Chapter 21: The Tide of Glory (3)
No unnecessary embellishments.
Yin Guo stood by the sink, yet those three words—"trust me"—struck the softest part of her heart. She had no resistance left; the moment she saw them, she surrendered completely, even feeling a deep sense of guilt, as if she were bullying an honest man.
Though, he certainly didn’t have the face of an honest man.
Their sport demanded high standards of etiquette on the court—gentlemanly, always gentlemanly.
But in her eyes, these men were just ordinary people. Many of them cracked dirty jokes in private, chased after girls, and were all too good at smooth talk. Of course, there were also the reserved and disciplined ones, like her cousin and Li Qingyan.
But the Lin Yiyang of the past was definitely not the reserved type.
By his own description, he was that kind of reckless teenager—troublesome and a downright scoundrel. When Yin Guo thought of him, she pictured the kind of boy she often saw in middle school: sitting on the parallel bars, skipping class to smoke, hanging out with a bunch of delinquents at the school gate, or brawling in pool halls.
Yet it was this very person.
When he wasn’t spouting smooth talk or playing games, he had an irresistible, devastating effect.
Sunday. Thursday.
Five more days.
Five more days until she could see him again. She missed him so much.
Lin Yiyang stood on the platform, waiting for Yin Guo’s reply. He didn’t want to go back into the subway where the signal might drop again.
This station was just one stop away from Yin Guo’s hotel, still in the bustling heart of the city.
A man knelt on a tattered rug, beating a hand drum and singing. People came and went, but few stopped to listen. Only someone like Lin Yiyang would stand there, keeping the drummer company.
A minute later, Yin Guo replied.
Red Fish: I’ll come to the train station to see you off. I’m leaving now—let’s meet at the station.
As he received the message, another subway train pulled in.
A group of kids stepped out of two carriages, carrying cue cases—they were participants in next week’s Open, teenagers chatting and laughing as they passed Lin Yiyang. Two black-haired girls among them turned back, giving him a deliberate once-over, giggling as they whispered to each other about the rare sight of such a handsome Asian man with black hair and eyes on the street.
But the man they were eyeing only had eyes for the words on his screen.
He glanced at the gypsy-style drummer and, amid the rhythmic beats, told her:
Lin: I’m at the next stop. On the platform.
When Yin Guo dashed into the subway car, panting as the doors closed behind her, she took three seconds to reflect and concluded that one phrase described her perfectly: infatuation clouds judgment .
She began to wonder—when exactly had she started seeing him differently?
It had to be earlier than that drink. Definitely.
It was that day in the Chinese pool hall in Flushing, when he stood with his back to her, weighing the cue ball in his hand, urging everyone to raise the stakes. It started when he said, "Let me see what you’ve got."
Every athlete had a competitive heart, no matter how deeply hidden or how humble they appeared—it was in their bones. Some wanted to outdo others; some wanted to outdo themselves. And those with a competitive spirit naturally admired strength.
The train announced the next stop.
They were arriving.
Lin Yiyang had said he’d be waiting on the platform and told her not to get off.
As the train pulled into the station, she pressed against the door, searching the platform through the window for his figure.
Soon enough, she spotted him.He stood alone on the platform, a sports backpack slung over his shoulder, his gaze scanning the train carriages. Since they had entered the platform from the same entrance at the hotel station, their boarding positions couldn’t be too far apart. Lin Yiyang could roughly estimate which carriage she was in. As soon as the doors opened, he stepped inside.
Yin Guo held onto the metal pole beside the seat, watching as he walked through most of the carriage before stopping right in front of her.
“I’ve already met with the coach, and my training schedule is flexible. It’s no trouble to see you off and come back,” she justified her actions, searching for a reasonable excuse. “You’ve always been the one coming to me. It’s my turn to send you off for once.”
In a public space, Lin Yiyang couldn’t do anything too forward. He simply lowered his head and looked at her.
This was an unfamiliar Lin Yiyang—or perhaps the real Lin Yiyang.
At this moment, he wasn’t the least bit gentlemanly. Instead, he resembled a delinquent loitering outside a pool hall, teasing the girl he liked with nothing more than his gaze.
