In truth, this was a fundamental drill, one that had little to do with snooker, nine-ball, or eight-ball specifically. It was a test of pure accuracy.
However, potting fifty balls while only being allowed to miss three was something no one in the room—including Li Qingyan—could guarantee they could pull off. In fact, when Lin Yiyang made the claim, he felt he was getting old. In his youth, he could have done it without missing a single ball. Unfortunately, a snooker table was still somewhat foreign to him now. Having spent years playing on smaller nine-ball tables, he couldn't say for certain that he wouldn't miss a shot on the larger snooker expanse.
Li Qingyan searched his memory once more for any trace of who this man might be, but came up empty.
"He’s a pro," Li Qingyan whispered, stepping up behind Xiaozi.
Xiaozi nodded.
From the moment Lin Yiyang said he "didn't play snooker," everyone had guessed he wasn't just an amateur. To remain so calm in front of a crowd of experts meant he was one of their own. After Lin Yiyang had scrutinized the nine-ball table for a few seconds and refused that as well, Xiaozi became even more certain that this man had a plan and the skill to back it up.
Xiaozi picked up the red ball and placed it right in the center—a position of zero difficulty. It was a polite opening, a way to ease into things.
Lin Yiyang inwardly appreciated Meng Xiaodong’s leadership; even when his subordinates tried to intimidate someone, the first ball was placed with courtesy. He set the cue ball on the baulk line and sent the red into the pocket with a single strike.
There was no suspense.
"Next," Lin Yiyang said, retracting his cue and pointing to the table for them to continue.
Over the next ten minutes, the red ball was placed in various positions, each more awkward and difficult than the last. Yet Lin Yiyang’s pace never slowed. He was the type of player who got better as he found his rhythm, and the better he played, the more his "feel" for the game intensified.
As soon as the red was set, the cue ball would fly out like a bolt of lightning, sending the target straight into the pocket.
For the first twenty shots, Xiaozi placed the balls in fairly standard positions. Every single one went in. By the thirtieth, Xiaozi began choosing more difficult angles. Every single one went in. By the fortieth, there still hadn't been a single miss.
The younger players in the room were completely enthralled. The thirteen and fourteen-year-olds had palms slick with sweat, their eyes glued to the red balls flying across the snooker table. This level of precision was far beyond anything they could hope to achieve.
The forty-ninth ball.
Just as Xiaozi picked up a red, Li Qingyan, who had been watching in silence, took it from him.
Li Qingyan looked at Lin Yiyang. "Nominated pocket. Any problem?"
Lin Yiyang was indifferent. "As you like."
Li Qingyan set up three balls: the cue ball, one red, and the black. It looked like a reconstruction of a specific moment from a match.
"Is this one you won?" Lin Yiyang asked.
"No," Li Qingyan replied. "The ball I missed at the Welsh Open, three days ago."
Lin Yiyang walked around the table twice before asking, "Which pocket were you going for then?"
"The middle pocket." But he had failed.
Lin Yiyang nodded and made his judgment the second he leaned over the table. He rested his cue on his left hand, slowly took aim, and struck.
With a crisp *clack*, the cue ball hit the red.
Everyone present assumed Lin Yiyang would drive the red toward the middle pocket, but the ball instead hurtled toward the corner pocket. It was an unexpected strike from an incredibly difficult angle.
But the ball went in.
After the red disappeared, Lin Yiyang followed through, casually potting the black ball as well.
Li Qingyan stared at the table. After a moment of reflection, he was the first to start clapping in tribute.
Back during the match, Li Qingyan had considered that route, but it was too risky. He had chosen the more conservative path to the middle pocket and missed. He hadn't expected that a few days later, in this New York hotel, the man before him would solve the puzzle perfectly.
Including that final black ball, fifty balls had been played, and fifty had been potted. Not a single error.
The Beicheng youths were thoroughly impressed, both in heart and mind, and they broke into a round of applause. Regardless of which discipline this man specialized in, his accuracy was undeniably top-tier—professional grade.
Who was he? What was his background? What tournaments had he played in? Where did he come from? A flood of questions filled everyone's minds. No one spoke; even Li Qingyan didn't know how to begin asking.
In that eerie silence, no one moved. Time seemed to stand still.
It wasn't until Lin Yiyang handed the cue back to Xiaozi that the frozen atmosphere finally broke.
Yin Guo and a middle-aged man in a gray suit stepped through the crowd at the same time. Yin Guo had actually been standing at the back with her coach, watching the final few shots without making a sound. Having seen him play before, she wasn't surprised by his accuracy; the money games in Flushing had been far more intense than this.
Coach Chen walked to the table and patted Xiaozi on the shoulder. He then picked up a red ball with a hint of regret and said kindly to Lin Yiyang, "I came out too late. I missed out on the fun."
When he first stepped out, he had been worried that Lin Yiyang might mess with the kids' pre-match focus. Now, as the coach who had trained Yin Guo for years, he silently formed his first impression of the young man: he had pride, backbone, and grace.
