I left the interview without accepting the forty-thousand offer.
It wasn’t arrogance.
Forty thousand was still an excellent salary.
But after five years in investment, I knew my own market value.
So I continued interviewing.
That evening, Trieu Y Y suddenly tagged me in the dormitory group.
【Nien, are you free Wednesday? I arranged dinner with the man I told you about.】
I replied:
【No need.】
She immediately called.
“To Niem, don’t be stubborn. His annual salary is three hundred thousand. He already said he doesn’t mind that your income is low.”
I nearly laughed.
“How generous.”
“You think I’m joking? With your conditions, finding someone with a house and car is already difficult.”
Before I could answer, another call came in.
Unknown number.
I ended the conversation with Y Y and answered.
“Miss To?”
“Yes.”
“This is Nguyen Khang from Minh Duong Investment. We reviewed your profile. Would you be interested in discussing the position of Vice Director of Investments?”
I sat up.
Minh Duong was one of the top private equity firms in Shanghai.
“What time?”
“Tomorrow morning?”
“I’ll be there.”
The interview lasted three hours.
There was no pointless flattery.
They gave me a real acquisition case and asked me to tear it apart.
I spent forty minutes explaining why their revenue assumptions were too optimistic.
The managing partner looked at me.
“You know you’re criticizing our own model?”
“Yes.”
“Most candidates try to agree with us.”
“That’s expensive in investment.”
He smiled.
Two days later, I received the offer.
Monthly base: ninety thousand.
Performance bonus separate.
Title: Vice Director.
I accepted.
On my sixth day of unemployment, I became employed again.
I still told nobody in the dormitory group.
A week later, Trieu Y Y invited us to dinner again.
This time her husband, Cao Minh, came too.
The moment he sat down, Y Y proudly introduced him.
“My husband’s company is preparing for a major financing round.”
Luu Giai’s eyes brightened.
“How much?”
“Eighty million.”
Y Y smiled.
“Several investment institutions are fighting for the opportunity.”
Cao Minh waved modestly.
“It’s not finalized.”
Then Y Y turned toward me.
“Nien, what about you? Still at that small company?”
I took a sip of tea.
“I changed jobs.”
Everyone looked at me.
Luu Giai asked immediately:
“Salary increase?”
“A little.”
Y Y smiled knowingly.
“Seven thousand?”
I thought about it.
“Something like that.”
Tran Tu Tu almost choked trying not to laugh.
Y Y sighed.
“You really need to think about marriage. Career-wise, you probably won’t improve much.”
Cao Minh finally spoke.
“Y Y, don’t say that.”
Then he looked at me politely.
“What field are you in?”
“Investment.”
Y Y burst out laughing.
“She means clerical work at an investment-related company.”
I said nothing.
Cao Minh nodded, clearly uninterested.
Then he began telling everyone about his financing.
I listened quietly.
Construction materials.
Rapid expansion.
Three new warehouses.
Receivables growing faster than revenue.
I asked casually:
“Your downstream customers pay in how many days?”
He paused.
“Usually ninety.”
“Actual collection period?”
His expression changed slightly.
“About one hundred twenty.”
“Last year?”
“One hundred.”
I put down my cup.
Y Y frowned.
“Why are you interrogating my husband? You don’t understand this stuff.”
I smiled.
“You’re right.”
So I stopped asking.
Monday morning, I entered Minh Duong’s investment committee meeting.
The first project file placed in front of me was:
HENGTAI BUILDING MATERIALS — SERIES B FINANCING, RMB 80 MILLION.
I stared at the company name.
Then at the founder.
Cao Minh.
For several seconds, I genuinely wondered whether the universe had a sense of humor.
My subordinate said:
“Director To, this project was transferred from the previous team. Initial recommendation is positive.”
I flipped through the pages.
Then stopped at accounts receivable.
The numbers were worse than Cao Minh had admitted at dinner.
