Chapter 24: The You in the Story (1)
The man behind the counter was slow to react.
It was like an atomic bomb had been dropped out of nowhere early in the morning—who could handle that?
About ten seconds later, the man finally found his voice: "...Sister-in-law hasn't eaten breakfast yet? Let me go upstairs and see what we’ve got that a young lady might like."
The man ran into the elevator but then doubled back to ask if Lin Yiyang wanted anything.
"Don’t worry about me," Lin Yiyang replied. He’d grabbed something to eat on his way back from the supermarket.
The young men by the pool tables were all digesting the meaning of the word "sister-in-law," staring at Yin Guo with increasingly blatant—and enthusiastic—curiosity. But judging by Lin Yiyang’s expression, he wasn’t planning to formally introduce her to everyone just yet, at least not during breakfast. So they kept their distance, watching from afar.
Lin Yiyang lifted a high stool with one hand and set it down behind her.
Yin Guo silently sat down, though internally, her emotions were already churning like tidal waves, crashing over her again and again.
Lin Yiyang tilted his head, studying her eyes. "You upset?"
She shook her head, hands pressed against her flushed cheeks.
"Shaking your head means you’re happy," he leaned in closer, resting an elbow on the counter, his voice dropping to a murmur near her ear. "Or does it mean you’re not?"
The brown wooden counter bore the scratches of years gone by.
Yin Guo kept her hands on her face, ignoring his teasing.
He knew exactly why she was blushing—why was he asking on purpose?
"Is this pool hall yours?" she asked softly, afraid she might be wrong.
Lin Yiyang didn’t deny it. He lifted his chin slightly, gesturing to the space in front of them. "Originally, it belonged to the owner of a youth hostel. Someone else took it over but ran it poorly, so I bought it from them. That guy manages it when I’m not around."
Pool wasn’t exactly a popular sport here, and ever since Lin Yiyang took over, the place hadn’t turned a profit—it had been losing money. Luckily, he’d saved up over the years by living frugally, which kept him afloat.
To put it nicely, it was a business. To put it bluntly, it was a burden. On days without income, even the utility bills were a struggle. Fortunately, he always had kids learning from him, which helped balance the expenses.
The worst stretch had been the last two months—he’d had to pay six months’ rent upfront.
Then came the relentless snowstorms, cutting off power for days and killing business. Lin Yiyang didn’t have enough money, so he emptied his savings and even borrowed from Wu Wei’s stash to cover the gap.
It was during those poorest few weeks that he met Yin Guo.
Otherwise, after nearly three years here, he wouldn’t have been desperate enough to agree to gamble in Flushing just so a friend could help him host Yin Guo and her brother. Lin Yiyang was a man of his word—even though his friend never ended up treating them, he still honored the deal and played that game in Flushing.
Looking back now, it was fate. The heavens had meant for him to make that trip to Flushing, meant for him to meet Yin Guo there again.
"You own a pool hall, but you still went to Flushing to gamble?" Yin Guo happened to ask the very question.
Lin Yiyang looked at her, smiling, but didn’t answer.
He’d already told her, silly girl—it was to treat someone to a meal.
And that someone was you.The manager, Sun Zhou, quickly brought over a large serving of fruit and cereal, along with milk and an empty bowl—this was the breakfast he could think of to serve the girls. Sun Zhou usually rented a bunk long-term at the youth hostel to keep an eye on the billiards room, so he often saw the girls eating like this in the hostel's communal kitchen. In any case, fruit was always a safe bet.
Lin Yiyang’s usual routine was to practice in the morning—earlier if he had classes, later if he didn’t.
There was no fixed routine; he just played whatever he felt like.
For him, billiards was like a long-standing, unshakable hobby—something he did to unwind, pass the time, or calm his mind when it was in turmoil. Sometimes, when he was too tired to pick up a cue, he’d simply sit in the billiards room, listening to the rhythmic clack of balls, and find it soothing. That was probably the biggest reason he had spent all his savings to take over this place.
He was used to it.
Used to being here, used to the people here, even used to the smell of the place.
