Amidst a Snowstorm of Love | Chapter 49 | The Weight of Legacy | Novela.app

It was as if she had suddenly lost her hearing; the sounds of congratulations around her vanished. Her hands went cold. Three more messages followed in quick succession: Lin: *I’m on the plane.* Lin: *Focus on your match. There’s not much you can do if you come back now, and I won’t be able to look after you these next few days.* Lin: *Turn off your phone for now. See you back in China.* Yin Guo leaned against the wall, her mind a complete blank. Her own grandparents were still alive, and her maternal grandfather had passed when she was only a few years old, so she was relying on pure instinct to fathom Lin Yiyang’s pain. The closest relative she had seen pass was Meng Xiaodong’s mother; at the time, Meng Xiaodong hadn't spoken a word for three days straight. Lin Yiyang was surely the same type of person. Some people externalize their grief, letting everyone witness their hysteria as a form of release, while others drive the blade deep into their own hearts, refusing to utter a single word. ... She wanted so badly to go back and be with him. A phone call snapped her back to reality. It was Meng Xiaodong. "Gē..." she whispered into the phone, her voice thick with unshed tears. Meng Xiaodong briefly explained the situation. It had been a sudden passing. He had gotten up in the morning and walked a few laps around his room, seemingly fine. The family was busy cooking and watching TV, but when they went to call him for lunch, he was already gone. "I’ve already bought your ticket for 2:00 PM tomorrow," Meng Xiaodong said, getting straight to the point. "There are no tickets left for today. Even if you caught the earliest flight tomorrow, you’d only arrive in China three hours earlier than this one. Even if you do come back, he won’t have the capacity to look after you." Hearing no response, her cousin called out, "Xiao Guo?" "Yeah," Yin Guo pressed the back of her hand against her eyes. "Finish the match first. Whether it’s gold or silver, you must bring one back." Meng Xiaodong’s form had been poor this year, which had already begun to affect Beicheng’s reputation. The focus of nine-ball was on the women’s division, and Yin Guo was the best of Beicheng’s new generation—the one Meng Xiaodong had designated as his successor. Every open tournament was crucial. "I know," she whispered, her voice sounding even more muffled. "Don't cry at the venue. It’ll affect the other players," Meng Xiaodong reminded her. Obediently, Yin Guo ran to the restroom. Meng Xiaodong talked to her for a bit longer. Just as she hung up, her younger cousin, who was still in the dark about the details, sent a screenshot. Tian Tian: *What happened to Yang-ge????* The image was of Lin Yiyang’s WeChat Moments. His Moments page was usually a desert, but a new post had appeared three minutes ago. It read: *Time is merciless.* Attached was an old, faded photograph. It showed a modest office. In the center sat a smiling elderly man. Flanking him and standing behind him were six men; of them, only Lin Yiyang and Jiang Yang were familiar faces. This was Old He’s office at Dongxincheng all those years ago. In the photo were a sixty-something He Wenfeng, an eight-year-old Lin Yiyang, and a fourteen-year-old Jiang Yang. *** On the plane. Fearing a deluge of condolences, Lin Yiyang had turned off the satellite Wi-Fi. Chen An’an was sitting right beside him. The two of them had left in the early hours of the morning, keeping it from Yin Guo. From the moment he boarded, Lin Yiyang had stayed in his seat, speaking to no one. He had only kept his data on long enough to send those few words to Yin Guo after her match ended. Now, everything that needed to be done was done. He was tens of thousands of feet in the air, unable to do anything more. He held the remote, watching movie posters flicker across the screen in front of him. A blur of images flashed before his eyes—fragments of a trivial, distant past... When he first entered Dongxincheng, he hadn't mentioned he had a younger brother, fearing his teacher would think he wouldn't have time to practice. Eventually, the truth came out. After the Lunar New Year, a DVD player appeared in his teacher’s office, along with a collection of discs that were all cartoons. At first, everyone jokingly asked Old He if he was expecting a new grandson. They all knew Old He’s daughter had married young and had her own children early; there were no kids in his family who still needed to watch cartoons. Later, Old He had mysteriously gone to the kindergarten to pick up Lin Yiyang’s brother, intending to bring him to the pool hall. Unexpectedly, an old man lurking outside a kindergarten triggered an emergency response from the teachers. That night, Lin Yiyang finished class late. When he arrived at the kindergarten, only two people were left—a teacher shivering in the cold wind outside the gate, and his brother inside, neck craned as he waited. It