Chapter 13: The Scenery After Snow (4)
If asked when she first realized her feelings for Lin Yiyang, it would undoubtedly be this day, in this small pool hall.
Amidst the noisy clamor, she set down her phone, only to pick it up again moments later. No matter how many times she repeated this cycle, she couldn’t suppress the urge to read his message once more. And after reading it, she wanted to read it again.
It felt like she was deciphering something between the lines—yet at the same time, she feared she might just be reading too much into it.
Lin Yiyang was on the train back to Washington.
Leaning against his seat, he stared at the luggage rack overhead. He realized his feelings for Yin Guo had gone beyond mere curiosity or the simple desire to get to know her. From the moment he stepped out of that pool hall, he had wanted to turn back—just for a few minutes—to exchange a few more words with her. Maybe ask if she’d like to try the fried chicken place near the entrance.
He chuckled at his own lack of originality.
Perhaps it was because he had grown up in such poverty—so poor that life had little room for frivolities, so poor that even now, he still believed eating was one of life’s greatest joys. To have enough to eat, and to have it in different ways, had been his childhood dream.
He tilted his head, studying his reflection in the train window. His fingers brushed through the messy strands of hair on his forehead as he examined his face. Though not as youthful as his teenage years, it was still decent—presentable.
In an era where connections were effortless and relationships could spark at the tap of a screen, here he was—Lin Yiyang—falling for a girl yet hesitating to even ask if she had a boyfriend. Wasn’t that laughable?
No, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to ask. It was caution born from genuine care. It was…
The fear of an answer he didn’t want to hear.
A WeChat notification snapped him out of his thoughts.
He had muted everyone on his phone—except for Yin Guo. So whenever a message chimed, it had to be from her.
She had sent him a screenshot of a restaurant’s location in Brooklyn, near the Brooklyn Bridge, not far from that Internet-famous carousel.
Red Fish: Have you been here before?
He frequented Brooklyn, but this particular spot was new to him.
Lin: Nope. You wanna go?
Red Fish: Next time you’re back, my treat. My best friend loves pasta and has scouted all over—she says this place has the best lobster spaghetti. Don’t refuse, and don’t even think about paying. Friends take turns treating each other.
The train slowed to a stop at a small station.
Passengers disembarked, others boarded. Lin Yiyang remained by the window in the first row, his left arm draped behind his head as a cushion. His eyes lingered on the words on his screen, and a faint smile touched his lips.
Slowly, he typed out a reply.
Lin: OK.
She put her phone away.
Stay calm. It’s just returning a favor, that’s all.
That night, Yin Guo found a roundabout, foolproof excuse to double-check the restaurant details with her friend. Together, they browsed the menu on a review app, picked out a few dishes, and even settled on a bottle of wine.
She noted everything down in her memo app, waiting for Lin Yiyang’s return.
As the Open drew closer day by day,
Yin Guo adjusted her training schedule, shifting from four concentrated hours in the afternoon to three hours in the morning and three in the evening—six hours of intensive daily practice. Meng Xiaotian, aware of her upcoming competition, made sure not to disturb her. He rounded up a few new friends and left for the West Coast on Wednesday, saying he’d be back in two weeks.
By Friday night...She finished her training at the pool hall after seven, bought a Spanish rice mix from a roadside shop, ate it by eight, and returned to the apartment.
As she took out her keys to unlock the door, she heard laughter inside—more than one person, likely Wu Wei’s friends. Without much thought, she pulled out her keys and opened the apartment door.
But the moment she stepped inside, she froze, staring in surprise at the man seated on the brown sofa.
On the sofa, Jiang Yang was holding a freshly brewed cup of coffee, halfway through a sip. Hearing the door open, he naturally glanced over. In his line of sight appeared Yin Guo, dressed in white cold-proof clothing and carrying a cue case.
He quickly recalled the girl’s identity in his mind, finding it equally unbelievable.
Fan Wencong, who had been crouching to search for snacks, straightened up at the sound of the door and looked over—unfamiliar.
Yin Guo gave a stiff smile and nodded at Jiang Yang. "Hello."
Jiang Yang hadn’t fully processed why he was seeing Yin Guo here, but he politely smiled back. "Hello."
Under the gaze of the two men, Yin Guo nodded politely and retreated to her room.
Fan Wencong turned to Jiang Yang in confusion, and Jiang Yang chuckled. "Meng Xiaodong’s sister."
Meng Xiaodong’s sister? Fan Wencong thought he’d stepped into an alternate reality.
The bathroom door opened. Wu Wei, having heard Yin Guo return, hurried out bare-chested—only to be met with the intense stares of the two men instead.
"Care to explain?" Jiang Yang gestured toward Yin Guo’s closed door with his chin. "How do you know her? And why are you living together?"
"Not my doing," Wu Wei said, pulling on a T-shirt and sitting beside Jiang Yang, lowering his voice. "Lin Yiyang’s girl."
