Chapter 49: The Tide of Fate (3)
She seemed to lose her hearing all at once—the surrounding congratulations faded into silence.
Her hands turned cold. He had sent three more messages—
Lin: I’m on a plane.
Lin: Focus on your match. Coming back won’t help much. I won’t have time for you these days.
Lin: Turn off your phone for now. See you back home.
Yin Guo leaned against the wall, her mind blank.
Her grandparents were still alive, and her maternal grandfather had passed when she was only a few years old, so she could only rely on instinct to grasp Lin Yiyang’s pain. The closest relative she had lost was Meng Xiaodong’s mother. Back then, Meng Xiaodong hadn’t spoken a word for three straight days.
Lin Yiyang was surely the same type of person as Meng Xiaodong. Some people vent their pain outwardly, letting everyone witness their hysteria as a way to cope. Others drive the knives inward, refusing to utter a single extra word.
…
She wanted so badly to go back, to be with him.
The ringing of her phone snapped her back to reality. It was Meng Xiaodong calling.
“Bro…” She pressed the phone to her ear, her voice thick with unshed tears.
Meng Xiaodong briefly summarized what had happened—it was a sudden passing. The elderly man had been fine that morning, even taking a couple of laps around his room. The family had been busy cooking and watching TV, but when they went to call him for lunch, he was already gone.
“I’ve booked your ticket for 2 p.m.,” Meng Xiaodong got to the point. “There are no more flights today. Even if you take the earliest one tomorrow, you’d only arrive three hours earlier. Even if you do come back, he won’t have the energy to deal with you.”
Hearing no response, her cousin called out, “Xiao Guo?”
“Mm,” Yin Guo pressed the back of her hand against her eyes.
“Finish your match first. Whether it’s gold or silver, you have to bring one back.”
Meng Xiaodong’s performance this year had been too poor, already affecting North City’s reputation. The focus in Nine-ball was on the women’s division, and Yin Guo was the most accomplished of North City’s new generation, the successor Meng Xiaodong had chosen for Nine-ball. Every Open was crucial for her.
“I know,” she murmured, her voice even thicker.
“Don’t cry at the venue. It’ll affect the other players,” Meng Xiaodong reminded her.
Obediently, Yin Guo hurried to the restroom.
Meng Xiaodong comforted her a little longer before hanging up. The moment the call ended, her clueless cousin immediately sent her a screenshot.
Tiantian: What’s up with Brother Yang????
The image showed Lin Yiyang’s social media post.
His profile had always been practically empty, but three minutes ago, a new post appeared: “Time is merciless.”
Accompanying it was an old photo.
A simple office, with a smiling elderly man seated in the center. On either side and behind him stood six men, among whom only Lin Yiyang and Jiang Yang looked familiar.
This was He Lao’s office at East New City that year.
In the photo: He Wenfeng in his sixties, eight-year-old Lin Yiyang, and fourteen-year-old Jiang Yang.
On the plane.
Afraid of receiving any condolences, Lin Yiyang turned off the satellite internet.
Chen Anan sat beside him. The two had left together in the early hours, keeping it from Yin Guo.
Since boarding, Lin Yiyang had stayed in his seat without speaking to anyone. He had only turned on the internet to send Yin Guo a couple of messages after her match ended.
Now, with everything he could do already done, and still thousands of meters in the air, there was nothing left to occupy himself with.
Holding the remote, he stared at the screen in front of him as movie posters flashed by one after another. Countless fleeting images blurred before his eyes—fragments of the past, trivial and insignificant.When he first entered East New City, he didn’t mention having a younger brother at home, afraid his teacher would think he had no time to practice.
But the truth came out eventually.
After the New Year, a DVD player appeared in the teacher’s office, stocked with nothing but cartoons. At first, everyone jokingly asked He Lao if he was expecting a new grandchild—after all, everyone knew He Lao had his daughter early, and she married young, so there were no children left in his family who still needed cartoons.