“Do a customer concentration analysis.”
“Also verify related-party transactions.”
My subordinate nodded.
“Understood.”
I added:
“And don’t tell the company that I know the founder personally. I’m declaring the relationship and will follow compliance procedures.”
I had no intention of using eighty million to settle a dinner-table insult.
Money was not revenge.
It was responsibility.
Three days later, Cao Minh came to Minh Duong for due diligence.
The conference-room door opened.
He walked in.
Saw me.
Stopped.
The representative beside him introduced me:
“This is Director To Niem, one of the people responsible for reviewing this investment.”
Cao Minh’s expression slowly froze.
“Director… To?”
I stood and shook his hand.
“Mr. Cao.”
He looked like he had forgotten how to speak.
Y Y called me twenty minutes after the meeting.
Her voice was almost a scream.
“To Niem! You work at Minh Duong?”
“Yes.”
“As Vice Director?”
“Yes.”
“But your salary—”
“I never said my actual salary was six thousand five hundred.”
Silence.
Then:
“Why did you lie to us?”
I leaned back in my chair.
“Because I didn’t want trouble.”
“You made us look like fools!”
“No.”
“I simply didn’t correct you.”
That distinction made her even angrier.
Then Luu Giai found out.
Within one afternoon, the dormitory group became strangely quiet.
No one asked about my clothes anymore.
No one tried to introduce me to men earning three hundred thousand a year.
Tran Tu Tu sent me one private message:
【I knew something was strange. Nobody who earns 6,500 analyzes restaurant chains’ cash flow while eating hotpot.】
I laughed for the first time all day.
The funniest part was that Cao Minh’s financing did not fail.
But it also did not receive eighty million.
Our investigation found rapid expansion had created real liquidity risk.
The investment committee approved forty-five million in stages, conditional on reducing related-party exposure and improving receivables management.
I abstained from the final vote because of my personal connection.
When Cao Minh learned that, he asked:
“You didn’t block us?”
“Why would I?”
He seemed embarrassed.
“Y Y said…”
“I don’t invest based on whether someone’s wife mocked my sweater.”
He lowered his eyes.
For the first time, he seemed to understand why I had never needed to prove anything at those dinners.
A month later, the four of us met again.
This time, nobody mentioned salaries.
Y Y looked at the plain sweater I was wearing.
Then asked carefully:
“Is that really Uniqlo?”
“Yes.”
She stared.
“You earn that much and still wear this?”
I laughed.
“Comfort doesn’t become illegal after a promotion.”
Luu Giai looked uncomfortable.
“Nien, did you ever laugh at us secretly?”
“No.”
That answer surprised them.
I continued:
“I never thought earning more money made me better than you.”
“What bothered me was that you thought earning less would make me worse.”
Nobody spoke.
Even Y Y lowered her head.
Finally, Tran Tu Tu raised her glass.
“Then I propose something.”
“What?”
“From today onward, nobody calculates anyone else’s value using monthly salary.”
I smiled.
“That’s a good rule.”
Six months later, I received my first major bonus at Minh Duong.
More than my old quarterly record.
I bought myself nothing spectacular.
Just a new coffee machine.
And another Uniqlo sweater.
When Y Y saw it, she sent three laughing emojis.
Our friendship never completely returned to what it had been.
Maybe that was fine.
Some relationships become healthier once everyone stops pretending not to see the imbalance inside them.
For five years, my former roommates thought I was the least successful person in the dormitory.
The one with the smallest salary.
The plainest clothes.
The weakest prospects.
I never corrected them because I thought keeping quiet would save me trouble.
Eventually I learned something else.
You do not have to announce your value.
But you also do not have to shrink yourself so other people can feel taller.
They thought my salary was 6,500.
It had never bothered me.
What finally mattered was realizing that the people who treated me differently after learning the real number—
had never been measuring my income.
They had been measuring how much respect they thought I could afford.
