Chapter 31: The Passion Still Burns (4)
Lin Yiyang pressed his forehead against hers, thinking he really shouldn’t have called her "Little Guo."
But then again, never mind.
He mused that if he were still the brash, confident young man he once was, he would have carried her to bed, stripped away every last piece of clothing restraining her, and indulged in conquering the body he so desired. To hell with competitions—he had already reached the pinnacle, was the undisputed king of the arena, and what was his would naturally be hers.
That age… truly was a time of naivety and arrogance, of strength yet fragility.
Yin Guo bit down on her lower lip, restraining herself, unsure of what she even wanted. The sensations he stirred in her made her ache. Lin Yiyang watched her, then straightened her clothes for her.
"It’s pouring outside. Stay here—I’ll be back soon," he said.
Yin Guo nodded.
Her fingers traced his face, his chin, the bridge of his nose, then slipped behind his neck, sliding upward. His short hair was coarse, clearly trimmed recently—especially the back, now so short that the ends prickled against her fingertips and palm. It tickled.
It was… maddening.
Lin Yiyang’s heart softened under her touch. All he had planned was to scout for a decent restaurant nearby and bring back dinner. Studying her, he asked, "What’s on your mind?"
"I don’t know…"
Her mind felt both empty and full—devoid of coherent thoughts yet overflowing with everything at once.
Every sensation was a first in her life. He was the first man to have ever been this intimate with her.
Suddenly, Cheng Yan came to mind—the image of Lin Yiyang being pursued. Feigning nonchalance, she remarked, "Cheng Yan is quite pretty."
"Cheng Yan?" After waiting so long, this was the odd comment she landed on. Lin Yiyang couldn’t quite follow her train of thought. "Why bring her up?"
"Thinking about her makes me jealous. I don’t know why."
She had never been this petty before. But the more she liked someone, the more possessive she became.
He pulled her hand away from his neck, holding it, wanting to say something. But Cheng Yan truly had nothing to do with him, and he didn’t know how to respond. In the end, he could only give a wry smile and squeeze her hand firmly. "I’m heading out."
Honestly, it wasn’t so bad. Seeing someone you like jealous over you was its own kind of emotional intimacy. At least Cheng Yan was just a passing stranger—no real harm done, even if the jealousy had come out of nowhere.
While Lin Yiyang was out getting food, Yin Guo unwrapped a bar of soap in the bathroom to wash her face and hands. She hadn’t properly cleaned up since returning from the competition. The light makeup felt uncomfortable, but there was no helping it—appearance standards were part of the game.
Her bra felt unbearably uncomfortable no matter how she adjusted it. After drying her hands, she unhooked it and put it back on properly. Peering into the mirror, she tugged her collar down slightly—patches of red marked her skin, fading but still visible.
Her face seemed to glow softly, her eyes misty as she stood before the sink, lost in thought…
Her fingers, resting on the white towel, absentmindedly plucked at a loose thread, rolling it between her fingertips. The thoughts made her cheeks flush repeatedly. Dropping the towel, she walked back into the empty room.
A large single-strap sports bag sat beside the sofa, placed on the carpet.
From the very first night she met Lin Yiyang, this had been his bag. Even at his apartment, she hadn’t seen him use any other—just this one black backpack, accompanying him through two cities.
Yin Guo sat at the desk, resting her chin on her arms, content just to gaze at his oversized sports bag.She held her phone with both hands, recalling how Lin Yiyang had deliberately pressed her on playing styles she wasn't good at, sparking her curiosity about his true abilities. Coincidentally, there was someone nearby who had played against him in the past. So, despite rarely messaging Meng Xiaodong, she made an exception and eagerly reached out to the perennial iceberg.
Xiao Guo: Is there anything Lin Yiyang isn't good at? On the table?
M: No.
M: There's nothing he's not good at—only whether he wants to play or not.
That strong...
Meng Xiaodong was always factual, never exaggerating.
Because of this assessment, she missed him even more.
Time slipped away quietly. Yin Guo rested her chin on the brown wooden table, counting the seconds, wondering where he was and if he had gotten caught in the rain. Unable to resist, she sent him a private WeChat message to vent a little.
Xiao Guo: Just between us, it hurts a bit there.
Lin: ?
Lin: I'll go easier next time.
Lin Yiyang sat by the window in a pizza shop, waiting for takeout.
His sneakers were almost completely soaked—no one had escaped the downpour. Even with an umbrella, the rain was relentless. He glanced at her profile picture on WeChat, then looked back at the crowd outside, running and scrambling for shelter.
But for some reason, as he watched, he smiled.
After seeing Yin Guo back to her room, he had come here.
Room 1000.
Li Qingyan opened the door.
"They're inside," Li Qingyan said.
Lin Yiyang nodded and patted Li Qingyan's shoulder meaningfully. "Want to play a couple of rounds later?"
