Chapter 15 The Affairs of a Turbulent World (1)
Yin Guo hadn’t practiced at the pool hall for long before returning to the apartment. The place was empty.
In the bathroom, she noticed the razor Lin Yiyang had left out in his hurry that morning. A thought crossed her mind—would leaving it out damage the blade? She had no experience with this.
Leaning against the doorframe, she opened WeChat to ask him.
And there they were again—those three lines, still sitting there as their last exchange.
Today, they had gone to Brooklyn together, had lunch, strolled along the shore for a long time, and even debated that viral giant carousel for ages. They’d taken the subway together, and he’d even ridden an extra stop just to make sure she didn’t miss hers… Yin Guo rested her head against the doorframe. Did this count as a date?
When she’d tugged on his backpack strap earlier, what she’d wanted to say was: I don’t have a boyfriend.
She hadn’t mustered the courage, but he must have sensed it, right? And when she told him to message her when he got to Washington—did he understand?
Yin Guo tilted her head back against the doorframe, finding it uncomfortable. She undid her ponytail, letting her hair fall loose, and stared at the razor for a long while, thinking of Lin Yiyang again.
Suddenly, her phone vibrated—a message from the razor’s owner.
He sent a location pin: DC’s train station. He’d arrived.
It was their agreement before parting. What a… man of his word.
Xiao Guo: I’m back too, at home.
After a moment’s hesitation, she decided to be honest. Typing quickly before she could regret it, she hit send—
Xiao Guo: Also, I saw your message last night. I don’t have a boyfriend.
Before she could catch her breath, Lin Yiyang replied.
Lin: I know.
How?
Xiao Guo: Who told you? Did you ask my brother?
Lin: If you had a boyfriend, you wouldn’t have gone out with me today.
Lin: Sound logic?
Without those three lines last night, today would’ve just been an ordinary lunch. But with that question hanging between them, the meal had taken on a different meaning. He wasn’t wrong.
Just as Yin Guo was about to reply, the front door opened—Wu Wei was back.
Wu Wei walked in carrying a takeout bag of dinner and immediately spotted Yin Guo bundled up in cold-proof clothing, a scarf, and a hat, leaning against the bathroom doorway with her phone, smiling. The only light in the apartment came from there, casting a warm yellow glow. She turned to look at him, her expression slightly flustered, and pulled down the scarf covering half her face. “You’re back?”
“Uh, yeah. Are you—” Wu Wei gestured at her outfit. “Heading out? Or just got back?”
“Just got back.”
Like someone caught doing something mischievous, Yin Guo slipped away from the bathroom and retreated to her room.
Wu Wei was thoroughly baffled. He peeked into the bathroom, wondering what could’ve made her smile like that…
Lin Yiyang sat at a four-person table by the wall on the second floor of a burger joint, unwrapping his burger and taking a bite.
He glanced down at his phone—two new messages.
Wu Wei: The girl was standing by the bathroom grinning like an idiot. I stared for ages but couldn’t figure out why. Oh, and I put your razor away. Leaving it out in the bathroom’ll dull the blade. As payment, tell me this—did you kiss her?
Red Fish: Mhm.
First Wu Wei’s rambling, then Yin Guo’s single syllable. Yet the latter felt far more vivid—he could practically hear her soft mhm in his mind.Lin Yiyang smiled faintly as he took a sip of his Coke.
The classmate who had arranged to return to school with him had just arrived, walking up to the second floor and sitting across from him with a smile. "I heard you're joining Xinhua News Agency? The Washington bureau?"
Lin Yiyang nodded.
"That's great," the classmate remarked.
It was great—before he met Yin Guo.
At Xinhua's Washington bureau, one of his seniors was already working there. The senior had helped him during the interview process. While his senior planned to return to China after two years, Lin had indicated his intention to settle in DC when filling out his preferences.
He took a big bite of his burger, chewing slowly.
Over the years, he had lived only for the present, rarely bothering to think about tomorrow. People shouldn't overthink, overplan, or over-worry—it weakens execution.
But now, he had to start learning to think ahead.
A week passed quickly, especially when days were filled with monotonous training.
Though Yin Guo hadn’t directly asked whether he would come over the weekend, she had subconsciously adjusted her schedule. On Friday, she finished training early and arrived home by six.
Her rented apartment was on the third floor. Instead of waiting for the elevator, she took the stairs.
Outside her door, she paused to listen—it was quiet.
Next week was the youth and junior competitions, so the East New City team was probably in closed training and wouldn’t be coming over.
