Chapter 8: The World Under Snow (4)
Back in her room, she took a shower, changed into pajamas, and burrowed under the covers, wanting to discuss with Zheng Yi whether she should temporarily rent an apartment. Zheng Yi hadn’t replied yet. Calculating the time back home, she figured she’d have to wait another half hour.
After these past few days, her jet lag had finally normalized.
But she still felt drowsy and sleepy.
As she waited, her eyelids began to droop. Determined to stay awake until her friend replied, she leaned against the headboard and played with her phone.
Refreshing her feed, over a dozen new WeChat Moments updates popped up. She liked them one by one.
Her finger suddenly froze on the screen—there was a short post:
Wu Wei: Little Yang has someone in his heart.
The name was Wu Wei, someone she had just added on WeChat and still remembered.
That "Yang"... Lin Yiyang?
...Good thing she hadn’t liked it. That was close.
In her daze, Yin Guo accidentally kicked the TV remote off the blanket. Instinctively sitting up straight, the pillow behind her scraped her ear. It hurt.
She touched it—it seemed swollen, the spot where his sleeve zipper had scratched her earlier. She got out of bed, slipped on her slippers, and rummaged through her suitcase for the all-purpose erythromycin ointment. Twisting open the small cap, she fumbled and dropped it into the suitcase.
After searching for a while and failing to find the cap, she squeezed out a bit in frustration and dabbed it on her ear.
Back in bed, Zheng Yi finally came to life.
Zheng Yi: I think it’s a good idea. You’re already familiar with them now, and they’re all good people. Even though staying in school dorms is safer, it’s expensive. It’d be good for your brother to get a taste of living off-campus early by renting an apartment.
Yin Guo circled back to the topic of renting.
Xiao Guo: If we move, I’ll have to switch pool halls.
Zheng Yi: What’s there to worry about? Isn’t Wu Wei competing soon? He’ll definitely need to train too—he’ll have recommendations for you.
That was true.
Zheng Yi said she had errands to run and didn’t elaborate further.
With no one left to chat with, her thoughts drifted back to that WeChat Moment, and she couldn’t help but look at it again.
Under Wu Wei’s post, there was only one visible comment:
Lin: Delete it. She can see it.
So it was indeed about Lin Yiyang.
Was it about him having a crush on someone? She guessed.
A minute later, Yin Guo refreshed out of curiosity—it was really gone.
Completely wiped clean, as if it had never existed. She had no idea how many people had seen it, but she was one of them, and now she had to pretend she absolutely hadn’t. It wasn’t great for someone unfamiliar to stumble upon something so personal.
Yin Guo leaned back, flipping her phone back and forth in her hands.
No wonder he was more at ease talking to her cousin but kept his replies to her as brief as possible. He had someone he liked and was avoiding any misunderstandings.
Suddenly, she wanted to tell her friend, Did you know? Lin Yiyang has someone he likes.
But she stopped herself. Why bring it up?
Lin Yiyang was in a subway car.
Apart from him, there were only two Black teenagers in the carriage, chatting animatedly. He admired how naturally high-energy Black people could be, their body language reaching peak expressiveness.
Lin Yiyang looked down at his phone.
He needed a signal to check if Wu Wei had deleted the post and to remind the guy not to run his mouth. At the same time, he glanced at his watch. He had always preferred wearing watches on his right wrist, though the glass had cracked once when he bumped it. For a brief moment while getting it repaired, he had considered switching to his left, but it felt awkward after a few days, so he eventually gave up on the idea.Lin Yiyang unfastened the metal clasp and took it off. Only now did it dawn on him—when Yin Guo had entered the hotel, he recalled the details and realized his watch might have grazed her ear.
The subway pulled into the station.
Two Black teenagers hopped off the train.
Lin Yiyang immediately checked his WeChat Moments, deleted the post—good.
As the subway doors closed, he opened his chat window with Yin Guo.
Lin: Did I hurt your ear?
Red Fish: No, not at all.
Red Fish: Just a slight touch.
Lin: [Coffee]
Red Fish: [Smile]
Lin Yiyang stared at their exchange, unable to spot anything wrong.
But then again, he wasn’t exactly skilled at chatting with girls. After just a few lines, it always devolved into emoji farewells.
He fastened the watch onto his left wrist, glanced at their conversation again, and mulled over what to say next. She was probably asleep by now, so he tucked his phone into his pants pocket.
Back at Wu Wei’s apartment.
In the cramped room, Wu Wei had laid out a yoga mat beside the bed. He was propped up on his hands, mid-workout, sweat dripping from his face—clearly at the most exhausting point.
Lin Yiyang walked in, shrugged off his heavy cold-proof clothing, and tossed it onto Wu Wei.
The latter collapsed onto the mat. “Two more minutes and I would’ve finished. Perfect timing.”
The coat was damp with melted snow. Wu Wei gingerly picked it up, studying Lin Yiyang’s expression—seemed fine? Good.
“That post earlier? I did it on purpose,” Wu Wei said.