Yin Guo, having been pretty since childhood, had often encountered such types. But her cousin had plenty of friends, and word had spread through school and the surrounding neighborhoods: no one was allowed to mess with Meng Xiaodong’s little sister. At most, she’d only ever been subjected to lingering looks.
She used to find such things annoying, but now…
Under his gaze, her face grew warm, layer by layer. Not burning hot, just warm.
“If you don’t say anything, I’ll get off at the next stop and go back,” she muttered, unable to bear it any longer.
“I don’t say nice things,” he admitted bluntly. “I’m afraid I’ll offend you if I talk too much.”
Truthfully, when she thought about it, he had rarely spoken properly to her.
Their conversations had always been sparse.
“Were you always like this in the past?” Yin Guo asked curiously. “Not fond of talking?”
“Pretty much,” Lin Yiyang recalled. “With guys, I don’t have to hold back.”
She understood that.
The better the relationship between men, the more they insulted and cursed at each other. The closer women were, the more they gossiped, with conversations inevitably circling back to emotional matters. They were entirely different ways of communicating.
“What about with girls?” she pressed.
“Girls?” he said. “They’re probably scared of me. Few ever talk to me.”
“Was there never a girl you wanted to talk to? Not even once?” She found that hard to believe.
Lin Yiyang knew exactly what she was getting at. He countered, “Have you ever seen your brother take the initiative with anyone?”
Yin Guo shook her head. Meng Xiaodong was an oddball, ridiculously arrogant.
He then asked, “So, did you think I’d be any worse than your brother?”
Finally, she had met someone as arrogant as Meng Xiaodong.
Yin Guo was left speechless.
However, she soon spotted the flaw in his logic—he had taken the initiative before. He had pursued her.
Lin Yiyang noticed the inconsistency in his words too but didn’t point it out. Instead, he simply met her gaze, an unspoken understanding passing between them. So it wasn’t arrogance—it was just that he hadn’t met someone who could make him fall. No matter how proud a person was, everyone was equal in that regard.
Soon, they arrived at the next station, which meant their time together had dwindled by another stop.
“Why did you say I had a girlfriend in Washington?” he asked quietly, his voice hovering above her head.
“It felt… too fast,” she confessed. “I didn’t feel very steady.”
Even standing here in the subway carriage with him right in front of her, it still lacked a sense of reality. It felt surreal, mysterious, impulsive.
It was hard to put into words. She knew she wasn’t being rational, but what she feared more was regret.If she had rationally rejected Lin Yiyang, the two would have returned to their respective life trajectories, gradually drifting apart—or perhaps maintaining some contact, only to one day hear news of his marriage and children...
Just thinking about it made her uncomfortable. Deeply uncomfortable.
"Tell me, how can I prove my innocence?" he asked again, this time in a much lighter tone.
Yin Guo was amused. "I came to see you off—what more proof do you need?"
If she didn't believe him, she wouldn't have come at all.
He smiled too.
He wanted to say that ever since his student days, he'd been busy every day—earning money, completing credits, and setting aside fixed hours for billiards practice. This graduation year had been especially grueling, squeezing three days' worth of tasks into one as he juggled job hunting and PhD applications. Even he couldn't believe he'd managed weekly trips to New York during this period. Truly, human capacity for self-exploitation knows no limits.
In such a state, having a girlfriend would have been a luxury, let alone engaging in shady affairs.
...
At the train station that day, Lin Yiyang nearly missed his train. He swiped his ticket hastily at the gate and waved twice at Yin Guo before descending the escalator, urging her to leave quickly.
But Yin Guo didn't move. She stood outside the queue, watching until his figure disappeared, then lingered for a while with a sense of loss.
Just as she was about to leave, Lin Yiyang sent a message—a screenshot of an Uber reservation.
Lin: Take the car back.
Little Guo: I'll take the subway back the same way. It's convenient.
Lin: The car's here. Go now.
Lin: Be good.
Prodded by him, she exited the station and found the car. The driver in front turned back with a smile: "Are you Lin's ride?"
Yin Guo nodded as the car drove away from the station.
Also departing was Lin Yiyang's train bound for Washington.