Later, He Lao mysteriously went to pick up Lin Yiyang’s younger brother from kindergarten, intending to bring him to the billiards hall. Unexpectedly, an elderly man suddenly appeared waiting outside the kindergarten, raising suspicions among the staff. That night, Lin Yiyang arrived late after class, only to find two outsiders left at the kindergarten—one was the teacher shivering in the cold outside, and the other was his brother, craning his neck inside, waiting for him.
It wasn’t until Lin Yiyang confirmed the teacher’s identity that the security guards and staff finally let the old man go.
Having been thoroughly embarrassed, He Lao laughed at himself for a while before taking Lin Yiyang and his brother back to the billiards hall—one to play, the other to watch cartoons.
Later, his then-still-living wife commented on the incident: "You said you were his grandfather? Then what should Xiao Liu call you?"
"Ah, you’re right, the generational order is off," He Lao mused seriously for a moment. "But if I say I’m his father, wouldn’t I be a bit too old?"
……
Looking back now, Lin Yiyang realized that he and his teacher truly embodied the purest grandfather-grandson relationship. The year he entered East New City, he was eight, and his teacher was in his sixties. They say a teacher for a day is a father for life, but to him, his teacher was more like a grandfather—not a father, but more forgiving than one.
I thought my mistakes back then were too grave, irredeemable. I thought the rift between us would last a lifetime. But you, well past seventy, remembered only my childhood—those early years in East New City—what I liked to eat, what I hated to watch. All you wished for was for me to come home, just so you could see me a little longer.
The most forgiving are those of a different generation, yet the ones we’re most impatient to lose are also those of a different generation.
The cabin lights flickered on, and the flight attendants began preparing breakfast.
The sudden brightness made Lin Yiyang uncomfortable. He dug out the in-flight toiletry kit, found the dental set, and headed for the lavatory.
Once the narrow lavatory door closed behind him, he stared at his reflection—his face, his eyes—for a full two minutes before gripping the edges of the tiny sink. The unopened dental set clenched in his hand, his left arm braced against the counter, but his right arm gave way.
It was too cramped here, suffocating.
Someone had already used the sink—the faint scent of toothpaste lingered, barely there, yet it stung his eyes. When the tears fell, he could no longer hold back. His forehead pressed against the mirror, the plastic case of the dental set crumpling in his palm until, with a sharp crack, it shattered in the confined space.
He tried to steady himself, but it was useless. His left hand clenched into a fist against the mirror, then loosened. Finally, his forehead slammed heavily against the back of his hand. Pain, full-body tension—anything to suppress, to escape this helplessness...
……
Just like years ago, crouched outside East New City, he was once again engulfed in that same abandoned helplessness.
Like a waterlogged cloth pressed over his face, suffocating, not a single breath of air to be had.
Both times were the same.
The first time, his teacher had told him to leave East New City—he didn’t want him anymore. This time was worse. This time, he was truly gone. He didn’t want him anymore.The lights of East New City, the lights of the office, were forever extinguished.
Emerging from the restroom, Lin Yiyang's short hair was damp at the tips but already dried, with no water left. His face was clean too, showing no signs of distress except for the redness in his eyes and the bruise on the back of his left hand.
Chen Anan leaned against the wall opposite the restroom, waiting for him. He wasn't good at comforting others, so he could only stand by him.
A flight attendant pushed a breakfast cart, about to move it out, and nodded at the two with a smile. Lin Yiyang glanced at the steaming dishes on the cart and asked Chen Anan in Chinese, "Why are you standing there?"
In just over twenty minutes, his voice had become hoarse, as if he had smoked for several nights. Each word seemed to carry the weight of blood in his throat: "I'm fine."
Within a single day, the news of He Lao's passing spread throughout the industry. In the Chinese lounge, most of the players were from the younger generation and didn't feel deeply affected, but the coaches were all grieving.
Before Yin Guo took the stage, her coach asked her, "Are you okay? Mentally?"
Yin Guo nodded and walked out with her cue.
In her heart, a stopwatch ticked away, urging her to the airport, back to China, to see Lin Yiyang.
