Chapter 16: The Affairs of a Mortal World (2)
The standard attire for boys, young men, and men in the club was shirts and dress pants. She thought she had long grown weary of seeing it, yet she still wanted to steal a few more glances at him like this.
Yin Guo quietly pointed to the back of her own collar, hinting at him.
Lin Yiyang understood but didn’t move.
She whispered, "Your collar isn’t folded right."
"Where?" he asked softly.
...
Yin Guo reached around with her left hand and tapped the spot—this time, she actually touched it.
Lin Yiyang got the message. He reached his right hand behind his neck, pinched the outer edge of the collar with three fingers, and slid them around to the plastic button at the front, smoothing out the uneven crease. "Better?"
"Yeah." She tried hard to keep her thoughts purely about the shirt.
But perhaps it was professional habit—she noticed he wasn’t wearing a belt with his dress pants. She wanted to suggest he borrow one from her brother, but then again, this wasn’t a match.
Lin Yiyang stood facing her, their legs nearly touching, for about half a minute before he finally smiled. Turning away, he dug through the pile of pants in the wardrobe and pulled out a black belt—nothing as high-end as Meng Xiaodong’s, just something Wu Wei had picked up on sale. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow, and he barely managed to fasten it on the last hole, but at least his pants wouldn’t fall down.
When Yin Guo saw him threading the belt through his waistband, she couldn’t bear to watch any longer and turned to leave.
"Your brother," he said as he walked out, fastening the buckle, "wants to play a few rounds with me. You can come watch if you want. If not, wait at the apartment—I’ll be back soon."
Lin Yiyang gave her shoulder a final pat. "I’m off."
He passed by her, grabbed the jacket he’d tossed on the sofa when he arrived, and opened the apartment door. Closing it behind him, he descended the stairs, mulling over whether he should go easy on the guy or play for real.
That was a question worth serious consideration.
The walk only took a few minutes, and the weather was nice, so he didn’t bother wearing the jacket, just carried it in his hand until he reached the pool hall.
Meng Xiaodong had found the place on a map and was waiting outside.
Lin Yiyang didn’t waste words with him, just asked for the room. Since Yin Guo had been training there, it had been booked from afternoon till night—Lin Yiyang had arranged it privately. The moment he walked in, the older guys inside greeted him enthusiastically, even mentioning how hardworking his "little girlfriend" was, training day after day.
Meng Xiaodong heard it and shot him a glance.
Lin Yiyang pretended not to notice, closing the door behind him and gesturing to the Nine-ball table in front of them. "This one?"
Meng Xiaodong said, "You should know me—unless I switch careers or retire, I don’t play Nine-ball."
It was his way of respecting his own discipline.
Lin Yiyang smirked lazily. "Since I left the club, I haven’t touched a Snooker table."
The two exchanged a look—neither seemed willing to budge.
Lin Yiyang picked up an orange ball from the table, tossing it lightly in his hand. "Wait here."
Then he left.
Meng Xiaodong leaned against the window, watching the gradually darkening street outside. Every time he came for competitions, he stayed at designated hotels with the club members, playing in pre-booked halls—bigger, cleaner, quieter. This small pool hall, with people drinking outside and smoking by the entrance, noisy with music, reminded him of his childhood.
Before long, Lin Yiyang returned, a cue in his left hand and a cardboard box in his right.A white cardboard box contained a full set of Snooker balls. There was only one Snooker table here, rarely used, often left empty. The balls were kept in an old beverage box. He dumped all the balls from the box onto the table.
1 white ball, 15 red balls, and 6 color balls—22 in total.
Worried some might be missing, he ran his hands over them, counting each one on the table. The sight of so many red balls, especially on a blue surface not meant for them, felt oddly unfamiliar.
Lin Yiyang bent down with deliberate care, arranging the balls one by one. "Nine-ball table, Snooker balls. A compromise for both of us."
Nine-ball tables were smaller than Snooker tables, with larger pockets. Meng Xiaodong had never played on such a small table, while Lin Yiyang hadn’t touched Snooker in over a decade. This setup leveled the playing field.
Lin Yiyang gestured outside, indicating: Pick a cue.
He knew Meng Xiaodong hadn’t brought his own. "House cues. Make do."
When they returned, Meng Xiaodong fished a coin from his wallet.
Unlike Nine-ball, the break in Snooker offered no real advantage. Back in their competitive days, referees would toss a coin to decide who went first. Lin Yiyang waved it off. "Guest’s privilege. You break."
