For instance, tonight, he was in the mood to run through Harlem.
The Superday began.
The first round was a group interview. The moderator presented a merger case and posed questions. Ten candidates engaged in a leaderless group discussion, with one person summarizing on the whiteboard and another giving an oral presentation.
Ding Zitong knew her strengths. She didn’t vie for leadership or take sides, instead offering her opinions, participating in discussions, and keeping track of time. If an argument broke out, she’d mediate.
Of course, no arguments occurred.
There’s a common misconception that this industry prefers aggressive personalities, favoring those who are louder and more assertive. In reality, such individuals are unwelcome. Displaying these traits in group interviews is nearly a death sentence. Causing conflicts could even lead to the entire group’s elimination. Most candidates reaching this stage were Ivy League graduates with at least one investment banking internship under their belt. They were well-versed in these procedures and unlikely to make such basic mistakes.
The second round consisted of one-on-one interviews. Building on the first round’s case study, candidates received an additional page of materials for an independent presentation.
Ding Zitong elaborated on the points she’d raised in the group interview, providing a detailed analysis. She answered the interviewer’s questions precisely.
After a brief break, the third round began.
Again one-on-one, but this time with an MD-level interviewer. Questions deviated from the usual script, focusing on financial news and her summer internship projects. At this stage, interview guides were useless, but as a diligent student who’d studied success strategies, Ding Zitong relied on her memory and insight.
Unsure if the interviewer was satisfied, she knew she’d answered comfortably. Speaking English with her Wu dialect accent, she discussed what had happened, why it occurred, its market impact, mainstream opinions, whether she agreed, and her reasons. She then considered how this affected M Bank and what she’d do as an M Bank employee.
After the three rounds, the company arranged a buffet. Candidates and interviewers gathered, mingling and networking in what felt like a fourth test.
The event took place in the 38th-floor employee cafeteria. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered views of the park, streets, and much of the city skyline. The afternoon sun shone brightly, and the sky displayed autumn’s characteristic sharp blue.
Ding Zitong made her presence known before grabbing some food. She then noticed Qin Chang approaching with a cup of coffee.
This time, she got a clear look at him.
He didn’t fit the typical investment banker image. Rather short, with gentle features and unremarkable but appropriate attire, he wore a plain gold wedding band on his left ring finger. He appeared quite clean-cut. Perhaps due to her preconceptions, she still found him somewhat gloomy, reminiscent of her math teacher from the competition class.
She greeted him in English, but he switched to Chinese, asking casually, “How do you feel?”
Ding Zitong nodded and smiled, her response vague. She wasn’t sure how to answer. Reflecting on the day, she couldn’t pinpoint any obvious mistakes, but she couldn’t guarantee she’d stood out either.
Qin Chang reassured her, “One thing’s certain: if someone can perform as well as you did while feeling unwell, they’d likely handle IBD work without much trouble.”
Ding Zitong felt embarrassed, not expecting her past incident to be brought up again.
Qin Chang continued, smiling, “Trust me, if you ultimately choose this job, you’ll have countless similar experiences.”
His voice remained gentle, his demeanor still gloomy.
Ding Zitong, throwing caution to the wind, joked about her near-fainting experience: “A near-death experience, you mean?”
Qin Chang rotated his cup, chuckling softly as if to say, “You get it.”
Years later, Ding Zitong would still remember this moment and Qin Chang’s choice of words.
Qin Chang had said she would choose this job, not that the job would choose her.
Sometimes, she couldn’t help but imagine if she had given up then, triggering the start of a parallel timeline where everything that followed might have been entirely different.
As Superday ended, Ding Zitong exited the M Bank building.
She dared not guess the outcome, yet couldn’t help but do so. Seeing passersby, she imagined herself as part of this place—smelling the strange scent in the subway each morning, queuing at food carts on Broadway at lunch, working from sunrise to late night. Of course, she most eagerly anticipated bonus day.
She stopped herself from thinking further. Her pessimistic nature, based on past experiences, suggested that whenever she felt certain of success, it often eluded her.
According to her original plan, she should have taken the subway to the bus station, bought a ticket, retrieved her stored luggage, and returned to Ithaca. She’d planned to text Gan Yang only after boarding, saying she had unexpected business and couldn’t attend his race on Sunday.
But that afternoon, walking down the street with Bryant Park’s autumn colors blazing a block away, she suddenly felt inspired. She checked the next day’s weather forecast: cloudy, 15°C, light breeze.
Then, she received a text from Gan Yang. He sent her the location of the nearest cheering zone at Pulaski Bridge, along with his estimated passing time.
Ding Zitong stood on the street corner, staring at the screen for a moment. Without replying, she dropped her phone into her bag, descended into the subway, and swayed with the old train car, listening to the screeching of wheels against rails echoing through the long tunnel.
Arriving at the bus station, she queued at the storage locker to retrieve her backpack containing clothes and toiletries. She hesitated at the turnstile, ultimately deciding against entering. Instead, she took the subway back to Flushing.
Returning to the guesthouse, she told the landlady she’d stay another night. She ate dinner there, listening to the landlady try to recruit another guest into a multi-level marketing scheme. Only after returning to her room did she send a two-letter response: “OK.”
She rationalized to herself: It wasn’t a big deal. The bus ticket was already reimbursed, and one more night’s stay wouldn’t cost much. Since she was already here, why not go watch?
