He, a king who had dominated the arena since the age of thirteen, had actually lived to see the day he was teased like this. Truly, the world was going to the dogs, and the winds of fortune had shifted all the way to Siberia.
Lin Yiyang stood up. Behind him, the two boys from the pool room were still snickering.
He gave one of them a sharp flick to the back of the head. "Let’s go."
Lin Yiyang headed backstage and went into the restroom alone to splash some water on his face. Still feeling a lingering restlessness, he cupped the water and soaked his short hair completely. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, his face shrouded in a light mist of vapor.
This sink, the marble countertop his palms rested on—everything belonged to this stadium. Over the past few days, how many players had passed through here?
It all felt like a dream.
The first time he had stepped into a tournament stadium, it had been an open hall with thirty-four tables. The tables were packed closely together, each presided over by a referee in a black uniform. Rows of black leather chairs lined the sides for the players to rest. That first experience had left a deep impression on him; the air had been filled with the constant clack of balls and the thud of them hitting the pockets. With over thirty tables and sixty or seventy players competing at once, it had been as crowded and lively as a pot of boiling dumplings.
Lin Yiyang pulled out some paper towels and wiped the water from his hair and chin. He crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it into the bin. Just then, a few male coaches from China walked in. Seeing Lin Yiyang, they smiled and nodded in greeting.
He nodded back and left.
Outside the lounge, Meng Xiaodong was leading the Beicheng team out. Everyone was carrying their cues and luggage, preparing to leave the venue. Meng Xiaodong hadn't been in the lounge earlier, so this was their first face-to-face encounter of the day.
As you live longer, you realize that certain people and certain scenes tend to replay themselves in your life. For instance, Meng Xiaodong standing before him again in a dress shirt and trousers, every button from cuff to collar meticulously fastened. In the past, they had often run into each other in lounges, exchanging disdainful glances before brushing past one another.
"Care for a drink?" This time, it was Meng Xiaodong who stopped first.
Behind him, the Beicheng players were a bit surprised. They couldn't figure out what had gotten into "Old Six" Meng. Even if this was his future brother-in-law, he was being far too hospitable, which didn't fit his temperament at all. Of course, they didn't know that Meng Xiaodong had specifically detoured his team to New York before their tournament in Ireland not just to watch Yin Guo, but primarily to see this old friend who had vanished for years—the one he used to be too proud to even greet in a lounge.
Lin Yiyang smiled.
Someone behind him answered for him. "Of course."
Jiang Yang, with a smile in his eyes, led the Dongxincheng group to stand behind Lin Yiyang. "It's rare for the two of us snooker players to come watch a nine-ball match. Since it's such a rare occasion, why don't we all go together? Everyone together."
It was a good chance for the juniors to get to know Lin Yiyang properly—a formal gathering after the match.
"How are we doing this?" Meng Xiaodong looked at them.
"How about this," Jiang Yang walked up to Lin Yiyang and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll get a suite at the hotel. I'll go buy the alcohol, and we can drink freely in the room."
"Half and half. Good liquor isn't cheap," Meng Xiaodong calmly accepted the suggestion. "I'll pay for what we drink."
...
Lin Yiyang didn't join the debate over who would buy the alcohol. He turned to the two boys from his pool room and told them they were dismissed to go rest. One of them had made it into tomorrow's quarter-finals and needed to recover.
The two boys politely nodded their goodbyes to the people from Dongxincheng and Beicheng before squeezing their way out.
Then, only he remained.
Lin Yiyang fished a black wallet out of his back pocket, opened it, and pulled out a bank card, handing it to Wu Wei. Wu Wei froze for a moment, then understood. Having hung around Lin Yiyang for the past few years, he knew his temperament better than anyone.
Lin Yiyang pressed a hand onto Wu Wei's shoulder. "You've lived here a long time and know the area better than them. You go buy the drinks."
Before the two club leaders could speak, Lin Yiyang looked away, spotting Yin Guo emerging from the arena with her cue case. "No need to fight me for the bill tonight. I was poor in the past and never had the chance to treat everyone. I'm still not exactly 'making it big,' but I can afford a round of drinks."
Finally, he said to Jiang Yang, "Send the hotel room number to my phone. Don't make it too early; I have to take her to dinner."
With that, he stepped past Meng Xiaodong, bypassed the Beicheng group, and walked toward Yin Guo.
Yin Guo had seen the crowd by the lounge entrance long ago.
Girls usually adored the group of gentlemen found in the arena, but she had always been immune to it, thinking it was simply because she had seen too much of it. Men in suits who had won countless matches and received endless applause were everywhere in the clubs and pre-match lounges.
But at this moment, as Lin Yiyang stepped out from the sea of men from Dongxincheng and Beicheng and walked toward her alone, Yin Guo realized she wasn't immune because she’d seen too much; she just hadn't met the one she liked.