Li Qingyan nodded. "Sure."
He walked straight through the hallway into the suite.
Inside, a large round table had been temporarily moved in. A group of people sat around it, with nothing but alcohol covering the surface. Meng Xiaodong and Jiang Yang took the lead, while the others chatted and laughed quietly. Everyone fell silent when Lin Yiyang entered.
"Latecomers have to make a round first," Jiang Yang said with a smile, rolling up the sleeves of his gray shirt as he toyed with his half-empty glass.
Lin Yiyang grabbed a full bottle, poured himself a full glass, and without a word, downed one for each person at the table.
When it was Meng Xiaodong's turn, Meng Xiaodong started to stand.
Lin Yiyang pressed a hand on his shoulder. "The guest of honor should stay seated."
He clinked his glass against Meng Xiaodong's and downed another in one go.
After five glasses, Lin Yiyang took his seat.
The table full of men exchanged glances, all remembering their childhood days in the small courtyard of East New City, hauling buckets of ice-cold beer and challenging each other under the summer heat. After all these years, getting everyone together again was no small feat.
Once the drinking started, Chen Anan—the honest kid—was the first to collapse. Wu Wei, the responsible one, had to carry him to the bathroom to throw up. Just like that, two were gone from the room.
Meng Xiaodong had notoriously low alcohol tolerance. Normally, he'd sip half a glass, but tonight, after one full shot, he was already dazed, sitting quietly.
Jiang Yang leaned in with a grin. "Xiaodong?"
Meng Xiaodong lifted his head and shook it slightly—meaning, I'm fine.
Jiang Yang slowly refilled Meng Xiaodong's glass. "Old Six, if you want to know anything, now's the time to fish for answers."
Lin Yiyang shot Jiang Yang a look, ignoring his teasing."You want to ask about my sister's childhood sweetheart? Li Qingyan?" Meng Xiaodong was dizzy but still coherent. "I never asked about the specifics between them. But Yin Guo's parents really like him."
"Even if they were together, they definitely broke up," Meng Xiaodong said offhandedly, rubbing his temples. "But there's someone in Yin Guo's family," he paused, "who was the referee in your match. They definitely know about your past."
After saying this, he fixed his gaze on Lin Yiyang: "You should know which match I'm talking about."
The room fell silent in that instant.
Everyone understood—Meng Xiaodong was referring to the final match of Lin Yiyang's professional career.
Jiang Yang cleared his throat: "Fan, get some hot tea for your Brother Xiaodong."
Fan Wencong acknowledged and left.
Now, only Jiang Yang, Meng Xiaodong, and Lin Yiyang remained in the room. Jiang Yang had initially meant to tease Lin Yiyang as a joke, never expecting Meng Xiaodong—tipsy as he was—to dredge up old history. Even more surprising was that someone from Yin Guo's family had been the referee in that match... The connection ran deeper than anyone realized.
The sliding door suddenly opened.
Wu Wei carried the completely drunk Chen Anan in and dumped him onto the bed. He walked to the table, picked up his half-finished drink, and took a big gulp. "Exhausting," he muttered. After drinking, he noticed the tense atmosphere and glanced at Jiang Yang.
Jiang Yang shook his head, signaling Wu Wei not to ask.
Lin Yiyang was toying with his glass. No one could read the emotions in his eyes—whether they were good, bad, still unresolved, or already faded into indifference... After a long silence, he set the glass down on the table: "Any free tables here?"
Meng Xiaodong answered directly: "I booked half the hall. You can play whatever you want."
Jiang Yang added, "Let someone clear a table for you first."
Lin Yiyang waved his hand—no need.
He left the round table and said to Meng Xiaodong, "I'll play a couple of rounds with your guys."
"They're going to the Irish Open. Go easy on them," Jiang Yang reminded him on Meng Xiaodong's behalf.
"Got it." Lin Yiyang walked out without looking back.
The outer room was livelier and more crowded, with people from both East New City and North City present. Almost everyone who hadn’t made it to the quarterfinals was there, standing or sitting around. As Lin Yiyang stepped out, he gestured to Li Qingyan.
Li Qingyan had been waiting for him. He got up from the sofa and said to Xiao Zi, "Keep an eye on Brother Xiaodong inside."
Without further words, the two headed to the billiards room.
The place wasn’t crowded tonight. With the high-intensity group matches just over, most players were resting. Only a few hotel guests—non-professionals—were playing at scattered tables.
Lin Yiyang picked up a house cue and pointed at an overlooked Eight-ball table: "Street Eight-ball? Know how to play?"
This was a local pool hall variation from Lin Yiyang’s hometown—eight balls arranged in a triangle, with the white as the cue ball.
Everything was done manually—no formal rules or requirements. After the break, you could shoot any ball, and the last one to sink the black eight won.
For the pool hall owners, this meant quick games and fast money—one yuan per round.