While Yin Guo was eating breakfast, he walked around to the counter, pulled open a small drawer that belonged to him, took out a piece of dark chocolate, unwrapped it, popped it into his mouth, took a bite, and chewed.
He noticed Yin Guo watching him. "Want some?"
Yin Guo shook her head. "Afraid of gaining weight."
Lin Yiyang turned the chocolate around to show her the nutritional info on the wrapper. "It’s not that easy to gain weight. The calories aren’t high. Just don’t eat it on an empty stomach in the morning—it’s bad for your stomach."
Ever since a hypoglycemic episode during morning practice in high school, he made sure to eat a piece of chocolate before playing. It helped him stay alert, replenished energy, and was good for his heart. Sometimes, if he didn’t have time for lunch or dinner, two pieces of dark chocolate and an apple with a bottle of water could serve as a meal replacement.
Here in his billiards room, eating cereal soaked in milk while watching him eat chocolate across the counter, on this utterly ordinary morning, she finally saw the most down-to-earth side of Lin Yiyang. Gone was the aloof man who had bought her drinks at Red Fish, or the one who had taken her around New York, arranged for a custom Magnum-like ice cream, and ordered her a drink from the year she was born.
The man before her now wore a black jacket and a white short-sleeved shirt—today’s shirt had English lettering on the front, the words "Saint Laurent" in black handwritten font. A rare sight—occasionally, he’d wear something with a brand name.
Lin Yiyang kept eating, finishing the chocolate in just a few bites. He crumpled the wrapper into a ball and tossed it into the trash bin in the corner. Then he picked up a glass, turned on the tap, filled it halfway with water, and took slow sips.
This was the man who had shared a bed with her last night.
She still remembered how her body had instinctively tensed when he kissed her neck and behind her ear, her fingers digging into his back without thinking. He had noticed and whispered in her ear: Does it feel bad, or too good?
His tone had been utterly shameless. At that moment, Yin Guo finally understood that the six-year age gap between them wasn’t just for show. Compared to him, the little punks she’d encountered in pool halls before were nothing.
Stirring her cereal with a spoon, she blushed at the memory of that brief, intimate moment.
Just a kiss on the neck, and the recollection was already damp and feverish.
"Can’t finish?" Lin Yiyang noticed she had left about a quarter untouched.
Yin Guo nodded. She couldn’t very well say she was thinking about last night.He casually took away her bowl and spoon, then naturally raised the pink bowl to his lips and took a sip. Men weren’t as delicate when eating—they drank it straight. The oatmeal wasn’t thick anyway, so it could be finished without a spoon.
Lin Yiyang took another sip, finishing it completely.
He tossed the bowl and spoon into the sink. “I have class this afternoon, so I’ll leave at noon.”
He had actually finished what she’d left behind.
Yin Guo was still staring at the bowl. Even her mother hadn’t done something like this—at least not that she could remember. The only time her mom had ever scolded her for wasting food was when she was little, and even then, her mom would just dump the leftovers onto her dad’s plate…
She didn’t know what other people’s boyfriends were like, but hers had just done this.
In front of her, Lin Yiyang snapped his fingers to bring her back to reality. “What’s on your mind?”
“The competition,” she lied, covering up her distraction. “There are so many local players I don’t know much about.”
Nine-ball was a niche sport, only really popular in the U.S. and parts of Asia. Coincidentally, this was its birthplace, and many players here had formed their own circles, competing only locally—much like Chinese chess, where players kept to themselves.
In many Asian tournaments, these players were nowhere to be seen.
So she wasn’t familiar with them.
Moreover, Nine-ball matches were unpredictable. A single mistake in the break could lead to losing seven or eight consecutive games, completely throwing the match. Unlike Snooker, which demanded more consistency from players.
That was why she still felt uneasy facing the local players here.
Lin Yiyang reassured her, “Their playstyles aren’t anything special. I’ll show you later.”
“Really?” Yin Guo’s eyes lit up.
Lin Yiyang chuckled, his voice hoarse as he teased her. “Would I lie to you?”
If he hadn’t gotten sick and disrupted his plans this week, he would’ve gone to New York to be her practice partner anyway.
Yin Guo was sharp—with just a little guidance, she’d quickly adapt to their playstyles.