Lin Yiyang shot him a warning look.
He yanked open a drawer, rummaging for coins.
“What, doing laundry now?”
Lin Yiyang didn’t answer. He grabbed the coins, found an empty paper bag by the bed, stuffed it with dirty clothes from the room, then snatched a zippered sports jacket from the bed and draped it over his shoulders.
Bag in hand, he headed for the door.
“I wasn’t done talking,” Wu Wei called. “Do you actually like that pretty girl or not?”
Lin Yiyang glanced back at him.
“You do, right? You’ve got a thing for her. No way you don’t.”
The door slammed shut, cutting Wu Wei off.
Downstairs in the apartment’s laundry room, the two sisters who shared the lease with Wu Wei were chatting and laughing. They greeted Lin Yiyang and said their goodbyes—they were moving out tomorrow.
Lin Yiyang responded politely, fed five coins into the washing machine, loaded the clothes, set the timer, and started the cycle.
The sisters left.
Now alone, sitting and waiting wasn’t so bad.
He chose the middle chair, leaning back against the wall, and noticed Yin Guo had just posted a WeChat Moment—a repost about donating desks and chairs to an elementary school. Still awake?
Lin: Not asleep yet?
Red Fish: …Insomnia.
Lin: Jet lag?
Red Fish: Been here over ten days. Jet lag’s long gone. Maybe the noodles were too good?
Lin: That place is average, flavor-wise.
Mainly, the ramen shop was right below Wu Wei’s apartment. Both he and Wu Wei were regulars, so sending him ahead had been the easiest option.
Red Fish: It was pretty good. At least I left satisfied.
Lin: Tonight’s chicken broth base isn’t as good as the traditional pork one.
Red Fish: I didn’t even realize it was chicken broth??
Lin: Yeah.
Red Fish: You seem really familiar with ramen.
Lin: :)Lin Yiyang searched.
He found a few good ramen places and sent her the addresses—five or six in total.
Red Fish: Thanks, thanks.
Lin: I’ll treat you sometime.
Red Fish: ……
Lin: ?
Red Fish: ……You really love treating people to meals, huh?
Lin Yiyang chuckled at that.
It was a misconception—he actually hated eating with strangers or people he wasn’t close to. Dining was an extremely personal affair for him. Generally, he’d only actively seek company for meals with those he’d known for over four or five years. Otherwise, even if dragged into a dinner gathering, he’d just toast with a drink and find somewhere else to eat properly afterward.
Staring at Yin Guo’s message, he couldn’t think of a response, so out of habit, he sent an emoji.
Lin: [Coffee]
As expected, the reply was the same—
Red Fish: [Smile]
How long had it been since he’d chatted like this with someone? Especially with a girl.
Most of his social circle here consisted of fellow pool players, with few female friends. The closest person around him was Wu Wei.
That night, he’d been in a foul mood, braving the blizzard just to find a place to drink.
He’d called Wu Wei, and the two headed to Red Fish. Just before entering, through the fogged-up glass window, he spotted a girl—black hair, dark eyes, petite, wrapped in a scarf, talking on the phone inside. The condensation obscured her eye color, but he suddenly felt a flicker of curiosity about this stranger. Was she Asian? Or Chinese?
At his lowest point, in a city paralyzed by snow—businesses closed, schools shut—amid the blizzard, he’d walked into his usual bar and encountered a stranger who stirred his heart. A girl of the same nationality, the same bloodline.
The only solace in the storm.
He wanted to know her. Everything started with that thought.
He wanted to make sure she got back to her hotel safely, and that led to this.
Originally, he’d planned to drink all night, but he told Wu Wei he had urgent matters to attend to. He asked Wu Wei to check with that younger brother if they could “coincidentally” give them a ride…
Those few days had been his lowest.
An old friend had come to New York, and he didn’t want to meet them. He spent days drowning in bars and pool halls, booked a train ticket back to Washington, eager to leave and avoid these old acquaintances.
On his way to the station, she sent him a friend request.
On the train, she sent the payment transfer.
And tonight, they naturally got to know each other properly. What now?
Lin Yiyang, what now?
He asked himself.
Someone else entered the laundry room, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Even in the dead of night, people kept coming to do laundry.
Lin Yiyang didn’t want to wait anymore. He grabbed the empty paper bag, went upstairs, and tossed Wu Wei five coins, telling him to time it right—dry the clothes and bring them up later.
He pulled out a quilt, collapsed onto the sofa, and slept in his clothes.
When he woke again, it was dawn.
The two sisters were moving out. Wu Wei rolled over in bed, pulling the covers over his head to keep sleeping. Lin Yiyang didn’t get up to say goodbye either, just turned toward the wall and dozed off again. Outside, the noise gradually faded into silence. Whether it was because he’d fallen into deep sleep or because they’d finished moving, he couldn’t tell.
Around eleven, his phone alarm vibrated him awake.
