She pressed her left hand over her heart, her eyes turning truly red. Her throat felt tight, and for a long time, she couldn't squeeze out a single word.
Lin Yiyang smiled again and asked softly, "You could say it so smoothly to Meng Xiaodong, but now that you see me, you're speechless?"
Yin Guo couldn't outtalk him, so she gave him a shove. When that didn't work, she shoved him again.
It was the reaction of a young girl newly in love.
"You didn't even tell me beforehand," she complained, her voice thick with emotion. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."
"Not happy?"
He was asking the obvious; she was ecstatic.
Lin Yiyang crouched down to her left. His jacket, draped over his left arm, was damp with rain from outside, as were the soles of his sneakers and his hair.
There was still a hint of red in his eyes, shimmering with moisture—a lingering trace of the emotions he’d felt upon entering the room. Yin Guo had no way of knowing how high a wall he had built in his heart, nor how much effort it had taken for him to climb over his own pride.
All Yin Guo saw was that he was wet and hadn't brought an umbrella; he must have walked from the subway station.
He took the plastic container and the sandwich from her lap and placed them on the floor in the corner, even making sure the lid was snapped shut. Finally, still crouching there, he opened his arms to her.
Yin Guo’s heart skipped a beat. She leaned in and threw her arms around his neck, holding on like a child for a long time, refusing to let go. After a moment, she sniffled, lowered her head, and buried her face in the crook of his neck. "You didn't even bring an umbrella," she whispered. "Your hair is all wet."
He smelled of dust again—the scent of a long train journey. To conquer a girl's heart, actions are far more powerful than words. The sheer distance of those repeated train trips between New York and Washington was enough... more than enough.
"You keep running over here early; are you even going to graduate?" she fretted.
For a senior who hadn't graduated yet to worry about *his* studies was purely a case of over-worrying. However, Lin Yiyang found being cared for like this quite pleasant. He teased her, saying, "If I don't graduate, will you dump me?"
Yin Guo rubbed her face against his neck repeatedly before saying seriously, "I’d still want you, even without a degree."
She wanted him no matter what.
Lin Yiyang laughed, pressing his face against her warm little cheek.
The two of them were tucked away in the corner—one crouching, one sitting on a small chair—hugging and whispering. Lin Yiyang’s embrace was devoid of pretense; he held her firmly, leaving no space between them, completely ignoring everyone else.
Over on the Dongxin City side, jaws were practically hitting the floor.
Even Jiang Yang hadn't expected Lin Yiyang’s romantic style to be the "sappy and clingy" type. It was utterly unforeseen. Not to mention the brothers who had once been crushed by Lin Yiyang on the pool table until they cried, or the young boys and girls who worshipped him and had been desperate to meet their "Sixth Uncle"... Everyone truly understood the profound meaning behind what Wu Wei had been saying these past two days: he had "fallen hard."
The little junior sister from Beicheng was truly something else.
Watching with great interest from a distance, Jiang Yang heard Chen An’an whisper, "They better not kiss. If word gets out, Meng Xiaodong’s sister’s reputation will be ruined." After all, this was an international Open, and they were representing the Chinese contingent. Kissing in the locker room before a match was not how an athlete should behave.
"He won't. Old Six knows where to draw the line," Jiang Yang said softly, not worried at all. "He has reverence for this arena."
An athlete's reverence for the arena is tied to the depth of their love for the sport. The more they love it, the more they revere it. Only reverence can make a person willing to give their all, even a lifetime of passion.
As Jiang Yang expected, Lin Yiyang did nothing out of line.
He arrived quickly and left just as fast.
Before the final women's group stage match began, three groups of people appeared in the spectator stands.
To the east was Dongxin City.
Jiang Yang sat in the first row with Chen An’an and Fan Wencong. The 9-ball competitors were in the second row, including Wu Wei and Cheng Yan. The third row consisted of the junior and youth players, all excitedly discussing "Sixth Brother’s wife."
To the west was Beicheng.
Meng Xiaodong sat alone in the first row. Behind him was a group of snooker players led by Li Qingyan, who were "passing through" New York with Meng Xiaodong on their way to a tournament in Ireland. The other half were 9-ball players, all waiting quietly to watch their little junior sister.
Lin Yiyang entered under the status of a "coach."
He didn't have a massive entourage. He sat to the south with the two boys from Washington. One of them had just qualified for the next round; he had been too nervous to eat lunch, and now that he’d finally won, he was wolfing down a burger. "Sister-in-law’s match is going to be tough. Xinia won the Singapore Open, right?"
"Yeah," the other added. "Ranked third in the world."
Lin Yiyang sat in the front row, elbows resting on his knees and fingers interlaced. His index fingers rhythmically rubbed the bridge of his nose... His eyes appeared calm, but they were fixed on every part of the arena with a complex swirl of emotions.
