Chapter 5: The World Beneath the Snow (1)
Lin Yiyang was very familiar with the area and quickly found the shop.
It was a modest little store, no bigger than the palm of a hand. On the right, a glass display case was connected to the checkout counter, while on the left, a few small shelves held various merchandise. Dozens of burlap sacks filled with brown coffee beans were labeled with handwritten white signs.
The shop had only one other pair of customers—a young couple also picking out beans.
They were quietly discussing the names, origins, and flavor profiles of the coffee beans listed on the white wall above the sacks. The girl in the couple picked one and popped it into the boy’s mouth for him to taste.
Lin Yiyang selected two beans and placed them in Yin Guo’s palm. He pointed to her lips.
“Try them,” he said.
She hesitated for a moment before obediently placing one of the beans between her lips, biting down, and chewing lightly.
She had intended to savor the flavor carefully, but Lin Yiyang kept watching her, making her chew slower and slower, increasingly self-conscious. Seeming to notice her discomfort, he averted his gaze and fished out two more beans from a nearby sack—this time with a berry-like sweetness—and dropped them into her hand.
Yin Guo took them, clutching them in her palm, but this time, she didn’t dare try them again.
After the couple left, the shop had only three customers left—her and Lin Yiyang by the coffee beans, while her cousin browsed the merchandise at the very back of the store.
Yin Guo wasn’t used to sampling beans. She pulled out a tissue, spat out the residue, and crumpled it in her hand.
Lin Yiyang noticed this too.
He gestured toward a small corner to the left of the counter, indicating where the trash bin was.
Yin Guo tossed the tissue away as he asked her, “What does your friend want?”
Several kinds.
She had been planning to figure out how to pronounce the names first, maybe look them up in a dictionary, so she could ask the staff properly. His question saved her the trouble.
She showed him the names, and he called over a shop assistant, pointing out a few bags of coffee beans. The assistant smiled and chatted with him briefly—something about those being the bestsellers.
While heading to the checkout, Lin Yiyang lifted his right arm to check his watch.
Yin Guo immediately said, “If you’re in a hurry, go ahead. I’ve got everything I need.”
From the moment they left the café until now, he had checked his watch several times.
First, rushing over without even eating lunch, then hastily finishing the coffee and panini before bringing them here. Though he never said it outright, everything about him carried an air of urgency—probably because he had come all the way from Washington again.
“Meet up again when you’re free?” He knew he couldn’t delay any longer.
Yin Guo nodded.
Without another word, Lin Yiyang pushed the door open and left.
Through the glass, she watched him cross the street—not hailing a cab, likely heading toward the nearby subway station.
The sight of him crossing the road reminded her of the night they first met.
The bespectacled man had led Yin Guo and her cousin to the car first, loading their luggage, while Lin Yiyang settled the bill inside the bar.
Through the car window and the bar’s double-layered glass, she saw him down the remaining half of his drink in one go, sign the receipt, pull up the hood of his cold-proof clothing, and push the door open.
A fierce gust of wind swept up the snow from the ground, enveloping the roadside cars and pedestrians in a white haze before quickly dissipating. He jogged a couple of steps, crossed the street, circled to the right side of the car, and got in.
The driver asked, “Where to?”
He replied, “Queens.”
The driver was surprised. “In this awful weather, and you want to take a detour?”
He answered, “Yeah, a detour.”
..."Sis?" Her cousin returned with two souvenirs, surprised to find Lin Yiyang gone. "He left?"
"Yeah, he was in a hurry." She took out her wallet to pay.
She was still clutching two berry-flavored coffee beans in her hand. She thought about tossing them back into the burlap bag but hesitated. They'd been in her hand for a while—better not throw them back in case someone picked them up to sample. That wouldn't be hygienic.
With nowhere else to put them, she tucked the two coffee beans into a small inner pocket of her backpack.
After buying the coffee, she and her cousin went their separate ways.
Meng Xiaotian continued wandering around the nearby area while she headed straight back to the hotel. She grabbed her cue from the room, packed a small bag with her phone, wallet, and key card, and went to the pool hall.
The last time she came to the U.S., she had signed up for the youth division of the American Nine-ball Open.
Generally, the youth and junior divisions of such major tournaments were more for encouragement—there were cash prizes but no official world ranking points. The registration fees plus travel expenses often outweighed the prize money, so after testing the waters last year, she directly signed up for the professional division this year. This year marked her first official step into the professional circuit.
During last year's competition, she had made a few friends in the youth division. This year, only one of them had also moved up to the professional division—a Singaporean girl named Su Wei. This pool hall had been Su Wei's recommendation to Yin Guo: $15 for an entire afternoon, a real bargain.
The two of them met here daily to train.
Another reason they chose this local American pool hall was the chance to meet many U.S. world champions. Everyone practiced like ordinary people, occasionally holding small competitions—it was quite fun.
Before leaving, Yin Guo checked the weather forecast again. Another cold front was coming, with localized snowfall expected today.
Sure enough, when she left the coffee shop, it was still sunny. But by the time she reached the pool hall, just before 3 p.m., the sky had already darkened.
As she entered, someone called from a corner of the hall, "Yin Guo."
Su Wei gestured with her eyes toward a quiet figure sitting on a pool chair, watching an opponent play—a local American star named Berry. "You wanted to see her in person yesterday, right? Well, she's here today."
After saying this, Su Wei greeted Berry in English with a smile, "This is my friend, the one I mentioned earlier—Xiao Guo."
Yin Guo tossed her backpack onto a pool chair and exchanged greetings with Berry.
