Yin Guo practiced at the pool hall for a short while before returning to the apartment. The place was empty.
In the bathroom, she spotted the razor Lin Yiyang had left behind in his morning rush. She wondered if leaving it out like that was bad for the blade, but she lacked the experience to know for sure.
Leaning against the doorframe, she opened WeChat, intending to ask him.
And so—she saw those three sentences again. They sat there, still the final words of their previous conversation.
Today, they had gone to Brooklyn together, shared lunch, strolled along the shore for a long time, and spent ages discussing that famous, oversized carousel. They had taken the subway together, and he had even ridden an extra stop just because he was worried she might get lost... Yin Guo rested her head against the wood. *Did that count as a date?*
When she had grabbed his backpack strap earlier, what she really wanted to say was: *I don't have a boyfriend.*
She hadn't been able to muster the courage then, but surely he must have felt it? When she asked him to message her when he reached D.C., did he understand what that implied?
Yin Guo leaned her head back against the frame, but it felt uncomfortable, so she undid her ponytail, letting her hair fall loose. She stared at the razor for a long time, her thoughts drifting back to Lin Yiyang.
Suddenly, her phone vibrated. It was the owner of the razor.
He sent a location pin: the D.C. train station. He had arrived.
It was the promise they had made before parting. He really was... a man of his word.
*Xiao Guo: I’ve arrived too. I’m home.*
She thought for a moment and decided to be honest. She typed quickly and hit "send" before she could regret it.
*Xiao Guo: Also, I saw your messages from last night. I don’t have a boyfriend.*
Before she could even catch her breath, Lin Yiyang replied.
*Lin: I know.*
How was that possible?
*Xiao Guo: Who told you? Did you ask my cousin?*
*Lin: If you had a boyfriend, you wouldn't have gone out with me today.*
*Lin: Is that a reasonable deduction?*
Without those three sentences from last night, today would have been just an ordinary lunch. But with that question hanging in the air, the meal was anything but simple. He wasn't wrong.
Just as Yin Guo was about to reply, the front door opened. It was Wu Wei.
Wu Wei was carrying a bag of takeout. As soon as he entered, he saw Yin Guo leaning against the bathroom door, clutching her phone and smiling. She was still in her winter coat, scarf, and hat, looking as if she were either about to leave or had just returned. The bathroom light was the only source of illumination in the room, casting a warm yellow glow. She turned her head to look at him, her eyes slightly dazed. She pulled down the scarf that covered half her face. "You're back?"
"Uh, yeah. Are you..." Wu Wei asked, "heading out? Or did you just get back?"
"Just got back."
Feeling as though she had been caught doing something naughty, Yin Guo hurried away from the bathroom and retreated into her bedroom.
Wu Wei was utterly baffled. He poked his head into the bathroom to see what could possibly be in there to make a girl smile so happily...
***
On the second floor of a burger joint, Lin Yiyang sat at a four-person table against the wall. He tore open the wrapper of his burger and took a bite.
He looked down at his phone. There were two new messages.
*Whatever: The girl was standing by the bathroom door grinning like a fool. I stared for ages and still don't get what she was laughing at. By the way, I put your razor away for you. No point leaving it in the bathroom if you aren't using it; the blade will just get dull. In return, tell me one thing: did you kiss her?*
*Red Fish: Mm.*
He looked at Wu Wei’s message first, then Yin Guo’s.
One was a paragraph, the other a single word, yet the latter felt far more vivid. He could almost hear the sound of her "Mm."
A smile played on Lin Yiyang's lips as he took a sip of Coke.
Across from him, a classmate who had arranged to head back to school with him arrived. He walked up to the second floor and sat down with a smile. "I heard you're joining Xinhua News Agency? The Washington bureau?"
Lin Yiyang nodded.
"That's pretty good," the classmate remarked.
It *was* pretty good—before he met Yin Guo.
A senior of his was already at the Washington bureau of Xinhua. That senior had helped him during the interview process. The senior’s family was back in China, and he only planned to stay for two years before returning, whereas Lin Yiyang had selected D.C. as his intended place of permanent residence on his application.
He took a large bite of his burger and chewed slowly.
Over the years, he had lived only for the present, rarely bothering to think about tomorrow. One shouldn't think too much, plan too much, or worry too much; it only weakened one's ability to act.
But now, he had to start learning how to think ahead.
***
A week is short, especially when the days are filled with nothing but monotonous training.
Although Yin Guo hadn't directly asked if he was coming this weekend, she had subconsciously adjusted her schedule. On Friday, she finished her training early and arrived home by six o'clock.
Her rented apartment was on the third floor. She didn't wait for the elevator and took the stairs instead.
Outside the door, she paused to listen. It was quiet.