The table, the referee, and the scoreboard.
A Grand Slam had once been his goal.
Unfortunately, before he left the professional circuit, he never had the chance to compete abroad. Entering an arena again after eleven years, he was finally at an international tournament—but in the spectator stands. Thinking about it, it was truly a strange twist of fate.
The match began.
Xinia won the lag for the break.
"Xinia has always had good luck," the commentator's voice echoed clearly through the stadium. "We see she has successfully secured the break. It looks like her chances of winning today are very high."
In 9-ball, the break is crucial; everyone knows this.
Yin Guo sat quietly back on the red sofa, holding her cue, watching her opponent play.
She guessed she would be riding the bench for a long time.
Sure enough, the opponent who won the break showed no mercy, taking the first four racks in one go. Amidst rounds of applause, the opponent continued her winning streak. By the end of the fifth rack, Xinia still held the break.
This Open used a 20-rack format; the first to reach 11 racks would win.
Xinia already had 5 points, while Yin Guo had 0.
Lin Yiyang’s gaze remained on Yin Guo, who sat steadily in the oversized sofa by the table. She was very calm.
He knew she was waiting—waiting for a single mistake from her opponent.
"Beautiful!" the commentator cheered for Xinia.
Another round of applause.
The two boys behind Lin Yiyang were so nervous they couldn't speak.
The scoreboard read 5-0, about to jump to 6-0.
At that moment, only two balls remained on the table. Xinia took a quick shot, but the ball rattled the pocket and unexpectedly stayed out.
The opportunity had arrived.
Yin Guo stood up.
From this second on, the table belonged to her.
You must never give this Chinese girl an opening. Once she takes her chance, she goes all the way. In this final group match, he saw the real Yin Guo of the professional circuit.
In Washington, Yin Guo had once asked him why he played so fast—wasn't he afraid of losing?
Lin Yiyang’s answer was that during the years he was away from the circuit, when there were no win-loss constraints or ranking points to worry about, he truly understood the joy of billiards. He played fast because he was happy.
What he wanted to say was:
Enjoy it, Yin Guo. This is your career for the next decade or more.
Only by enjoying it can you endure the day-after-day training without holidays or breaks. Only by enjoying it can you sustain a passion for this niche sport that has never been included in the Olympics and was removed from the Asian Games years ago...
On the scoreboard, Yin Guo’s score finally began to move: 5-1.
Five minutes later, 5-2.
Four minutes after that, 5-3.
"Sister-in-law’s mental game is solid." The boy behind Lin Yiyang clapped frantically.
*This is just the beginning,* Lin Yiyang thought.
Forty minutes later.
The scoreboard had jumped from the initial 5-0 to 5-9.
She had taken nine consecutive racks with zero errors.
Yin Guo was already the biggest dark horse of the season. In this final match, facing a massive deficit, she had carved out a path to victory with astonishing stability.
So much so that the commentators were now expressing their expectations for her future career: "This Chinese player has given us quite a surprise this season. Finally, a new face that cannot be ignored."
"She is so familiar with the 9-ball table—from the rail's elasticity to the pocket profiles, every leave is perfect," another male commentator said with a smile. "I can imagine she would be a fantastic partner in women's doubles."
"Unfortunately, we don't have doubles in this Open."
"We can look forward to the Singapore Open. I wonder if this player will register?"
"She definitely will. This is only the first Open of the year. Believe it or not, you'll see her in the 8-ball, 9-ball, and women's 9-ball doubles at the Singapore Open."
...
The scoreboard changed again: 5-10.
The applause grew even more enthusiastic.
The final rack.
Every ball she potted was met with a burst of applause.
Suddenly, Yin Guo slowed down, seemingly encountering a difficulty. She tried leaning over the table twice, with most of her body stretched across the slate, but she still couldn't reach the cue ball.
Finally, she stood back up, frowning slightly with a hint of helplessness. This moment was captured and enlarged on the giant screen.
Lin Yiyang couldn't help but smile.
*Shorty, you’re going to need the extension, aren't you?*
Sure enough, Yin Guo found her extension in her bag and screwed it onto the butt of her cue.
She returned to the table and lined up the shot. Yes, she could reach it now.
"The player has opted for the extension," the commentator's voice rang through the arena. "She's trying again."
Before the commentator's voice even faded—
*Clack.* The ball dropped.
*Clack.* Another one dropped.
The commentator couldn't keep up with her speed. She quickly cleared the remaining balls until only the 9-ball was left.
Yin Guo paused again.
She circled her right hand around the black cue, sliding her palm slowly from the tip all the way to the butt, as if giving herself a psychological cue. *Come on, we’ve won,* she said silently to her cue.