The two men’s worldviews were shattered once again.
"Serious?" Jiang Yang glanced at the closed door, questioning the nature of Yin Guo and Lin Yiyang’s relationship.
"You kidding? Would it not be?" Wu Wei had full confidence in Lin Yiyang. "When have you ever seen our Young Master Lin back down?"
Jiang Yang smirked. Hard to say. Judging by Lin Yiyang’s demeanor and tone when he mentioned the girl at the pool hall, it was clear he was the one who fell first. At the time, Jiang Yang had wondered who this mystery girl was—never had he imagined it would be Yin Guo.
Talk about a twist of fate, an unavoidable encounter.
Back when Lin Yiyang first debuted, he competed in three consecutive professional tournaments. The top contenders those three years were Jiang Yang, Meng Xiaodong, and Lin Yiyang—three equally matched players, none willing to concede. The gold, silver, and bronze medals rotated among them, each taking one championship. Overall, Lin Yiyang had the best record at the time: one gold and two silvers.
Jiang Yang was a rational man. To him, wins and losses were normal—after all, their skills were evenly matched, and it all came down to performance and luck on the day. Winning once didn’t mean always winning, and losing didn’t mean always losing. But for Meng Xiaodong, the results were frustrating. His family ran a billiards club—how could he lose to Lin Yiyang, an unexpected dark horse?
The two had fiercely competed for three years. If Lin Yiyang hadn’t suddenly quit, they might still be locked in battle today.
Jiang Yang glanced once more at the closed door.
Little junior, you sure know how to pick them.
Inside the room, Yin Guo was utterly bewildered.
Wasn’t Jiang Yang a Snooker player? Why was he here watching a Nine-ball match?She sat on the warm brown bed, opening her laptop while straining to hear the noises outside, waiting for the two guests to leave before venturing out.
By half past eight, it seemed quiet outside for about half an hour.
Barefoot, she slipped off the bed and pressed her ear against the door. Confirming her suspicions, she pulled it open.
The living room was unexpectedly full—more crowded than before.
Everyone from East New City who had come for the Open was here. The reason for the silence was Fan Wencong’s warning outside: an "important person" was sleeping inside, so no noise was allowed. As a result, everyone sat orderly on the sofa, playing muted video games. Wu Wei had taken out a box of chess pieces, and they were all gathered around playing.
Bored, Wu Wei and Fan Wencong were engaged in a game of Chinese checkers.
Chen Anan, the team leader who had switched to Nine-ball and was now the mentor for these kids, had just arrived. She stood by the heater, warming her hands while whispering with Jiang Yang.
In short, the living room was a large-scale, soundless entertainment scene.
The moment Yin Guo opened the door, it instantly turned into a group spectacle.
A familiar figure emerged from the opposite room. Lin Yiyang, holding a clean set of sportswear in his right hand, looked travel-worn and drowsy. He had planned to take a quick shower to refresh himself while Yin Guo was asleep. But spotting her abruptly, he paused mid-step. Yin Guo met his gaze from across the room, desperately trying to recall what day of the week it was.
One stood at the eastern bedroom door, the other leaning against the western one, separated by a living room full of people—all silent, expressions varied. The older generation exchanged amused glances, while the younger ones were mostly curious.
In the heavy silence, Lin Yiyang said to Yin Guo, "I’m going to take a shower."
Yin Guo nodded unconsciously under everyone’s scrutiny.
As Lin Yiyang disappeared into the bathroom, she kept thinking— Didn’t he say he wasn’t coming back this week?
Wu Wei suddenly chuckled and asked Jiang Yang if they should order takeout. In truth, he was trying to ease the awkwardness for Yin Guo. If the staring continued, the poor girl might just retreat into her room and refuse to come out again.
Jiang Yang, leaning against the counter with both hands, agreed, "Xiao Fan, you handle it."
Fan Wencong caught on immediately. "Got it."
Once the older generation started talking, the rest of the group livened up.
The noisy living room, with everyone occupied in their own activities, gave Yin Guo some breathing room. She pretended to grab a tub of ice cream and returned to her room, leaving the door slightly ajar. Inside, a deep-red single-person armchair lay discarded on the floor. She sank into it, scooping ice cream while listening to the commotion outside through the crack.
Lin Yiyang finished his shower quickly. When he emerged, Jiang Yang was still asking what he wanted to eat.
He replied that he had already eaten and not to worry about him.
Had he gone back to his bedroom? At least, the conversations outside no longer included him.
Her phone suddenly lit up on her lap.
Lin: What are you doing?
Yin Guo set the ice cream carton aside and picked up her phone to reply.
Xiao Guo: Eating ice cream.
Lin: Meet me in the laundry room.
Laundry room? Was he going to wash clothes?
Xiao Guo: Oh, okay. I actually have some laundry to do too.
Lin: You go first. I’ll be there soon.
