Chapter 30: Passion Still Burns (3)
He, the king who had dominated the arena since he was thirteen, actually had a day when he was teased like this. Truly, the world was changing, people's hearts were no longer what they used to be, and luck had turned all the way to Siberia.
Lin Yiyang stood up, the two boys from the pool room still laughing behind him.
He smacked one of them hard on the back of the head: "Let's go."
Lin Yiyang walked backstage, heading to the restroom alone to splash water on his face. Still feeling irritated, he cupped water in his hands and drenched his short hair, staring at his reflection in the mirror—his face shrouded in mist.
This sink, the marble countertop under his palms—everything here belonged to this stadium. Over these past few days, how many players had come and gone through this place?
It all felt like a dream.
The first time he stepped into a competition stadium, it was an open hall with thirty-four pool tables.
Each table was placed close to the others, with a referee in a black uniform standing beside each one. Rows of black leather chairs were arranged next to the tables for the players to rest. That was his first time entering a competition venue, and the memory was vivid—the sounds of cue strikes and balls dropping into pockets everywhere, over thirty tables, sixty or seventy players competing at once...
As lively as a pot of boiling dumplings.
Lin Yiyang pulled out a paper towel, wiping the water from his hair and chin, then crumpled it and tossed it into the trash. Just then, a few male coaches from China walked in behind him. Seeing Lin Yiyang, they smiled and nodded in greeting.
He returned the nod and left.
Outside the rest area, Meng Xiaodong was leading the North City team, everyone carrying their cues and luggage, ready to leave the venue.
Earlier in the rest area, Meng Xiaodong hadn’t been present, so this was their first real encounter.
When you’ve lived long enough, you realize that certain people and scenes always replay in life. For instance, Meng Xiaodong, dressed in a shirt and dress pants, standing before him once again, every button from his cuffs to his collar meticulously fastened. In the past, they’d often cross paths in the rest area, exchanging disdainful glances before brushing past each other.
"Drink?" This time, it was Meng Xiaodong who stopped first.
Behind him, the North City team looked surprised, unsure what had gotten into Old Meng. Even if this was his future brother-in-law… this was too enthusiastic, completely unlike his usual temperament. Of course, none of them knew that Meng Xiaodong had deliberately led his team to New York before their Ireland competition—not primarily to watch Yin Guo’s match, but to see this old friend who had disappeared for years, the one he couldn’t even be bothered to greet in the rest area back then.
Lin Yiyang smirked.
Someone behind him answered for him: "Of course."
Jiang Yang, eyes brimming with amusement, led the East New City team to stand behind Lin Yiyang. "It’s rare for two Snooker players like us to come watch a Nine-ball match. Since it’s such a rare occasion, why not make it a group thing? Everyone together."
It would also be a chance for the younger players to properly meet Lin Yiyang—officially, in a post-match gathering.
"How are we drinking?" Meng Xiaodong asked them.
"How about this," Jiang Yang stepped up beside Lin Yiyang, resting a hand on his shoulder. "We’ll book a suite at the hotel. I’ll buy the drinks, and we can drink freely in the room."
"Split it half and half. Good liquor isn’t cheap," Meng Xiaodong calmly accepted the suggestion. "I’ll buy our share."
...Lin Yiyang didn’t join the discussion about who would buy the drinks. Instead, he turned to the two boys from his billiard room behind him and told them to disband for the day and get some rest. One of the boys had already made it to tomorrow’s quarterfinals and needed to recuperate before the match.
The two boys politely nodded farewell to the people from East New City and North City before squeezing their way out.
Now, only he remained.
Lin Yiyang pulled a black wallet from his back pocket, opened it, and handed a bank card to Wu Wei. Wu Wei was momentarily stunned before understanding—having spent the past few years with Lin Yiyang, he knew his temperament better than anyone.
Lin Yiyang’s hand rested on Wu Wei’s shoulder. “You’re used to living here, more familiar than them. Go buy the drinks.”
Before the leaders of the two clubs and billiard clubs could say anything, Lin Yiyang averted his gaze, watching as Yin Guo emerged from the playing area with her cue in hand. “No need to fight me over this tonight. Back when I was poor, I never had the chance to treat everyone. Now, though I’m not exactly thriving, I can still afford a round of drinks.”
Finally, he said to Jiang Yang, “Send me the hotel room number. Don’t schedule it too early—I need to have dinner with her.”
With that, he brushed past Meng Xiaodong, stepped through the crowd from North City, and walked toward Yin Guo.
Yin Guo had already noticed the group of them by the lounge entrance.
Most girls would be drawn to these gentlemen of the sport, but she had always been immune—or so she thought, assuming it was because she’d seen too many of them. Men in tailored suits, who had won countless matches and applause, were everywhere in the clubs and pre-match lounges.