Since scoring was involved, he called over an elderly man familiar with Snooker to keep track. The man rarely visited this pool hall and didn’t know Lin Yiyang well, but he recognized Meng Xiaodong immediately.
Though Snooker wasn’t popular in the country, the phrase "world-ranked top player" still drew attention. Word spread quietly from the makeshift referee, and soon, the entire hall had gathered by the doorway to watch.
Two men—one in a black shirt, the other in white, both in dress pants.
Lin Yiyang stood slightly taller. Asian features lent them a youthful look; to the middle-aged spectators, they seemed barely past twenty.
The first frame went to Meng Xiaodong.
His shots were always steady, his precision legendary since childhood. He studied each ball before sinking it, pausing briefly but never exceeding 25 seconds per shot.
Lin Yiyang leaned against a chair by the wall, watching the sea of red. For fleeting moments, the sight of those Snooker-exclusive reds triggered flashes of memory—familiar scenes resurfacing with every ball that dropped.
He’d assumed Meng Xiaodong would clear the table in one visit and even asked for a cup of hot water to warm his stomach.
But to his surprise, the young master fumbled in this obscure little pool hall.
"Your turn," Meng Xiaodong said.
A smirk played on his lips as he set the cup down and rose from the chair. With the playful energy Meng Xiaodong knew well, he gripped the cue in one hand, the other tucked in his pocket. He bent low, studying the remaining balls under the table light. "Going easy on me?"
Meng Xiaodong ignored the jab.
The man in black circled half the table, then suddenly leaned in. With a sharp strike, a red ball fell without hesitation. Straightening, he pointed at the farthest black ball with his index finger, silently declaring his next target.
Snooker and Nine-ball differed in rules—one scored by points, the other by sequence.First, you need to pot a red ball, then choose any color ball to hit. Every time a color ball is potted, it must be taken out and returned to its original position. Once all 15 red balls on the table have been potted, the color balls no longer need to be removed and are potted one by one in order.
Red ball: 1 point, yellow ball: 2 points, green ball: 3 points, brown ball: 4 points, blue ball: 5 points, pink ball: 6 points, black ball: 7 points.
Simply put, to score high, you need to keep potting high-value color balls.
There are many other rules, and the slightest mistake can lead to point deductions.
...
So on this evening, a rare scene unfolded in the pool hall—
Lin Yiyang, who usually preferred fast-paced play, had stopped, allowing others to witness his thought process. Except for Meng Xiaodong, no one knew what he was thinking. He was recalling the rules of Snooker and the point values of each ball.
Both were masters of the game, and after three rounds, they were fully immersed in the competition.
Lin Yiyang played faster and faster, clearing the table in the fourth round with a single break, earning applause and cheers from the entire room. Someone raised a beer bottle and shouted "Lin," purely to cheer him on.
Yet Lin Yiyang merely shrugged and pointed to the corner outside, saying, "A case of beer, on me."
This statement drew even louder cheers.
By the fifth round, it was Meng Xiaodong's turn to break.
Lin Yiyang returned to the pool chair, and the owner's son immediately leaned in. "Who is he?" the kid asked curiously.
"An old—" Lin Yiyang paused, then slowly uttered a word, "brother."
"A professional Snooker player?" the kid asked again, curious.
Lin Yiyang nodded.
"The referee said he's in the world's top five, with high prize money."
Lin Yiyang wasn't familiar with the current state of the industry. That day, Jiang Yang had used Meng Xiaodong as an example to explain the current prize system. This season, Meng Xiaodong was temporarily ranked fifth in the world, with accumulated prize money exceeding £600,000—an impressive annual income.
But it was nothing extraordinary.
If he worked a little harder and explored more career options, in a few years, catching up to Meng Xiaodong wouldn't be difficult. Being with Yin Guo wouldn't be considered shabby.
At this thought, he couldn't help but smile: What are you thinking, Lin Yiyang?
He ran his right hand through the hair on his forehead, trying to clear his mind, then pulled a few bills from his pocket and handed them to the owner's son, whispering a couple of instructions to settle the beer tab.
The kid obediently ran off to handle the errand. When he returned, he quietly leaned in and whispered, "Your girlfriend is outside."
Yin Guo?
Lin Yiyang took out his phone and found Red Fish.
Lin: Here?