Lin Yiyang didn’t want to influence her too much with his own methods. Every player had their own style, and losing that uniqueness would be boring—it’d just turn her into a competition machine.
As they talked, the young men and boys by the pool tables could no longer hold back. One after another, they complained about breakfast being too dry and how thirsty they were, crowding around Lin Yiyang to ask for water—though really, they just wanted a closer look at the suddenly appearing (or long-hidden) “sister-in-law.” A young Chinese-American boy, egged on by the others, grinned and asked, “Brother Yang, can we call her sister-in-law?”
Lin Yiyang’s throat was still bothering him, and he’d only been forcing himself to talk for Yin Guo’s sake. Faced with these brats, he couldn’t be bothered to respond. Instead, he grabbed a large glass bottle, turned on the water dispenser, and filled it to the brim.
The process took about ten seconds.
His authority was absolute—no one dared make a sound.
These people followed Lin Yiyang and listened to him, but unlike typical billiard clubs, he didn’t take a cut of their competition winnings. He only had one rule: if they made money in big tournaments and wanted to support this pool hall, they could contribute a reasonable amount to the account.
This place was like a home, and he was their free coach.
With everyone silent, Yin Guo felt awkward sitting there and spoke up first. “I’m Yin Guo. You can just call me Yin Guo.”
The moment “sister-in-law” spoke, the group sighed in relief.With that one sentence, the scene immediately spiraled out of control. A mix of Chinese and English filled the air as everyone introduced themselves and shook hands with Yin Guo.
“Hello, sister-in-law, I’m Zhou Wei.”
“Sister-in-law, I’m Li Qing.”
“Sister-in-law looks so young, are you eighteen or nineteen? Really?”
“Sister-in-law, do you play competitively too?”
...
Yin Guo was grateful she had grown up in pool halls and clubs, where men were the majority. Otherwise, being surrounded by so many boys calling her “sister-in-law” might have left her tongue-tied. Before her, a line of people eagerly waited to shake her hand.
Even the temporary players and hostel guests in the distance turned their heads, wondering if some celebrity had arrived...
In the end, Lin Yiyang came to her rescue. He placed a large blue glass bottle on the counter and asked, “Aren’t you thirsty?”
Though his words weren’t directed at anyone in particular, his sweeping gaze made it clear he was shooing them away.
The crowd took the hint and scattered. Each grabbed a cup, poured some water as a token gesture, and returned to their respective pool tables. Though they had dispersed, their excitement remained palpable. As they practiced, they whispered among themselves, quickly piecing together Lin Yiyang’s recent training schedule. No wonder he’d been absent even on weekends—he had a date with a beauty.
...
Lin Yiyang took off his jacket and led her to a freshly cleaned pool table. He picked out a slightly worn cue from the rack and gestured to the blue table in front of them. “Break.”
Yin Guo had already pulled out her cue and instinctively glanced around the edges of the table.
Lin Yiyang knew she was looking for chalk powder.
He found a new box by the window, opened it, and tossed her a green one.
Normally, Lin Yiyang would scavenge for nearly used chalk around the hall. As the owner, he was used to making do with leftovers—whatever others didn’t want. But he didn’t want to shortchange her.
By noon, their training session ended. Lin Yiyang called a car and took her to the hotel.
It turned out he had booked the room that morning without her knowledge. Yin Guo wanted to pull him aside and discuss it properly, but there was no chance. He had too much to do and couldn’t spare another second.
Before leaving, he only said, “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
A minute after she entered her room, Lin Yiyang sent her a message.
Lin: You didn’t sleep much last night. Rest this afternoon.
Xiao Guo: I didn’t get to finish what I wanted to say earlier. Can we split the costs? I don’t want you always paying for everything.
Lin: :)
Xiao Guo: This is an equal society. If you keep doing this, I’ll feel guilty.
Xiao Guo: You’re still a student, and Sun Zhou told me earlier that the pool hall is losing money—you’ve been covering the losses.
Lin: Regretting it?
Lin: For dating a broke student.
What nonsense… Yin Guo laughed as she replied.
