During The Blizzard (Amidst A Snowstorm Of Love)

Canto 70: Shrouded Glory

"Shrouded in whispers, a champion takes a stand, " - Yiyun

Translator: Wuxia Studio, Editor: J.C Forester (Mrphysit)

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The sound of the shower starting acted as a curtain call. Lin Yiyang disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Yin Guo alone with her thoughts. So, even the most captivating men shed their glamorous facade at home, she mused. Here he was, her very own Lin Yiyang, content to lounge around in his bare essentials, image seemingly an afterthought.

A comfortable silence descended, punctuated only by the rhythmic whoosh of the shower. Yin Guo stretched out on the bar, her phone a portal to the outside world. She scrolled through Weibo and Moments, her gaze catching on a familiar face Lin Yiyang, captured at the airport earlier that day.

Blurry phone pictures, some shot from the dizzying heights of the second floor, others from a low angle by the check-in counters, flooded the internet. One, taken from above, captured only a sliver of Lin Yiyang - a crisp white shirt swallowed by the vastness of the airport, dark pants blending into the shadows. Another, presumably snapped from a southwest corner on the first floor, offered a glimpse of his profile.

A high nose bridge was defined by the sharp line where his mask dipped slightly, revealing eyes glued to a phone screen. No hint of a smile played there, no flicker of frustration the photo offered no clues to his mood.

But for Yin Guo, it was a masterpiece. She saved the photo to a private album titled simply 'Him' a single word that spoke volumes about the way her heart ached at his absence.

A comment on a friend's repost of the post-match press conference snagged Yin Guo's attention.

' This guy is amazing, his girlfriend is lucky like a duck.'  a hollow laugh escaped her lips. Lucky? Maybe.

With a click, she plunged into the chaos. The video, a shaky fan-shot masterpiece of blurred movement and background noise, buzzed with a cacophony of hushed questions and frantic camera clicks.

"There he is!" someone shouted, the voice barely audible over the din. A blinding flash erupted, momentarily engulfing the screen.

Yin Guo squinted, searching for a glimpse of Lin Yiyang amidst the visual chaos. Did a hint of a smile flicker across his face before the darkness swallowed him again?

The scene shifts. Under the harsh glare of studio lights, Lin Yiyang and the president of the association take their seats at the long red interview table.

The empty seat beside Lin Yiyang is a stark reminder of the absent coach. Across from him sat the imposing figure of the Billiards Association leader.

He sank into the chair, a subconscious motion leading him to unbutton his cuffs. Then, as if a sudden awareness struck, he halted mid-motion, a cough escaping his lips as he straightened his posture. The interview began.

Yin Guo, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips, caught the small performance. His practiced composure, the carefully concealed vulnerability – a side of him rarely on display.

The reporter's questions were sharp, their edges honed to provoke a reaction. "Ten years off the scene, unfamiliar arena, unknown opponents ever feel the pressure?"

Lin Yiyang's response was a clipped "No," his voice betraying no emotion.

"Twenty-eight, a late start for a pro. Any worries about your age?"

Another flat "No," but this time, Yin Guo thought she detected a flicker of something in his eyes defiance. Determination? The shaky video quality made it impossible to tell for sure.