The man behind the counter froze for a beat.
It was as if an atomic bomb had been dropped on level ground in the early hours of the morning; it was more than anyone could process.
About ten seconds later, the man finally found his voice. “…Sister-in-law hasn’t had breakfast yet? I’ll head upstairs and see what I can find—something girls like to eat.”
The man dashed toward the elevator, then doubled back to ask Lin Yiyang if he wanted anything.
“Don’t worry about me.” Lin Yiyang had grabbed a quick bite on his way to the supermarket.
The young men by the pool tables were also savoring the weight of the word “Sister-in-law.” Their gazes lingered on Yin Guo with blatant, unrestrained enthusiasm. However, seeing Lin Yiyang’s expression, it was clear he didn’t intend to give a formal introduction just yet—at least not during breakfast. They had no choice but to watch from a respectful distance.
Lin Yiyang pulled a high stool over with one hand and placed it behind her.
Yin Guo sat down without a word, though her heart was already surging like a ten-meter tidal wave.
Lin Yiyang tilted his head, searching her eyes. “Upset?”
She shook her head, cupping her burning cheeks with both hands.
“A shake means you’re happy,” he leaned against the counter beside her, his elbow resting on the wood. He leaned in close, whispering by her face, “Or is it that you’re unhappy?”
The brown wooden counter was etched with scratches accumulated over the years.
Yin Guo kept her face buried in her hands, ignoring his teasing. He knew exactly why she was blushing, yet he was asking on purpose.
“Is this pool hall yours?” Yin Guo asked softly, afraid she might have guessed wrong.
Lin Yiyang didn’t deny it. He tilted his chin slightly, gesturing to the space. “It originally belonged to the youth hostel owner. Someone else took it over later but managed it poorly, so I bought it out. That guy usually runs the place; I’m not always here.”
Pool wasn't a particularly popular sport here. Since Lin Yiyang took over, the place hadn't turned a profit; it had been a constant drain. Fortunately, he had saved some money through years of frugal living, which allowed him to keep it going until now.
To put it nicely, it was a business; to put it bluntly, it was a self-imposed burden. During months with no income, even the utility bills were a strain. Luckily, there were always kids coming to learn from him, which helped balance the books.
the last two months had been the worst. He’d had to pay six months' rent in one lump sum. Then came the consecutive blizzards and power outages; there was no business for days. Lin Yiyang didn't have that much cash on hand, so he’d emptied his personal savings and even dipped into Wu Wei’s savings to plug the hole.
It was during that most destitute fortnight that he had met Yin Guo.
Otherwise, after nearly three years here, he wouldn't have been desperate enough to agree to a gambling match in Flushing just so a friend would host Yin Guo and her cousin in his stead. Lin Yiyang was a man of his word; even though his friend hadn't ended up treating them to dinner, he had fulfilled his end of the bargain and played that match in Flushing.
Looking back, it seemed like fate. Heaven had intended for him to make that trip to Flushing, and intended for him to meet Yin Guo there again.
“You already own a pool hall, yet you still went to Flushing to gamble?” Yin Guo happened to ask about that very point.
Lin Yiyang looked at her and smiled, saying nothing.
*I already told you, silly girl. It was to treat someone to dinner.*
*And that someone was you.*
The manager, Sun Zhou, soon returned with a large serving of fruit and cereal, along with milk and an empty bowl. This was the best breakfast for a girl he could think of. Sun Zhou lived in a long-term dorm bed at the youth hostel to keep an eye on the pool hall, so he often saw the girls in the communal kitchen eating like this. In any case, you couldn't go wrong with fruit.
Lin Yiyang’s usual routine was to practice in the morning—earlier if he had class, later if he didn't. He didn't have a fixed drill; he just played whatever he felt like.
To him, pool was like a long-standing, unbreakable habit. It was what he did when he wanted recreation, when he wanted to kill time, or when his mind was restless and he needed to calm down. Sometimes when he was tired and didn't want to touch a cue, he would just sit in the hall and listen to the rhythmic clack of the balls; even that felt comfortable. That was likely the biggest reason he had poured all his savings into taking over this place.
He was used to it.
Used to being here, used to everyone here, even used to the smell of the place.
While Yin Guo ate her breakfast, he walked behind the counter and opened a small private drawer. He took out a piece of dark chocolate, unwrapped it, popped it into his mouth, and began to chew.