Berry looked to be around forty, mature and warm, engaging in small talk for a while.
Most of the people in the pool hall were men. Only Su Wei and Yin Guo's table had female competitors registered for the tournament. The other table with two blonde girls was purely for fun. Su Wei, being half mixed-race, had a height closer to the locals, and the two native beauties had long legs and ample curves. Among the four women in the hall, Yin Guo was the only petite one.
When she first came, someone had even asked if she was signing up for the under-14 junior division.
But later, no one asked anymore.
Because her skills, while not enough to instantly outplay the regional champions and stars in the hall, were certainly no worse than theirs.
The pool table tells no lies.
Besides, there’s no age distinction on the pool table.
Tournament registrations only had upper age limits—over 14 couldn’t join the junior division, over 21 couldn’t join the youth division—to ensure fairness.
There was no lower limit. Meng Xiaotian’s older brother, Meng Xiaodong, had started competing in the professional division at just 14.Today, because of afternoon tea, she arrived late and wanted to extend her time until eight o'clock.
Unfortunately, plans couldn't keep up with changes. By a little past six, Berry had already packed up and rushed over, enthusiastically inviting Su Wei and her to have dinner near Flushing. That area was a gathering place for Asians and Chinese, often called the new Chinatown.
Yin Guo hadn’t been there before—it was a bit far.
Su Wei’s boyfriend lived there, so she could stay over directly without needing to return. That meant Yin Guo would have to come back alone after dark, which didn’t feel very safe.
“Let me tell you, in Flushing, there’s a Sichuan restaurant owned by my boyfriend’s family. Their boiled beef is amazing.”
Boiled beef truly was a globally renowned Chinese dish…
Her appetite was instantly piqued. It had been over a week since she arrived, and she hadn’t had any hometown cuisine—her taste buds were practically being obliterated by Western food. But no matter how delicious it was, there was no need to rush over so late. She could always go another day.
Seeing her hesitation, Berry whispered a few words to Su Wei.
Su Wei found a new way to tempt her: “He said because of the Open, there’s a gathering tonight. You’ll get to meet quite a few professional players, from all over. You can see them in advance.”
Bullseye. She had to go.
Without hesitation, she confirmed Meng Xiaotian’s location on WeChat and reminded him to return to the hotel early. Then she packed her cue into its case, slung it over her shoulder, and followed the two of them.
The journey took quite a while. By the time they reached the Chinese restaurant, Su Wei had just started ordering when Berry received seven or eight calls in a row, urging him to hurry to the pool hall. Reluctantly, they skipped the boiled beef and settled for fried rice.
After barely taking a few bites, they quickly paid the bill and rushed to their next destination.
Tonight’s gathering was at a Chinese-owned pool hall.
The owner was a former well-known Snooker player who had retired and opened this place, which was quite sizable and catered to regulars. The entrance was on a street corner. When the two arrived, a few people were smoking by the trash can outside. One of them recognized Berry, stubbed out his cigarette, and grinned, pointing inside. “Go check out the show.”
Berry immediately understood, pushed open the glass door, and led them inside.
Rows of pool tables were neatly arranged, stretching from the entrance to the back.
Most were green, with a few blue ones further in, each spaced about two meters apart for cue movement.
On either side of the tables were rows of brown pool chairs.
As soon as they entered, they noticed unfinished games on the tables—everyone had left their spots and crowded around a blue table at the far end. The place was buzzing with lively chatter, clearly gearing up for a match.
Berry loudly asked his friends who was playing.
Someone replied that a regional champion was betting on a game—three thousand dollars.
Berry pressed, “Who is it?”
When the other person answered with a name, Berry got excited, grinning as he set down his backpack and cue before disappearing into the crowd.
Judging by Berry’s reaction, it must be a locally famous player. She propped her cue case against the wall and hadn’t even taken off her down jacket’s hood when, through the gap between two men, she caught a glimpse—
Was that him?
It was just a fleeting glance, but in a room full of locals, spotting another Chinese person was easy. Black hair, short cut, wearing the same black hoodie she’d seen him in at noon, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his back turned to her.
Could she be mistaken?Barry saw them approaching and smiled, pushing aside his two friends to give the girls a clearer view.
She was squeezed to the front of the crowd, directly facing that figure’s back.
The match hadn’t started yet.
He was chalking the tip of his cue, twisting the small blue cube slowly, sliding it over the tip again and again until the coating was perfectly even—clearly the work of an expert.
“Today’s bet limit is five thousand dollars,” he said in English to the unfamiliar onlookers. “I’ve only pooled three. If any of you want to add to the pot, you’re welcome to.”
It was him. It had to be him. That same voice had been telling her amusing stories about down-and-out literary figures just this afternoon.
But now, everything was different—his words, his tone, his entire demeanor exuded nonchalance, as if to say: He would win this game, and anyone who bet on him was guaranteed a sure victory.
The chalk in his left hand was placed on the edge of the pool table.
He turned his head.
His gaze landed—and stayed—on her.
…It really was him.
Later, when Yin Guo thought back to this night, she always believed this was the true beginning of her and Lin Yiyang’s acquaintance. The person here, in this Chinese-run pool hall, was the real him—the lazy, brilliant, rule-defying Chinese man who always defeated his opponents with an air of indifference, as if winning or losing meant nothing to him.
Lin Yiyang held the cue in his right hand, leaning slowly against the edge of the pool table. He reached out, picked up two balls from the table, and tossed one to his opponent for the night, the regional champion.
“Come on,” he said. “Let me see what you’ve got.”
He hadn’t eaten dinner and had been in low spirits, but now—now was different.
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