The standard attire for boys, young men, and adults at the club was a shirt and trousers. She thought she had long since grown tired of the look, yet she still found herself wanting to steal a few more glances at him now.
Yin Guo silently pointed toward the back of her own neck, giving him a hint.
Lin Yiyang understood but didn't move.
"Your collar isn't folded right," she whispered.
"Where?" he asked in a low voice.
...
Yin Guo reached around with her left hand and tapped the spot, touching him this time.
Lin Yiyang caught her meaning. He reached his right hand behind his neck, using three fingers to pinch the outer edge of the collar and sliding them around to the plastic button at the throat. The uneven fold was gone. "Better?"
"Mm." She tried her best to interpret his question as being strictly about the shirt.
Perhaps it was a professional habit, but she noticed he wasn't wearing a belt with his trousers. She wanted to suggest he borrow one from her cousin, but then decided against it—it wasn't like he was heading onto a professional stage.
Lin Yiyang stood face-to-face with her, their legs nearly touching, for about half a minute before he let out a smile. He turned back to the wardrobe, rummaged through a pile of pants, and pulled out a black leather belt. It wasn't high-end like Meng Xiaodong’s; it was something Wu Wei had picked up on sale. With his broad shoulders and narrow waist, he could just barely make use of the very last hole, but at least it would keep his trousers up.
When Yin Guo saw him threading the belt around his waist, she felt too embarrassed to keep watching and turned to leave.
"Your cousin," he explained as he walked out, fastening the front buckle of his belt, "wants to play a few racks. If you want to watch, come along. If not, wait at the apartment. I'll be back in a bit."
Lin Yiyang gave her shoulder a final pat. "Let's go."
He bypassed her, grabbed the jacket he’d tossed on the sofa earlier, opened the apartment door, and pulled it shut behind him. As he headed down the stairs, he wondered: should he go easy on the guy, or go at it for real?
It was a question that required serious consideration.
It was only a few minutes' walk and the weather was pleasant, so he didn't put on his jacket, carrying it in his hand until he reached the pool hall.
Meng Xiaodong had found the place on a map and was waiting for him at the entrance.
Lin Yiyang didn't waste words. He requested the room. Because Yin Guo trained there constantly, the room was booked from afternoon through the evening—a private arrangement Lin Yiyang had made. As soon as he appeared, the older men inside greeted him with great enthusiasm, even remarking on how hard-working his "little girlfriend" was, training day after day.
Meng Xiaodong caught this and shot him a glance.
Lin Yiyang acted as if he hadn't heard a thing. He closed the door and pointed to the 9-ball table in front of them. "Playing this?"
"You should know me," Meng Xiaodong said. "Unless I change careers or retire, I don't play 9-ball."
This was his way of showing respect for his own discipline.
Lin Yiyang gave a casual smile. "I haven't touched a snooker table since I left the association."
The two exchanged a look; it seemed neither was willing to back down.
Lin Yiyang picked up an orange ball from the table, tossed it in his hand, and said, "Wait here."
He stepped out.
Meng Xiaodong leaned against the window, watching the street outside grow dark. Whenever he came for competitions, he stayed in specific hotels with his club mates, and the practice halls were always pre-booked—large, clean, and quiet. A small pool hall like this, with people drinking outside and smoking at the door, was noisy and filled with music. It felt just like when they were kids.
A moment later, Lin Yiyang returned, carrying a cue in his left hand and a cardboard box in his right.
The white cardboard box contained a set of snooker balls. There was only one snooker table in this place, and since few people played, it usually sat empty. The balls were kept in an old soda box. He dumped the entire contents of the box onto the table.
One white cue ball, fifteen reds, and six colors—twenty-two balls in total.
Fearing some might be missing, he raked through them with his hands, counting them on the table. Seeing a table full of red balls, especially on a blue cloth where they didn't belong, felt quite strange.
Lin Yiyang deigned to lean over, manually setting the balls one by one. "A 9-ball table with snooker balls. We'll both meet halfway."
A 9-ball table is smaller than a snooker table, and the pockets are larger. Meng Xiaodong had never played on a table this small, and Lin Yiyang hadn't played snooker in over a decade. This setup made things fair.
Lin Yiyang pointed outside, meaning: go pick a cue.
He knew Meng Xiaodong hadn't brought his own. "They're house cues. You'll have to make do."
When he returned, Meng Xiaodong fished a coin out of his wallet.
Snooker is different from 9-ball; there’s no real advantage to breaking. In the past, on the professional circuit, a referee would flip a coin to decide who broke first. Lin Yiyang didn't want to bother with a coin flip and simply said, "The guest goes first. You break."