wasn't until Lin Yiyang confirmed his teacher’s identity that the security guard and the teacher let the old man go. Having been thoroughly rebuffed, the teacher mocked himself for a long time before taking Lin Yiyang and his brother back to the pool hall. One played pool; the other watched cartoons. Regarding the incident, his now-deceased mistress had remarked, "You even told them you were his grandfather? Then what is Xiao Liu supposed to call you?" "That’s true, the seniority is all wrong," Old He had considered seriously. "But saying I’m his father... I’m a bit too old for that, aren't I?" ... Recalling it now, Lin Yiyang realized that he and his teacher truly were like grandfather and grandson. He was eight when he entered Dongxincheng; his teacher was in his sixties. They say a teacher for a day is a father for a lifetime, but to him, his teacher was more like a grandfather—more indulgent and forgiving than a father could ever be. *I thought my mistake back then was too great to be undone. I thought our estrangement would last a lifetime. But you, having passed seventy, only remembered my childhood—those first few years at Dongxincheng. You remembered what I liked to eat, what I hated to watch. All you hoped for was that I would come home, so you could look at me a few more times.* Grandparents are the most indulgent, yet they are also the ones who can least afford to wait before they leave. The cabin lights brightened; the flight attendants were beginning to prepare breakfast. The sudden brightness made Lin Yiyang uncomfortable. He pulled out the amenity kit, found his toothbrush, and headed for the lavatory. Once the narrow door clicked shut. He looked at himself in the mirror. He stared at that face, those eyes, for a full two minutes. Then, he braced both hands against the edge of the tiny sink. He gripped the unopened toothbrush set; his left hand held firm, but his right hand unexpectedly gave way. It was too narrow in here. It was suffocating. Someone had used the washroom before him. There was a faint scent of toothpaste—very faint, yet it stung his eyes. The moment the tears fell, he could no longer hold back. He pressed his forehead against the mirror, his palm crushing the plastic case of the toothbrush set until it deformed. A sharp *crack* of breaking plastic filled the cramped space. He tried to calm himself, but it was useless. His left hand clenched into a fist against the mirror, then relaxed. Finally, he slammed his forehead heavily against the back of his hand. He used the pain, used every ounce of his strength to restrain himself, trying to escape this sense of powerlessness... ... Just like many years ago, when he had crouched outside the gates of Dongxincheng, he was enveloped by this crushing feeling of being abandoned. It was like a wet cloth soaked in water draped over his face—unable to breathe, unable to draw in a single breath of oxygen. Both times were the same. The first time, his teacher had told him to leave Dongxincheng, wanting him no more. This time was more final. He was truly gone, leaving him behind for good. The lights of Dongxincheng, the lights of the office—they were extinguished forever. *** When he emerged from the lavatory, the tips of Lin Yiyang’s short hair were damp, but there was no water on his face; he had already wiped it dry. His face was clean. Aside from the redness in his eyes and the bruise on the back of his left hand, there was nothing unusual. Chen An’an was leaning against the wall opposite the lavatory, waiting for him. He didn't know how to comfort people; he could only stand guard. A flight attendant was about to push a breakfast cart out and nodded with a smile when she saw them. Lin Yiyang glanced at the steaming trays on the cart and asked Chen An’an in Chinese, "What are you standing there for?" In just twenty minutes, his voice had become as hoarse as if he had been smoking for days. Each word sounded as if his throat were raw and bloodied. "I'm fine." *** Within a single day, the news of Old He’s passing spread throughout the industry. In the Chinese players' lounge, most of the athletes were of the younger generation and didn't feel it deeply, but the coaches were all overcome with sorrow. Before Yin Guo went out for her match, her coach asked her, "Are you okay? How’s your headspace?" Yin Guo nodded, took her cue, and walked out. There was a stopwatch in her heart, every tick urging her to get to the airport, to go back to China, to see Lin Yiyang. As it turned out, she was human, not a god. She didn't play well. Her opponent was also from China and unexpectedly made two glaring errors, essentially handing the championship to her. To her surprise, in a state of utter disarray, Yin Guo unexpectedly won the first Open championship of her life. "This championship should have been yours," she said, shaking her opponent's hand amidst the applause. "I only got it because of your mistakes." The veteran player, nearly thirty years old, smiled. "There is no 'should' or 'shouldn't.' The championship is yours." "See you at the World Championships," Yin Guo said. The other woman returned the smile and asked with concern, "Is your speech ready?" Yin Guo nodded and pulled the paper halfway out of her pocket. The other woman smiled and showed Yin Guo her own draft. Neither of them had Lin Yiyang’s fluency in English, so they had both prepared drafts the night before—whoever won would do the interview. Yin Guo didn't linger and went straight to the press conference. She bowed to the room full of applause and took her seat. The stopwatch in her heart kept ticking, calculating the time, telling her: *You must leave within fifteen minutes.