“Are you crazy, Gan Yang?” Ding Zhitong wanted to ask him that.
She stared at her phone, unsure how to react.
Wilson noticed something was off and asked concernedly, “Is everything alright?”
“Work…” Ding Zhitong looked up with a wry smile. “Should we reschedule for tomorrow?”
Wilson smiled back, disappointed. “I have an early flight to Beijing tomorrow for another event.”
“I’m so sorry…” Ding Zhitong apologized. She called Li Jiaxin over, explaining that she needed to talk with CEO Gan and asked him to take care of Wilson.
“Do you need me to come along?” Li Jiaxin asked quietly.
“No need,” Ding Zhitong shook her head. She turned to see Gan Yang emerging from a Shikumen alleyway, having dismissed his group.
Wilson and Li Jiaxin hailed a car and headed to Fuzhou Road. After waving goodbye, only Ding Zhitong and Gan Yang remained on the sidewalk.
Ding Zhitong wanted to ask where CEO Gan wanted to talk, but simply asked, “Where should we go?”
“I’ll take you back,” Gan Yang said, already calling his driver without waiting for her response.
The Langham was just a stone’s throw away, visible from where they stood. Ding Zhitong knew he wanted a more private setting, but she turned towards the bars in Xintiandi, saying, “I live nearby. Let’s find a place around here.”
But the black MPV had already turned from Taikang Road and stopped beside them, its door sliding open.
“It’s difficult to park here,” Gan Yang explained, guiding her towards the car with a hand on her back, brooking no argument.
Ding Zhitong glanced at him, feeling how unfamiliar he’d become. For the sake of business, she got in.
To her relief, the interior wasn’t as luxurious as she’d imagined – no starry ceiling, walnut paneling, yacht-style bar, or mood lighting. It was a simple, functional space for rest and work. There wasn’t even the artificial scent of air freshener, suggesting no one smoked inside.
They settled in, and Gan Yang instructed the driver to circle the area. He then closed the partition between the front and back. The car must have been fully soundproofed; suddenly, even the wind noise was barely audible.
“Gan Yang,” Ding Zhitong spoke first, dropping the formal title. She decided to be frank, “You must know my colleague? You’ve met before. We arranged this meeting to discuss the ‘Training Box’ project…”
Gan Yang seemed to take a moment to shift to her wavelength before responding, “I’ve made my position clear to him. I don’t support Yuan Chao and his team seeking another round of funding right now. It’s not good for long-term development, and there’s no financial necessity. Yuan Chao agrees with this stance now.”
“I understand,” Ding Zhitong continued, “I know we have differing opinions. I was wondering if we could arrange another meeting where everyone can sit down and hear each other’s perspectives?”
This was what she wanted to say, simple as that. She waited for his response.
For a while, there was only silence. The car had joined the traffic on Huaihai Road. Outside the window, the city’s ever-changing lights glittered. On this Saturday night, carefree pedestrians were visible everywhere, but inside the car, the atmosphere was tense like a drawn bowstring.
What did CEO Gan want to discuss? Ding Zhitong wondered silently, not looking at him.
“There are some things I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time…” Gan Yang finally spoke, his voice deep and slow, different from before. But once heard, it was like fine sandpaper brushing against her heart.
Ding Zhitong remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
Gan Yang said, “I mentioned before that CEO Liu was preparing for an IPO at that time.”
Ding Zhitong nodded, knowing exactly which time he meant. She remembered jogging with him in the snow in Ithaca, half-jokingly asking, “How rich is your family? Do you have any listed companies?”
“She had signed a valuation adjustment mechanism agreement with investors, promising to go public by the end of 2008. But that year, A-share IPOs were suspended. We had to buy back shares and deal with shareholder disputes. I stayed to help her, so I didn’t return to the U.S.,” Gan Yang continued, speaking concisely and clearly. He had thought these words would explain everything once spoken, but only now realized the moment for explanation had long passed, making them seem distant and powerless.
“Why didn’t you tell me then?” Ding Zhitong asked, her voice remarkably calm.
“The situation was very bad at the time. I didn’t know how things would turn out…” Gan Yang explained, feeling increasingly absurd. Years of struggles, summarized in one sentence, seemed to amount to nothing. Why hadn’t he told her then? Even he could barely remember the reason now.
Oh, so that’s how it was, Ding Zhitong thought to herself as she listened.
Why didn’t you tell me? She still wanted to ask. Did you think I wouldn’t stand by you?
But on second thought, she realized he had told her – “We’re not in the same place, continuing doesn’t make sense” – he wasn’t wrong at all.
She should accept this explanation, trying to understand the story objectively, focusing on the numbers and facts. From September 2008 to July 2009, A-share IPOs were suspended for 10 months. In August 2009, the market began to fall, and for the next three years, it was the worst-performing market among major global economies.
So that’s how it was. Everything in the world does come down to money.
IPO suspended, valuation adjustment mechanism failed. You were in debt, desperately trying to make money.
So, it wasn’t that your father found a PE firm raising funds and invested money to make you a limited partner?
A misunderstanding, my apologies.
But wait, what does this have to do with me now? Why are you telling me this?
Ten years have passed. What kind of thought process led you to suddenly sit here and tell me this story?
Her internal monologue was all sarcasm, but only she could see the blood seeping from beneath the sandpaper, causing a pain that made her want to hiss and furrow her brow.
These unspoken thoughts received no response. Gan Yang simply asked, “How were you then? Can you tell me?”
“When?” Ding Zhitong feigned ignorance.
“After I returned to China,” Gan Yang clarified.
Ding Zhitong paused before beginning, “I joined M Bank’s New York office product group in 2008, as you know. In 2009, I transferred to the industry group, focusing on TMT projects. I moved to Hong Kong in 2010 and was promoted to associate. I became VP in 2013 and director in 2017. In recent years, I’ve worked on many IPOs, mainly in overseas markets like Hong Kong and U.S. stocks. Lately, with the decline in overseas expansions, M&A projects have become more frequent…”
At this point, Gan Yang realized she was reciting her resume to him.
He decided to be direct, asking, “You went to Hong Kong in 2010. Is that when you and Feng Sheng broke up?”
Ding Zhitong’s heart clenched suddenly, but she found it amusing. She countered, “Why are you bringing this up? Does it have anything to do with what we need to discuss?”
“I want to know if you’ve been doing well,” Gan Yang looked at her.
Ding Zhitong had a retort ready: “Gan Yang, are you crazy?”