Thinking this, she pulled out her keys.
"Your sister's at the pool hall," her cousin's voice drifted up the stairs.
Who was he talking to? Could it be Lin Yiyang?
Her heart leapt as she turned around. At the stairwell landing, her cousin appeared first, followed by a man dressed in black casual trousers and a black cashmere short coat.
The man looked up.
Yin Guo’s heart skipped a beat. "Brother..."
"Mm," Meng Xiaodong acknowledged.
Her cousin eagerly rushed forward, taking the keys from her hands and fawningly unlocking the door for his older brother. "This place is great. Once I finalize my school, I’m planning to renew the lease for a year."
Her cousin was usually the most afraid—
No, actually, all the younger relatives in the family were most afraid of this man. He had always been the "model child" others were compared to, excelling in everything. Relatives who couldn’t discipline their own kids often handed them over to him for "training," and many had suffered under Meng Xiaodong’s strictness. His own younger brother, Meng Xiaotian, had borne the brunt of it. Yin Guo, being a girl, had only been scolded—nothing too severe.
"I thought you weren’t coming?" Yin Guo stepped aside cautiously.
Meng Xiaodong walked in, followed closely by Yin Guo and her cousin.
The apartment was empty.
Her cousin turned on the lights as Meng Xiaodong surveyed the place.
"I’m not here for you," he replied. "If you can’t even handle this level of competition, how can you play professionally?"
I never said I couldn’t handle it.
Yin Guo grumbled inwardly but maintained her polite tone. "Then are you here to watch the youth competitions?"
Their club’s team was arriving late—the competition started next Saturday, but they wouldn’t arrive until Wednesday to adjust to the time difference before competing. Unlike East New City, which had arrived early and was leisurely sightseeing.
"I’m here to see Lin Yiyang," Meng Xiaodong gave an unexpected answer.
Him? Yin Guo’s heart sank as she quickly exchanged a glance with her cousin.
Had her cousin slipped up, or had the club coaches mentioned something in passing?
"When is he coming back?" Meng Xiaodong asked again."It's hard to say for sure," Yin Guo answered vaguely.
"Aren't you two quite close with him?"
"We... do have a good relationship with him," Yin Guo said slowly, trying to maintain logical coherence while concealing that her connection with Lin Yiyang went beyond ordinary friendship. "He seems to come back every weekend, usually around this time on Fridays," she glanced at her cousin, "right?"
"Ah, yeah," the cousin played along.
"Do you have his contact info?"
"I do, bro, I have it," the cousin quickly interjected, shielding Yin Guo proactively.
In daily life, Yin Guo treated this cousin far better than her own brother did, so in critical moments, his first instinct was to shoulder everything and protect his fragile, chick-like cousin.
"Ask him when he'll arrive," Meng Xiaodong reminded the cousin, "and don't mention I'm here."
What are you planning, bro? Yin Guo's heart raced.
She quickly exchanged another glance with her cousin.
The cousin had no choice but to send the message truthfully, and Lin Yiyang replied soon after.
Clearing his throat, the cousin reported, "He's downstairs now."
Meng Xiaodong acknowledged with a sound. He took off his coat, folded it, and placed it beside the sofa. His upper body was clad in a tailored white shirt, with black cufflinks at the sleeves.
Yin Guo noticed her cousin had undone one of his shirt buttons.
He was usually meticulous about his attire, always buttoned up properly. Could he really be planning to fight? Surely not? A teenage rivalry—they hadn’t seen each other since high school—was he still holding onto that grudge today?
Yin Guo didn’t dare speak. She quickly sent a WeChat message to her cousin, but he was too stunned to check his phone. She nudged closer and kicked his shoe. Startled, he finally looked down at his phone after catching her meaningful glance.
Xiao Guo: Your brother has a temper. If they start arguing later, make sure to intervene.
Tian Tian: I can’t stop him…
The lock clicked.
All three turned toward the sound.
Outside, Lin Yiyang set his sports bag on the floor, the key still in the lock. He rubbed his neck—he’d fallen asleep on the train in an awkward position, leaving him stiff. His fingers then brushed over his chin, feeling the stubble he’d forgotten to shave for two days.
Pushing the door open, the first person he saw was Yin Guo, standing by the entrance with her long curls tied into a ponytail, framing her delicate, beautifully contoured face. Surprised to find her there, he asked quietly, "Not going in?"
Yin Guo pressed her lips together, her eyes darting toward the living room.
