable and being unable to refuse those who came to her rescue.
But now she was no longer vulnerable. She no longer needed anyone to rescue her, which meant she had lost the opportunity to fall in love. She wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.
At this point, all her thoughts returned to the previous day.
It was only now that Ding Zhitong had to admit that what she wanted to tell Song Mingmei on this trip had nothing to do with Wilson at all.