Next week was the competition for the Youth and Junior divisions. She assumed the group from Dongxincheng would be in closed training and wouldn't be coming over.
With that thought, she pulled out her keys.
"My sister is at the pool hall," her cousin's voice drifted up from the stairwell.
Who was he talking to? Could it be Lin Yiyang?
She turned around in pleasant surprise, only to see her cousin coming around the bend of the stairs first. Following him was a man dressed in black casual trousers and a short, black cashmere coat.
The man looked up.
Yin Guo’s heart skipped a beat. "Cousin..."
"Mm," Meng Xiaodong acknowledged.
The younger cousin ran up obsequiously, took the keys from Yin Guo’s hand, and played the part of the loyal lackey as he opened the door for his older brother. "This place is great. Take a look. Once I settle on a school, I’m planning to renew the lease for another year."
The person the younger cousin feared most—no, the person all the children in the family feared most—was this man. Since childhood, he had been the "prodigy child" other parents compared their kids to, someone so excellent he seemed out of reach. Whenever relatives couldn't handle their own children, they liked to hand them over to him for discipline. Quite a few people had been given a thrashing by Meng Xiaodong. Meng Xiaotian, his biological brother, had received the most; Yin Guo, being a girl, only got scolded, which was nothing in comparison.
"I thought you weren't coming?" Yin Guo stepped aside and asked cautiously.
Meng Xiaodong walked in, with Yin Guo and Xiaotian following close behind.
The apartment was empty.
Xiaotian turned on the lights, and Meng Xiaodong surveyed the space.
"I didn't come for you," he replied. "If you can't even handle a competition like this, why bother playing professionally?"
*I never said I couldn't handle it,* Yin Guo grumbled inwardly. She asked again with forced patience, "Then you're here to watch the Youth division matches?"
The people from their club usually arrived late. The competition started next Saturday, so they wouldn't arrive until Wednesday to adjust to the jet lag before heading straight to the arena. They weren't like the Dongxincheng crowd, who were much more relaxed, arriving early with their team to sightsee and relax.
"I'm here for Lin Yiyang." Meng Xiaodong gave an unexpected answer.
*Him?* Yin Guo’s heart thudded. She quickly exchanged a glance with Xiaotian.
Had Xiaotian let it slip, or had the club coaches mentioned it in passing and been overheard by her cousin?
"When will he be back?" Meng Xiaodong asked.
"I'm not entirely sure," Yin Guo answered vaguely.
"Aren't you two quite close to him?"
"We... we're on good terms with him," Yin Guo said slowly, trying to remain logical and hide the fact that her relationship with Lin Yiyang was anything but ordinary. "He seems to come back every weekend, usually around this time on Friday." She looked at Xiaotian. "Right?"
"Uh, yeah," Xiaotian played along.
"Do you have his contact info?"
"I do, Brother, I do," Xiaotian interjected, proactively shielding Yin Guo.
In their daily lives, Yin Guo treated this cousin much better than his own brother did. So, at the critical moment, his first instinct was to take the heat and protect his poor, trembling cousin.
"Ask him when he'll arrive," Meng Xiaodong instructed Xiaotian. "And don't tell him I'm here."
*Brother, what are you planning?* Yin Guo’s heart was racing.
She quickly exchanged another look with Xiaotian.
Xiaotian had no choice but to send the message. Lin Yiyang replied almost instantly.
Xiaotian cleared his throat and reported, "He's downstairs."
Meng Xiaodong gave a brief nod. He took off his coat, folded it, and placed it on the side of the sofa. Underneath, he wore a tailored white shirt with black cufflinks.
Yin Guo noticed her cousin undoing the top button of his shirt.
He was usually very strict about his attire, always keeping everything buttoned up. Surely he wasn't actually going to fight, was he? It couldn't be. They were rivals in their teens and hadn't seen each other since high school—was he really still holding a grudge enough to start a fight today?
Yin Guo didn't dare speak. She quickly sent a WeChat message to Xiaotian, but he was so stunned he didn't look at his phone. Yin Guo moved closer and kicked his shoe. Xiaotian snapped out of it, saw her gesturing toward the phone, and looked down.
*Xiao Guo: Your brother has a bad temper. If they start arguing later, remember to hold him back.*
*Tian-Tian: I can't stop him...*
The lock clicked.
All three of them turned to look.
Outside the door, Lin Yiyang set his sports bag on the floor with the key still in the lock. He raised a hand to rub his neck. He had accidentally fallen asleep on the train in an awkward position, and it had been stiff the whole way. His fingers moved to his chin, feeling the new stubble. He hadn't shaved in two days; he’d completely forgotten.