Red Fish: ...I told him not to tell you. I wanted to wait until you finished playing.
Lin: We're done.
Red Fish: That fast? Who won?
Lin: :)
He set the phone down on the chair and walked over to the pool table, tapping the edge. "Let's wrap this up."
This round hadn't yet determined a winner.
Meng Xiaodong straightened up. "Can you take this seriously?"
Lin Yiyang leaned against the table, showing no fighting spirit. "Tired."
There was something he couldn't be bothered to say: I didn't take a several-hour train ride back just to play pool with you.
Lin Yiyang glanced at the table, where three red balls and all the color balls remained. He picked up his cue and quickly potted them one after another—fast shots, fast potting, fast positioning—ignoring Snooker rules entirely, just clearing the table to end it.Finally, only the white ball and the black ball remained on the table. Purely for fun, he leaned down, resting his chin lightly on the dark brown cue. In his line of sight was Yin Guo, peering over the crowd of rough-looking men.
He grinned and struck the ball with a powerful hit—
The black ball shot like an arrow toward the corner pocket and, with a dull thud, dropped straight in.
Meng Xiaodong glanced at the white ball teetering at the pocket’s edge and smiled approvingly.
With such a forceful strike, the black ball could easily have rebounded, and the white ball might have followed it into the pocket—yet neither happened. Without thousands of hours of practice, how could one execute such a flawless shot?
Lin Yiyang was still the same as before, pursuing absolute perfection with every stroke, every shot.
Yin Guo wasn’t sure who had won.
By the time the crowd dispersed, she walked to the scoreboard by the door—only to find it already wiped clean.
Meng Xiaodong dried his hands, checked the silver metal watch on his wrist, and asked Yin Guo, “Are you coming back with me? The club’s hotel?”
“No, it’s already dark,” Yin Guo replied. “I’ll visit you tomorrow.”
Meng Xiaodong nodded. “Walk me out.”
This was unusual—normally, he couldn’t stand anyone interrupting his training. Had he taken the wrong pill today?
Yin Guo muttered to herself as she followed him outside.
She had waited in the cold wind for their game to finish, only to step back out moments after going inside. The wind crept under her collar, chilling the nape of her neck. A food truck was parked by the roadside, its front adorned with a flapping poster of colorful condiment bottles—red, green, and yellow—under the glow of a streetlamp that cast light on their faces.
“I’ll call you a cab,” she told her cousin.
“No need. I’ll take the subway.” Meng Xiaodong approached the food truck and ordered a hot dog.
Yin Guo waited by the dark brown wooden door, sheltering from the wind. Her cousin was acting strange today—why buy a hot dog from a street vendor when he could eat at the hotel? Soon, the vendor handed him a freshly made one.
Meng Xiaodong took the hot dog and returned to Yin Guo’s side.
Years ago, he had rescued Lin Yiyang from being cornered by a girl in the locker room after a match—a memory still vivid. Now, fate had brought his sister and Lin Yiyang together.
He took a bite of the hot dog and frowned. He didn’t eat spicy food, yet he’d inexplicably asked for hot sauce. Unable to spit it out in front of his sister, he forced himself to swallow.
After clearing his throat, he finally spoke. “Are the two of you serious about marriage?”
Yin Guo thought she’d misheard. “Huh?”
“He’s a good man, though his family background isn’t ideal—mainly, no parents. But that’s not a problem. If your parents object, I’ll handle it.”
Yin Guo was stunned by her cousin’s bluntness.
No parents? Wait, no—why was he bringing up her parents?
Meng Xiaodong continued without pause. “Do your best to convince him to return to China and marry you.”
Marriage?!
“You’ve got it all wrong!” Yin Guo cut in urgently. “We’re not at that stage!”
Meng Xiaodong chuckled.
His laughter made Yin Guo uneasy—but really, they weren’t in that kind of relationship…Meng Xiaodong noticed her flushed cheeks and gently touched her bangs. "In our profession, the career span is long. With his skills, he could play until he's forty without a problem. He's only twenty-seven now, right in his prime, with plenty of opportunities ahead. Yin Guo, try to persuade him to come back to China. You don’t know..." just how talented he is.
Yin Guo couldn’t fully grasp Meng Xiaodong’s feelings.
