Chapter 29: Passion Still in the Heart (2)
She pressed her left hand to her chest, her eyes genuinely reddening. Her throat tightened for a long moment, but not a single word came out.
Lin Yiyang chuckled softly and asked in a low voice, "You spoke so smoothly to Meng Xiaodong, but now that you see me, you can't say anything?"
Yin Guo couldn't argue with him, so she pushed him. When that didn’t work, she pushed him again.
Her reaction was that of a girl freshly in love.
"You didn’t even warn me," she said with a nasal tone, complaining. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."
"Not happy?"
...
He knew the answer—she was overjoyed.
Lin Yiyang half-knelt beside her on her left. His jacket, draped over his left arm, was damp from the rain outside, as were his sneakers. His hair was half-wet too.
His eyes were still slightly red and glistening, remnants of the emotions he’d carried through the door. Yin Guo had no idea how high a wall he had built in his heart, nor how much effort it had taken him to overcome his own pride.
All she saw was that he was wet, hadn’t brought an umbrella, and must have come straight from the subway station.
He took the plastic container and sandwich resting on her knees and set them on the floor in the corner, carefully sealing the lid. Then, still half-kneeling, he opened his arms to her.
Yin Guo’s heart skipped a beat as she threw herself into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging like a child, unwilling to let go. After a while, she sniffled and buried her face in the crook of his neck, murmuring, "You didn’t even bring an umbrella. Your hair’s all wet."
He carried the scent of dust and long-distance travel—proof that actions spoke louder than words when it came to winning a girl’s heart. Just the back-and-forth trips between New York and D.C., the sheer distance covered, was enough... more than enough.
"Always rushing over like this—how are you going to graduate?" she fretted.
Here she was, a college senior, worrying about his academic progress—clearly overthinking things. But Lin Yiyang didn’t mind being cared for like this. Teasing her, he asked, "If I don’t graduate, will you dump me?"
Yin Guo nuzzled her face deeper into his neck before answering seriously, "Even if you don’t graduate, I’d still want you."
No matter what.
Lin Yiyang smiled and pressed his cheek against her warm little face.
There in the corner, one half-kneeling and the other seated on a small chair, they held each other, whispering quietly. Lin Yiyang didn’t hold back—his embrace was tight, leaving no space between them, completely indifferent to the onlookers.
The entire East New City crew’s jaws practically hit the floor.
Even Jiang Yang hadn’t expected Lin Yiyang’s relationship style to be this sickeningly sweet. It was beyond anything they could’ve imagined. As for the brothers who’d once been crushed and humiliated by him on the pool table, or the young boys and girls who idolized their elusive "Little Uncle"—they all finally understood the true meaning behind Wu Wei’s recent mutterings about Lin Yiyang being "done for."
That little junior from North City was something else—no words could do her justice.
From a distance, Jiang Yang watched with amusement. Chen Anan muttered under his breath, "Please don’t kiss. If word gets out, Meng Xiaodong’s sister’s reputation will be ruined." This was an international Open, representing the Chinese team. If they actually kissed in the pre-match lounge, it wouldn’t reflect well on them as athletes.
"Don’t worry, Old Six knows his limits," Jiang Yang reassured quietly. "He respects this arena too much for that."An athlete's reverence for the competition arena is deeply tied to their passion for the sport—the greater the love, the deeper the respect. Only this sense of reverence can drive someone to willingly dedicate their all, even a lifetime of devotion.
As Jiang Yang had anticipated, Lin Yiyang didn’t do anything out of line.
He came quickly and left just as fast.
Before the final women’s group match began, three groups of people appeared in the spectator stands.
To the east was East New City.
Jiang Yang sat in the front row with Chen Anan and Fan Wencong. The Nine-ball competitors occupied the second row, where Wu Wei and Cheng Yan were seated. The third row was filled with junior and youth division players, all eagerly discussing "Sixth Brother’s wife."
To the west was North City.
Meng Xiaodong sat alone in the front row. Behind him, half were Snooker players led by Li Qingyan, who had "passed through" New York with Meng Xiaodong on their way to a competition in Ireland. The other half were Nine-ball competitors, all quietly waiting to watch their junior sister.
Lin Yiyang entered as a "coach."
He didn’t have a grand entourage, just two boys from Washington sitting with him in the southern section. One of them had just advanced but had been too nervous to eat lunch. After finally winning, he was now munching on a burger: "Sis-in-law’s match is gonna be epic. Xinia’s the Singapore Open champion, right?"