Xiao Guo: Who hasn’t been a broke student at some point?
If not for her unconventional career, she wouldn’t have been able to earn prize money so early—she’d still be just another broke student.
Lin Yiyang didn’t reply.
Yin Guo figured he must have entered another dead zone with no signal. She didn’t dwell on whether he’d respond and decided to take a nap instead.
Lin Yiyang was right—from the moment she’d actually fallen asleep last night to when her alarm had woken her, she hadn’t gotten much rest. And this morning’s training session had been intense. With Lin Yiyang as her coach, one hour felt like three. Now that she was finally relaxed, her muscles ached.
She turned on some music from her iPad, intending to play something soothing.But when played out loud, it was the song "Friendship Years" that she had heard outside the pool hall the day Lin Yiyang first held her in his arms.
"Forget the rights and wrongs, let's reminisce the past, the days we weathered hardships always held joy... in the rushing wind and rain, untamed in wake and drunkenness, all stories seem to have unfolded in those wandering years..."
She pulled out a white cloth bag from her backpack containing a change of clothes, tossed it onto the bed, and headed into the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, a WeChat notification sounded.
Even with the hair dryer running in the bathroom, she heard it clearly. Ever since last week, she had set all WeChat notifications to mute—except for Lin Yiyang's. So this sound could only mean one thing—Lin Yiyang.
She dashed out in her slippers and grabbed her phone.
Lin Yiyang had sent several screenshots. When she enlarged them, she saw they were snapshots of his bank accounts...
Some from here, others from back home.
Lin: Apart from the pool hall, this is everything.
He hadn’t even bothered to blur out the account details—his trust was that absolute.
Yin Guo stared at the images, fighting back the sting in her eyes.
Suddenly, she felt like breaking down in tears...
So many words from so many people echoed in her ears. Like Wu Wei, who had shared the apartment with her, subtly hinting out of concern that she might look down on Lin Yiyang: "Dun Cuo is still a student, after all. Poor students can't help it—everyone struggles financially during their studies."
Or her cousin Meng Xiaodong, who had asked her just this week: "How’s it going? Don’t always let him spend money on you. It hasn’t been easy for him to get where he is. I heard his school is quite expensive."
Even Coach Chen had remarked: "What a shame back then. The rewards were meager. His results were better than your brother’s, yet he hardly got any prize money. If it were today, he could’ve bought several properties by now. But it’s fine—he’s young, with limitless potential ahead."
...
It was as if the whole world feared she would disdain him.
As if everyone believed that the man standing before her now was somehow unsuccessful.
Yet in her eyes, he was nothing but driven and exceptional—flawless, with no shortcomings whatsoever.
Yin Guo also opened her online banking app, took a screenshot, and sent it to him.
Little Guo: Mine.
Admittedly, she hadn’t saved as much as he had, but at least her earnings were purely personal income, unburdened by the expenses of running a pool hall.
Little Guo: If you ever need help with cash flow, just tell me.
Lin Yiyang went silent again.
The hot shower had left Yin Guo drowsy. She turned on the TV, planning to watch for a bit before sleeping, but within minutes, she was curled up under the blankets, fast asleep. The knocking on the door jolted her awake.
At first, in her groggy state, she thought it was the neighbors. But gradually, she realized it was her own door. She bolted upright, assuming it was already 7 p.m. The bright sunlight outside the window told her otherwise.
A glance at the clock showed she had only slept for about twenty minutes—it wasn’t even 1 p.m. yet.
She scrambled out of bed and peered through the peephole. In the magnified view of the hallway stood Lin Yiyang, holding a jacket and wearing the same white short-sleeved shirt from earlier—as if he had merely gone downstairs for coffee and come back up.
She opened the door, and he strode in without hesitation.
Yin Guo’s mind was still foggy. "I thought you said seven o’clock?"
Lin Yiyang studied her for a long moment before smiling. "Right. Seven o’clock."
He closed the door behind him, then proceeded to unfasten the metal watch on his left wrist. Right before her eyes, he turned the silver hands backward—six full rotations—until they pointed precisely to seven.From now on, until he saw her off on the train back to New York, he wouldn't leave again.
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