When Zhou Ruo An stepped into the billiards hall, he immediately drew the attention of nearly everyone present.
Lin Yi loved playing billiards. Zhou Ruo An used to accompany him here often. Last year, when the owner of the billiards hall shifted to another line of business, Lin Yi bought the place with all his savings. He hired a floor manager and became a hands-off boss.
Instead, it was Zhou Ruo An who came every month to check the accounts, taking full charge of all matters. Lin Yi let him do as he pleased on his turf, merely watching with a cigarette between his lips, smiling lazily, never truly involving himself.
After Zhou Ruo An returned to his family roots, he never came here again. The moment he stepped inside today, the noisy hall fell silent for an instant.
Now, Zhou Ruo An carried an entirely different bearing. He wore a gray pinstriped suit, paired with a wool overcoat in the same tone. His slightly messy bangs were slicked back with hair gel, revealing a full, smooth forehead.
The thugs in the hall had seen their fair share of rich young masters, but Zhou Ruo An was different from those flashy, superficial types. Though only in his early twenties, he already exuded a steady composure, his gaze sharp like a hook.
The hall had large tables and small tables—the large ones for snooker, the small ones for fifteen-ball. Zhou Ruo An swept his gaze across the room and spotted Lin Yi standing beside a snooker table. Taking a step forward, he walked toward him.
The hall manager, half a respectable man, knew nothing of Zhou Ruo An’s past in the urban village, nor did he notice the new tension between Zhou Ruo An and Lin Yi. Still holding the account book, he hurried after Zhou Ruo An.
Reaching the table, Zhou Ruo An called Lin Yi’s name. The other man was on a roll, sinking three shots in succession. The fourth shot was interrupted when someone bumped into him, causing a miss. Only then did Lin Yi lift his eyes, as if just noticing Zhou Ruo An’s arrival.
“A rare guest,” Lin Yi said, holding the cue stick, leaning lazily against the table. “What brings Young Master Zhou to a place like this?”
Zhou Ruo An still carried the chill of the outdoors. As he stepped closer, the cold seemed to follow him. “You sent me those photos—wasn’t that just to get me to come find you?”
He raised his phone slightly.
The other player had just missed, and it was Lin Yi’s turn again. The tall man calmly chalked his cue before bending over the table. “So Young Master Zhou still reads my messages? I thought you’d already cut ties and ‘stuck with your own kind’.”
Lin Yi’s movements were swift and powerful. As he finished speaking, he struck the ball cleanly into the pocket.
Zhou Ruo An tapped his fingers lightly against the table. “Lin Yi, let’s find somewhere to talk.”
“Sure.” Lin Yi pushed the cue forward toward him. “Take this shot for me first.”
Zhou Ruo An’s patience had already run out, but given the current situation, Lin Yi was the one controlling the rules of the game. After a brief moment of thought, he had no choice but to compromise.
Taking off his coat and tossing it onto a nearby chair, Zhou Ruo An accepted the cue stick, bent forward, and aimed at a ball on the table.
A tailored suit was not suited for such wide movements—his wrists and ankles were exposed, the line of his hips clearly defined, his trousers slightly taut, giving him the look of a rare fruit seldom seen in northern winters.
Lin Yi swept his gaze over him from head to toe, then stepped closer, pressing near Zhou Ruo An.
“Bend your waist a little more…” Lin Yi reached out and pressed lightly on Zhou Ruo An’s waist. Then he bent down as well, covering Zhou Ruo An’s hand with his own, both gripping the cue together.
The man’s presence suddenly closed in. Zhou Ruo An frowned. “I can play on my own.”
“Your technique is too sloppy. Since we’re going our separate ways, I’ll teach you one last time.”
The hand resting on Zhou Ruo An’s back slowly slid downward, pressing through the fabric into the familiar hollow of his waist. The angle and pressure were exactly the same as in the stall the day before.
Instantly, Lin Yi felt the body he half-enclosed stiffen.
Aiming at the eight ball ahead, he leaned close to Zhou Ruo An’s ear and asked, “How much of yesterday do you remember?”
Zhou Ruo An took several deep breaths, forcing his body to relax. He let out a faint scoff and said quietly, “Just a handjob—does it matter how much I remember? Oh, I don’t remember much else. Only that your technique is fucking terrible.” Turning his head, he met those dark eyes. “Lin Yi, you’re only good at beating people and playing billiards.”
Lin Yi nodded, breathing in Zhou Ruo An’s faint scent. “Practice makes perfect. Just like billiards—the more you play, the smoother it gets.”
“Now—strike.”
Zhou Ruo An’s expression darkened as he delivered a forceful shot. With a sharp crack, the targeted ball dropped cleanly into the pocket.
Sparse applause broke out, mixed with a few whistles. Lin Yi straightened smoothly, stepping away from Zhou Ruo An as he fished out a cigarette and walked toward his lounge. “Didn’t you want to talk? Then let’s talk.”
Zhou Ruo An slowly straightened as well. The heat lingering at his waist had yet to dissipate. He rubbed it awkwardly, picked up his coat, and followed.
The waiting floor manager promptly handed over the account book, his tone slightly ingratiating. “If there’s anything you need explained, just call me.”
Entering Lin Yi’s lounge, