In the lounge, everyone watched Lin Yiyang’s current state.
He reached for a piece of fruit, only to find the platter empty. His hand hovered in mid-air for two seconds before he snatched a small bunch of grapes from Chen An’an’s hand. He ate two, felt they didn't taste quite right, and turned to look at the group.
"That’s about it," he said, scanning the room. "Anything else?"
The others looked back at him.
*Weren't you the one who called us here?* they thought.
Lin Lin, ever the one to provide a graceful exit, spoke up. "I have a small matter. The 9-Ball World Championships are about to start."
Lin Yiyang nodded. He knew, of course; Yin Guo was going.
"We leave this Thursday, a week early," Lin Lin added.
At first glance, there seemed to be nothing wrong with that statement.
Lin Yiyang nodded again and tossed the grapes back into the fruit bowl. "Alright, dismissed."
It wasn't until he stepped out of the main building that Lin Yiyang finally realized what was wrong. He asked Lin Lin, "Leaving this Thursday?"
"Yes." Lin Lin headed down the stairs and vanished.
Lin Yiyang stood there, processing the news—which meant the dinner at Yin Guo’s house this weekend was officially off the table.
Unaware of Lin Yiyang’s complicated internal monologue, the others picked up their cars and headed home.
Standing at the building's entrance, Lin Yiyang watched his brothers' cars drive through the iron gates one by one, still brooding over the dinner. His phone buzzed with another message from Yin Guo.
Berry in the Woods: *My grandmother lives at my house and doesn't really go out. Just let me know which day is convenient for you.*
Lin Yiyang looked at the line of text on his screen and smiled.
Silly girl, she didn't know a thing yet.
Yin Guo noticed that Lin Yiyang hadn't replied for a while.
*Is he still busy?*
Berry in the Woods: *We can talk after you're done with work.*
This time, he replied instantly.
Lin: *You're leaving for the World Championships on Thursday, and you don't even know it?*
Yin Guo was stunned for a moment before realizing that Lin Lin must have gotten the first-hand news, being part of the coaching staff.
Although today was only Monday, and arranging a dinner in the next two days wouldn't be a big problem, Lin Yiyang was at his lowest point emotionally. She couldn't bear to make him socialize with anyone. These few days were too significant for him.
Berry in the Woods: *Then let's wait until I get back, in two weeks.*
He didn't reply immediately.
Half a minute later, Lin Yiyang sent a voice call invitation.
Lin Yiyang returned to his office. He didn't turn on the lights, instead pouring a glass of hot water and placing it on the coffee table.
He set his phone on speaker next to him.
Sitting on the leather sofa, he crossed his legs and rested them on the edge of the coffee table. He remembered how, back when his teacher was still alive, he often sat in this exact spot in this exact posture.
He had been so busy these past few days that he hadn't had a moment for personal reflection, not even time to be sad.
Tasks were handled one by one, plans implemented step by step; not a single link in the chain could break. He couldn't let people think his teacher and Jiang Yang had poor judgment. After all, he, Lin Yiyang, had been gone for over a decade; he needed to earn the people's respect.
Now that he finally had a moment of stillness, a sense of emptiness rushed in. His mentor had passed away, and it was impossible to recover from such a blow in a short time.
Though he had started the voice call, he didn't say much.
"Do you want me to chat with you?" Yin Guo asked from the other end. "Or do you just want to stay connected so I can keep you company?"
She understood him; she knew the companionship he needed wasn't comfort built of words and sentences.
Lin Yiyang said softly, "Just say whatever you want. Anything is fine."
It was too quiet here. The main building had no dormitories, and he was the only person left in the entire structure. He wanted to hear her voice.
The two had developed a silent understanding over a year of long-distance dating, often keeping a voice call open while doing their own things at night. Yin Guo was well-accustomed to this way of being together. On the other end of the line, she chatted about idle things while packing her luggage and tidying her room.
It was all the mundane trivia of life.
He listened to her speak.
He remembered the year he had snapped at the coaches for An’an’s sake and hidden here to sleep, only to be woken the next day by the coat his teacher had draped over him. Before he even opened his eyes, he heard his teacher say: *In the future, learn how to deal with people. Don't snap the moment you open your mouth. A righteous man doesn't fear shadows, but one must fear the tongues of the world; gossip is a fearsome thing.*
"The day my parents passed away," he said suddenly, "I didn't cry at the memorial service. I don't know why, but I didn't feel like shedding tears. My younger brother, on the other hand, cried quite miserably. Because of that, the relatives talked about me behind my back for years."
On the other end of the phone, she stopped talking.
"Did you think I was strange today, watching me?" he asked in a low voice.
She had seen it then. Among all the family members and disciples, he had stood at the very back. Everyone was crying as they shook hands, except for him—the most favored young disciple. He alone was calm.
If she noticed, others would too.
Hearing Lin Yiyang ask this, she actually became a bit worried, fearing that some loose-tongued people might be gossiping behind his back. To put it kindly, they might say he was paralyzed by grief; to put it harshly, they could say anything.
"No," Yin Guo said softly. "I didn't think so. My mother is very particular about these things, and even she didn't say anything about you."
There was no response from the other end.
After a while, she heard him say, "Go to sleep. I'll see you off on Thursday."
Yin Guo waited for him to hang up.
The connection remained open; he didn't hang up.
While chatting with him, she had already finished washing up. Now, she crawled under her thin air-conditioned blanket, pillowed her head on her arm, and left the phone on speaker right by her pillow. She turned off the light, settled into her pillow, and fell asleep just like that.
She didn't sleep soundly that night, waking up several times only to find the connection still active. Around four o'clock, the sound of a police car or a fire engine passing by on his end woke her. she wanted to call out to him but didn't. When she opened her eyes again, she saw sunlight on the curtains; it was dawn.
The call duration was 6:27:34, and it still hadn't disconnected.
"...Lin Yiyang?" she murmured, her eyes closed, calling his name.
"Awake?" It sounded as if he were right by her ear, and she could almost hear his breathing.
Still heavy with sleep, she gave a soft "Mm."
"I'm hanging up. Go back to sleep."
"Mm. I want you to kiss me," she said softly.
This was something she said occasionally—a little bit of fun they had developed during their long-distance days.
He replied, "I did."
Yin Guo felt as if she really had been kissed. Contentedly hugging her blanket, she smiled.
The call ended silently, stopping at 6:28:19.
After washing up, Lin Yiyang went to the cafeteria for breakfast. He had just gotten his food and found an empty table for four when three people sat in the remaining seats—three veteran coaches.
Lin Yiyang calmly broke open a bun and began to eat, waiting for the coaches to speak.
"Xiao Liu," Fan Wencong’s teacher took the lead, "your plans are still a bit too simplistic. Sending thirty people... isn't that too many?" Only three people from Dongxincheng could make it onto the Snooker world rankings; sending thirty was essentially burning money.
Lin Yiyang nodded as if in agreement.
"You're right," he said.
The group breathed a sigh of relief.
"But if we calculated every little thing, Dongxincheng wouldn't have existed in the first place," he countered in a humble tone. "Wouldn't you say so?"
None of the first batch of students from Dongxincheng had become famous. Even Old He was in his sixties before he took on two highly gifted disciples. By bringing up the origins of Dongxincheng, he made it difficult for them to argue further.
"Then let's talk about organizing tournaments," Coach Xin switched to the next topic. "I know you're like your teacher—you have grand ambitions. But I think we should focus on getting our own house in order first."
Lin Yiyang took a sip of plain porridge and nodded again. Once more, he seemed to agree.
"You're right. Dongxincheng will always come first," he stated.
The group saw a glimmer of hope.
"But this matter itself benefits us. Once the industry rises, your status will be completely different from what it is now."
Coach Xin shook his head. "I'm old; I don't care about that."
Lin Yiyang smiled. "You don't care, but think about our kids."
Without waiting for a response, he continued, "Forget Snooker. Look at the Women's 9-Ball rankings—at a glance, Chinese girls make up the majority. How proud is that? But no one knows, no one wants to know, and even fewer care."
"I don't want our kids to go out in the future and have no one pay them any mind when they say they play billiards," he said finally. "I want to see the day they step onto the field and find every seat filled. I want them to win championships and have tens of thousands cheer for them. And now? Aside from the coaches, there are hardly any spectators in the stands."
Coach Xin sighed. "But everyone knows the bottleneck of the industry is that it's a niche sport. It's not an Olympic event, and it's gone from the Asian Games. State support is bound to be insufficient."
Lin Yiyang finished the rest of his bun, pondered for a long moment, and said as usual, "You're right."
The old coaches didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Coach Xin said, "Xiao Liu, you don't have to start everything with 'you're right.' Let's just speak plainly."
He lowered his head and finished his porridge in a few gulps. "The Olympics started in 1896, but Table Tennis didn't enter until 1988. Every sport grows slowly. Billiards associations in various countries are submitting applications. There will be bread," he said, placing his unopened bottle of milk among the veteran coaches, "and there will be milk."
Lin Yiyang left, placing his tray in the recycling area. He walked through the crowd of players toward the morning sunlight.
Everyone stood there in a daze—was this the same arrogant brat who used to keep his hair buzzed short, get into fights for no reason, ignore everyone he met, and act wildly beyond measure?
Unable to persuade Lin Yiyang and still feeling worried, the veteran coaches visited Jiang Yang in the hospital under the guise of "visiting the sick."
Jiang Yang had just had surgery on his arm. His right arm, encased in a cast, was suspended from his neck by a white cloth. He looked terrible.
Leaning weakly into the corner of the sofa, his breath unsteady, he said, "You know very well what kind of temper my junior brother has. He has the rankings, and his prize money is higher than mine. He’s like a wild crane among idle clouds. If I hadn't used emotional ties to trap him, he wouldn't have come back." Jiang Yang coughed twice, attempting to pour tea for the old coaches. "Come, let me pour you a cup of tea to help you calm down."
He looked as if his recovery was "not going well." He even struggled to lift the teapot, and the coaches quickly took it from him.
Jiang Yang sighed slowly again. "With all these injuries, I really can't lead anymore."
He spoke with sincere emotion and endless sorrow.
The old coaches went back and discussed it.
What else could they do? They could only let Lin Yiyang have his way. He was Old He’s direct disciple and the most legitimate successor of Dongxincheng.
Within a week, the backbone of the younger generation showed their support for Lin Yiyang through their actions.
The most profitable players in Dongxincheng even increased their club commission from twenty percent to fifty percent. This included Lin Yiyang, who was currently the club's highest earner. In doing so, they effectively silenced any remaining dissent.
Two weeks later.
Jiang Yang was discharged from the hospital and picked up by Lin Yiyang to go to his own pool hall.
Jiang Yang’s surgery had been very successful, and he was recovering quickly.
Aside from his arm hanging from his neck looking a bit pathetic, his every gesture was still that of the handsome veteran who could outmaneuver anyone on the field. He would have no trouble going out on a date or picking up girls.
That day at the hospital had been purely an act to show weakness.
Lin Yiyang had Sun Yao brew a pot of coffee and bring it up. The two sat on the sofas in the lounge area, chatting.
"When people get old, they like to play it safe. You really gave those old coaches a scare at first," Jiang Yang said with a laugh.
Lin Yiyang didn't speak.
In this past week, he had nearly said more than he had in the first half of his life.
Jiang Yang took a sip of coffee, savoring it slowly, enjoying this hard-won leisure. "She flies back today, doesn't she?"
Lin Yiyang gave a silent affirmation.
"Then why aren't you going to pick her up?" Jiang Yang was purely making small talk.
Lin Yiyang shot him a look that said, *Do you think I don't know how to read a watch?*
He walked to the far right of the cue rack, picked up a cue, and weighed it in his hand, wanting to practice a bit. Not wanting to bother racking the balls, he used the cue to flick the red balls on the table, letting them scatter freely.
Finally, he set up a black ball and a white ball.
"On a serious note, here's some good news," Jiang Yang pulled a cigarette from his pack. He didn't light it, just toyed with it in his hand, looking at him with a smile as if intentionally drawing out the suspense. "This year's Asian Games... will include billiards."
Lin Yiyang, who was about to strike the ball, froze for three or four seconds.
Since the 2010 Guangzhou Asian Games, billiards had never again been included in such a large-scale multi-sport event. How many years had it been since it was canceled? He had almost lost track of time.
"I thought you’d forgotten what we said when we were kids," Jiang Yang said, smiling.
Lin Yiyang didn't answer. He stared at the only black ball among the many reds and struck a beautiful curve shot. From an extremely difficult angle, it hit the black ball, which dropped successfully into the pocket.
He had been retired for many years, and even after his return, he didn't care much for world rankings. But he would never forget this.
This was the thing that had been rooted in his heart from the very beginning.
Every child who enters the world of sports from a young age has had this experience: parents or coaches would take them as youngsters and point to the Asian Games or the Olympics on TV, making them watch the national flag rise again and again to ignite their fighting spirit. They would imagine themselves standing on that same field one day, becoming the next hero of the arena.
He and Jiang Yang had been the same as children, watching in their teacher's office. This was their original dream.
It had nothing to do with prize money or rankings.
Thousands upon thousands of children start at a few years old, enduring day after day, year after year of uninterrupted training, injuries, and competitions. A few years old—that is the starting age for an athlete. Thereafter, the entire first half of their lives is dedicated to this one thing.
But there are only three spots on that podium, and only one spot where the national anthem is played.
As an athlete, even in a niche sport that had been excluded from the Asian Games for years, who wouldn't want to wear the national flag on their chest and win a championship for their country?
Even if there was only one chance.
To give this generation of billiard players a chance to fight for the honor of their motherland.
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
---|---|---
九球世锦赛 | 9-Ball World Championships | A major international tournament for 9-ball pool.
小六 | Xiao Liu | "Little Six," Lin Yiyang's nickname based on his seniority among the disciples.
闲云野鹤 | Wild crane among idle clouds | An idiom describing someone who lives a free, unattached, and leisurely life.
亚运会 | Asian Games | A continental multi-sport event held every four years among athletes from all over Asia.
林里的果 | Berry in the Woods | Yin Guo's WeChat username.
Lin | Lin | Lin Yiyang's WeChat username.