* The first question was standard: congratulations on the win, and her thoughts on the victory. Then came the open Q&A, with six consecutive questions. In the final four minutes, she gripped her notes. She had actually memorized them perfectly; she was just waiting for the right moment to end. The coach thought she was nervous and whispered in Chinese, "Don't be too nervous." Yin Guo shook her head slightly and smiled at the coach. "First of all, congratulations, Miss Yin," a veteran reporter in the corner snagged the microphone. "A more personal question, if you don't mind. The fans here today are curious—why wasn't Lin present on such an important day? Or do you have other plans to celebrate?" Laughter filled the room. Yin Guo moved the small microphone toward her and paused for a brief moment. Once the laughter subsided, she spoke softly. "In yesterday’s semi-finals, a Chinese player withdrew from the men’s division. His name is Chen An’an, one of this year’s top four. I believe everyone is wondering why he suddenly withdrew." The room went quiet, waiting for Yin Guo to reveal the answer. "He is Lin’s junior; they came from the same pool hall," Yin Guo said softly. "Yesterday, Lin left with him to fly back to China because their teacher passed away." The camera flashes gradually died down. It was unexpected and somber news. "He was Lin’s first teacher. From the age of eight until he left at sixteen, Lin spent eight years growing up in a place called Dongxincheng, learning to play under this teacher, He Wenfeng. You likely don't know his name. He never competed in major international tournaments and had no world ranking because Snooker started too late in China for him to have a chance at fame. But this teacher had many disciples, and disciples of those disciples, who have all become the backbone of this industry. Lin is one of them. I’ve heard his name since I was a child; I admired and respected him. It’s a regret that I will never have the chance to meet him." Yin Guo thought back to her conversation with Lin Yiyang at the airport, how excited she had been when she heard she would meet his teacher. It wasn't just because of his relationship with Lin Yiyang, but because he was Old He—the man whose students were everywhere, the man who sought no fame, He Wenfeng. "Though I am a nine-ball player, I also respect this titan of the industry. Not just because he was Lin’s teacher, but because he was a founder of this sport in our country. He was the one who first ignited our dreams—an ordinary old man." "This championship today..." She faltered for a few seconds. Her original draft said: *I also want to dedicate this to that teacher.* But she changed it on the fly. "Actually, it should belong to the runner-up. Even at this moment, I still believe that. She played brilliantly today, better than I did. Thank you all for listening. Because I have a flight to catch back to China, I must say goodbye. Everyone, see you at the next Open." Yin Guo braced her hands on the table and stood up, facing all the reporters. It was her first major interview, after all, and the paper in her hand was crumpled from her grip. Her first instinct was to run, but her coach pulled her back for a few more photos. Afterward, Yin Guo vanished from the stadium and headed straight for the airport. Ten minutes before boarding, she sat at the gate, waiting anxiously. Her palm vibrated. It was Meng Xiaodong. M: *I’ll pick you up when you land. We’re going to the memorial service.* M: *Jiang Yang took a hard hit this time.* M: *Also, Lin Yiyang took over Dongxincheng today.* *** **Glossary** Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation --- | --- | --- 贺文丰 | He Wenfeng | Lin Yiyang's mentor and the founder of Dongxincheng. 贺老 | Old He / Elder He | A respectful way to address He Wenfeng. 东新城 | Dongxincheng | The name of the pool/snooker club/sect Lin Yiyang belongs to. 北城 | Beicheng | The name of the club/sect Yin Guo and Meng Xiaodong belong to. 九球 | Nine-ball | A discipline of pool. 小六 | Xiao Liu | "Little Six," Lin Yiyang's nickname/rank among his peers at Dongxincheng. 陈安安 | Chen An'an | A player from Dongxincheng, Lin Yiyang's junior. 江杨 | Jiang Yang | A top player from Dongxincheng, Lin Yiyang's contemporary/rival.