Formal confrontation

As Ning Zhichu printed out the last page of the interview outline, the morning mist outside the window had just dissipated, and sunlight streamed through the glass curtain wall of the office building, casting dappled shadows on the desk. Three consecutive nights of staying up late had left dark circles under her eyes, which she couldn't hide. She patted some concealer under her eyes, grabbed her bag, and hurried out—the meeting place with Wei Ting was a quiet and private independent bookstore café in the city center, perfectly meeting his requirement of "eliminating distractions for an in-depth interview."

This bookstore café is tucked away deep in an old alley. Wooden bookshelves cover an entire wall, and low jazz music plays, mingling with the aroma of coffee and the smell of ink from paper. Ning Zhichu arrived ten minutes early and chose a booth by the window. Just as she set up her recorder and notebook, she heard steady footsteps behind her.

"Miss Ning, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

Wei Ting's voice was even more magnetic than it had been on the phone. Ning Zhichu looked up and met his deep eyes. Today he was wearing a charcoal gray turtleneck sweater with a camel-colored long coat over it, lacking the coldness of a suit and tie, and possessing a more gentle and casual air. Sunlight fell on the ends of his hair, giving it a soft sheen, and his jawline was clean and sharp, yet his gaze softened slightly when he looked at her.

“President Wei, I just arrived too.” Ning Zhichu stood up, her fingertips unconsciously gripping the edge of her notebook as she tried to remain calm. She still couldn’t understand why, for this crucial interview concerning Tingyue Capital’s crisis public relations, he would skip the company’s senior reporters and insist on hiring her, a newcomer who had just been promoted.

Wei Ting sat down opposite her, his gaze sweeping over the dark circles under her eyes, his brows furrowing almost imperceptibly: "Judging from your appearance, you've been staying up quite a few nights?"

"Thankfully, I've prepared the interview outline." Ning Zhichu avoided his gaze, looked down, and turned on the recorder. "President Wei, may we begin?"

"No rush." ​​Wei Ting gestured for a waiter, his voice gentle. "Let's order a drink first. What would you like?"

"An Americano, please."

"Something milder," Wei Ting said to the waiter without asking her. "A hot latte, less sugar with oat milk, and a whole wheat sandwich."

Ning Zhichu was taken aback: "President Wei, I don't need it..."

“An interview on an empty stomach is not very efficient.” Wei Ting interrupted her, his gaze falling on her pale lips. “In this state, you won’t last the whole morning.”

His tone was undeniably firm, yet without any overbearing forcefulness. Ning Zhichu felt a strange unease; her fingertips grew slightly hot, and she could only whisper, "Thank you."

After the waiter left, Wei Ting looked at her again, a hint of inquiry in his eyes: "I read your first report, about the impact of the subprime crisis on domestic capital. It was a very insightful perspective."

"I was just lucky and happened to find a key clue," Ning Zhichu said modestly, but she couldn't help but feel a little smug—being recognized by a top investor in the industry was a great encouragement to her.

“It’s not luck.” Wei Ting shook his head, his tone serious. “Being able to grasp the core logic from a sea of ​​information and maintain objectivity and neutrality is a talent. Many veteran journalists can’t do that.”

His gaze was so focused, like a warm searchlight, that it made Ning Zhichu's cheeks flush slightly. She quickly changed the subject: "Mr. Wei, let's talk about the interview. First, I'd like to ask you, what was the core investment logic of Tingyue Capital when it was first established? And what adjustments have been made in the face of the current financial crisis?"

The smile in Wei Ting's eyes faded slightly. When talking about work, he instantly switched to professional mode, exuding confidence: "The initial logic was very simple: only invest in targets that we could 'understand and grasp.' There are too many temptations on Wall Street, but those that can truly make money are always those investments that return to the essence."

He spoke at a steady pace, his logic clear and logical. From Tingyue Capital's early classic cases to the emergency decisions made during the subprime mortgage crisis, and now to the current strategy of seeking domestic capital injection, every piece of data and every judgment was precise and concise. Ning Zhichu took notes quickly while occasionally asking follow-up questions. She found that their thinking was remarkably compatible. Wei Ting was always able to accurately capture many of the questions she hadn't fully addressed and provide insightful interpretations that exceeded her expectations.

Halfway through the interview, the waiter brought over lattes and sandwiches. Wei Ting pushed them in front of her: "Eat something first, then we can talk slowly."

Ning Zhichu was indeed hungry, so she didn't refuse anymore and picked up a sandwich to eat in small bites. She ate very delicately, with a few crumbs on the corner of her mouth, like a cautious little squirrel. Wei Ting watched, a very faint smile flashing in his eyes, his fingertips twitching slightly, almost reaching out to wipe them off for her.

"Mr. Wei, you've worked on Wall Street for so many years, have you ever felt like you couldn't go on?" Ning Zhichu put down her sandwich and posed a question that deviated from the planned outline. As soon as the words left her mouth, she was taken aback—as a reporter, she shouldn't have let personal curiosity get in the way, but seeing Wei Ting's confident and spirited demeanor when talking about his work, she suddenly wondered if this seemingly invincible man also had a vulnerable side.

Wei Ting's gaze darkened, and he remained silent for a moment. Sunlight streamed through the leaves outside the window, casting dappled shadows on his face, making him appear more down-to-earth. "Yes. In my first year in the industry, the first investment I led resulted in a loss of nearly ten million US dollars for the client. During that time, I spent every day in self-blame and anxiety, and even thought about giving up."