Xiao Guo: OK. She tossed the empty ice cream carton into the trash bag, found a folded large paper bag behind the door, stuffed the clothes from the bed and sofa into it, and casually grabbed a handful of coins from the bedside drawer. Carrying the bag of dirty clothes, she strode confidently through the living room, pretending nonchalance as she headed downstairs.
The laundry room was empty, save for clothes tumbling in a dryer—likely their owner would return soon.
She shoved the dirty clothes into an available washing machine and dropped in the coins.
Glancing around, she chose the blue plastic table in the center over the row of empty chairs along the wall, pulling out a stool to sit and wait for him. Before long, Lin Yiyang walked in holding a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He was wearing freshly changed sportswear, his hair still damp from being towel-dried. Aside from the smoking paraphernalia, he carried no bag—naturally, not a single dirty garment—with effortless ease.
He tossed his things onto the plastic table and took a seat beside Yin Guo.
Truthfully, he hadn’t smoked in two years and didn’t crave it. But to slip away openly under the watchful eyes of his wolf-pack brothers, he’d needed an excuse—hence borrowing these from Wu Wei.
The two sat at a corner of the table, one on the left, the other on the right, close enough to chat while facing each other.
In the entire laundry room, only one washer and one dryer were running, their mechanical hum neither too loud nor too soft, filling the space with a lived-in warmth.
“Earlier, Jiang Yang said he’s met you before,” he said.
“Yeah, twice when he was competing against my brother back in China.”
“How’s your brother been these years?” he asked.
“Pretty good,” she replied. “A couple of years ago, he got fed up with the old club’s location and opened a new one. My uncle retired, just invested half the capital, and left all the big decisions to him—”
A burly middle-aged man walked in, chatting fluently in Chinese on his phone. He pulled out a chair and sat at the far end of the plastic table, waiting for his clothes to finish drying.
The stranger’s intrusion made Yin Guo pause.
Soon, the laundry room settled into an odd tableau: Yin Guo fiddled with her phone, Lin Yiyang toyed with the cigarette pack, and the man idly stared at the dryer with bored brown eyes.
Yin Guo’s mind wandered—gazing out the window at the night, then at the washing machine. It would take at least an hour to wash and dry everything. Were they really going to sit here doing nothing the whole time?
She noticed Lin Yiyang pulling his phone from his pants pocket.
Seconds later, a WeChat message from him popped up on her screen.
Lin: Why aren’t you talking?
Yin Guo looked up and found him watching her.
Pressing her lips together, she smiled and cradled her phone with both hands to reply.
Little Guo: You weren’t talking either.
Lin: I was listening to you.
Little Guo: …I’m done talking.
Lin Yiyang cleared his throat. Yin Guo expected him to speak, but another message arrived instead.
Lin: I don’t know what you want to hear.
Little Guo: Just chat casually… Friends talk about anything. You’re making this so serious—I’m getting nervous.
After sending it, she coughed, her throat slightly itchy.
For a moment, she felt transported back to high school, passing notes with the girl behind her during class, exchanging meaningless chatter because they didn’t dare speak aloud. But that seatmate had been a girl. Now, the one beside her was unmistakably a man.The middle-aged man yawned and glanced at the young "couple" sitting at the other end of the long table, guessing they were probably in a cold war? Each held up a phone, minding their own business.
Coincidentally, the dryer finished, and the man's clothes were ready. He pulled them all out, piling them onto the long table, folding each piece one by one right in front of the two.
Lin Yiyang shifted his posture, leaning sideways against the table as he picked up the lighter on the table, twirling it in his palm.
Yin Guo propped her chin on one hand, still exchanging messages with him.
Xiao Guo: I give up. Can we talk now?
Lin: We’ve been pretending to be mute this long—might as well keep it up.
Fair point. If they suddenly started talking now, it would probably startle the man and make things awkward. Better to keep pretending. Judging by the looks of it, the uncle was almost done folding his clothes.
She continued typing.
Xiao Guo: Should we go upstairs? We still have an hour to kill, and there’s nothing to do sitting here.
Lin: Too many people upstairs. Hard to talk.
Xiao Guo: You’re not talking here either. Same difference.
Lin: :)
Lin: Let me ask you something.
Xiao Guo: Go ahead.
She waited, but there was no follow-up.
Yin Guo looked up curiously, only to find Lin Yiyang already watching her. She gave him a "confused" expression, and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly as he tapped the phone screen in front of him with his index finger—meaning: Look at your phone.
What kind of question needed this much secrecy?
She pressed her lips together in a small smile, lowering her gaze under the laundry room’s fluorescent lights, amid the hum of the washing machines and the middle-aged man’s deep voice humming a rock song from the '90s.
In the chat window, a message appeared next to Lin Yiyang’s avatar—
Lin: Do you have a boyfriend?
Her fingers hovered…
Lin: Or rather.
Lin: Is it obvious that I want to chase you?
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