She liked this "poor" owner of a pool room attached to a youth hostel. She liked this ordinary international student who took long-distance trains to this city to watch her play. She liked this "coach" who didn't even have a proper lounge and only brought two players with him.
This man who never breathed a word of his past glories. This man who...
Every time they met, his first move was to reach out his right hand and have her hand her cue over to him.
"Brother, I'm heading out first," she called out to Meng Xiaodong in the distance.
Meng Xiaodong waved a hand, signaling for her to do as she pleased.
"Back to the hotel?" That was the first thing Lin Yiyang asked her.
She agreed, then realized something was off. Following beside him, she whispered as they walked, "I'm not staying in the room alone."
He smiled. "I know."
It wasn't like he hadn't been there before.
The walk from the stadium to the hotel was short, taking only ten minutes. At the exit, Lin Yiyang borrowed an umbrella from the staff. They walked to the hotel lobby under the umbrella; she was perfectly dry, but he looked as if he hadn't used an umbrella at all—half his body was soaked.
Before entering the elevator, Yin Guo was still thinking that if she told her roommate she’d be back late, the roommate would definitely know what that implied. But saying that would be like blatantly telling someone she wanted to spend some private time with her boyfriend in the room to do... certain things. How thick-skinned would she have to be to say and do that?
Besides, they were sharing a room; bringing a man in for "this and that" wasn't very respectful to her roommate.
In short, it was all inappropriate. She wondered if she should just book another room. That seemed like the safest bet—drop her things off, let him wait in the room, and then she’d come down alone.
Yin Guo made up her mind.
However, once they were in the hotel elevator, she noticed Lin Yiyang press a button for a floor she didn't recognize. Only then did she belatedly tug on his clothes and whisper, "You booked a room?"
"Yes." The apartment was too far away. To watch her three-day tournament, he had to stay here.
The elevator ascended.
There were seven or eight people inside; she and Lin Yiyang were on the far right. She leaned against him, her face brushing the fabric of his sleeve. Looking down, she could see the tattoo on the inside of his arm. It was early April, yet he was running around in short sleeves as if he didn't feel the cold.
Yin Guo wanted to touch his arm to see if he was cold. The moment her fingers brushed the outside of his arm, Lin Yiyang’s gaze dropped to her. This wasn't the arena; this was a hotel.
Having not seen her for many days, he wanted to hold her hand, touch her face, and kiss her.
"Almost there," he said softly, his gaze locked onto hers.
She held her breath and gave a small nod.
With a *ding*, the elevator doors slid open.
His hand slid down her arm to grasp her hand, leading her out.
Room 1207.
Lin Yiyang held her cue case as he fished the key card out of his back pocket. Once he had it, he leaned his head down.
He kissed her forehead, the bridge of her nose, and further down. She leaned against the doorframe. "We're already at the door..." And yet he wouldn't go in.
It was precisely because they were at the door that he didn't want to hold back anymore.
He wanted to kiss her lips, but he didn't. Instead, he asked, "That last ball—why did you go for the bottom pocket? A bank shot into the middle would have been more stylish."
He was talking about billiards.
The hand holding the key card had already slid down from her hand to squeeze her waist. He pressed his body against hers.
"I'm good at thin cuts," Yin Guo’s lips parted slightly, nearly brushing his with every movement. "...I'm not good at bank shots..." Her lower lip was captured by him, and a wave of numbness surged up from her waist—he was squeezing her firmly there.
He chuckled and asked in a low voice, "And yet you dared to call me 'queen'?"
His tongue pushed past her teeth. Dazed, Yin Guo heard the sound of the door swiping open.
"After I've made you cry on the table a few times, you'll learn to behave," he said.
Lin Yiyang swept her up into his arms. He placed the cue case directly onto the tea cabinet by the entrance. He had missed her too much; every movement of the kiss, every entanglement, was synchronized with the pounding of his heart.
It had been a week. What had he been doing and thinking during his commutes between school, the apartment, and the pool room, or in every space where she wasn't present? How had he gotten through a week where they only talked for ten minutes each night?
He didn't know. He didn't know how he’d made it.
Lin Yiyang didn't carry her toward the bed. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop, and being stuck in limbo would only be self-torture. He wanted to be intimate for a while, then go out to buy her dinner. It was pouring outside; the ten-minute walk back had been hard enough, and he didn't want her to go out again. He would buy it and bring it back to the room.
He silently tasted her lips, holding them for a moment, then letting go, his hand rhythmically kneading her waist. "Why are your eyes red?"
She was silent for a moment before saying, "I have to leave next week."
"Which day?"
"Wednesday."
There was a tournament in Hangzhou in late April.
Lin Yiyang wasn't surprised by her tight schedule. Instead, he asked, "The first Open isn't even over yet, and you're already losing heart?"