Since they needed to keep score, he called in an old man who understood snooker to help them tally the points. The old man didn't visit this pool hall often and wasn't familiar with Lin Yiyang, but he recognized Meng Xiaodong the moment he walked in.
Though this country wasn't passionate about snooker, a description like "ranked among the top in the world" was still very alluring. As the temporary referee quietly spread the word, the people in the pool hall all crowded around, watching the match from the doorway.
Two men—one in a black shirt, one in white—both wearing dress trousers.
Lin Yiyang was slightly taller than Meng Xiaodong. Asians tended to look young; in the eyes of the middle-aged men there, they both looked like lads in their early twenties.
The first frame went to Meng Xiaodong.
Meng Xiaodong had always been a steady player, famous since childhood for his accuracy. He would study every ball before sending it into the pocket, thinking briefly, but he always took his shot within twenty-five seconds.
While he played, Lin Yiyang leaned back in a spectator chair against the wall. Looking at the table full of red balls, he felt a few moments of trance-like abstraction. These were the red balls unique to snooker. Every time a red ball dropped into a pocket with a thud, familiar images flashed through his mind.
He thought Meng Xiaodong would clear the table in one break in the first frame, so he even asked for a glass of hot water to warm his stomach.
To his surprise, the young master unexpectedly missed a shot in this obscure little pool hall.
"Your turn," Meng Xiaodong said.
With a smile playing on his lips, Lin Yiyang set down his glass and got up from the chair. Carrying that playful energy Meng Xiaodong knew so well, he held his cue in one hand and kept the other in his pocket. He leaned over, using the table light to survey the remaining balls. "Trying to go easy on me?"
Meng Xiaodong ignored the teasing.
The man in the black shirt gripped his cue, circled half the table, and suddenly leaned down. With a forceful stroke, he potted a red ball without suspense. He straightened up and pointed his index finger at the black ball furthest away, silently telling Meng Xiaodong: *I'm going for that one.*
Snooker is played differently than 9-ball; it’s a point-based game.
You must first pot a red ball, then choose any colored ball to hit. Every time a color is potted, it must be taken out and spotted back in its original position. This continues until all fifteen reds are off the table; only then are the colors potted in a specific sequence without being returned.
Red is 1 point, yellow 2, green 3, brown 4, blue 5, pink 6, and black 7.
Simply put, to get a high score, one must continuously pot the high-value colors.
There are many other rules, and the slightest mistake results in a penalty.
...
And so, on this evening, a rare sight appeared in the pool hall—
Lin Yiyang, who usually loved to play fast, had slowed down. One could actually see his thought process. No one but Meng Xiaodong knew what he was thinking. He was trying to remember the snooker rules and the point values of the balls.
Both were masters, and after three frames, they were both fully in the zone.
Lin Yiyang played faster and faster. In the fourth frame, he cleared the table in one go, earning a room full of applause and cheers. Someone held up a beer bottle and shouted "Lin," purely to cheer him on.
Lin Yiyang merely shrugged and pointed to the corner outside. "A case of beer, on me."
This sentence drew even louder cheers.
By the fifth frame, it was Meng Xiaodong's turn to break.
Lin Yiyang returned to his chair, and the owner's son immediately leaned in. "Who is he?" the boy asked curiously.
"An old—" Lin Yiyang paused, then slowly uttered the word, "—brother."
"A pro snooker player?" the boy asked again.
Lin Yiyang nodded.
"The referee said he's top five in the world. The prize money is huge."
Lin Yiyang wasn't familiar with the current state of the industry. That day, Jiang Yang had used Meng Xiaodong as an example to explain the current prize money system. So far this season, Meng Xiaodong was ranked fifth in the world, with accumulated prize money of over six hundred thousand pounds. That annual income was indeed not low.
But it was just "alright."
If he worked a bit harder and found a few more options for his career, in a few years, it wouldn't be hard to catch up to Meng Xiaodong. Being with Yin Guo shouldn't be considered a humble existence.
Thinking of this, he couldn't help but smile: *What are you thinking, Lin Yiyang?*
He ran his right hand through the hair on his forehead to clear his head. He pulled a few bills from his pocket, handed them to the owner's son, and whispered a few words, telling him to go to the counter and settle the bill for the beer.
The boy obediently ran the errand. When he returned, he leaned over Lin Yiyang's shoulder and whispered, "Your girlfriend is outside the door."
Yin Guo?
Lin Yiyang pulled out his phone and found "Red Fish."