But at this moment, as Lin Yiyang emerged from the crowd of men from East New City and North City, walking toward her alone, Yin Guo realized she wasn’t immune because she’d seen too much—she just hadn’t met the one she liked.
The one she liked was this poor owner of a billiard room attached to a youth hostel. The ordinary international student who had taken a long-distance train to this city just to watch the matches. The “coach” who didn’t even have a proper lounge, only bringing two players with him.
This man, who never spoke of his past glories no matter how brilliant they were. This man…
Whose first move every time they met was to extend his right hand, waiting for her to pass him her cue.
“Brother, I’m heading out first,” she called out to Meng Xiaodong in the distance.
Meng Xiaodong waved, signaling for her to go ahead.
“Back to the hotel?” Those were Lin Yiyang’s first words to her.
She nodded, then hesitated, keeping her voice low as she walked beside him. “I’m not staying in the room alone.”
He smiled. “I know.”
It wasn’t like he hadn’t been there before.
The walk from the stadium to the hotel was short—just ten minutes.
At the entrance, Lin Yiyang borrowed an umbrella from a staff member. Under its shelter, she stayed completely dry, while he might as well have not used it at all, with half his body soaked.
Before stepping into the elevator, Yin Guo was still thinking: if she told her roommate she’d be back later, the implication would be obvious.
But saying that would be blatantly announcing that she wanted to be alone with her boyfriend in the room to do… whatever they wanted. How shameless would she have to be to say or do that?
Besides, bringing a man into a shared room for… that kind of thing wouldn’t be very respectful to her roommate.
All in all, it was inappropriate. Maybe, she thought, they should just book another room?This seemed like the safest option—first go up to drop off their things, let him wait in the room, and then come down alone.
Yin Guo made up her mind.
Only after entering the hotel elevator did she realize Lin Yiyang had pressed a floor number she didn’t recognize. She tugged lightly at his sleeve and whispered, “You booked a room?”
“Yeah.” The apartment was too far. If he wanted to watch her three-day competition, staying here was the only way.
The elevator ascended.
It carried seven or eight people, with her and Lin Yiyang standing at the far right.
She leaned against him, her face brushing the fabric of his sleeve. If she lowered her gaze, she could see the tattoo on the inner side of his arm. It was early April, and he was running around in short sleeves without a care for the cold.
Yin Guo wanted to touch his arm to see if it was cold. The moment her fingers grazed the outer side of his arm, Lin Yiyang’s gaze dropped to her. This wasn’t like the competition venue—they were in a hotel now.
After days apart, he wanted to hold her hand, touch her face, kiss her.
“Almost there,” he murmured, his eyes locked onto hers.
She held her breath and gave a slight nod.
With a soft ding , the elevator doors slid open.
His hand slid down from her arm, gripping one of hers as he led her out.
Room 1207.
Lin Yiyang carried her cue case while fishing the keycard from his back pocket. As he pulled it out, he leaned down.
His lips brushed her forehead, then her nose, moving lower. She pressed her back against the doorframe. “We’re right at the door,” she murmured, yet neither of them stepped inside.
Because they were at the door, he didn’t want to push further.
He wanted to kiss her lips but held back, instead asking, “Why did you go for the corner pocket on the last shot? A bank shot would’ve been prettier.”
He was talking about pool.
The hand holding the keycard slid down from hers, settling at her waist.
Then he pressed closer.
“I’m good at thin cuts,” Yin Guo whispered, her lips barely parting, each movement teasingly close to his. “...Not so good at banks…” His mouth captured her lower lip, and a shiver raced up from her waist—his grip had tightened.
He chuckled lowly. “And yet you dared to call me queen ?”
His tongue slipped past her teeth just as she heard the sound of the door unlocking, her mind spinning.
“I’ll make you cry on the table a few times, and then you’ll learn,” he murmured.
Lin Yiyang scooped her up by the waist, setting the cue case on the side table by the entrance. The longing was too much—every kiss, every entanglement sent his pulse racing...
A whole week. Between shuttling between campus, the apartment, and the pool hall, what had he been doing, thinking, in every space she wasn’t? A week with only ten minutes of conversation each night—how had he gotten through it?
He didn’t know. He didn’t know how.
Lin Yiyang didn’t lead her toward the bed, afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop. Half-measures would only fan the flames and leave him worse off.
He just wanted to be close for a while before heading out to buy her dinner.
Outside, the rain poured. It would take a solid ten minutes just to get back—he didn’t want her going out in this. He’d bring food back, and they could eat in the room.
Wordlessly, he nipped at her lips—holding, releasing, his hand idly kneading her waist. “Why are your eyes red?”
After a pause, she said, “I’m leaving next week.”
“Which day?”
“Wednesday.”
There was a competition in Hangzhou in late April.