"This is my coach, Coach Chen," Yin Guo introduced him.
"Hello, Coach Chen," Lin Yiyang said, proactively extending his right hand. "I'm Lin Yiyang."
Coach Chen handed the ball to Yin Guo and shook Lin Yiyang’s hand. "Chen Fang," he introduced himself.
After the handshake, Coach Chen turned to the group. "I heard about this gentleman before I arrived. Lin Yiyang—he was from the same generation of players as your Sixth Brother."
Li Qingyan looked at Lin Yiyang’s face again, more closely this time. Li wasn't a "prodigy" type; he had entered the industry and started competing late, so it was impossible for him to know every player from Meng Xiaodong’s early days. After the sands of time had shifted, not many from that generation remained; those who did were the backbone of the industry now, like Jiang Yang.
To them, that generation represented one thing: seniors.
As the leader of the new generation, Li Qingyan knew he had to smooth things over. He stepped up to Lin Yiyang and offered his hand. "A pleasure to meet you."
Lin Yiyang didn't say much. He shook the hand and quickly let go.
"Don't you have a train to catch?" Yin Guo said, giving Lin Yiyang a pointed look.
Lin Yiyang saw the nervous flicker in her eyes and found it incredibly cute. "Right. I should get going."
"I'll walk you out," Yin Guo said immediately, then explained to Coach Chen, "The subway station is very close. I'll be right back."
"Go ahead," Coach Chen agreed with a smile.
Once the two had left, Coach Chen turned to Xiaozi and asked with a grin, "You're usually so arrogant. Did you trip up this time?"
Xiaozi laughed it off. "We were just messing around."
"He was messing around with you too, couldn't you tell?" Coach Chen said bluntly. "He's the kind of guy who used to crush even your Sixth Brother. If he hadn't seen that you were all in pre-match mode, he would have played for real."
***
Inside the elevator, the doors opened several times, and by the second floor, everyone else had gotten off.
Yin Guo watched the floor indicator. It was almost at the first floor; he was about to leave. Today had been a whirlwind of being stared at and rushing here, and it felt like she had wasted half the day.
"It'll be dark by the time you get back to DC," she said.
"Yeah." Lin Yiyang had his hands in his pockets, watching her in the elevator mirror.
The first floor arrived, and the doors slid open. Lin Yiyang didn't move.
She quickly pressed the 'open' button. "We're here."
A group of guests waiting to check in flooded inside, dragging several large suitcases that separated the two of them. Someone pulled out a key card and swiped for their floor.
"If you don't get out now, the elevator's going back up," she whispered, peeking at him past a Middle Eastern man and urging him.
Two more people entered, swiped their cards, and selected their floors. Yin Guo felt too embarrassed to keep holding the door; she could sense people starting to glance at her with annoyance.
A second of silence passed.
"What floor are you on?" Lin Yiyang asked.
"...The sixth."
He nodded. "I'll take you up."
*Weren't you supposed to be leaving?*
Yin Guo let go of the button. As the elevator ascended, she remembered to find her key card, swiped it against the black sensor below the four rows of buttons, and pressed 6.
They were the first to exit. The hallway was empty except for two housekeeping staff. Yin Guo had come up once after checking in to drop off her bags. After confirming the room number on her card, she pointed to the left. They rounded a silver housekeeping cart, passing stacks of neatly folded white towels.
She walked ahead, and he followed close behind.
When they reached the door and went inside, the housekeeper pushed the cart past. Yin Guo nearly tripped over the suitcase she had left just inside the door. Lin Yiyang saw it first and nudged the suitcase further into the room. She was about to insert her key card into the power slot when Lin Yiyang pressed her hand against the wall.
"Sharing the room?" he asked softly, using his foot to pull the door shut.
With a *click*, the lock engaged.
Yin Guo felt the blood rush to her face. She turned around, her back against the wall. "Yeah. Another kid, a girl."
*What am I saying? Who would share a room with a guy during a tournament? Of course it's a girl.*
Lin Yiyang’s right hand rested on her waist, while his left arm was braced against the wall above her head. He leaned down, intending to kiss her.
"What if she comes back—"
"I'm leaving in five minutes," he said, having delayed his departure as long as he possibly could. "It won't be that coincidental."
His breath brushed against her forehead... Her heart seemed to lose the strength to beat, and her breath hitched as his lips met hers. Unlike last night, she had a tiny bit of experience with kissing now, but like last night, that experience was still woefully inadequate.
When Lin Yiyang’s tongue swept across her teeth, Yin Guo’s legs immediately went weak.
Fortunately, the wall supported her, and he was holding her. His downward angle was a bit awkward, so he shifted his head and leaned in again. Yin Guo felt a slight sting on her lower lip and let out a soft "mm." The man before her nibbled on her lower lip for a moment before things got serious.