Pushing the door open, the first person he saw was Yin Guo. She was standing near the entrance, her long curly hair tied in a ponytail, making her face look tiny and her features beautifully defined. Lin Yiyang hadn't expected her to be right there. "Not going in?" he asked softly.
Yin Guo pursed her lips, her eyes darting repeatedly toward the living room.
"Brother Yang," Xiaotian said, bracing himself as he stepped closer to his own brother. "This is my brother, my real brother. I'm Meng Xiaotian, and he's Meng Xiaodong."
This was redundant. Meng Xiaodong had already said upon arriving in New York that he knew Lin Yiyang. As for how exactly they knew each other, Xiaotian had no idea. Of the four people in the room, he was the only outsider who didn't understand the history.
Upon hearing the name "Meng Xiaodong," Lin Yiyang looked toward the old acquaintance who had been sizing him up for some time.
After all these years, Meng Xiaodong was still Meng Xiaodong—entirely focused on pool. Even his daily attire was no different from what he wore on the match floor; he wore the kind of rigorous clothing that would allow him to step onto a professional stage the moment he put on a sleeveless waistcoat and a bowtie.
And what about him? Meng Xiaodong frowned as he looked back at Lin Yiyang’s outfit.
A sports hoodie over a casual jacket, black sneakers, and—most notably—jeans. He held a sports bag in his right hand, his beard wasn't even clean-shaven, his hair was a mess, and he was standing in a slouching posture, half-leaning against the doorframe.
A few seconds of silence followed.
With a dull thud, Lin Yiyang dropped his sports bag by the wall. The bag was quite dirty; he had intended to wash it this time, so he didn't care where he threw it.
He pointed to his own neck, gesturing to Meng Xiaodong’s unfastened collar. "Not like your usual style."
"It was too hot in the room, so I undid it myself," Meng Xiaodong said.
Lin Yiyang unzipped his jacket, pulled it off carelessly, and tossed it onto the arm of the sofa. "It is a bit hot. I’m going to wash my face. Have a seat."
"We're both men, no need for such pleasantries," Meng Xiaodong said coldly. "It's not like I haven't seen people at their filthiest."
Lin Yiyang rubbed the back of his neck again; it still hurt quite a bit. He figured a hot compress might help. "I'm not being polite. My neck hurts, and I want to use a hot towel on it."
He walked straight into the bedroom, his voice drifting back out. "If you have something to say to me, wait."
Meng Xiaodong almost felt as if he were looking at a complete stranger.
The Lin Yiyang of the past would never have been this easygoing. Even the way he spoke to Yin Guo upon entering was an attitude that would never have appeared on him before. He had learned how to be considerate, how to navigate human relationships. But in Meng Xiaodong’s eyes, it was as if he had been plucked—the eagle that once soared in the heights had become a pigeon hiding away in America.
Lin Yiyang didn't waste another word and entered the bathroom.
Xiaotian kept saying how tired and sleepy he was and retreated to his bedroom. Yin Guo also went into her room. She left the door slightly ajar, sitting on her bed anxiously, watching the outside through the crack. The next ten minutes passed incredibly slowly, every second counted.
A few minutes later, she saw the bathroom door open through the crack. Lin Yiyang walked out shirtless, wearing only his sports trousers. Through the narrow gap, she couldn't see the full picture.
"Yin Guo," her cousin called from outside.
She was about to answer.
"Close the door."
"Oh," she replied and pushed the door shut.
With a soft click of the lock, she could no longer hear what the people outside were saying.
Lin Yiyang stood in the living room. He had just shaved and pressed a hot towel to his neck for a few minutes, though it hadn't helped much. Bare-chested, he rummaged through a plastic storage bin against the wall for some Voltaren. "What do you want to say that requires her to close the door?"
"I haven't decided how to start," Meng Xiaodong admitted.
"Then take your time," he replied.
Both men kept their voices low, not wanting the two youngsters in the bedrooms to hear.
Lin Yiyang tossed the cooled towel back into the bathroom, opened a cardboard box, took out a small plastic tube of Voltaren, unscrewed it, and squeezed a bit onto the back of his neck. He stepped into his bedroom, picked out a clean short-sleeved shirt, and walked back out.
"Decided yet?" he asked.
"I came looking for you. There’s been no news of you for years. If Xiaotian hadn't mentioned knowing two 'older brothers,' I never would have guessed you and Wu Wei were in New York."
He didn't say anything, just tossed the medicine back into the plastic drawer.
"You're not playing anymore?" Meng Xiaodong was not one for beating around the bush; he threw a straight pitch. "Don't you think it's a waste?"
He closed the drawer. "I play all the time. Gambling for money is fast."
Meng Xiaodong looked displeased. "I don't want to talk about gambling. You know I have a bad temper."
