During The Blizzard (Amidst A Snowstorm Of Love)

Canto 12: Abyss

"In her gaze, galaxies unfolded, and within the vast expanse of her eyes, I found the infinite depths of an abyss, where mysteries and emotions swirled, captivating my soul in the profound dance of darkness and light."

Translator: Wuxia Studio, Editor (s): Queen's Digital Arts

A streetlight hums, casting a cold glow on Jiang Yang's face as he fiddles with his e-cigarette. Its metallic click echoes in the hushed night air. He takes a long drag, exhaling a plume of smoke that dissipates like a secret shared, unspooling into silence.

"Ever the enigma, Wu Wei," Jiang Yang remarks, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Always ahead of the curve, even back in middle school." He flicks his gaze towards Lin Yiyang, who leans against a nearby lamppost, hands hidden in his pockets.

The memory brings a chuckle to Jiang Yang's lips. "Remember betting on who'd crack the top thirty? Nearly forty of us scrabbling for scraps, and you, the quiet one, defied the odds."

Lin Yiyang nods, a ghost of a smile flickering across his face. "Almost."

Some students, their minds tuned to a different rhythm, were pushed into uniforms, destined for lives beyond textbooks. Others, like Lin Yiyang, faltered in the academic race, seeking solace in the rhythmic clicks of the balls.

But something shifted after quitting the club. A hunger for knowledge bloomed, fuelled by late-night study sessions and the relentless pursuit of a paycheck. Lin Yiyang remembers the three years abroad with a tired sigh. The first year, bound by visa restrictions, forced him to become a shadow, following the rumbling Chinese bus, trading sweat for sustenance under the watchful eyes of foreign skies.

Making ends meet was a constant battle, even for Wu Wei, the prodigy who acknowledged the allure of free education with a resigned nod. That unspoken understanding hung heavy between them, a shared burden etched in the lines around their eyes.

Lin Yiyang pulls his gaze from the blur of headlights on the distant avenue, a flicker of determination igniting in his eyes. The journey wasn't easy, riddled with sacrifices and unspoken resentments. But standing here, under the indifferent gaze of the city lights, he knows one thing for sure, they both defied the odds, each in their own way.

“A decade well fought, wouldn’t you say, Young Master Yang?” Jiang Yang’s voice was a low rumble, carrying the weight of shared history. He offered a cigarette, the orange glow painting a nostalgic arc on his tired features.

Lin Yiyang’s smile felt brittle. “Victories come at a cost, don’t they?” His gaze traced the city’s sprawl, each glittering window a silent witness to his sacrifices.

His mentor’s harsh words echoed in his head, a cruel melody fueling his climb: “You, Lin Yiyang, have no family. Without this club, you are nothing.” He’d conquered the club and clawed his way to the top, but the cost? A hollowness gnawed at him, avoid the city’s lights couldn’t fill.

Jiang Yang’s eyes, sharp and knowing, seemed to pierce through the facade. “The club was a crucible, Lin Yiyang. It forged you, broke you, and made you into this…,” he gestured towards the cityscape, “master of your domain.”

The title sat heavily on Lin Yiyang’s tongue. Was it mastery or a gilded cage? He didn’t answer, instead focusing on the cigarette Jiang Yang held out. The aroma, once a source of comfort, now felt foreign, a ghost of a past self.

“You’ve changed, brother,” Jiang Yang observed, the lighter flame flickering between them. “But the question remains... who are you now?”

Lin Yiyang looked into the dancing flame, its reflection mirroring the turmoil within. He hesitated, then shook his head, gently pushing the cigarette away.

“How many years has it been since you truly saw me, Jiang Yang?” His voice was quiet, yet the unspoken challenge hung heavy in the air.

As they enter the dimly lit billiard room, the familiar crack of balls colliding hangs heavy in the air. Lin Yiyang scans the faces, none of the mentors, but all echoes of his past. He catches Jiang Yang's watchful gaze and asks, "Remember the bet we made? On who would escape this place first?"

Jiang Yang leans against a pool table, the silence stretched taut. "Escape? Or conquer it?"

When Lin Yiyang found the white ball, he heard Jiang Yang casually ask. "Last night, I saw something on Wu Wei's moments." there's a teasing smile appears on Jiang Yang's lips.

Lin Yiyang raised his hand to stop Jiang Yang from talking. But Jiang Yang didn't listen and continued to ask.

"Who is she? What race? American? Latina?"

The white orb rested heavy in Lin Yiyang's palm, its familiar smoothness offering no solace for the churning thoughts it ignited. "Chinese and I just met her," he replied, his voice betraying a tinge of defensiveness beneath the casual facade. "Not as dramatic as Wu Wei makes it sound."

Jiang Yang sprawled against the pool table, raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Dramatic, or simply… intriguing?" He paused, letting the word hang in the air, heavy with unspoken implications.

Lin Yiyang leaned down, meticulously placing the white ball on the tee line. He felt a flicker of annoyance at the way Wu Wei always cast an air of mystery around the most mundane things. "People aren't always puzzles waiting to be solved," he countered, trying to sound nonchalant. "Sometimes, a girl with dark eyes like an abyss is just… a girl with dark eyes,"

As the cue kissed the table, sending the white ball on its calculated path, Lin Yiyang's mind strayed. Was he being honest with himself? Or was there something more to this chance encounter, something he was deliberately downplaying? He had always prided himself on his control, his ability to compartmentalize and move on. But lately, that carefully constructed wall seemed to be crumbling, piece by piece.

Jiang Yang chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Perhaps. But wouldn't it be foolish to ignore Wu Wei's… insights? After all, he doesn't delve into everyone's deleted WeChat moments."

The jab hit its mark. Lin Yiyang's grip tightened on the cue, the polished wood suddenly abrasive against his skin. Was it just friendly ribbing, or was Jiang Yang probing for something deeper? Did he suspect Lin Yiyang's carefully cultivated nonchalance was a facade?

"Maybe he's just bored," Lin Yiyang muttered, refusing to rise to the bait. He focused on the remaining balls, picturing their perfect trajectories, the satisfying click of each successful pocket. The rhythmic clinking echoed the quiet war within him – between acknowledging the spark he felt and dismissing it as a fleeting fancy.

He sank the final ball with a decisive shot, the silence momentarily broken by the applause of a nearby table. But the victory felt hollow. The game on the felt was over, but the real one, the one swirling within him, had just begun.

"Another round?" Jiang Yang asked, his voice laced with a quiet challenge.

Lin Yiyang met his gaze, a newfound uncertainty flickering in his eyes. He saw not just his friend, but a mirror reflecting his own internal struggle. "Perhaps," he replied, the single word holding the weight of an unmade decision. "But this time, for what stakes?"

The air crackled with unspoken possibilities. Would the next game be merely a friendly competition, or would it become a battlefield for unraveling their own hidden desires and vulnerabilities? The answer, like the girl with abyss-like eyes, remained shrouded in mystery, waiting to be revealed on the green felt and in the labyrinthine alleys of their hearts.

To be continued. .