Lin Yiyang wasn’t surprised by her packed schedule. Instead, he asked, “Can’t even make it through the first Open without burning out?”...Yin Guo was suddenly enveloped in a wave of sadness and didn’t feel like joking. She pushed against his chest.
“Thinking of me, yet pushing me away?” He chuckled softly, teasing her. “Let me do the math for you. Today’s Friday, and your competition won’t fully end until Sunday. By next Wednesday, it really won’t be long. Might as well hold on tight—every extra minute counts.”
Still joking… She glared at him.
Lin Yiyang noticed her genuinely low spirits and tightened his arms around her, letting out a sigh-like sound from deep in his throat. His chin rested on the top of her head. They hadn’t embraced for long when a phone vibrated.
Not his—hers.
Yin Guo didn’t feel like answering. Close friends and family knew she was here for the competition and wouldn’t call unless necessary. Half of her club members were here, seeing her daily, while the other half were scattered across Open tournaments worldwide, too busy to reach out.
The caller was persistent, refusing to hang up.
Finally, Yin Guo pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen.
Caller ID—Li Qingyan.
...
She felt inexplicably guilty, especially after realizing Lin Yiyang had also seen the name. She had intended to decline the call, but with him watching, she couldn’t just hang up.
Clearing her throat, she answered and held the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“You couldn’t talk earlier,” Li Qingyan’s voice came through. “Congratulations on making it out of the group stage.”
She hummed in acknowledgment, glancing up at Lin Yiyang.
He was looking down at her, unwavering, his face even closer now. His fingers brushed behind her ear, then trailed to the nape of her neck, where his thumb idly twisted a loose strand of her hair.
“Xiao Guo,” Li Qingyan hesitated, “I originally planned to wait until after next month’s Ireland Open, when my world ranking climbs a bit higher, before telling you… Some things are hard to explain over the phone. Maybe it’s better when we’re back in the country.”
Yin Guo’s heart pounded nervously as she kept pressing the volume button on the side of her phone, lowering it further.
Lin Yiyang’s hand, growing impatient at her waist, slid upward beneath her shirt. Her entire focus followed his touch, her nerves stretched thin…
He paused, locking eyes with her, then silently pointed at the phone: Give it to me.
Dazed, Yin Guo couldn’t guess his intentions but hesitated as she studied him: What are you planning?
“Business,” he said.
After a moment’s thought, she decided handing it over was fine—she had nothing to hide. But she still felt obliged to explain politely. So she said into the phone, “Lin Yiyang’s here with me. He wants to talk to you about something.”
Li Qingyan didn’t back down. “Alright.”
Lin Yiyang plucked the phone from her fingers and held it to his ear. After a long silence, he spoke: “I don’t have Meng Xiaodong’s number, so I’ll ask you through Xiao Guo’s phone. Did he buy the liquor yet?”
Li Qingyan was momentarily thrown by the question. “Yeah, all twelve-year Chivas.”
“Getting old, drinking Chivas now,” Lin Yiyang remarked evenly. “Not bad—very healthy.”
“His health hasn’t been great these past few years. He’s been drinking it for a while.”
“What time? Which room?”
“Eight o’clock. Room 1000.”
“Got it,” Lin Yiyang said briskly. “That’s all. You two can continue.”Yin Guo turned the volume down as low as possible, but he could still hear everything clearly. With his old temper, someone like Li Qingyan would have been left bedridden for three days. To put it simply, this kid was just asking for a beating—or in East New City’s slang, "looking for a thrashing."
But there was no hurry. He’d deal with it tonight.
Yin Guo hastily ended the call.
She carefully observed the man holding her. There didn’t seem to be any particularly angry reaction—he probably hadn’t heard the later part of the conversation.
Lin Yiyang stared at Yin Guo for a long moment before asking, "What’s on your mind?"
She shook her head, pretending nothing was wrong.
"Little Guo’er?"
Just as she was about to speak, she suddenly gasped, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, her mind turning into a jumbled mess. The unfamiliar stimulation left her at a loss—she could only cling to him, brows furrowed, unable to tell whether it felt good or bad, her breaths coming in short, uneven gasps.
Lin Yiyang’s gaze never left her, his hand moving from left to right. His throat tightened—he wanted to look openly, to kiss her. He tried to grasp, but everything was so soft, slipping through his fingers.
After several unsuccessful attempts, he finally chuckled lowly and asked, "How are they this big?"
Now, Lin Yiyang had to admit—back in his youth, at the skating rinks and pool halls, he’d always wondered why boys couldn’t keep their hands out of girls’ clothes. Maybe it was just juvenile competition, an eagerness to explore the unknown.
But wasn’t it also the pull of desire, the inability to resist? Hormones at play, love taking over—an indescribable urge to conquer the girl he liked, or perhaps, to be conquered by her.
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