He noticed Yin Guo watching him. “Want some?”
Yin Guo shook her head. “I’m afraid of gaining weight.”
Lin Yiyang turned the chocolate over, showing her the nutritional info on the wrapper. “It’s not that easy to get fat; the calories aren't high. Just don't eat it on an empty stomach in the morning; it's bad for the gastric lining.”
Ever since a bout of low blood sugar during a high school morning practice, he ate a piece of chocolate every day before training. Firstly, it refreshed him and provided energy; secondly, it was good for the heart. Sometimes when he didn't have time for lunch or dinner, two pieces of dark chocolate, an apple, and a bottle of water served as a meal replacement.
In his pool hall, eating cereal and milk while watching him eat chocolate across the counter, she finally saw the most mundane side of Lin Yiyang’s life. There was none of the cool detachment of him buying drinks at Red Fish, nor the flair of him showing her around New York, finding someone to make her a custom Magnum-style ice cream, or ordering her a vintage wine from her birth year.
The man before her wore a black jacket over a white t-shirt. Today’s shirt had "Saint Laurent" written across the chest in black script. It was rare to see him in a branded piece of clothing.
Lin Yiyang finished the chocolate in a few bites, crumpled the wrapper into a ball, and tossed it into the corner bin. He picked up a glass, filled it halfway from the filtered water tap, and drank it down.
This man had slept in the same bed as her last night.
She remembered how her body had instinctively tensed when he kissed her neck and behind her ear, her fingers digging into his back as a subconscious reaction. He had felt it then, whispering in her ear: *Does it feel bad, or does it feel too good?*
His tone had been far from proper. It was then that Yin Guo truly realized that this man was six years her senior for a reason. Compared to him, the petty thugs she’d encountered in pool halls back home were nothing.
As she stirred her cereal, her face flushed at the sudden, sultry memory. Just a few kisses on the neck, yet the memory felt damp and feverish.
“Can’t finish it?” Lin Yiyang saw she had a quarter left and hadn't touched it for a while.
Yin Guo nodded. She could hardly say she was thinking about last night.
He reached out and took her bowl and spoon, naturally lifting the pink bowl and tilting his head to take a drink. Men didn't eat as delicately; he just drank it. Since there wasn't much cereal and it wasn't thick, he could finish it without a spoon.
Lin Yiyang took another gulp, finishing it completely.
He tossed the bowl and spoon into the sink. “I have class this afternoon. I’ll head out at noon.”
He had actually finished her leftovers.
Yin Guo stared at the bowl. Even her own mother hadn't done that—at least not since she could remember. Her mother would only occasionally complain about her wasting food and dump her leftovers into her father’s bowl...
She didn't know what other people's boyfriends were like; she only saw that hers acted this way.
Lin Yiyang snapped his fingers in front of her, bringing her back to reality. “What are you thinking about?”
“Thinking about the tournament,” she lied to cover her distraction. “There are so many local players I don't know much about.”
Nine-ball was a niche sport; globally, it was only really popular in the US and parts of Asia. As it happened, this was the birthplace of the game. Many players here stayed within their own domestic circles and only played local tournaments. It was a bit like Chinese Chess—they played amongst themselves.
In many Asian tournaments, these people were nowhere to be found. Thus, she didn't know them. Furthermore, nine-ball had many variables; a single mistake on the break could lead to losing seven or eight racks in a row and losing the match entirely. It wasn't like Snooker, which demanded more consistency.
So, she was still quite uncertain about facing the local talent.
Lin Yiyang told her, “Their styles aren't anything new. I’ll show you later.”
“Really?” Yin Guo’s eyes lit up.
Lin Yiyang found it amusing and teased her hoarsely, “Could I be lying?”
If he hadn't fallen ill this week and had his plans disrupted, he would have gone to New York to be her sparring partner anyway. Yin Guo was smart; with a little guidance, she would quickly adapt to the local styles.
Lin Yiyang didn't want to influence her too much with his own style. Everyone had their own unique flair; losing that would be boring—she’d just become a match-playing machine.
As they spoke, the teenagers and men by the tables couldn't hold back any longer. One by one, they complained that breakfast was too dry and they were parched, crowding around Lin Yiyang to ask for water. In reality, they just wanted a closer look at this "Sister-in-law" who had appeared out of thin air—or perhaps had been hidden away for too long. A young Chinese-American boy, egged on by the others, asked with a grin, “Yang-ge, can we call her Sister-in-law?”
