Chapter 32: The Passion Still Burns (5)
With his parents gone and his younger brother adopted by another family, Yin Guo was the only close person left in his life. Years ago, he had failed to hold onto the one cue stick that had been dear to him. Now, he wanted to keep Yin Guo by his side.
But how?
His throat felt dry. He straightened up from the pool table, instinctively picking up the cue resting against it. Slowly, he walked to the cue rack and placed it in the far right slot—the last position.
After doing this, he waved dismissively at Li Qingyan without turning around and left.
Lin Yiyang exited the billiard room and stepped into the elevator, pressing the wrong floor button.
Somehow, he ended up in the hotel lobby. Had his subconscious led him outside?
The heavy rain had just stopped. Guests were checking in and out at the front desk. Among them were players eliminated from today’s group matches, carrying cue cases and suitcases, waiting outside for taxis arranged by the hotel…
When alcohol clouded his mind, the world around him felt surreal, blurring the lines between past, present, and future.
This was New York. How had he ended up here?
It felt like just yesterday he had gotten drunk at some nameless roadside stall, only to be kindly pulled inside by the owner and left to sleep it off on a bench. Late that night, he had woken up reeking of alcohol, his school uniform stripped off by the shopkeeper’s wife and stuffed into his crossbody bag. “Be careful,” she had warned. “If your teachers see you like this, they’ll punish you.”
That day had been yesterday—back in his hometown.
Today was today—in New York.
Later, Lin Yiyang wasn’t even sure how he had ended up at the Plaza Hotel. Before the rain, he had thought of going there—there was a Lady M dessert shop in the basement level, and he had wanted to buy some for Yin Guo.
He had even asked Wu Wei about it. Wu Wei had told him there were already many branches in China, so it wouldn’t be a novelty for her.
But he still wanted to buy it for her. What if she hadn’t tried it? Maybe the original location’s flavors were better?
A little past ten, Yin Guo tossed and turned in her hotel bed, restless.
Her heart felt uneasy.
Both billiard clubs were there, and it was the first reunion of old brothers in years. If they didn’t hold back, how much would they drink? She pulled out her phone and messaged Lin Yiyang—no reply. She tried Meng Xiaodong—still nothing.
Finally, she reached out to Wu Wei.
Xiao Guo: How much have you guys drunk? Neither my brother nor Lin Yiyang are responding.
Wu Wei: Come over. Room 1000.
Go over?
Yin Guo’s heart skipped a beat. Wu Wei rarely spoke so tersely.
She changed clothes, grabbed her phone, and rushed out. When she reached Room 1000, a crowd was pouring out. She spotted Li Qingyan and Xiao Zi and tugged at Xiao Zi’s sleeve. “Is Lin Yiyang inside?”
“Yeah.” Xiao Zi seemed like he wanted to say more.
But Yin Guo didn’t wait to hear it. She pushed past a few people with her right hand, murmuring “Excuse me” repeatedly as she squeezed through the crowd of twenty or thirty. Inside the suite, three people were sprawled out.
Meng Xiaodong and Chen Anan were each on one side of the bed, fast asleep.
Lin Yiyang lay on the sofa, curled on his side, dressed in fresh clothes by Wu Wei and the others—gray slacks and a white shirt, all borrowed from Jiang Yang. His collar was loosened for comfort, his head resting on his left arm. It was hard to tell if he was asleep or just dazed.
Seeing him like this made Yin Guo’s heart ache in waves. It was normal for men to drink too much at gatherings.
But seeing him drunk was unbearable.Yin Guo quietly walked to the sofa and crouched down, pressing her palm against his forehead, which was damp with sweat. She noticed a wet towel draped over the armrest, took it, and gently wiped his face.
"That cake... won't taste good if left too long," Lin Yiyang murmured, each word forced out with slight slurring. "Take it to Little Guo'er for me."
What cake? Who cares about cake right now?
He's drunk like this, and still thinking about cake.
"Don't say I'm drunk," he whispered, barely audible.
Yin Guo placed the towel on her lap and used her fingers to brush aside the short strands of hair sticking to his eyelids, staying silent to avoid disturbing him. When someone's drunk, it's best not to chatter in their ears—they won't really hear or remember anyway.
Giving him a quiet space to sleep is the kindest thing.
Not hearing a response, Lin Yiyang grew visibly displeased, his brows furrowing tighter. "Didn't you hear me?"
Yin Guo's nose stung. Why are you so good to me? We've only been together for such a short time. Don't you know how to play hard to get? Don't you know how to keep me guessing? With looks like yours, wasted—just foolishly treating me so well. Big idiot.
