Chapter 20: The Tide of Glory (2)
This was essentially a fundamental drill, having little to do with Snooker, Nine-ball, or Eight-ball.
It was precision training.
But with fifty balls and only three allowed misses, no one present—including Li Qingyan—could confidently claim they could achieve it. In truth, when Lin Yiyang made that statement, he felt his age. In his youth, he could have done it without missing a single ball. Unfortunately... the Snooker table still felt too unfamiliar to him. Having spent years playing on the smaller Nine-ball tables, he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t miss a shot after switching to the larger Snooker table.
Li Qingyan searched his memory again for who this person might be, but came up empty.
"He knows his stuff," Li Qingyan said, stepping behind Xiao Zi.
Xiao Zi nodded.
From the moment Lin Yiyang said, "I don’t play Snooker," everyone had guessed he wasn’t just an amateur. To remain so composed among a crowd of experts, he had to be one of them. And after Lin Yiyang examined the Nine-ball table for a few seconds before refusing again, Xiao Zi became even more certain—this man had both confidence and skill.
Xiao Zi picked up a red ball and placed it right in the center—an effortless position.
A simple opening, as a courtesy to both sides.
Lin Yiyang silently admired Meng Xiaodong’s leadership. Even if this was meant to humble him, the first ball placement was still respectful. He set the cue ball on the baulk line and sank it in one stroke.
No suspense whatsoever.
"Second one," Lin Yiyang said, withdrawing his cue and gesturing at the table for them to continue.
Over the next ten minutes, the red ball was placed in increasingly tricky positions.
Yet Lin Yiyang never slowed down. That was just how he was—the better his rhythm, the better he played, and the better he played, the sharper his rhythm became.
The moment the red ball was set, the cue ball would dart toward it, sending it straight into the pocket.
The first twenty placements by Xiao Zi were fairly standard—all pocketed.
By the thirtieth, Xiao Zi began positioning them more challengingly—still all pocketed.
By the fortieth, not a single ball had been missed.
...
The younger spectators were utterly absorbed. The thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds were so tense their palms were sweating as they watched over forty Snooker red balls zip across the table. This level of precision was beyond anything these youngsters could hope to achieve yet.
Forty-ninth ball.
Just as Xiao Zi picked up another red, Li Qingyan—who had been silently observing—took it from him.
Li Qingyan met his gaze. "Designated pocket. Any problem?"
Lin Yiyang didn’t care. "Your call."
Li Qingyan set up three balls: one cue ball, one red, and one black.
It was like recreating a fragment from a match.
"Is this one you won?" Lin Yiyang asked.
"No," Li Qingyan said. "A missed shot from the Welsh Open. Three days ago."
Lin Yiyang circled the table, then asked, "Which pocket were you aiming for then?"
"Middle pocket." But he had failed.
Lin Yiyang nodded, making his decision the second he bent down. Resting his cue on his left hand, he took his time aiming before striking.
A soft click—the cue ball hit the red.
Everyone assumed Lin Yiyang would send the red toward the middle pocket, but instead, it flew toward the corner pocket.
An unexpected shot, an extremely difficult angle.
But it went in.
After the red dropped, Lin Yiyang casually sank the black as well.
Li Qingyan stared at the table. After a moment of contemplation, he was the first to applaud.At that time, Li Qingyan had also considered this strategy during the match, but it was too risky. He opted for the safer middle pocket route instead—unfortunately, he missed. Who would have thought that days later, in this New York hotel, the man before them would flawlessly solve this very scenario.
Including the final black ball, all 50 balls were pocketed.
Not a single miss.
The young players from Beicheng were thoroughly convinced, both in heart and word, and broke into applause in tribute. Regardless of what discipline this man came from, his precision was undeniably world-class—professional level.
What was his identity, background, and competitive history? Where did he even come from?
Too many questions swirled in everyone’s minds.
No one spoke. Even Li Qingyan didn’t know how to ask.
In this eerie silence, no one moved.
Time seemed to stand still.
It wasn’t until Lin Yiyang handed the cue back to Xiao Zi that the frozen atmosphere finally shattered.
Yin Guo and a middle-aged man in a gray suit stepped through the crowd simultaneously. In truth, Yin Guo had been standing at the back the whole time, watching the last few shots with her coach, though she hadn’t made a sound to interrupt.
She had seen him play before. His precision didn’t surprise her in the least—the money games in Flushing had been far more intense than today.
Coach Chen walked up to the table, patted Xiao Zi on the shoulder, then picked up a red ball with a regretful sigh. He smiled amiably at Lin Yiyang. "Came out too late—missed my chance to join the fun."
When he first stepped out, he had been worried Lin Yiyang might affect the kids’ pre-match mindset.