"Yeah," the other added, "ranked third in the world."
Lin Yiyang sat in the front row, elbows resting on his knees, fingers interlaced, his index fingers lightly rubbing the bridge of his nose… His eyes appeared calm, but his gaze was intensely focused on every detail of the arena—the table, the referee, the scoreboard.
A Grand Slam had once been his goal.
But before leaving the competitive scene, he hadn’t even had the chance to compete internationally. Eleven years later, he was back in a tournament setting—only this time, in the stands. The irony wasn’t lost on him.
The match had just begun.
Xinia seized the break shot right away.
"Xinia’s always had good luck," the commentator’s voice echoed clearly through the stadium. "We can see she’s secured the break smoothly. It looks like she has a strong advantage today."
In Nine-ball, the break shot is crucial—this was common knowledge.
Yin Guo sat quietly on the red sofa, cradling her cue, watching her opponent take the shot.
She knew she’d be sitting on the sidelines for a while.
Sure enough, her opponent, holding the break, showed no mercy, sweeping the first four games in a row. Amid rounds of applause, Xinia pressed her advantage, and by the end of the fifth game, she still held the break.
This Open followed a 20-game format, with the first to 11 declared the winner.
Xinia was already at 5, while Yin Guo remained at 0.
Lin Yiyang’s gaze never left Yin Guo, who sat composed in the wide sofa. He knew she was waiting—waiting for her opponent to make a single mistake.
"Absolutely brilliant!" the commentator cheered for Xinia.
Another wave of applause.
The two boys behind Lin Yiyang were too tense to speak.
The scoreboard read 5:0, about to jump to 6:0.
Only two balls remained on the table. Xinia took a quick shot, but the ball hit the pocket and, unexpectedly, didn’t drop.
The opportunity had arrived.
Yin Guo stood up.
From this moment on, the table belonged to her.This Chinese girl—you can't give her an opening. Once she seizes an opportunity, she’ll ride it all the way to the end. In this final group match, he witnessed the true Yin Guo on the professional stage.
Back in Washington, Yin Guo had once asked him why he played fast shots. Wasn’t he afraid of losing?
Lin Yiyang’s answer was—during those years away from the competitive scene, when he was completely free from the constraints of wins, losses, or rankings, he had truly come to understand the joy of billiards. Playing fast was simply because it made him happy.
What he wanted to say was—
Enjoy it, Yin Guo. This is your career for the next decade or more.
Only by enjoying it can you endure the day-after-day training without holidays or breaks. Only by enjoying it can you persist in this niche sport, which has never made it into the Olympics and was even dropped from the Asian Games years ago...
Finally, the scoreboard began to show Yin Guo’s points—5:1.
Five minutes later, 5:2.
Another four minutes, 5:3.
"Sis-in-law’s mental game is solid," the boy behind Lin Yiyang clapped enthusiastically.
This was only the beginning.
Lin Yiyang thought.
Forty minutes later.
The scoreboard had jumped from an initial 5:0 to 5:9.
Nine consecutive games won, zero mistakes.
Yin Guo was already the season’s biggest dark horse, and now, in this final match, she had fought her way back from a significant deficit with astonishing consistency.
So much so that even the commentators couldn’t hide their excitement about her future career: "This season, this Chinese player has given us quite a surprise. Finally, a fresh face we can’t ignore."
"She knows the Nine-ball table too well—from the cushion’s bounce to the table’s edges. Every setup is perfect," another male commentator chimed in with a smile. "You can imagine she’d be an amazing partner in women’s doubles."
"Too bad this Open doesn’t have doubles."
"We can look forward to the Singapore Open. I wonder if she’ll sign up?"
"She definitely will. This is only the first Open of the year. Mark my words—she’ll be in the Eight-ball, Nine-ball, and women’s Nine-ball doubles at the Singapore Open."
...
The scoreboard updated again—5:10.
The applause grew even louder.
One final game.
Every ball she pocketed was met with a round of cheers.
Suddenly, Yin Guo slowed down, as if she’d hit a snag. She tried leaning over the table twice, her upper body stretching almost entirely across it, but still couldn’t reach the cue ball.
Finally, she straightened up, frowning slightly in frustration. The moment was magnified on the big screen.
Lin Yiyang couldn’t help but laugh.