At that time, Gan Yang had just returned from outside.
His main task that day was to accompany Wang Yi to the marathon expo to collect gear: bib number, race shirt, timing chip, and a bag for personal items. Then they drove through all five boroughs, familiarizing themselves with the course, start, and finish lines.
Wang Yi was a friend Gan Yang met after he started long-distance running. She had completed several marathons. With a quiet demeanor and a neat crew cut, she looked about Gan Yang’s age but was several years older, pursuing a Ph.D. in biomechanics at Columbia University.
Gan Yang was a novice, listening to Wang Yi’s litany of reminders: leave at 6 AM, confirm the starting corral, write emergency contact and medical information on the back of the bib, verify the timing chip’s effectiveness, remember salt tablets and energy gels, and even “It’s your first time, so apply extra Vaseline on your chest and groin…”
After listening all day, he was tired. Seeing Ding Zitong’s two-letter message, Gan Yang’s lips curved into an involuntary smile. He mumbled acknowledgments while starting to undress as soon as he entered.
“What are you doing?” Wang Yi asked, startled and wary.
Gan Yang replied, “I’m going out for a run.”
Wang Yi said, “It’s almost 9 PM. You’ve got 42 kilometers tomorrow.”
Ignoring her advice, Gan Yang had already changed into running shorts and was hopping into his running shoes. “I won’t go far, just want to get a feel for it,” he said.
Wang Yi’s place was near Columbia University. The area from 110th to 117th Street was a peaceful middle-class neighborhood, but a ten-minute walk northeast led to the famous Harlem district, with its dark alleys, dilapidated shops, and suspicious-looking groups loitering about. Just a few blocks apart, they were two different worlds.
Wang Yi was timid. After accidentally wandering into Harlem once and being greeted with a “Yo, wassup man?”, she never dared to run there at night again. But Gan Yang was fearless, insisting that muscles built in the gym were lifeless and treadmill miles lacked soul. During his stays here, he sometimes felt compelled to take a lap around Harlem.
Tonight, Wang Yi could tell from his mood that he was heading to Harlem.
“Don’t be overconfident, there’s no wall between here and there,” Wang Yi warned.
Gan Yang shrugged it off, saying, “If anything happens, I’ll just run. After all these years of training, am I afraid I can’t outrun some drunk or high troublemakers?”
Wang Yi retorted, “How do you know they haven’t trained?”
Gan Yang countered, “Would someone disciplined enough to train daily need to rob people?”
Conceding defeat, Wang Yi turned to her game, saying, “Fine, fine, go ahead. Remember to bring several twenty-dollar bills and don’t forget your phone. If they’re after money, just hand it over. If you get stripped, call me, and I’ll bring you clothes…”
The door closed behind her, and when she looked back, Gan Yang was gone.
Night had fallen, the temperature dropped, and the streets were nearly empty. Gan Yang warmed up on the sidewalk, then started running, quickly finding his most comfortable pace. Cold air filled his lungs, and the white mist from his breath dissipated into the night, like a drop of water merging with the sea.
This was his usual night running time. His biological clock was precise: morning exercises at 6 AM, and another 6 kilometers run at 8 PM. He should have been resting the night before the race, but tonight he still wanted to run for a while. Whether it was because of Director Liu, the marathon, or Ding Zitong, he wasn’t sure—perhaps all three.
Just yesterday, he called Director Liu as usual to discuss post-graduation plans.
Director Liu naturally saw a bright future for him, insisting that the Olympic medal eluded him only due to faulty stopwatches. In the end, she repeated her usual advice: “If you can stay in the U.S. after graduation, do so, but don’t take too demanding a job.”
Gan Yang replied, “People say those richer than you work even harder. Why don’t you want your son to be ambitious, Director Liu?”
Director Liu answered, “I work this hard so my son doesn’t have to. If you find America too far from home, go to Hong Kong. I’ve already prepared a house there, just waiting for you to get married and have children.”
“That sounds like you’re readying a pig for breeding,” Gan Yang joked.
Director Liu, thousands of miles away, scolded him: “You neurotic child, what nonsense are you spouting?!”
Gan Yang chuckled.
Director Liu was his mother, Liu Yongjuan. He had grown up calling her this, following the factory workers’ example. At twenty-something, it was a bit embarrassing to admit, but he still called her every weekend as before, chatting about everything.
After laughing for a while, he asked, “Have you considered what I mentioned last time?”
“That… we’ll see,” Director Liu evaded.
“What do you mean, ‘we’ll see’?” Gan Yang wouldn’t let her off so easily.
Director Liu became businesslike: “First, sort out your school matters, work for a while, and then think about starting a business.”
“How long is ‘a while’?” Gan Yang pressed for a specific timeframe.
Director Liu thought for a moment and said, “One year.”
Gan Yang considered this and found it acceptable. “Alright, it’s a deal then.”
Director Liu laughed, saying, “Adults always keep their word.”
He’d heard this phrase since childhood—a guarantee of credibility. Director Liu had always discouraged him from returning, but this was the first time she’d shown flexibility. It greatly improved his mood.
Tomorrow, he will run his first marathon, with Ding Zitong waiting at the Pulaski Bridge cheering zone to support him.
He couldn’t quite explain it, but all of this gave him a sense of fulfillment while anticipating what came next. It felt like watching an anime series, eagerly awaiting the “to be continued” characters at the end of each episode.