Incidentally, as Yin Guo’s coach of several years, he silently formed his first impression of this young man—arrogant, principled, and with an air of grace.
"This is my coach, Coach Chen," Yin Guo introduced.
"Hello, Coach Chen," Lin Yiyang extended his right hand. "I’m Lin Yiyang."
Coach Chen passed the ball to Yin Guo and shook Lin Yiyang’s hand, introducing himself. "Chen Fang."
After the handshake, Coach Chen addressed the group. "I’d heard about him before coming here—Lin Yiyang. He was part of the same generation as your Sixth Brother."
Li Qingyan studied Lin Yiyang’s face again. He wasn’t a naturally gifted player himself, having entered the scene late and started competing later, so he couldn’t possibly know every player from Meng Xiaodong’s early days. After the tides of time, few from that generation remained—those who did were now the backbone of the industry, like Jiang Yang.
So to him, that generation represented one word: veterans.
As the leader of the new generation, Li Qingyan knew he had to handle the aftermath of today’s scene. He stepped forward and offered his hand. "Pleasure to meet you."
Lin Yiyang said nothing, shaking his hand briefly before letting go.
"Aren’t you catching a train?" Yin Guo shot Lin Yiyang a meaningful look.
Lin Yiyang found her nervous expression utterly endearing. "Right. Time to go."
"I’ll walk you," Yin Guo said immediately, then explained to Coach Chen, "The subway station’s close. I’ll be right back."
"Go ahead," Coach Chen agreed with a smile.
Only after the two had left did Coach Chen chuckle and ask Xiao Zi, "Used to being the hotshot, huh? Got humbled today?"
Xiao Zi laughed it off. "We were just messing around."
"And so was he—couldn’t you tell?" Coach Chen said bluntly. "He’s the kind who’d wipe the floor with even your Sixth Brother. If he hadn’t been mindful of your pre-match nerves, he’d have gone all out."
***The two were in the elevator, which stopped several times before everyone got off on the second floor.
Yin Guo waited for the floor display—still on the first level—he was about to leave. The entire day had been a whirlwind of being paraded around, hastily packing and coming here, as if she had wasted half the day for nothing.
“It’ll be dark again by the time you get to DC,” she said.
“Yeah.” Lin Yiyang had his hands in his pockets, watching her reflection in the elevator mirror.
The first floor arrived, and the doors slid open.
Lin Yiyang didn’t move.
She quickly pressed the door-open button. “We’re here.”
Waiting guests outside streamed in, dragging several large suitcases that separated the two of them.
Someone swiped their keycard, selecting a floor.
“If you don’t get out now, the elevator’s going back up,” she said, peering at him over the shoulder of a Middle Eastern man, urging him.
Two more people entered, swiped their cards, and pressed their floor buttons.
Yin Guo couldn’t keep holding the door open any longer—she could already sense the annoyed glances directed her way.
A second of silence.
“What floor are you on?” Lin Yiyang asked.
“…Sixth.”
He nodded. “I’ll walk you up.”
Wait, wasn’t she supposed to be seeing him off?
Yin Guo released the button. Only after the elevator began ascending did she remember to pull out her keycard, swiping it over the black sensor beneath the four rows of floor buttons before pressing “6.”
They were the first to step out into the hallway, where only two housekeeping staff were present.
Yin Guo had already checked in earlier and come up once to drop off her luggage. After confirming the room number on her keycard, she pointed left. The two maneuvered around a silver service cart, passing stacks of neatly folded white towels piled like small mountains.
She walked ahead, and he followed closely behind.
At the door, just as they entered, a staff member pushed a housekeeping cart past them.
Yin Guo nearly tripped over her own suitcase, which she had left just inside the doorway. Lin Yiyang spotted it first and nudged it further in. As she fumbled to insert her keycard, his hand pressed hers against the wall.
“Sharing the room?” he murmured, using his foot to push the door shut.
With a soft click, the lock engaged.
Blood rushed to Yin Guo’s head as she turned, her back pressed to the wall. “Yeah, with a girl—a younger teammate.”
What am I saying? Who would room with a guy for a competition? Of course, it’s a girl.
Lin Yiyang’s right hand settled at her waist, his left arm braced against the wall above her head as he leaned down, intent on kissing her.
“What if she comes back—”
“Five minutes,” he said, already at his limit. “No way it’s that coincidental.”
His breath warmed her forehead… Her heart seemed to lose the strength to beat, her breath hitching until their lips met. Unlike last night, she now had some experience with kissing—but just like last night, that experience was still woefully inadequate.
Lin Yiyang’s tongue swept past her teeth, and Yin Guo’s legs instantly weakened.
