Chapter 42: When Glory Returns (1)
Yin Guo's current training camp was in preparation for this year's Nine-ball World Championship.
Over thirty players participated in the training, with several national team coaches also present. Lin Lin, serving as a practice partner, was stationed at the base for the entire duration.
Lin Yiyang dropped her off outside the base gates.
To make it easier for them to talk, he turned off the engine. From the front windshield, one could vaguely see two people sitting inside, though it was impossible to tell who they were. Lin Lin happened to drive past, crossing the road and entering the base right in front of him.
Lin Yiyang’s car had never been issued a temporary license plate, nor had it ever been driven on the road. Naturally, Lin Lin had never seen it before and wouldn’t spare it a second glance.
He thought about flashing the high beams at Lin Lin to catch her attention and chat for a bit, but in the end, he decided against it.
“Why didn’t you call her?” Yin Guo was in the car, tying up her long hair.
He didn’t seem too bothered. “It’s not like we won’t see each other again.”
Speaking of his childhood friends, she couldn’t help but feel envious. “You guys are so close, just like real siblings. In Beicheng, it’s all club-style management—survival of the fittest, whether it’s the trainees or the coaches.”
Lin Yiyang smiled but didn’t respond. Out of habit, he reached for the back of her neck, where the fine strands of hair and soft skin made for a pleasant touch.
His fingers tickled her, and she swatted his hand away, her dark, bright eyes reflecting nothing but him. “Lin Yiyang?”
He hummed in acknowledgment.
With the engine off, the air conditioning had stopped too.
The air inside the car was stagnant, and the scent of just the two of them grew more pronounced.
“Seems like after marriage, there’d be a lot of arguments,” she mused, thinking of her ex-sister-in-law.
When her sister-in-law was in confinement at home, Yin Guo happened to be on winter break. For an entire month, there was constant unhappiness—arguments over who would change diapers, what brand of formula to use, whether Mom should return to work, and so on. Her sister-in-law was financially independent and self-sufficient. By the end of her confinement, she had drafted divorce papers, taken the child, and remarried within a year.
Yin Guo’s surroundings were practically an encyclopedia of divorces and remarriages, each case unique in its own way.
Lin Yiyang replied, “People are different.”
“What if we never get married?” she wondered aloud. “If we’re happy together, we stay together. If not, marriage wouldn’t change anything.”
Before Lin Yiyang came into her life, she had imagined it this way—playing pool, competing, traveling, having a boyfriend who could keep her company while also having his own pursuits, without interfering with her matches and training.
Especially after seeing her family’s attitude toward him, she didn’t want him to keep running into walls. As long as they didn’t marry, her family wouldn’t have much say anyway.
Lin Yiyang rested his left hand on the steering wheel, the streetlight casting a glow over his short hair. He seemed to be seriously considering her words, but then he suddenly pulled her wrist to his waist, pressing it just below his waistline.
The interior of the car was dim, but Yin Guo’s face flushed all the same. She tried to pull her hand back, but he held it firmly in place.
“You’ve seen everything here before,” Lin Yiyang murmured with a low laugh. “Whether you want this person or not—it’s up to you.”
Outside the window, the streetlight shone through the windshield, illuminating the space between them.
With one hand on the steering wheel and the other gripping hers, he gazed at her from her left side under the glow of the outside light. For a long moment, he didn’t let her go.
The training camp would be long, and once she left, they wouldn’t see each other for at least two weeks.
Yin Guo didn’t want to part with him either, but they were already at the entrance. The place was bustling with cars and people—all familiar faces from the Nine-ball world. It wouldn’t be good if someone spotted them, and she especially didn’t want word reaching her family.
“I’m really going now,” she said."Just a bit longer," he said, "two minutes."
When Lin Yiyang returned to his own pool room, Jiang Yang had just finished showering. Bare-chested, he pulled out a drafted property purchase agreement and tossed it onto the green felt of the pool table: "Take a look."
"Haven't I already seen it?" He'd reviewed the digital copy before coming back.
"It's a big decision—worth another look," Jiang Yang adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, his eyes studying Lin Yiyang through the lenses. "My thought is, I'll cover the majority, you chip in less."
Lin Yiyang braced one hand on the felt surface and waved the other dismissively: "Clear accounts make long friends."
Jiang Yang chuckled: "You and I are closer than blood brothers."