"Brother Yang," the cousin forced himself to speak, stepping slightly closer to his own brother, "this is my brother—my actual brother. I’m Meng Xiaotian, he’s Meng Xiaodong."
The introduction was redundant. Meng Xiaodong had mentioned upon arriving in New York that he knew Lin Yiyang. How exactly, Xiaotian had no idea. Among the four in the room, only he, the outsider, was in the dark.
Hearing the name "Meng Xiaodong," Lin Yiyang turned to the old acquaintance who had been scrutinizing him for a while.
Years later, Meng Xiaodong was still Meng Xiaodong—single-mindedly devoted to billiards, his everyday attire barely different from what he wore on the tournament floor. All he needed was a sleeveless waistcoat and a bow tie to step into a match.
And him? Meng Xiaodong frowned, taking in Lin Yiyang’s current outfit.A sports hoodie under a casual jacket, black sneakers, and especially the jeans. His right hand held a sports backpack, his beard not fully shaved, hair messy, leaning lazily against the doorframe in a half-slouched posture.
A few seconds of silence.
With a thud, Lin Yiyang tossed the sports bag against the wall. The bag was already dirty, and he had planned to wash it this time, so he didn’t care where it landed.
He pointed below his own neck, hinting at Meng Xiaodong’s unbuttoned collar: "Not like your usual style."
"Too hot inside. Unbuttoned it myself," Meng Xiaodong replied.
Lin Yiyang unzipped his jacket, carelessly shrugged it off, and tossed it onto the armrest of the sofa. "It is a bit hot. I’ll wash my face. Make yourself comfortable."
"Between men, no need for formalities," Meng Xiaodong said coolly. "Haven’t seen enough dirty guys before?"
Lin Yiyang rubbed the back of his neck—still sore. A hot towel might help. "Not being formal. My neck hurts. Need a hot compress."
He walked straight into the bedroom, his voice carrying from inside: "If you’re here for something, wait."
Meng Xiaodong almost felt like he was looking at a complete stranger.
The Lin Yiyang of the past wouldn’t have been this easygoing—not even the way he had spoken to Yin Guo at the door. That kind of demeanor would never have appeared on him before. He had learned to spare people’s feelings, to understand human warmth and coldness. But in Meng Xiaodong’s eyes, it was as if he had been plucked bare—once a soaring eagle in the sky, now a turtledove hiding in America.
Lin Yiyang didn’t waste another word before disappearing into the bathroom.
His younger cousin kept muttering about being tired and sleepy before retreating to the bedroom. Yin Guo also went into her room. She left the door slightly ajar, sitting anxiously on the bed, peeking through the crack. The next ten minutes crawled by, each second painfully slow.
A few minutes later, through the narrow gap, she saw the bathroom door open. Lin Yiyang emerged in sweatpants, bare-chested. The thin slit of the door didn’t give her a full view.
"Yin Guo," her cousin called from outside.
She was about to answer.
"Close the door."
"Oh," she replied, pushing it shut.
A soft click of the lock engaging, and whatever was said outside became inaudible.
Lin Yiyang stood in the living room, freshly shaven, the hot towel pressed against his neck for a few minutes—not much help. Shirtless, he rummaged through the plastic storage cabinet by the wall for some Voltaren. "What’s so important you had to make her close the door?"
"Haven’t figured out how to start," Meng Xiaodong admitted honestly.
"Take your time," he replied.
Both deliberately kept their voices low, not wanting the two in the bedrooms to overhear.
Lin Yiyang tossed the cooled towel back into the bathroom, opened a cardboard box, and pulled out a small tube of Voltaren. He unscrewed the cap, squeezed some onto his fingers, and rubbed it onto the back of his neck. Then he ducked into the bedroom, grabbed a clean T-shirt, and came back out.
"Figured it out yet?" he asked.
"I came looking for you. All these years, not a word. If Xiaotian hadn’t mentioned knowing two older brothers, I’d never have guessed you and Wu Wei were in New York."
Lin Yiyang stayed silent, tossing the medicine back into the plastic drawer.
"You quit playing?" Meng Xiaodong, never one for beating around the bush, went straight for it. "Don’t you think it’s a waste?"
He shut the drawer. "Still play. Gambling pays better."Meng Xiaodong wasn’t too pleased with what he heard. “I don’t want to talk about gambling. You know I have a short temper.”
Lin Yiyang shot him a sidelong glance. “Humoring you with a few words is already generous. Ever heard of fake courtesy?”
Their eyes met. The two former rivals silently studied each other in that moment.