Thankfully, the wall supported her, along with his arms around her. The angle was awkward, so he adjusted slightly before leaning in again. A faint sting on her lower lip drew a soft gasp from her. The man before her sucked gently on her lip before deepening the kiss properly.
Yin Guo could almost visualize every movement—how he tilted his head, how their tongues tangled together.
Her mind blanked again, incapable of thought as they stood pressed against the wall, lost in the intimacy. How long five minutes actually was, she couldn’t tell. By the end, her tongue had gone numb, and her lower lip felt swollen from his bites.It was unbearably itchy, and biting her own lip did nothing to ease the restlessness in her heart.
Yin Guo struggled to catch her breath, her vision swimming as the world around her seemed to shift in size.
A man—from late January to late March, they’d known each other for two months.
But they had only met hurriedly every weekend. How had they ended up like this? Her logic had completely short-circuited, leaving only a simple desire—to be with him, just like this. Yet there was also a flicker of fear. What if he was a jerk?
He said he was pursuing her, but what if he already had a girlfriend? Or was playing the field?
She hadn’t even visited his school. Apart from a circle of well-known industry friends in New York and the fact that her cousin knew him, Lin Yiyang still held so many unknowns for her.
"Same as usual," he murmured against her cheek, his breath warm against her ear. "I'll be back this weekend."
"Mhm," she replied, lost in her own thoughts.
He chuckled.
"Can you say more than just 'mhm'? It’ll be another week before I see you again," he teased.
His laughter made her flush. "We can text," she offered.
Yes, they could.
But no touching, no holding, not even a simple handshake.
Every time, every week, Lin Yiyang felt like meeting Yin Guo was something new, as if it were the first time all over again. That was the charm of a long-distance relationship—but also its torment. Over the next four or five days, he was certain he’d replay their kiss in his mind countless times.
"In middle school, I skipped class a lot," he mused. "I’d hang out in pool halls, smoke on the field, nap in bathhouses—wasted so much time. If I’d known you back then, I would’ve ditched class every day just to be with you."
These past few days, Yin Guo had made him reminisce about his past self more than once—the good, the bad, the fiery, the reckless, even the impulsive mistakes he’d been tempted to make.
"I’m not leaving this week," Yin Guo said. "I’ll be here till early April."
She meant it as reassurance—that she’d still be around in March. But as soon as the words left her mouth, she realized they sounded more like a reminder: soon, once the early April tournament ended, she’d be going back home.
A heavy silence settled between them. Yin Guo noticed his Adam’s apple bob slightly.
She couldn’t guess what he wanted to say.
"I’ll be back soon—Thursday night at the earliest," she heard him say.
Yin Guo nodded.
Lin Yiyang didn’t let her walk him downstairs. At the door, he ruffled her hair before shutting it behind him and leaving. The hotel was already filling up with players here for the Open. As the elevator descended, Lin Yiyang ran into several of them.
When the doors opened, a familiar face greeted him—Berry, Yin Guo’s friend whom he’d met at the Flushing pool hall. Berry was pleasantly surprised to see him, but Lin Yiyang was in a hurry. They quickly exchanged contact info, promising to meet up when he returned to New York the following week, before parting ways—one heading to the subway, the other upstairs.
The subway platform was a whirlwind of people, wind, noise, and the deafening rattle of rusted metal frames shaking as trains passed. Standing there, Lin Yiyang thought about pulling out his phone to send her a message, but ultimately decided against it.
By the time he boarded the train, before he could even figure out what to say, Yin Guo had already sent him a voice message.She tapped to listen: "Hmm, let me think about how to ask you," followed by two coughs, as if hesitating. "You... tell me honestly, do you have another girlfriend? In Washington?"
...
Yin Guo sat restlessly in her hotel room after sending that voice message.
There was no reply for a long time.
Actually, it wasn't that long—just five minutes. But five minutes was an eternity for such a question. During those five minutes, she did many things—opened her suitcase, looked for clothes, washed her face—but none of it with her full attention.
Her mind was entirely on her phone, on WeChat.
Just as she dried her face, her phone vibrated with a WeChat notification.
Yin Guo hurriedly opened it, as nervous as checking her final exam results.
Lin: What are you thinking about?
A brief, Lin Yiyang-style reply. She could almost hear his tone and see his amused expression.
Immediately after, Lin Yiyang sent four more messages, this time in a more serious tone.
Lin: Just had no signal on the subway.
Lin: Trust me.
Lin: I'm serious about you. Very serious.
Lin: Trust me.
The soft white towel in her hands was crumpled into a tight knot.
Soon, another message arrived, still repeating those same careful words.
Lin: Trust me.
OpenNovel