It hurts my heart.
"Got it," she coaxed softly. "I'll eat it right away."
Hearing her voice, Lin Yiyang seemed to process it slowly before gradually opening his eyes, his dark pupils reflecting her image. He stared at her as if not recognizing her at first...
"Drank so much," she murmured. "Did no one stop you?"
With his high brow, sharp nose bridge (unusually tall for an Asian), and peach-blossom eyes framed by fan-shaped double eyelids, he usually didn’t look particularly striking when casually glancing around. But now, it was different.
One look from him felt like having your heart carved out.
No wonder so many girls couldn’t forget him. Yin Guo thought, a guy like him—whether playing pool in the hall or sitting on the doorstep with a cigarette, just glancing at some girl for a moment—could probably leave her pining for a lifetime.
The towel had turned cold. She wanted to rinse it with hot water and wipe his face and hands again.
Suddenly, Lin Yiyang’s right hand circled behind her neck, pulling her face closer until their foreheads touched. With a thick, drunken drawl, he called out: "Little Guo'er."
At the peak of his alcohol-induced discomfort, seeing her, he thought it might be an illusion.
After a long pause, he asked: "Do you... have me in your heart now?"
From that kiss outside the apartment bathroom until today.
Two weeks together, fourteen days. Yin Guo, do you really have me in your heart now?
She wasn’t the only one in the room.
Fan Wencong and Wu Wei were both inside, tending to three drunk men, while Jiang Yang had brewed tea for Yin Guo and brought it in, hoping to chat. All three overheard this. Lin Yiyang had once severed his own life path because of his stubbornness. For a man like him to ask such a question—how much longing and uncertainty did he harbor about human connections? And how much did he care about the girl before him?
Before Yin Guo could respond, he tugged at his shirt collar.
Uncomfortable, he pressed the back of his hand against his face, blocking out all light, and fell asleep within seconds.
What happened? He left the house in such high spirits...Yin Guo crouched by the sofa for a long while, holding a cooling towel, and when she saw he had truly settled down, she got up to check on Meng Xiaodong. Turning back, she found Jiang Yang had already refilled her tea. With a humorous gesture, he opened Lin Yiyang’s phone and placed it on the round table. “Here, take a look,” he said.
……
Yin Guo didn’t understand.
The phone was filled with photos of cakes—matcha mille crepe, rose-flavored, crepes, and so on, and so on.
Wu Wei, chuckling, guided Yin Guo to the table and recounted the backstory of these photos.
In the dead of night, Lin Yiyang had left the hotel and wandered several streets, finally reaching the Plaza Hotel where he wanted to buy her a cake. The hotel was open, but the bakery in the basement had long since closed for the day.
By the time Wu Wei and Jiang Yang found him, Lin Yiyang was sitting on the steps outside the hotel’s entrance, tucked into a small corner, leaning against the wall, already asleep—looking no different from a homeless person. When they woke him, he did only one thing: shoved his phone into Wu Wei’s hand. The photos inside were all the ones he had managed to save while still conscious, instructing Wu Wei to buy them for him…
After handing over the phone, he was completely spent. The two men didn’t even bother calling a cab; they simply teamed up to carry him back to the hotel.
Back in the room, there were still a few others who were drunk. After changing Lin Yiyang into clean clothes, they turned their attention to Meng Xiaodong and Chen Anan. Without realizing it, Lin Yiyang had polished off the remaining liquor from several bottles on the table.
This time, he was truly wasted—downing two full bottles of hard liquor. According to Jiang Yang’s estimation of Lin Yiyang’s tolerance, he wouldn’t be waking up for at least a full day and night.
Originally, Wu Wei hadn’t wanted to call Yin Guo down, not wanting her to see Lin Yiyang in such a pitiful state after drinking.
But Jiang Yang, remembering the matter Meng Xiaodong had mentioned, still wanted to talk to Yin Guo.
Wu Wei pointed at the empty bottles on the table and explained to Yin Guo, “I used his card, but I didn’t dare buy anything expensive. All of these combined still don’t compare to that one small glass he treated you to before.”
Yin Guo glanced at the bottles. She had only heard Lin Yiyang mention Chivas over the phone and assumed it was the expensive kind her cousin usually drank. But looking now, these were just the cheapest, most common supermarket-shelf liquors.
“Lin Yiyang really cares about you,” Jiang Yang said gently.
“More than just cares—there’s a lot you don’t know,” Wu Wei chimed in, playing along perfectly. “How many years has it been since he left East New City? Almost twelve. In all that time, he never, ever played for money. Only this year did he make an exception.”