Lin Yiyang’s throat was still uncomfortable; he was only pushing through it to talk to Yin Guo. Facing these brats, he didn't feel like talking. He grabbed a large glass bottle and filled it to the brim at the water tap.
The filling process took about ten seconds.
He certainly knew how to manage his subordinates; no one dared to make a sound.
These people followed Lin Yiyang and listened to him, but unlike typical clubs or pool rooms, Lin Yiyang didn't take a cut of their tournament winnings. He had only one requirement: if they made money in a major tournament and wanted to support the pool hall, they could deposit whatever their conscience dictated into the account.
This place was a home; he was everyone’s pro-bono coach.
Since no one was speaking, Yin Guo felt like she was sitting on pins and needles. She took the initiative: “My name is Yin Guo. You can just call me Yin Guo.”
Now that the "Sister-in-law" had spoken, the crowd felt as if they’d been granted a general amnesty.
The silence shattered instantly. The scene became uncontrollable as a mix of Chinese and English broke out, everyone introducing themselves and reaching out to shake Yin Guo’s hand.
“Hello, Sister-in-law! I’m Zhou Wei.”
“Sister-in-law, I’m Li Qing.”
“Sister-in-law looks so young. Are you eighteen or nineteen? Are you?”
“Does Sister-in-law play in tournaments too?”
...
Yin Guo was glad she had grown up in pool halls where men were the majority. Otherwise, being surrounded by so many boys all calling her "Sister-in-law" would have left her unable to speak properly. Before her was a line of people waiting to shake her hand.
In the distance, the youth hostel guests who were playing casually were drawn by the commotion, wondering if some celebrity had arrived.
Finally, Lin Yiyang saved her. He slammed the large green glass bottle onto the counter. “Weren't you lot thirsty?”
He didn't point at anyone specifically, but his sweeping gaze was clearly shooing them away.
The crowd took the hint and scattered. Each took a cup, poured some water as a symbolic gesture to moisten their throats, and returned to their tables. Though they left, they couldn't suppress their excitement. As they practiced, they whispered among themselves, cross-referencing Lin Yiyang’s recent practice schedule. It didn't take long to find the anomaly—no wonder he was gone every weekend; he had a lady to see.
...
Lin Yiyang took off his jacket and led her to the cleared pool table. He picked out a slightly worn cue from the rack and pointed to the blue felt. “Break.”
Yin Guo had already taken out her own cue. Habitually, she looked around the edges of the table.
Lin Yiyang knew she was looking for chalk.
He found a box of new chalk by the window, opened it, and tossed her a green cube.
Usually, Lin Yiyang would scrounge around the hall for nearly finished pieces of chalk. As the owner, he always used the leftovers and discarded items to get by. But he didn't want her to settle.
When the training session ended at noon, Lin Yiyang called a car to take her to a hotel.
It turned out the hotel room had been booked that morning without Yin Guo knowing. She wanted to pull him aside and talk about it, but there was no chance. He had too much to do and couldn't stay a second longer.
Before leaving, he only said, “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
A minute after she reached her room, Lin Yiyang sent a WeChat message.
Lin: *You didn't sleep much last night. Catch up this afternoon.*
Xiao Guo: *I didn't finish what I was saying earlier. Can we go Dutch? I don't want you spending money on me all the time.*
Lin: *:)*
Xiao Guo: *This is an equal society. It’ll be a burden on me if you keep doing this.*
Xiao Guo: *You’re still a student. And Sun Zhou told me earlier—the pool hall is losing money, and you’re subsidizing it yourself.*
Lin: *Regretting it?*
Lin: *Picking a poor student.*
*What is he thinking...* Yin Guo replied with a smile.
Xiao Guo: *Who hasn't been a poor student?*
If it weren't for her specific career, she wouldn't have been able to earn prize money so early; she’d just be another poor student.
Lin Yiyang didn't reply.
Yin Guo deduced he had entered another area with poor signal. She didn't dwell on the lack of a reply and decided to take a nap first.
Lin Yiyang was right; from the time she actually fell asleep until the alarm woke her, she hadn't slept long, and she’d spent the morning training. With Lin Yiyang as a sparring partner, one hour was worth three of her usual practice. Now that she was relaxed, her muscles felt sore.