Yin Guo felt as though she could see every movement—how he tilted his head, how their tongues tangled together. Her mind went blank again, completely incapable of thought. She just leaned against the wall with him, lost in this intimacy. She had no way of judging how long five minutes actually was. By the end, her tongue was numb and her lower lip felt swollen.
It was a tingly, restless sensation; even biting her own lip didn't help. The restlessness was deeper, in her heart.
Yin Guo breathed heavily, her vision slightly blurred, the world around her seemingly expanding and contracting.
A man she had known for two months, since the end of January. But they only saw each other briefly every weekend. How had they ended up like this? Her logic was completely offline. She only had one simple thought: she wanted to be with him, just like this. Yet, a flicker of fear remained—what if he was a jerk?
He said he was pursuing her, but what if he actually had a girlfriend? Or was seeing multiple people? She hadn't even been to his university. Aside from this group of famous friends in New York and the fact that her cousin knew him, Lin Yiyang was still a man of many mysteries to her.
"Same as usual," he whispered, his face pressed against hers, speaking into her ear. "I'll be back this weekend."
"Mm," she murmured, her mind still wandering through her doubts.
He laughed.
"Can you say more than just 'mm'? It's going to be another week before I see you again," he said.
His laughter made her blush. "We can text."
Yes, they could. But he couldn't touch her, couldn't hold her hand.
Every time, every week, Lin Yiyang felt like he was meeting Yin Guo for the first time. It was the charm of a long-distance relationship, but also its torture. He was certain that for the next four or five days, he would replay this kiss in his head over and over.
"When I was in middle school, I used to cut class all the time. I'd hang out in pool halls, smoke on the sports field, sleep in the bathhouses... I wasted a lot of time," he said reflectively. "It would have been nice to know you back then. I would've cut class every day just to be with you."
Over the past two days, Yin Guo had made him reminisce about his past self more than once—the good, the bad, the intense emotions, the grit, and even the impulsive urge to make mistakes.
"I'm not leaving this week," Yin Guo said. "I'll be here until early April."
She meant to tell him she was still around for March, but as soon as she said it, she realized the words were a reminder: it was coming soon. Once the tournament in early April ended, she would be going back home.
They both fell silent. Yin Guo saw his Adam's apple bob slightly. She couldn't guess what he wanted to say.
"I'll be back. Thursday night, if I'm fast," she heard him say.
Yin Guo nodded.
Lin Yiyang didn't let her walk him down. He ruffled her hair at the door, closed it himself, and left. The hotel was already full of players for the Open; Lin Yiyang ran into several as he took the elevator down.
When the doors opened, he saw a familiar face—Berry, the friend of Yin Guo’s he had met at the Flushing pool hall. Berry was surprised and happy to see him, but since Lin Yiyang was in a rush, they quickly exchanged contact info and agreed to catch up when Lin returned to New York next week.
The subway platform was a chaotic flow of people, wind, and noise. The rusted metal structure groaned and rattled as trains thundered through. Standing on the platform, Lin Yiyang thought about taking out his phone to send her something, but ultimately decided against it.
Once he was on the train, before he could decide what to say, Yin Guo sent a voice message.
He tapped it to listen: "Um, let me think about how to ask this..." There were two coughs, as if she were hesitating. "You... tell me the truth. Do you have another girlfriend? In Washington?"
***
In her hotel room, Yin Guo was a bundle of nerves after sending that message.
There was no reply for a long time. Actually, it wasn't that long—only five minutes—but five minutes was an eternity for a question like that. She did a dozen things in those five minutes: opened her suitcase, looked for clothes, washed her face... but her heart wasn't in any of it.
Her heart was entirely in her phone, in WeChat.
Just as she was drying her face, her phone vibrated. Yin Guo grabbed it immediately, as nervous as if she were checking her final exam grades.
*Lin: What are you thinking?*
A brief, typical Lin Yiyang response. She could imagine his tone and the amused look in his eyes.
Then, four more messages followed, but the tone had shifted to something much more solemn.
*Lin: I was in the subway, no signal.*
*Lin: Believe me.*
*Lin: I am serious about you. Very serious.*
*Lin: Believe me.*
The soft white towel in her hand was crumpled into a tight ball.
Soon, another message arrived, repeating that same solemn phrase.
*Lin: Believe me.*
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
--- | --- | ---
北城 | Beicheng | Literally "North City"; refers to the Beicheng Snooker/Pool Club or the region's team.
陈教练 | Coach Chen | Yin Guo's long-time coach.
陈放 | Chen Fang | Coach Chen's full name.
威尔士公开赛 | Welsh Open | A professional snooker tournament.
六哥 | Sixth Brother | A nickname for Meng Xiaodong used by the younger players in his club.
中袋 | Middle pocket | The pockets located in the center of the long rails of a billiard table.
底袋 | Corner pocket | The pockets located at the corners of a billiard table.
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