His voice carried a hint of weariness, a stark contrast to his usual composed and strategic investor persona. "Later, my grandfather told me that investing is like climbing a mountain; the steeper the climb, the more unique the scenery you'll see. A true strong person isn't someone who never falls, but someone who can get back up after falling."

Ning Zhichu felt a sudden tightness in her heart when she saw the desolation in his eyes. She remembered Shen Yan's warning in the elevator, telling her to be careful of Wei Ting, but at this moment, she clearly felt the softness beneath this man's hard exterior.

"So how did you adjust?" she couldn't help but ask, her tone unconsciously showing concern.

“Running.” Wei Ting smiled, the gloom in his eyes dissipating considerably. “Every day at four in the morning, I run ten kilometers along the riverbank to release all my negative emotions. By the time I finish running, it’s almost dawn, and the light in my heart shines brighter as well.”

His gaze fell on Ning Zhichu's face, with a hint of inquiry: "Ms. Ning, what about you? You joined 'Financial Sharp Eye' right after graduation. Facing so many senior colleagues, have you ever felt inferior or anxious?"

Ning Zhichu was taken aback when he asked her a question. She paused for a moment before answering truthfully: “Yes, I have. The first time I wrote an in-depth report, I revised it eight times but it still didn’t pass. The editor-in-chief criticized me in front of the whole department, saying that I was too inexperienced and couldn’t handle major topics. During that time, I doubted every day whether I was suitable to be a journalist.”

"Then why didn't you give up?"

“Because I love it.” Ning Zhichu’s eyes brightened, and her tone was firm. “I’ve loved writing since I was a child, and I love restoring the truth through reporting. Although it’s difficult, the sense of accomplishment I feel every time I write a substantial report is irreplaceable.”

Looking into the light in her eyes, Wei Ting felt a sudden stirring in his heart. It was a pure, untainted passion, like a ray of clean sunlight shining into his world, which was shrouded in capital and calculation. He had seen too many people chasing fame and fortune, but he had never seen anyone maintain such sincerity in such a volatile industry.

"You are excellent," Wei Ting said sincerely, "even more excellent than I imagined."

Ning Zhichu's cheeks flushed instantly, and she quickly lowered her head, pretending to organize her notes to hide her panic. She could feel Wei Ting's gaze fixed on her, a gaze filled with admiration and an indescribable tenderness, like a feather gently brushing against her heart, making her heart race.

This feeling was dangerous, she kept reminding herself. Wei Ting was her interviewee, a key figure in this financial crisis, and as a journalist, she had to remain objective and neutral. But emotions are something that can never be controlled.

The interview continued, but the topic gradually veered away from purely work. They talked about their respective alma maters and were surprised to find that they were actually alumni of the same school, just in different years; they talked about their favorite books and discovered that they both preferred Camus's works; they talked about their impressions of the city and both felt that the everyday life in the old alleys was the most touching.

As the sun began to set, the café filled up, but this did not disturb them at all. When Ning Zhichu turned off the recorder, she realized that they had been talking for a full four hours.

"Time flies." She stood up, feeling stiff all over, yet inexplicably feeling that she hadn't had enough.

“We had a very pleasant conversation.” Wei Ting also stood up, his gaze falling on her reddened ear tips, his smile deepening. “Ms. Ning, today’s interview was very enjoyable.”

“Me too, thank you for sharing so frankly, Mr. Wei.” Ning Zhichu’s voice was very soft, and she didn’t dare to look him in the eye.

The two walked out of the coffee shop side by side. The breeze in the old alley carried the faint scent of osmanthus, warming their hearts. Wei Ting suddenly stopped and turned to look at her: "Ms. Ning, when compiling the follow-up report, there may be some details I need to ask you. Would it be convenient to leave your contact information?"

Ning Zhichu was taken aback. According to company regulations, the contact information of interviewees was to be handled by the editor-in-chief, and she shouldn't have kept it privately. But looking into Wei Ting's deep eyes, which held expectation and a hint of barely perceptible nervousness, she swallowed back the words of refusal that were on the tip of her tongue.

"Okay." She took out her phone and opened the WeChat QR code.

When Wei Ting scanned the QR code to add her as a friend, his fingertips inadvertently brushed against the back of her hand, the warm touch sending a jolt through Ning Zhichu like an electric current. Ning Zhichu's heart skipped a beat, and she quickly withdrew her hand, pretending to look at the scenery by the roadside.

Looking at her profile picture on his phone screen—a calico cat perched on a drawing—Wei Ting's smile deepened. After it was over, Ning Zhichu took a taxi home to organize her manuscript, while Wei Ting said he still had company matters to attend to or handle.

As Ning Zhichu was transcribing the interview recording, a light snow began to fall outside the window. A WeChat notification popped up; it was a photo sent by Wei Ting—warm yellow streetlights wrapped in snowflakes, dappled light and shadow reflected on the bluestone pavement, and a thin layer of white snow accumulating on the old locust tree at the alley entrance—the very scene of the alleyway below her apartment building.

"I guess you're still working on your manuscript, the light's on." A message followed, explaining, "After the last interview, I walked you downstairs and remembered the alleyway sign. I just finished and was passing by when I saw the beautiful snowfall, so I took a picture to show you."

He spoke frankly, without any deliberate probing or offense, only as if it were a casual, thoughtful recollection. Ning Zhichu felt a warmth in her heart, but her cheeks quietly flushed. It turned out he had actually remembered the scenery he had casually passed by; this unassuming attention was more heart-fluttering than any overt gesture of goodwill.