"All the more reason to keep accounts clear. No room for anything that could strain the relationship," Lin Yiyang flipped through the agreement. "We're adults now—you should understand this better than anyone. Good friends don't mix money; money mixes up good friendships."
They locked eyes.
Jiang Yang sighed sincerely: "You've changed, junior brother. Really changed from the old days."
Lin Yiyang plucked the pen from Jiang Yang's hand, flipped to the last page of the contract, and pointed to a spot: "Here?"
"Right. Six copies, all need signing."
"Hand them over," he said.
He signed all six copies without hesitation, stacked them together, and slid them back to Jiang Yang.
Under the light, between the two men lay a stack of property purchase agreements—a belated gift from six disciples to their mentor. Lin Yiyang had five senior brothers. The first four hadn't been fortunate enough to achieve success before retiring, much like their teacher He Wenfeng—renowned yet penniless.
Lin Yiyang and Jiang Yang, being younger, had entered He Lao's tutelage in his sixties, fortunate to catch the wave of economic growth in their field. Thus, under their leadership, the two younger disciples would split the payment equally, with the four senior brothers as witnesses, purchasing this property. They planned to present it in the name of all six disciples after the China Open.
Since second grade at East New City, everything from character to snooker skills had been passed down from He Wenfeng. No amount of past complications could outweigh this debt of gratitude. At nearly twenty-nine, wanting to repay his aging teacher—now at an age beyond material desires—this was the most tangible thing he could offer after years of life's ups and downs. Crass, perhaps, but real.
Of course, given their teacher's temperament, how to present it would be tricky. But with Jiang Yang around, solutions always emerged.
Lin Yiyang braced both hands on the pool table, staring at the stack of papers, thinking—had he not left back then, this could have been done five years earlier.
...
They say life holds promise, but time shows no mercy.
"What's on your mind?" Jiang Yang asked.
Lin Yiyang deflected with the lightest response: "Time to focus on serious business."
The Snooker China Open commenced in April.
After snooker's competition reforms, this year's professional circuit boasted twenty world-class tournaments.
This year's China Open, with total prizes exceeding £1 million, drew global attention and top players worldwide.
Public focus converged on China this month.
As per tradition, the world's top sixteen ranked players automatically qualified for the main event, bypassing the qualifying rounds.So, Lin Yiyang didn’t show up until the main event day.
Backstage at the Olympic Stadium, a tall, lean Chinese man with a buzz cut walked through the entrance, carrying a black sports bag slung across his shoulder as usual. In his right hand was a cue case and a black suit bag.
Nearby, several European and American players spotted him and waved enthusiastically. “Hi, Lin.”
Over the past year, he had always appeared backstage in black casual wear—or at most, during summer, he’d shed the black outer layer to reveal a simple white T-shirt. He preferred colorful sneakers—deep red, white, navy blue, and the like.
This outfit did make him look like an athlete, but not like a world-class player in a gentleman’s game.
He passed by several lounges before stopping at the Chinese players’ rest area. Pressing down on the silver metal handle, he pushed open the door—the one belonging to the China Open players’ lounge.
Inside, several men were changing or resting in chairs.
There were top-16 players, as well as newcomers who had fought their way through the Qualifying round. Everyone greeted Lin Yiyang warmly as he walked in. He nodded in acknowledgment, made his way through the crowd, found his assigned spot, and set down his cue case. Casually, he hung the suit bag containing his competition attire on the coat rack.
Pulling out his phone, he opened a mind-numbingly dull game to kill time.
And, incidentally, to wait for his first-round group stage opponent—Meng Xiaodong.
What a stroke of luck—his first match back was against an old rival.
Meng Xiaodong had just returned from the restroom, already dressed in his full competition attire—dress pants, white shirt, and a fitted vest—everything except the bowtie, which lay on the table, waiting to be put on before the match.
Meng Xiaodong picked up his thermos and took a sip of hot tea to soothe his throat. “Ran into Yin Guo’s family the other day?”
“Yeah.”
“First encounter—how’d it go?”
“Not bad.” Lin Yiyang’s plan had been to make a low-key appearance, letting the elders get a look at him. Mission accomplished for the first round.
Meng Xiaodong nodded. “My aunt is rigid, just like He Lao. None of that ‘winner takes all’ mentality works on her.”