...Yin Guo was suddenly enveloped by a surge of sadness. She wasn't in the mood for jokes and pushed against his chest.
"You miss me, yet you're pushing me away?" He laughed softly, teasing her. "Let me do the math. Today is Friday, your tournament doesn't fully end until Sunday, and then there really aren't many days left until Wednesday. Better hold on tight then—every minute counts."
He was still talking... She glared at him.
Seeing that she was truly feeling down, Lin Yiyang pulled her tight into his arms, letting out a sound that was half-sigh, half-groan from his throat. He rested his chin on the top of her head. After a few minutes of holding her, he heard a phone vibrating.
It wasn't his; it was hers.
Yin Guo didn't want to answer. Her friends and family knew she was competing and wouldn't call lightly. Half the people from her club were here and saw her every day, and the other half were scattered across various international Opens and wouldn't have time to call.
The caller was patient, however, and didn't hang up.
Yin Guo finally pulled it out and glanced at it.
Caller ID: Li Qingyan.
...
She felt inexplicably guilty, especially after realizing Lin Yiyang had seen the name too. She had wanted to hang up, but with Lin Yiyang watching, she couldn't just do that.
She cleared her throat and answered, putting it to her ear. "Hello?"
"It wasn't convenient to talk earlier," Li Qingyan's voice said on the other end. "Congratulations on making it out of the group stage."
She gave a small "mm" and looked up at Lin Yiyang.
Lin Yiyang was looking down, watching her intently from a very close distance. His fingers brushed behind Yin Guo's ear, then moved to the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing a lock of her long hair against her skin.
"Xiao Guo," Li Qingyan hesitated. "I originally wanted to wait until after the Ireland Open next month, once my world ranking went up a few more spots, to tell you... Some things are hard to explain all at once. Maybe I'll only have the chance when we're back in China."
Yin Guo’s heart was in her throat. she kept pressing the volume button on the side of her phone, turning it down lower and lower.
Lin Yiyang’s hand on her waist grew impatient, and he pushed her top upward. Her entire consciousness followed his palm; her heart hung by a thread...
He stopped and met her eyes, silently pointing at the phone, meaning: *Give it to me.*
Yin Guo’s head was spinning. She couldn't guess what Lin Yiyang wanted to say, so she looked at him hesitantly: *What are you doing?*
"Official business," he said.
Yin Guo thought about it. Giving it to him was fine; she had nothing to hide, but she should still say something polite. So, she said into the phone, "Lin Yiyang is here with me. He wants to talk to you about something official."
Li Qingyan didn't back down. "Okay."
Lin Yiyang took the phone from Yin Guo’s fingers and held it to his face. After a long silence, he said, "I don't have Meng Xiaodong's number, so I'm using Xiao Guo's phone to ask you a question. Has he bought the liquor yet?"
Li Qingyan took a few seconds to respond, not expecting that question. "He has. It's all Chivas Regal 12."
"I guess as people get older, they all start drinking Chivas," Lin Yiyang’s tone was steady. "Not bad. Very health-conscious."
"His health hasn't been great these past few years. He's been drinking it for a while," Li Qingyan replied.
"What time is it set for? Which room?"
"Eight o'clock. Room 1000."
"Good," Lin Yiyang said decisively. "That's all. You two continue."
No matter how low Yin Guo had turned the volume, he had heard everything. With his old temper, he would have made someone like Li Qingyan stay in bed for three days. To put it simply, this kid was asking for it. In the old slang of Dongxincheng, he was "looking for a scraping."
But there was no rush. He’d deal with it tonight.
Yin Guo hastily ended the call.
She carefully observed the man holding her. He didn't seem particularly angry, so she assumed he hadn't heard the last part.
Lin Yiyang stared at Yin Guo for a long time before asking, "What are you thinking about?"
She shook her head, pretending nothing was wrong.
"Xiao Guo'er?"
She went to speak but suddenly gasped, throwing her arms around his neck as her mind turned to mush. The unfamiliar sensation left her at a loss; she could only cling to him, her brow furrowed, unable to tell if it felt good or overwhelming, unable to catch a full breath.
Lin Yiyang’s eyes never left her. His hand moved from one side to the other. His throat tightened; he wanted to look plainly, and he wanted to kiss her there. He tried to cup her, but she was so soft he couldn't quite get a grip.
After a few failed attempts, he finally asked in a low, chuckling voice, "How are they so big?"
The current Lin Yiyang had to admit he finally understood why, back in his youth at the skating rinks and pool halls, boys always loved to keep their hands inside girls' clothes. Perhaps it was a mindless competition between boys, or a restless urge to explore the unknown.
But was it not also a case of deep affection, an inability to pull away? It was the work of hormones, the result of love—an unspeakable desire to conquer the girl he liked, or perhaps, a desire to be conquered by her.
***
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