Then Wu Wei looked at her. “Remember? He did it for you.”
Yin Guo froze—first, because he had done it for her, but more importantly: he didn’t usually play for money…
That night, she had even asked Lin Yiyang if he liked betting on games. He had only said, “Not really,” but never denied it. Later, Meng Xiaodong had even told her to try persuading Lin Yiyang to stop betting on games if she got the chance, clearly under the mistaken impression that he relied on it for income.
“If he really bet on games, would he be this broke?” Wu Wei said with a laugh. “In Flushing, he didn’t take a single cent—he had it all sent to his classmate’s account.”
That night, a single game had been worth three thousand dollars. A few games a week, and he’d have been rich long ago.
How could he have ended up so down and out?
Yin Guo looked at the man asleep on the sofa.
“You’re not from East New City, so you might not know,” Jiang Yang added. “Back when my teacher brought him into East New City, they made three rules: no betting on games, no throwing matches, and absolutely no breaking the law.”This was the beginning.
What Jiang Yang wanted to tell her was the entire past.
That year was Lin Yiyang’s fourth year as a professional player.
He had hit a bottleneck in his career, entering an unexpected slump. This was the same prodigy who, in just three years as a professional, had won two championships. But no matter how talented, every person—every athlete—has their own peaks and their own abysses. Often, overcoming the abyss leads to the next summit…
Unfortunately, Lin Yiyang was too sharp-edged, too reckless. When he suddenly plummeted to rock bottom, losing several crucial matches in a row, rumors began to spread that he had taken bribes to throw games. Gossip and disdain from his peers weighed on him, and even in the locker room, he became the subject of whispers. After yet another defeat, he had a fierce argument with his mentor and left the club for good. Then, in what would be the final match of his career, he clashed with a referee and was suspended for six months.
Six months later, Lin Yiyang vanished from the scene.
In truth, everyone knew—from the night he walked away from East New City, he had already given up.
"...Why didn’t he explain? Didn’t He Lao believe him?"
"Because," Jiang Yang said—only he and a few of their brothers knew the truth, something they had learned that very day in He Lao’s office—"he really did play a money game with someone on the streets. He was in the wrong."
"It was all because of poverty. He was completely broke that year," Wu Wei added. "His younger brother had just been adopted by relatives, and he wanted to visit him but couldn’t afford the ticket. Later, he told me that at the time, he thought—just this once—he’d buy a ticket to celebrate his brother’s birthday, and with whatever was left, he’d get some workbooks to brush up on his English and math."
Even now, whenever the brothers brought up this incident, it pained them.
If only Lin Yiyang hadn’t been so proud, if only he had swallowed his pride and borrowed money from his friends, things might have turned out differently.
When Yin Guo was little, she often heard her cousin talk about how, back when the industry was struggling, some players resorted to extreme measures just to survive. Without sponsors, a domestic player might earn only twenty or thirty thousand a year—barely enough to cover travel expenses for tournaments, let alone equipment and clothing. Meng Xiaodong had a friend who, the night before a competition in Quanzhou, gambled in a pool hall to earn money for a hotel room. He lost everything and ended up sleeping in the pool hall, going straight to the match the next day.
If even seasoned players faced such hardships, how much harder must it have been for Lin Yiyang, barely out of high school?
...
He was wrong. That much was undeniable.
But no one gave him a chance to make amends—not even himself.
Sunlight fell across his face. Lin Yiyang wanted water. His hand groped to the right, expecting the side table in his apartment. At that height and angle, it should have been there—he always kept a glass of water by his bed when he drank, something to soothe his throat the next morning.
But his fingers found nothing. After a dazed moment, he realized—this was a hotel.
What time was it? The next day? Or the day after?
The last time he woke, it had been dark, the room empty. Disgusted by the stale stench of alcohol clinging to him, afraid it would bother her when she returned from her match, he had forced himself to shower…
Now, when he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was her.
Yin Guo was curled up beside him, hugging a pillow, her face turned toward him as she lay buried in the white hotel comforter. He couldn’t quite make out what she was wearing—maybe a dark blue or black oversized T-shirt.
"Awake?" she asked.She was like a porcelain doll, the kind with dimples that were sold at temple fairs when she was little. Only, those dolls had two red dots painted on their cheeks, while she didn’t. "Everyone’s afraid you’ll sleep yourself stupid..."
Her small hand waved in front of his eyes. "Are you really stupid now?"
The arm covered in tattoos reached out, pulling Yin Guo toward him until her face was pressed against the crook of his neck. "If I don’t teach you a lesson... you really won’t behave."
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