He glanced sideways at Meng Xiaodong. "It's already good enough that I'm chatting with you. Don't you understand the concept of social niceties?"
Their eyes met. In this moment of silence, the two former rivals studied each other once again.
Years had passed. Things had changed, yet they remained the same.
Back then, among the three of them, Meng Xiaodong had the most delicate, almost feminine features, yet he was the most upright and serious to his core. Lin Yiyang had a rebellious face that matched his inner nature; he was the most difficult to deal with. Only Jiang Yang—dignified, a true gentleman, and refined—was actually full of "mischief," always managing to defuse the conflicts between the two of them.
But now, Jiang Yang wasn't here.
Facing Meng Xiaodong so suddenly was a bit much for Lin Yiyang; the fake composure he had cultivated over the years was on the verge of breaking.
Lin Yiyang sighed, taking the initiative to smooth things over. "You're a world champion. Why are you picking a fight with a nobody like me?"
"You've learned self-deprecation? Where's the Young Master Yang of the past?" Meng Xiaodong wasn't buying it.
"I'm pushing thirty. What 'Young Master Yang'?" Lin Yiyang mocked himself. "Can we stop talking about the past? When old friends meet, eating and drinking is fine, but let's skip the trip down memory lane."
"Fine," Meng Xiaodong agreed unexpectedly.
His next sentence was: "Then let's talk about my sister."
...
Lin Yiyang remained silent, his eyes fixed on the other man with a look that was half-mocking.
It was as if he were saying: *Nice tactic.*
For the first time since entering the room, Meng Xiaodong smiled.
It was as if he were replying: *I'm not stupid.*
On the way over, Meng Xiaodong had already guessed about seventy to eighty percent based on the information his brother had provided. Just now, seeing Lin Yiyang’s state when he walked in and Yin Guo’s anxious little expression, his certainty had risen to ninety percent.
And now, Lin Yiyang’s expression made him absolutely sure.
"I guessed right?" Meng Xiaodong pressed his advantage.
Lin Yiyang finally laughed. "Meng Xiaodong, aren't you being a bit childish?"
Meng Xiaodong laughed too. "It's rare to catch you in a vulnerable spot. It feels good." He picked up his coat from the corner of the sofa, put it on, and added, "I heard there's a pool hall downstairs. Let's play a few racks. Let me see if you're even qualified to cut in line among her many suitors."
Lin Yiyang wasn't too happy with that phrasing. "If you wanted an excuse to play pool with me, you didn't need to be so indirect."
Meng Xiaodong took that as a silent agreement. "See you downstairs."
Mentioning Yin Guo was merely an excuse for both of them. Meng Xiaodong missed the days of playing against him far too much.
It was precisely because they were rivals that they were the best of friends—the kind of friendship that didn't require getting drunk together or sharing deep secrets, but was forged through the intensity of competition.
"Find a shirt to put on," Meng Xiaodong said as his final parting words. "I don't play against people wearing *that*."
"That" referred to the short-sleeved shirt he was wearing.
The man left, and the door closed.
*Still as annoying as ever. At least that hasn't changed.*
Lin Yiyang set down his glass and went back into the bedroom, rummaging through the closet for one of Wu Wei’s shirts. Wu Wei was about the same size as him, and his closet was full of shirts, mostly kept for competitions. Lin Yiyang searched for a while before pulling out a solid black one. He unbuttoned it and pulled off his own shirt. He stood there bare-chested, looking at the shirt for a long time, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. The quality was excellent.
When he was a child, he wore the most ordinary ones. Before bed, if there were wrinkles, he would smooth them out with a damp towel and hang them up to wear for the next day's match.
Perhaps because he held a strange, indelible sentiment toward shirts and trousers, he hadn't bought a single one for himself in all these years. If he needed one temporarily, he borrowed it.
He still remembered the requirements for match attire perfectly; he couldn't forget them: long-sleeved shirt, dark trousers, all buttons fastened—including the cuffs—and the shirt must be tucked into the trousers.
Lin Yiyang pulled on the shirt.
At the door, Yin Guo heard the front door close and crept over to Wu Wei’s bedroom.
She gently pushed open the half-closed door. "My brother didn't do anything to you, did he?"
Her voice trailed off. She leaned against the doorframe, seeing a version of Lin Yiyang that was completely different from his usual self. In the room, the curtains were partially drawn, and light fell across his upper body. He was fastening the shirt buttons one by one. The black shirt made his face look unusual, very...
Lin Yiyang walked up to her and asked in a low voice that only the two of them could hear, "Is it presentable?"
What was he referring to?
"Me wearing this." He pointed to the shirt.
He hadn't worn one for a game in many years.
***