For the street kids, it meant fast wins and straightforward fun.
Li Qingyan, being from the same place, naturally knew this game. Back in elementary school, he’d often play a round after class."I've played it," Li Qingyan said. "It's simple."
"In the past when I played this with others, the rules were simple too," Lin Yiyang picked up a piece of chalk powder from the table, rubbing the cue tip as he spoke. "Whoever loses racks the balls for the other."
"No problem here. If I could get you to rack a few balls for me, it'd probably be something to brag about in the circle for years." Li Qingyan also selected a cue.
Lin Yiyang gave him an amused glance.
This kid really needed to be taken down a peg.
Ten games in total.
The two competed for the break following Nine-ball rules. Without suspense, Lin Yiyang secured the break effortlessly.
Li Qingyan silently arranged eight balls into a triangle on the table.
The cue ball was placed precisely at the center of the head string.
Lin Yiyang carried his cue around to the front of the table, bending to examine his shot angle before applying chalk powder to the cue tip once more.
He leaned down a second time.
His entire body and cue formed a straight line, his gaze fixed along that same unwavering path. The smile gradually faded from Lin Yiyang's face as he entered competition mode.
A powerful strike—the crisp, thunderous impact louder than any other collision in the pool hall.
The multicolored balls scattered instantly, racing and rolling toward every pocket—one, two... until all eight had disappeared into the pockets. Not a single ball remained.
It was a Clear the table with one shot...
All balls pocketed in a single strike.
Not unheard of, but requiring luck. Even Li Qingyan needed favorable fortune to achieve such a "one-shot clearance." He naturally hoped this was just coincidence.
But this was Lin Yiyang's first game—more like an opening statement.
"Your turn." Lin Yiyang calmly gestured to the table.
The loser racks.
Li Qingyan had no retort. He bent to retrieve balls from each pocket, reforming the triangular rack.
As soon as the cue ball was placed on the head string, Lin Yiyang abruptly leaned down and delivered another forceful strike without hesitation. Colored balls flew across the table, tumbling one after another into the pockets until none remained.
Another one-shot clearance...
"Your turn." Lin Yiyang still gestured calmly at the table.
Li Qingyan knew this was no accident. Growing increasingly silent, he fished out each ball to rack for Lin Yiyang again. The remaining ten games simply involved Li Qingyan racking while Lin Yiyang shot.
Though not every game ended in a one-shot clearance, Li Qingyan never even got a chance to touch his cue.
By the final game, Li Qingyan felt a flicker of relief—at least no peers were present to witness his continuous ball-racking.
He even had to admit Lin Yiyang had shown mercy. The man could have summoned everyone from Room 1000 to spectate, yet chose not to.
Perhaps this was Lin Yiyang giving Meng Xiaodong face.
A flawless 10:0.
Alcohol lending vigor, a glimmer of youthful boldness returned to Lin Yiyang's eyes. He propped his cue against the table, leaning on both hands as he studied Li Qingyan across the felt, beneath the low-hanging pool table lights.
"I lost," Li Qingyan conceded, thoroughly outplayed.
Lin Yiyang's head had actually been spinning for a while—five consecutive shots of 40-proof liquor upon arrival, followed by two or three more drinks. Now the delayed intoxication set in. Hearing Li Qingyan's admission, he chuckled.
"Let me give you two pieces of advice," Lin Yiyang said.Li Qingyan looked at him.
"Last time on that table, I noticed you were training yourself to take 25 seconds per shot, following Meng Xiaodong's method? That's league requirement, but not all Opens are like that," Lin Yiyang pointed at the Snooker table where he'd previously played 50 balls.
Li Qingyan was surprised. He hadn't expected Lin Yiyang to have seen through this during their brief previous encounter.
"Dragging out every shot to 25 seconds just drains your natural talent," Lin Yiyang told him slowly. "You're a player, not a competition machine."
His slow speech was due to drunkenness.
Lin Yiyang already felt he needed to rest. He needed some hot water, or tea. Best would be to take a stroll past Yin Guo's door before she slept, wanting to see her. But she was probably asleep already - three matches in one day had exhausted her.
Subconsciously, Lin Yiyang made a movement to undo the top two buttons of his collar due to the heat from alcohol. This was a habitual action from his past when forced to wear shirts in non-competitive settings. Maybe it was because he'd drunk with old brothers tonight, or because the sight of so many tables made him forget himself.
His fingers paused at the round neckline of his short-sleeved shirt for two or three seconds. Slowly lowering his hand, he leaned against the table edge: "One more thing."
He continued immediately: "Whatever history you two had before, whether you failed to pursue her or succeeded - it ends here."
Lin Yiyang's alcohol-glazed eyes shone dark and bright like water-soaked stones. Frowning, he slowly spoke his final words while still somewhat sober: "Yin Guo is my wife. Understood?"
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