Shorty’s gonna need the extension now, huh?
Sure enough, Yin Guo found her extension in the side bag, twisted it onto the butt of her cue, and secured it.
She returned to the table, testing the reach. Yep, that’ll do.
"The player has opted for the extension," the commentator’s voice echoed through the venue. "She’s going for it again."
Before the commentator could finish—
Click. Into the pocket.
Click. Another one down.
The commentator couldn’t keep up with her pace. She swiftly cleared two balls, then lined up the nine-ball.
Yin Guo paused once more.
She wrapped her right hand around the black cue, sliding her palm slowly from the tip all the way down to the base—a mental ritual. Come on, let’s win this. She silently told the cue."The final shot is quite challenging," the commentator added. "The nine-ball is tight against the middle of the bottom cushion. Sinking it into the corner pocket is difficult, and the side pocket is even riskier."
She leaned down, her eyes fixed on that nine-ball.
After three seconds of silence, she still chose to aim for the corner pocket.
With a stroke, she hit it very thinly, almost without any force. The yellow nine-ball slid slowly along the edge, rolling toward the corner pocket.
Finally, the yellow nine-ball barely reached the edge of the pocket, and with a soft clatter, it dropped in.
Instantaneous applause erupted, filling the entire venue.
They were congratulating this Chinese girl for breaking out of the "hell group" and advancing to the quarterfinals!
"Congratulations to Yin Guo from China!"
"Congratulations to Yin Guo for making it to tomorrow's quarterfinals!"
...
Yin Guo's eyes were full of laughter, brimming with joy. She shook hands with her opponent in respect, then turned and gave her coach a big hug. The coach was also grinning so widely he couldn't speak, patting her back several times.
Amid the applause, Lin Yiyang had been watching her from afar.
Unable to see her face clearly, he looked up at the live broadcast of Yin Guo on the big screen—her little expression, her eyes glistening with tears... still very much a kid at heart.
He stood up to leave but noticed on the screen that Yin Guo suddenly turned and ran toward the stands.
"Sis is coming over, she's coming!" The boys behind him noticed first.
The one who had just won the match was now running toward the stands. Everyone in the audience craned their necks—who was she looking for?
The arena was surrounded by sponsor billboards. Lin Yiyang was in the first row of the stands, separated by the boards, watching as Yin Guo jogged over, slightly out of breath, stopping in front of the railing and the billboard.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining. "Come here for a second."
Lin Yiyang was both amused and exasperated but had no choice but to humor her. He walked to the railing and crouched halfway down.
Silly girl, this is still being broadcast live.
"Give me your hand," she said from below.
Lin Yiyang hesitated but finally extended his hand through the railing.
Yin Guo immediately clasped it with both hands. Her palms were sweaty—from gripping the cue too long during the match and from the excitement of victory. Through the railing, she gazed at him, her face reddening.
"That's enough," he coaxed softly. "We'll talk backstage."
He tried to leave again.
"Just one sentence, let me finish," she urged hastily.
Before her final shot, Yin Guo had already decided what she wanted to say to him—to make him happy, to make him smile.
She still remembered his reddened eyes when he came to the restroom before the match. But now, with the words on the tip of her tongue, her boldness from wielding the cue and decisively defeating her opponent on the table faltered.
She rose slightly on her toes, trying to get closer to him, even though the billboard and railing still separated them.
"I won today," she whispered, suppressing a grin. "So... this match is for you, my queen."
Lin Yiyang, even though I arrived at this arena many years after you, from today onward, my glory is yours. Every bit of applause I receive, you receive too.
The winner is king. Today, I am the king, and you are the queen.
The two of them stared at each other across the railing.
Behind Lin Yiyang, the two boys burst into laughter.My sister-in-law is just too adorable. I never could have imagined that this guy, who could handle all the challenges on the pool table and casually make regional champions kneel when they came to provoke him, would be completely tamed by such a little girl.
"Why aren't you laughing?" She couldn’t hold back and laughed first, shaking his hand.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to laugh—it was that he had never experienced being cherished like this before.
A strange warmth surged through his body, washing over his bones and veins. He didn’t want to admit it, but he had to—he was at a loss.
Lin Yiyang pulled his right hand free and gave her forehead a firm flick. He seemed to be smiling as he lowered his voice and said, "The year I won the championship, you were just starting elementary school. No respect for your elders."
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