Lin: *You're here?*
Red Fish: *...I told him not to tell you. I wanted to wait until you were finished.*
Lin: *We're finished.*
Red Fish: *So fast? Who won?*
Lin: *:)*
He set his phone on the chair, walked to the pool table, and tapped the edge. "Rack 'em up."
This frame hadn't been decided yet.
Meng Xiaodong straightened up. "Can you be serious for a second?"
Lin Yiyang leaned there, devoid of any fighting spirit. "Tired."
There was something he didn't bother saying: *I didn't take a train for several hours just to play pool with you.*
Seeing three reds and all the colors left on the table, Lin Yiyang took his cue and potted them one by one in rapid succession. Fast shots, fast potting, fast positioning—he didn't care about snooker rules anymore; he just wanted to clear them out.
Finally, only the cue ball and the black ball remained. Purely for fun, he leaned down, pressing his chin lightly against the dark brown cue. In his line of sight, he saw Yin Guo’s figure peeking in from behind a crowd of rough men.
He smiled and delivered a heavy, powerful strike—
The black ball flew toward the bottom pocket and, after a dull thud, dropped straight in.
Meng Xiaodong looked at the cue ball, which had almost followed it in but stopped at the brink, and smiled with approval.
With a strike of such force, the black ball could easily have rattled out, and the cue ball could easily have followed it in. Yet neither happened. Without tens of thousands of hours of practice, how could one play so beautifully?
Lin Yiyang was still the same person he used to be, pursuing absolute perfection in every stroke and every pot.
Yin Guo didn't know who had won.
When the crowd finally dispersed, she looked toward the scoreboard by the door, but it had already been wiped clean.
Meng Xiaodong wiped his hands, lifted his wrist to check his silver metal watch, and asked Yin Guo, "Are you coming back with me? To the hotel the club booked?"
"Probably not, it's already dark," Yin Guo said. "I'll go see you tomorrow."
Meng Xiaodong agreed. "Walk me out."
He usually never made such requests; he preferred the whole world to leave him alone so he could train. Had he taken the wrong medicine today?
Yin Guo grumbled inwardly as she followed Meng Xiaodong out.
She had been waiting outside for their match to end, braving the wind for a long time. She’d only been inside for a few minutes before coming back out, and the wind kept whistling down the back of her collar. A food truck was parked by the curb, displaying a row of red, green, and yellow sauce bottles. The food posters taped to the truck flapped in the wind.
The yellow streetlights illuminated their faces.
"I'll call a car for you," she said to her cousin.
"No need, I'll find the subway." Meng Xiaodong went to the food truck and ordered a hot dog.
Yin Guo waited by the dark brown wooden door, shielding herself from the wind. Her cousin was being truly strange today; he could have eaten at the hotel, yet he insisted on buying a hot dog from a roadside truck. A moment later, the vendor handed out a freshly made one.
Meng Xiaodong took the hot dog and returned to Yin Guo's side.
He vividly remembered years ago, backstage at a competition, when a girl had cornered Lin Yiyang in the locker room and he had been the one to bail him out. Years later, for Lin to end up with his own cousin was quite a twist of fate.
Meng Xiaodong looked down, took a bite of the hot dog, and frowned. He didn't eat spicy food, yet for some reason, he’d asked for chili sauce. He couldn't very well spit it out in front of his sister, so he forced himself to swallow.
He finished the mouthful and finally spoke. "Are you two aiming for marriage?"
Yin Guo thought she’d misheard and let out a confused "Huh?"
"He's a good man. His family background is a bit lacking—mainly that he has no parents. That’s not an issue. If your parents aren't happy about it, I'll handle them for you."
Yin Guo was dazed by her cousin's rapid-fire directness.
*He has no parents? Wait, no, why are we talking about my parents?*
Meng Xiaodong continued without stopping, "Work hard and convince him to come back to China to get married."
*How did we get to marriage already?!*
"Cousin, you've got it wrong!" Yin Guo interrupted urgently. "He and I aren't at that stage yet!"
Meng Xiaodong laughed.
Yin Guo felt guilty under her cousin's laughter, but they really weren't in that kind of relationship...
Seeing her face turn bright red, Meng Xiaodong brushed her bangs. "The professional lifespan in our industry is long. With his skill, he could play until he's forty without a problem. He's only twenty-seven, right in his prime; he still has plenty of opportunities. Yin Guo, try to persuade him to return to China. You don't know..." *how much talent he has.*
Yin Guo wouldn't fully understand Meng Xiaodong's feelings.