As it turned out, she was human, not a god, and didn't perform well.
Her opponent was also from China and made two obvious mistakes, effectively handing her the championship. Unexpectedly, in her worst state, Yin Guo accidentally won her first Open title.
"This championship should have been yours," she said to her opponent amidst the applause, gripping her hand. "I only won because of your mistakes."
The veteran player, nearly thirty, smiled. "There's no 'should' or 'shouldn't.' The championship is yours."
"See you at the World Championship," Yin Guo said.
The opponent smiled back and asked with concern, "Did you prepare your speech?"
Yin Guo nodded, pulling out a folded piece of paper from her pocket. The opponent laughed and showed her own prepared speech.
Neither of them had Lin Yiyang's fluency in English, so they had both written their speeches the night before, ready for whoever won to deliver it.
Yin Guo didn't delay and went straight to the press conference.
She bowed to the applause and took her seat.
The stopwatch in her heart kept ticking, counting down the time, reminding her: she had to leave within fifteen minutes.
The first question was routine—congratulations on the win and her thoughts on the victory.
Then came the free Q&A session, six questions in a row.
In the last four minutes, she held her speech, though she had already memorized it perfectly, just waiting for the right moment to leave.
Her coach, thinking she was nervous, whispered in Chinese, "Don't be too nervous."
Yin Guo shook her head slightly and smiled at her coach.
"First of all, congratulations, Miss Yin," a seasoned reporter in the corner grabbed the microphone. "I hope you don't mind a more personal question. Fans here today are curious—why wasn't Lin present on such an important day? Or do you have other celebration plans?"
Laughter filled the room.
Yin Guo adjusted the small microphone toward herself and paused briefly.
When the laughter subsided, she spoke softly, "In yesterday's semifinals, a Chinese male player withdrew. His name is Chen Anan, this year's semifinalist. I'm sure everyone is also wondering why he suddenly withdrew."
The room fell silent, waiting for Yin Guo to reveal the answer."He's Lin's junior fellow apprentice, from the same pool hall," Yin Guo said softly. "Yesterday, Lin left with him and flew back home because their teacher passed away."
The camera flashes gradually faded.
It was unexpected and sad news.
"He was Lin's first teacher. From the age of eight until sixteen when Lin left his side, he spent eight whole years growing up in a place called East New City, learning to play under this teacher, He Wenfeng. You probably don't know his name—he never competed internationally, had no world ranking. Because snooker started too late in China, he never got the chance to become famous. But this teacher had many disciples, and disciples of disciples, all of whom became pillars in this field. Lin is one of them. I've heard his name since I was a child, admired and revered him. It's such a pity I'll never get to meet him now."
Yin Guo thought back to her conversation with Lin Yiyang at the airport, how excited she'd been when she heard she was going to meet his teacher.
Not just because of his relationship with Lin Yiyang, but because he was He Lao—He Wenfeng, a man who nurtured countless talents without seeking fame.
"Although I'm a nine-ball player, I deeply respect this industry titan. Not just because he was Lin's teacher, but because he was a pioneer in this field, the ordinary old man who first ignited our dreams."
"This championship today..." She hesitated for a few seconds. The prepared speech was supposed to say—I also want to commemorate this teacher.
But she changed it at the last moment to—"actually belongs to that runner-up. Even now, I still believe that. She played brilliantly today, better than me. Thank you all for listening. I have to catch a flight home now, so I'll say goodbye. See you all at the next Open."
Yin Guo pushed herself up from the table, standing to face all the reporters.
It was her first press conference after all—the paper in her hand was crumpled from her grip. Her first instinct was to run, but her coach pulled her back for a few more group photos.
After that, Yin Guo disappeared from the stadium, heading straight for the airport.
Ten minutes before boarding, she sat anxiously by the gate, waiting.
Her phone vibrated—a message from Meng Xiaodong.
M: I'll pick you up at the airport. We're going to the memorial service.
M: Jiang Yang is taking this really hard.
M: Also, Lin Yiyang took over East New City today.
OpenNovel