Years had passed. Some things had changed, while others remained the same.
Back then, among the three of them, Meng Xiaodong had the most delicate, almost effeminate features, yet he was the most upright and serious at heart. Lin Yiyang, on the other hand, had a face that matched his rebellious nature—both inside and out, he was the most difficult to deal with. Only Jiang Yang, with his dignified, gentlemanly, and refined demeanor, hid a bellyful of “mischief” and always managed to mediate their conflicts.
But now, Jiang Yang wasn’t here.
Facing Meng Xiaodong alone was more than Lin Yiyang could handle. Years of cultivated pretense were on the verge of crumbling.
Lin Yiyang sighed, trying to smooth things over first. “You’re a world champion. Why bother with a nobody like me?”
“You’ve learned to mock yourself? What happened to the Young Master Yang of the past?” Meng Xiaodong wasn’t buying it.
“We’re pushing thirty. No more ‘Young Master Yang,’” Lin Yiyang said self-deprecatingly. “Can we not talk about the past? Old friends meeting—eating and drinking is fine, but reminiscing is off the table.”
“Fine,” Meng Xiaodong surprisingly agreed.
His next sentence was: “Then let’s talk about my sister.”
…
Lin Yiyang didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the other man, half-mocking.
As if to say: Nice tactic?
For the first time since entering the room, Meng Xiaodong cracked a rare smile.
As if replying: I’m not stupid.
On the way here, Meng Xiaodong had already pieced together about seventy to eighty percent of the situation from the information his brother provided. The moment Lin Yiyang walked in, his demeanor and Yin Guo’s nervous little expression had bumped that up to ninety percent.
Now, Lin Yiyang’s reaction confirmed everything.
“Guessed right?” Meng Xiaodong pressed his advantage.
Lin Yiyang finally laughed. “Meng Xiaodong, are you for real?”
Meng Xiaodong smiled too. “Rare to catch you off guard. Feels good.” He grabbed his coat from the corner of the sofa, put it on, and added, “Heard there’s a pool hall downstairs. Let’s play a few rounds. I’ll see if you’re qualified to cut in line among all her suitors.”
Lin Yiyang wasn’t thrilled with that remark. “If you want an excuse to play me, you don’t need to be so roundabout.”
Meng Xiaodong tacitly agreed. “See you downstairs.”
Bringing up Yin Guo was just an excuse for both of them. Meng Xiaodong missed playing against him too much.
Precisely because they were rivals, they were also the best of friends—not the kind who got drunk together or shared heartfelt talks, but the kind whose bond was forged through countless matches.
“Find a shirt to put on,” Meng Xiaodong tossed out as a parting shot before leaving. “I don’t play against people dressed like that.”
“That” referred to Lin Yiyang’s short sleeves.
The man left, and the door closed behind him.
Still as infuriating as ever—some things never changed.
Lin Yiyang set down his glass and headed to the bedroom, rummaging through Wu Wei’s closet for a shirt. Wu Wei was about the same size as him, and his closet was stocked with plenty of shirts, mostly reserved for competitions. After some digging, Lin Yiyang pulled out a plain black one, unbuttoned it, and stripped off his half-sleeve. Standing shirtless, he examined the shirt for a long moment, fingers rubbing the fabric. The texture was surprisingly good.
Back in the day, he’d only had the most basic clothes. If there were wrinkles before bed, he’d smooth them out with a damp towel, hang the shirt up, and wear it to the match the next day.Perhaps it was due to a strange, indelible sentiment toward dress shirts and suit pants—he hadn’t bought a single set for himself all these years. If he needed one temporarily, he would borrow it.
Yet the dress code for the competition remained firmly etched in his memory, impossible to forget: long-sleeved shirt, dark-colored suit pants, all buttons on the shirt fastened, including the cuffs, and the shirt tucked into the pants.
Lin Yiyang pulled on the shirt.
At the doorway, Yin Guo heard the front door close and quietly crept to Wu Wei’s bedroom.
She gently pushed the half-open door. "Did my brother give you any trouble?"
Her voice trailed off as she gripped the doorframe, seeing a Lin Yiyang completely unlike his usual self. In the room, the curtains were half-drawn, and light fell across his upper body. He was buttoning his shirt one by one—the black fabric making his face appear unusually striking, almost...
Lin Yiyang stepped closer and asked in a whisper only the two of them could hear, "Do I look passable?"
What did he mean?
"This," he said, gesturing to the shirt.
It had been years since he last wore one for a match.
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