He sat up, rubbing his face with both hands, taking a full minute to fully wake up. Outside, laughter drifted in again.The fever had just broken the day before yesterday, and yesterday he rushed back by train. He hadn’t stopped all day until late at night. Though he hadn’t felt tired before bed, now the exhaustion hit him all at once. He rubbed his face, his short forehead hair messy, and ran his fingers through it a couple of times before finding his slippers and slipping them on.
The athletic jacket he’d worn all night was hot and uncomfortable.
He took it off and tossed it onto the bed, then got up and opened the bedroom door.
He wanted some water.
The world fell silent in an instant.
In the living room, three boys and two girls sat on the sofa—all young, the oldest looking about seventeen or eighteen, and two probably thirteen or fourteen. Behind the kitchen counter, leaning against the fridge, was Wu Wei, facing a man around thirty.
Hearing the door open, everyone turned to look at the figure in the doorway.
Lin Yiyang stood there in a white short-sleeved shirt and black athletic pants, the very picture of someone just woken up. He leaned against the doorframe, gripping the handle, his shirt wrinkled from sleep. His pale face was striking, especially his dark eyes—beautiful, but half-lidded with drowsiness.
A prominent crease from the pillow marked his right cheek, so vivid it could be mistaken for a scar.
His gaze was unfocused.
First, he noticed the row of kids on the sofa… and frowned.
What the hell was Wu Wei up to? Broke and taking in disciples now?
He’s so tall, Little Uncle, the boys on the sofa thought.
He’s so handsome, Little Uncle, the girls on the sofa thought.
This was the man they’d only heard about from the elders at the billiard club—their teacher’s sixth junior brother.
Like their teacher, he had won the youth championship at twelve and began competing in the professional division at thirteen. That year, he and their teacher had taken the championship and runner-up titles, respectively.
At the billiard club, everyone referred to him differently—Little Master Yang, Dun Cuo, Sixth Brother, Sixth Uncle, Old Six.
But everyone knew who they meant—Lin Yiyang.
His first reaction to the strangers was a frown. He didn’t like crowds.
Then his eyes landed on the thirty-year-old man—Jiang Yang, the teacher of those kids on the sofa—and lingered for a few seconds.
“Heard they came by last week and missed you,” Jiang Yang said, dressed in a shirt and slacks, a pair of thin white-framed glasses perched on his nose. “Thought you might’ve run off again.”
Lin Yiyang opened his mouth to speak but found his throat dry.
Shuffling in his slippers, he walked from the bedroom door to the kitchen counter, opened the fridge, and looked for water. Finding none, he grabbed an ice-cold beer instead, cracked it open, and took a sip.
After wetting his throat, he propped his elbow on the counter and looked at Jiang Yang, his voice hoarse. “Here for a competition?”
“Yeah, mainly bringing them.” Jiang Yang gestured to the kids on the sofa. “All my disciples.”
“Hello, Little Uncle,” they chorused, voices respectful.
Lin Yiyang waved a hand dismissively. “I left the club a long time ago. There’s no ‘Little Uncle’ here. If I seem young, call me Sixth Brother. If I seem old, Sixth Uncle.”
Jiang Yang snorted. “If they call you Sixth Brother, what does that make me?”
Lin Yiyang smirked but didn’t answer.
He took another swig of beer, locking eyes with Jiang Yang as they sized each other up.Brothers who hadn’t seen each other in years might have assumed their bond had faded. But the moment they reunited, they realized that the youthful camaraderie—rising at five in the morning to practice at the billiard hall, rushing to school by seven with backpacks slung over their shoulders, pedaling bicycles frantically to make it for morning self-study—was etched deep into their bones.
After years of drifting, they met again: fellow disciples, dear friends.
The burning ache in their chests hadn’t changed.
Lin Yiyang and Jiang Yang had become disciples in the same year, just a week apart—Jiang Yang arriving at the billiard club first, followed by him.
That night, he had eaten a bowl of knife-shaved noodles. Snow was falling as he bundled up like a little dumpling, riding his bike alone to the club. When he walked in, Jiang Yang was wiping down a pool table with a rag. Spotting him, Jiang Yang seemed to realize Lin Yiyang had come to seek apprenticeship. Instead of fetching the teacher, he walked over first, sizing him up with a gesture. “So short? Do your parents agree? Go get your mom. The teacher won’t take a disciple without parental approval.”
“I don’t have parents,” the small boy replied.
Jiang Yang, still clutching the rag, fell completely silent.
This would-be bully of a senior brother was named Jiang Yang—sharing the same final syllable as his own name but written differently.
That year, he was in second grade; Jiang Yang, sixth.
Measuring height like that was hardly gentlemanly. But at that age, kids knew nothing of gentlemen or gentlemanly sports.
Of course, back then in China, this sport had little to do with gentility. At one yuan per table, pool halls were mostly associated with smoking, noise, and cursing… He had only heard that there were actual competitions—with prize money. Perfect.
And he—Lin Yiyang—ultimately succeeded in becoming a disciple, the teacher’s last.
OpenNovel