"This final shot is very difficult," the commentator added. "The 9-ball is frozen to the middle of the bottom rail. It’s hard to cut into the corner pocket, and the side pocket is even riskier."
She leaned down, her eyes fixed on the 9-ball.
After three seconds of silence, she chose the corner pocket.
She struck the ball. It was an incredibly thin cut, hit with almost no force. The yellow 9-ball slid slowly along the rail, rolling toward the corner pocket.
Finally, the yellow 9-ball just barely reached the edge of the pocket and, with a soft sound, dropped in.
A sudden explosion of applause filled the entire arena.
They were congratulating this Chinese girl for fighting her way out of the "Group of Death" and into the quarter-finals!
"Congratulations to Yin Guo from China!"
"Congratulations to Yin Guo for advancing to tomorrow's quarter-finals!"
...
Yin Guo’s eyes were full of smiles, her joy overflowing. She shook hands with her opponent and then turned to give her coach a massive hug. The coach was also smiling too hard to speak, patting her on the back repeatedly.
Amidst the applause, Lin Yiyang watched her from afar.
He couldn't see her face clearly, so he looked up at the live broadcast on the big screen. Looking at that little expression, those eyes shimmering with tears... she was still very much a child.
He stood up to leave, only to see Yin Guo on the screen suddenly turn around and run toward his section of the stands.
"Sister-in-law is coming over! She's coming over!" The boys behind him noticed first.
The winner of the match was running toward the stands. Everyone in the audience wanted to see who she was looking for.
The arena was surrounded by sponsor billboards. Lin Yiyang was in the first row of the stands. Across the billboards, he watched Yin Guo jog over, slightly out of breath, and stop in front of the railing and the advertising boards.
Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were bright with light. "Come here for a second."
Lin Yiyang didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He had to accommodate her, walking to the railing and crouching down.
*Silly girl, the cameras are still rolling.*
"Give me your hand," she said from below.
Lin Yiyang hesitated for a moment before reaching his hand through the gap in the railing.
Yin Guo immediately grabbed his hand with both of hers. Her hands were sweaty—from holding the cue for so long during the match and from the adrenaline of victory. She looked up at him through the railing, her face red.
"That's enough," he coaxed softly. "We'll talk backstage."
He tried to pull away again.
"Just one sentence. Let me finish," she urged, holding him back.
Yin Guo had decided what she wanted to say to him before the final shot. She wanted to make him happy; she wanted to make him smile.
She still remembered his red eyes in the locker room before the match. But with the words on the tip of her tongue, her shyness took over. The girl who had just been a force of nature on the table, ruthlessly taking down her opponent, was now showing her timid side.
She stood on her tiptoes, trying to get closer to him, even though they were separated by the billboards and the railing.
"I won today," she whispered, suppressing a smile. "So... I’m giving this match to you, my queen."
*Lin Yiyang, even though I arrived at this arena many years later than you, from this day forward, I share my glory with you. However much applause I receive, you shall have the same.*
*To the victor goes the crown. Today, I am the king, so you are the queen.*
They gazed at each other through the railing.
The two boys behind Lin Yiyang burst out laughing.
Sister-in-law was just too cute. In the past, it was impossible to imagine that the "Brother Yang" who could handle any provocation on the table and make regional champions kneel in defeat could be so easily handled by a little girl.
"Why aren't you laughing?" She couldn't hold it in and laughed first, shaking his hand.
It wasn't that he wasn't laughing; it was that he had never experienced being held in the palm of someone's hand like this.
An unfamiliar warmth surged wildly through his body, washing through his bones and veins. He didn't want to admit it, but he had to: he was at a loss.
Lin Yiyang pulled his right hand back and gave her forehead a firm flick. He seemed to be smiling as he said in a low voice, "The year I won the championship, you had just started primary school. Show some respect."
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
---|---|---
九球 | 9-ball | A popular pocket billiards game.
发球权 | Break / Opening shot | The right to start the rack.
接杆 | Extension | An attachment screwed onto the cue to reach long shots.
底袋 | Corner pocket | One of the four pockets at the corners of the table.
中袋 | Side pocket | One of the two pockets in the middle of the long rails.
底岸 | Bottom rail / Bottom cushion | The short rail at the foot of the table.
做球 | Positioning / Leave | Controlling the cue ball to set up the next shot.
炼狱组 | Group of Death | A sports term for an exceptionally difficult group in a tournament.
my queen | My Queen | Yin Guo uses the English term playfully to "crown" Lin Yiyang as her consort since she won.
没大没小 | Show some respect / Cheeky | Literally "no big or small," used when a junior is being overly familiar or disrespectful to a senior.