The train wasn't crowded. Scanning the carriage, Lin Yiyang unexpectedly spotted a familiar face—the Black mother he'd met months ago when returning to school after the blizzard.
What caught his attention first wasn't her face, but the two infants—one still crying, the other playing—as the flustered mother struggled to prepare formula. Tossing his sports bag onto the rack, Lin Yiyang took the seat beside her and hoarsely offered, "Let me help."
She didn't immediately recognize him but gratefully thanked him.
Following his memory from last time, Lin Yiyang prepared the formula, shook it evenly, and handed the bottle over. Only then did the mother connect the familiar scene, exclaiming joyfully, "We met months ago on this train, didn't we?"
Lin Yiyang nodded. "Two months ago."
While feeding the baby, the mother explained she made regular trips to visit her husband, hence traveling with two infants. She asked if he frequently traveled between cities too—for work? A girlfriend? Family?
Lin Yiyang just smiled without answering.
He wasn't someone who could fully open his heart. The more important something was, the less he spoke of it—even to complete strangers.
Later, he dozed off, waking with a sore throat—the precursor to illness.
His overloaded schedule was already stretching his limits. The additional travel exhaustion made sickness inevitable.Back at the apartment in the evening, she took some vitamin C and fell into a heavy sleep. She woke briefly before dawn and saw the WeChat message she had typed to Yin Guo—fully written but never sent.
...
At four in the morning, Yin Guo’s phone vibrated under her pillow.
Still half-asleep, she forced herself awake and fumbled for her phone, hoping it was a message from Lin Yiyang. She had waited hours for this check-in text. After sending one inquiry and receiving no reply, she assumed he was too busy and didn’t press further.
Squinting at the screen’s glow:
Lin: Arrived.
Did he just get here? At 4 a.m.?
Xiao Guo: Did something happen on the way? You’re so late.
No response.
Arriving this late, he’d still need to unpack, shower, and sleep.
Yin Guo didn’t dwell on it. She turned off her phone and went back to sleep.
The junior and youth group matches were this week; the professional tournament was next.
Yin Guo followed her training routine at the hotel, occasionally running into East New City members in the breakfast hall or nearby restaurants. Since the incident with Lin Yiyang, the entire East New City team had treated her as their “Little Uncle’s” future wife, showering her with enthusiasm.
Her own club teased her about it:
East New City and North City have been rivals for so long, only to end up with a “marriage alliance.” Truly, long division must unite...
Early Thursday morning, Coach Chen informed her she’d be watching the youth group matches that day.
Yin Guo calculated her schedule: if she attended the matches in the morning, her training would have to shift to the afternoon, making dinner impossible. So, seated by the window in a corner of the breakfast hall, she scooped a spoonful of milk-soaked cereal into her mouth and texted him one-handed.
Xiao Guo: Watching matches today. Can’t do dinner—ask Wu Wei to eat with you.
Lin: Won’t make it back today. Don’t worry about me.
A hollowness opened in Yin Guo’s chest. She suddenly didn’t know how to reply.
She had meticulously planned everything in the preceding days. Though it didn’t show outwardly, inwardly she’d been counting down each day.
Xiao Guo: Same as usual. Coming back tomorrow?
Lin: School’s busier than expected this week. I’ll go early next week.
So he wasn’t coming at all this week?
If this week was wasted, only one remained—just next week to see him.
The thought of being separated from Lin Yiyang indefinitely after returning to China made the hollowness worse.
Her spoon stirred the cereal, the ceramic clinking against the bowl. Another WeChat notification—she expected Lin Yiyang, but it was her cousin.
Tian Tian: Sis, keeping you company this weekend~
Xiao Guo: ...No time for you. Entertain yourself.
Tian Tian: Lin ge’s orders.
Meng Xiaotian sent six or seven screenshots—all restaurant reservations.
Tian Tian: He booked seats and transferred money to me. Told me to handle meals from Thursday to Sunday.
Xiao Guo: Why take his money for meals?
Tian Tian: He said it’s private between you two... I’m just providing labor.
Yin Guo propped her chin on her hand, staring at the last line. The hollowness slowly began to fill.
Xiao Guo: He just told you this?