She turned on the music on her iPad, intending to play something soothing.
But the song that played out loud was the one she’d heard outside the pool room the first time Lin Yiyang held her: "Years of Friendship."
*"Let us forget what was right or wrong, let us cherish the past. There was always joy in the days we faced hardship together... Through the wind and rain of our travels, through the wildness of being awake or drunk, all stories seem to have happened in those wandering years..."*
She pulled a white cloth bag from her backpack containing a change of clothes, tossed the bag onto the bed, and went into the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, her WeChat chimed.
She heard it even over the sound of the hairdryer because, since last week, she had muted everyone on WeChat except for Lin Yiyang. So, that sound could only mean one thing—Lin Yiyang.
She ran out in her slippers and found her phone.
Lin Yiyang had sent several images. When she clicked to enlarge them, they were screenshots of his bank balances...
Some were local accounts, some were domestic Chinese accounts.
Lin: *Aside from the pool hall, this is everything.*
He hadn't even blurred out the account information; he was truly bold.
Yin Guo looked at the images, struggling to control the stinging in her eyes.
Suddenly, she felt like having a good cry...
So many things people had said were still ringing in her ears. There was Wu Wei back at the apartment, who, fearing she might look down on Lin Yiyang, had gone out of his way to say: "Dun Cuo is just... well, he's still in school. There's nothing a poor student can do about it. Everyone's broke during their student years."
There was her cousin Meng Xiaodong, who had asked her this week: "How are things progressing? Don't always spend his money. It hasn't been easy for him to make it this far. I heard his school is quite expensive."
And Coach Chen: "It was a pity back then. The benefits weren't good. His results were better than your brother's, but he didn't get much prize money. If it were today, he’d have bought several apartments by now. It’s fine, he’s young; his future is limitless."
...
It was as if the whole world was afraid she would look down on him.
As if the whole world believed that the man standing before her was a failure.
But he was clearly so hardworking and excellent. In her eyes, he was nothing but virtues—everything about him was good, with nothing lacking.
Yin Guo opened her online banking, took a screenshot, and sent it to him.
Xiao Guo: *Mine.*
Actually, she didn't have as much saved as he did, but at least hers was pure personal income, and she didn't have to shoulder the operating costs of a pool hall.
Xiao Guo: *If you ever need help with cash flow, tell me.*
Lin Yiyang didn't reply again.
After the hot shower, drowsiness naturally surged. She turned on the TV, intending to watch for a bit before sleeping, but within minutes she was asleep, clutching the duvet. She was eventually woken by a knock at the door.
At first, in her dream, she thought it was the room next door, but gradually she realized it was her own. She bolted upright, thinking it was seven in the evening. The bright sun outside reminded her it was still early.
Checking the time, she had only slept for about twenty minutes; it wasn't even one in the afternoon.
She climbed out of bed and looked through the peephole. In the fish-eye view of the hallway stood Lin Yiyang, holding his jacket and wearing the same white t-shirt from the morning. Same clothes, same man—it was as if he’d just gone downstairs for a coffee and come right back up.
She opened the door, and he walked straight in.
Yin Guo’s mind was still a jumble. “Didn't you say seven?”
Lin Yiyang stared at her for a long moment, then smiled. “Right. Seven.”
He closed the door. His next move was to unbuckle the metal watch from his left wrist. Before her eyes, he turned the silver hands back more than six hours until they pointed exactly at seven.
From this moment until he put her on the train back to New York, he wasn't going anywhere.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 孙洲 | Sun Zhou | Manager of Lin Yiyang's pool hall. |
| 扬哥 | Yang-ge | "Brother Yang," a respectful address for Lin Yiyang. |
| 嫂子 | Sister-in-law | Literally "elder brother's wife," used by the trainees to address Lin Yiyang's girlfriend. |
| 周伟 | Zhou Wei | One of the trainees at the pool hall. |
| 李轻 | Li Qing | One of the trainees at the pool hall. |
| 巧粉 | Chalk | Pool cue chalk. |
| 顿挫 | Dun Cuo | Lin Yiyang's nickname/alias. |
| 《友情岁月》 | "Years of Friendship" | A famous Cantonese song by Ekin Cheng, often associated with brotherhood. |
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