Lin Yiyang understood what he meant. “It’s normal, just coming back. It’s not like having a world ranking or making a name for myself suddenly changes everything—as if success automatically makes me a good person. I wouldn’t believe that either.”
He added, “I believe in the survival of the fittest on the field, where the winner reigns supreme. But I don’t like that mentality in society.”
At the end of the day, pretty words won’t change anyone’s mind.
Smart people observe actions, not words.
Lin Yiyang glanced up at the wall clock, then stood and unzipped the suit bag all the way, pulling out the shirt, dress pants, and vest.
Undressing first, then redressing—he fastened the pants, buckled his belt.
He remembered his first time stepping back onto the competitive stage—at the Qualifying round of the Australian Open. Back then, when Lin Yiyang walked into the backstage area, no one recognized him. No one greeted him.
Players like Jiang Yang and Meng Xiaodong, ranked at the top of the world, didn’t need to participate in any Qualifying rounds. They entered the main event directly and wouldn’t even set foot in that stadium. In a foreign land, having traveled so far, he knew no one—not even his opponents. Even his own friends hadn’t known he’d signed up for the Qualifying round.He changed his shirt in the lounge, thinking about who he should tell that he was about to step onto the court.
After so many years, this would be his first match back. It seemed he needed to say it out loud to feel grounded.
The only person he could think of was Yin Guo.
“The first time I competed in Belgium, I called your sister from the lounge,” he buttoned his shirt one by one, all the way to the top, securing it firmly. “I didn’t tell her where I was, just said—Xiao Guo, I think I still want to play.”
He also told her that after years away from the competitive scene, it might not be as simple as he imagined. The world was changing, the game was changing, the opponents were changing—everything was uncertain. Maybe he was making a terrible move.
Going to Duke for his Ph.D. was the safe choice. His closest senior from undergrad had pursued a doctorate at Penn and was now an associate professor at Duke, waiting for him to join. Their abilities were comparable, so following his senior’s path step by step wouldn’t be a problem.
But returning to the competitive scene was full of unknowns.
“She was really happy. I told her that if I didn’t perform well, it could cause trouble in the future. Guess what she said?”
“What?”
“She said, ‘Go ahead, it’s fine. When you first chased me, you were just a broke student, and I was nobody. Even if things go bad now, they won’t be worse than back then.’”
She also told him, “Last year, I ranked third in the world association standings. Even if you fail, you’ll still be the boyfriend of the world’s third-best player.” The kid who once wandered homeless in a snowstorm, clutching a cue stick, had now carved out half a kingdom for himself. And she solemnly reminded him—Yin Guo was Lin Yiyang’s safety net. Move forward, someone’s got your back, Lin Yiyang.
Meng Xiaodong listened, his eyes smiling. “My sister’s a treasure. Finding her was your good fortune.”
Lin Yiyang grinned. “Let’s go.” His sharp features, framed by the crisp shirt and dress pants, lent him a slightly more composed air, but the fire in his eyes was unmistakably his own.
The two left the lounge, walking side by side down the corridor, led by staff into the arena.
Snooker demanded absolute silence. At many Opens, the first rule was for spectators to turn off their phones. Even applause was restrained. Whether players stood, took a shot, sat back down, or simply pondered alone in their chairs, everything revolved around the word “quiet.”
In the hushed stadium, the stands were over 90% full.
At this domestic Open, the audience naturally knew more about the local players. Whether it was Meng Xiaodong or the sudden return of Lin Yiyang, both were reasons for today’s high turnout.
The referee, dressed in a tailored black suit and white gloves, approached them with a solemn expression, shaking hands in greeting.
A minute later, Lin Yiyang secured the break.
He picked up his black cue stick and slowly walked to the table—green felt surface, a different arena, but the same homeland. This was his first time competing on home soil since his comeback, after over a dozen tournaments abroad.
“Your teacher’s here,” Meng Xiaodong murmured, low enough for only him to hear. “Look north.”
His heart jolted. He turned.
The court was bathed in light, but his gaze pierced through the brightness to the stands, locking onto a single elderly figure. Thirteen years apart, and their first reunion was here—on this stage.Lin Yiyang couldn't clearly see his teacher's expression—it was too far, his eyes were blurred with tears, and because...
The man gripping the cue stood like a statue in the live broadcast footage. Finally, in silence, he bowed deeply toward that indistinct corner.
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