Back then, they had all been rising stars in China. There was a large group of them practicing and competing together, but now, very few remained. In truth, Meng Xiaodong had another purpose for coming here today: he wanted to test Lin's fundamentals. Ten years of work for one minute on stage—if Lin had slacked off even a little, it wouldn't have escaped Meng Xiaodong's eyes.
He was relieved. In his bones, Lin Yiyang still loved and couldn't give up this sport.
Unfortunately, Lin Yiyang lacked a competitive heart.
He was the person who cared the least about winning or losing. He’d be happy if he won, but if he lost, he lost. What he pursued was making every frame and every shot spectacular and brilliant. It was exactly this kind of person who could achieve the best results among the three boys. Although the teenage Lin Yiyang had always mocked himself, saying he only competed for the money, everyone could see once he was on the table that his style and positioning were all for the sake of playing beautifully and enjoying himself.
That was what made it difficult. You couldn't move him with slogans like "becoming number one in the world."
Meng Xiaodong had never known what to do with Lin Yiyang—not on the table, and not in private. He truly prayed that a good relationship could change Lin Yiyang. He meant it sincerely.
He rolled up the wrapper, no longer eating the hot dog, and repeated, "You must get married."
"Cousin!" Yin Guo stamped her foot in embarrassment.
In a great mood, Meng Xiaodong let out a laugh, spotted the subway sign, and strode toward the next block.
Yin Guo stood at the door for a long while, mulling over her cousin's words.
Her phone suddenly vibrated. She opened it to find a message from her cousin. Their last interaction had been a red envelope he’d sent for Chinese New Year.
M: *I thought you'd find someone more mature. I didn't expect you to like a pretty boy.*
*You're the one everyone in the circle calls the number one pretty boy...*
Xiao Guo: *We aren't even together yet, really.*
Her cousin didn't reply.
*Click, click.* The faint sound of a lighter's cap snapping.
It was so soft, yet it seemed to land right on her heart.
Her consciousness drifted back to the pool hall. Lin Yiyang had one hand tucked into his trouser pocket, leaning against the doorframe, playing with a lighter as he watched her. From his expression, he must have been out here for a while.
The street in front of the pool hall was undergoing exterior renovations. Rusty scaffolding formed a long walkway, with wooden planks suspended over their heads. By now, the sky was completely dark. The planks blocked the streetlights, casting yellow light only at their feet.
Words swirled on the tip of her tongue but wouldn't come out. It was all because of her cousin's talk, even bringing up marriage... she couldn't even look him in the eye now. She feigned casualness, watching an older man buy a hot dog at the truck. The yellow mustard bottle was squeezed flat, spiraling circles over the sausage.
Lin Yiyang didn't tire of it, continuing to flick his lighter. Waiting for her.
The man at the food truck left, leaving her with no one else to watch. Yin Guo was forced to look at him again. Lin Yiyang smiled but still didn't speak.
Helplessly, Yin Guo stepped out from behind the wooden door on the left, walked down the two steps of the pool hall entrance, and stood before him. she offered a piece of meaningless small talk: "You... came back earlier today than last week."
Last week at this time, he’d just arrived in New York. This week, he’d already finished a game and sent her cousin off.
"I wanted to see you sooner." He snapped the lighter shut.
Laughter erupted from the pool hall; the group inside was getting high on drinks. As night fell, the nightlife began.
He was staring at her—staring and staring.
"The lighter is quite nice," she continued her nonsense.
"It's alright," he said.
"Is it yours?"
Lin Yiyang shook his head.
To prove her sincerity, Yin Guo simply reached out her hand, gesturing for him to let her take a closer look.
Lin Yiyang held out the lighter. The distressed silver stainless steel casing flashed in the night as he tossed it to his right hand. With his left hand, he firmly took hold of Yin Guo's hand.
Someone laughed—it was the owner's son, who had just stepped out and immediately turned back inside.
Yin Guo's heart raced wildly.
On the streets of New York, in the dark of night, it felt as if everyone was watching him hold her hand. The food truck owner, the passersby buying hot dogs, the customers at the outdoor tables of the restaurant across the street, the people in the pool hall... but in reality, no one knew who they were, and no one cared.
Someone inside called out, "Lin!"
Startled, she tried to pull her hand back.
He called back, "I'm not coming back in. I'm taking her to get something to eat." Even as he said this, he didn't move, still leaning in his original spot by the door. He pulled Yin Guo forward slightly, making her stand even closer to him.
So close that anyone passing by, seeing the two of them, would unhesitatingly conclude that they were a pair of lovers deep in the throes of passion.
***
**Glossary**
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Amidst a Snowstorm of Love | Chapter 16 | A Match and a Hand | Novela.app | Novela.app