Back when they were both rising stars in China, there had been a whole group of them training hard and competing together. Now, only a handful remained. In truth, Meng Xiaodong had come here today with another purpose—to test Lin Yiyang’s fundamentals. Years of practice for a moment on stage. If Lin Yiyang had slacked off even a little, it wouldn’t have escaped Meng Xiaodong’s notice.
It was heartening to see that deep down, Lin Yiyang still loved and couldn’t give up this sport.
The trouble was, Lin Yiyang lacked a competitive drive.
He was the least concerned with winning or losing. Winning made him happy, but losing didn’t faze him. What he pursued was making every match exciting and brilliant. It was precisely because of this attitude that he had achieved the best results among the three young players. Though the teenage Lin Yiyang had always joked that he played only for the money, once he stepped onto the court, everyone could see—whether in his shot selection or positioning—that he played to make it beautiful, to enjoy himself.
And that was what made it so difficult. Slogans like "aim for world number one" wouldn’t move him.
Meng Xiaodong had never known how to handle Lin Yiyang—not on the court, and certainly not off it. He genuinely hoped that a good relationship might change Lin Yiyang. He meant it from the bottom of his heart.
Rolling up the paper, he stopped eating the hot dog in his hand and repeated, "You must get married."
"Brother!" Yin Guo stomped her foot in embarrassment.
Meng Xiaodong, in high spirits, chuckled and strode toward the next block after spotting the subway sign.
Yin Guo lingered at the doorway, mulling over her cousin’s words.
Her phone suddenly vibrated. Opening it, she saw a message from her cousin. Their last interaction had been the New Year’s red packet he’d sent her.
M: Thought you’d go for someone more mature. Didn’t expect you to like a pretty boy.
You’re the one everyone in the circle calls the number one pretty boy…
Little Guo: We’re not even together yet, seriously.
Her cousin didn’t reply.
Click, click—the faint sound of a lighter’s lid snapping shut.
So soft, it seemed to land right on her heart.
Her thoughts snapped back to the present, to the pool hall. Lin Yiyang stood by the door, one hand casually tucked into his trouser pocket, flicking the lighter as he watched her. Judging by his expression, he’d been there for a while.
The street outside the pool hall was under renovation. Rusty scaffolding formed a long walkway, with wooden planks suspended above their heads. The sky was now completely dark, the planks blocking the streetlights, casting yellow light at their feet.
Words circled on the tip of her tongue but never escaped. All because of her cousin’s ramblings—even bringing up marriage… She couldn’t even look at him directly now. Feigning nonchalance, she turned her attention to a middle-aged man buying a hot dog from a food cart. The yellow mustard bottle was squeezed, spiraling onto the sausage in neat swirls.
Lin Yiyang, unfazed, kept playing with the lighter. Waiting for her.
The man at the food cart left, leaving her with nothing else to watch. Yin Guo had no choice but to look at him again. Lin Yiyang smiled but still said nothing.Yin Guo helplessly emerged from behind the wooden door on the left and walked down the two steps at the entrance of the pool hall, stopping in front of him. She made a casual, indifferent remark: "You came back earlier than last week today."
Last week at this time, he had just arrived in New York. This week, he had already finished playing and sent his cousin off.
"Wanted to see you sooner." He snapped the lighter shut.
Laughter erupted loudly from inside the pool hall—those guys were getting drunk. Night had fallen, and the nightlife was beginning.
He was staring at her. Just staring and staring.
"That lighter looks nice," she continued with meaningless chatter.
"Not bad," he replied.
"Yours?"
Lin Yiyang shook his head.
To prove her sincerity, Yin Guo reached out her hand, signaling: Let me take a closer look.
Lin Yiyang handed her the lighter. The aged silver stainless-steel casing flashed in the night before he tossed it to his right hand. With his left, he grasped Yin Guo’s hand.
Someone laughed—it was the pool hall owner’s son, who had just stepped out but immediately turned back inside.
Yin Guo’s heart pounded wildly.
On the streets of New York, under the night sky, it felt like everyone was watching him hold her hand—the food cart vendor, the passerby buying a hot dog, the diners sitting outside the restaurant across the street, the people inside the pool hall… But in truth, no one knew who they were, and no one cared.
From inside, someone called out, "Lin!"
Startled, she tried to pull her hand back.
He responded, "I’m not coming in. Taking her to get something to eat." Despite his words, he didn’t move from his spot by the door. Instead, he tugged Yin Guo closer, making her stand near enough that anyone passing by would instantly assume they were a couple deeply in love.
OpenNovel