Tian Tian: Last night, around midnight. Let me check the time.
Tian Tian: Past 2 a.m.
So he’d arranged it last night.
Yin Guo lowered her head, silently took two more bites of cereal, and made a decision.
Xiao Guo: I’m not going. But don’t tell him.
Tian Tian: Oh...
Xiao Guo: Transfer the money to me. No embezzling.
Tian Tian: Oh...Meng Xiaotian quickly transferred the money to her.
Yin Guo picked up her bowl, devoured the cereal and fruit, and finished her breakfast.
She returned to her room, selected an afternoon train ticket online, and first went to find Coach Chen to request leave starting this afternoon. She wouldn’t be training at the hotel this weekend, but her practice schedule wouldn’t be disrupted.
Coach Chen trusted Yin Guo completely and approved it without hesitation.
A little past three in the afternoon, Yin Guo sat on the train to Washington, D.C., gazing at the empty small platform outside the window, still wondering when to tell him.
This was her third time going to D.C. The first was with Zheng Yi, the second two months ago with her cousin… and now, the third time, alone. This trip was also the least prepared—she didn’t even know Lin Yiyang’s apartment address and hadn’t booked a hotel in advance, afraid she might end up too far away.
The ticket inspector moved through the train, checking tickets one by one, while unfamiliar scenery passed by outside the window.
Everything felt like it was straight out of a movie—yes, a movie—because she was doing something she never would have done before: traveling alone, over a long distance, just to see someone.
The train arrived, she disembarked, and followed the crowd out of the station.
Standing inside the station’s main entrance, she looked out at the faint reddish-yellow hue in the sky, knowing it would soon be dark.
Finally, she took out her phone, suppressing the excitement in her heart, and gave him a surprise.
Xiao Guo: Are you at school?
Lin: Yeah.
She pressed her lips together in a small smile, then snapped a photo of the burger joint Lin Yiyang had recommended to her cousin.
Xiao Guo: I’m here.
One second, two seconds, three seconds… Had she startled him?
Just as Yin Guo was about to send another message, Lin Yiyang replied.
Lin: Stay where you are. I’ll come to you.
Xiao Guo: No, no need. I just wanted to surprise you. Give me your address—I’ll take a cab over. No need to come get me.
Lin: Stay where you are.
Lin Yiyang was a stubborn person. He was probably already on his way and wouldn’t let her argue.
Knowing him a little, Yin Guo didn’t reply further. She obediently bought a cup of iced cola and stood in place, waiting. By the time she finished the drink, he still hadn’t arrived. She tossed the empty cup into the trash and glanced outside—it was dark now.
The station was large, but with few passengers, making it feel vast and empty.
Seeing the moonlight was nice, Yin Guo thought about waiting outside. But just as the idea crossed her mind, she spotted a familiar figure. Unshaven again, with that tired look in his eyes, he strode in with his phone and a black wallet in his right hand.
From the moment she saw him, Yin Guo’s heart felt like it had been gripped—suspended, held tight.
At first, Lin Yiyang didn’t see her, frowning as he scanned the area.
“Here,” Yin Guo called out. “Lin Yiyang.”
He turned at the sound of her voice and spotted Yin Guo with her backpack and cue case, finally relaxing slightly. Standing before her now, he truly wanted to see her—and here she was, dropped from the sky. He wanted to hug her, but with so many people around, he held back.
“Aren’t you cold?” she asked as she got closer, noticing his thin jacket over what looked like a short-sleeved shirt.
Once night fell, the temperature would drop below 10°C. This was way too little to wear.
Had his face gotten thinner, or was it just the unshaven scruff making him look worn out? She studied his face. “I came to see you. You can stay busy—don’t worry about me. Just find me a pool hall to practice in. There must be one, right?”
After she finished speaking, he still didn’t respond. Weird.
Her gaze dimmed slightly.Lin Yiyang gazed at her, his pupils reflecting nothing but her. He wanted to speak, but it was quite difficult. Still, he managed to rasp out a low, hoarse whisper: "What nonsense are you thinking? My throat's ruined."
As he spoke, he pointed to his own throat and gave a bitter smile before adding: "Can't talk."
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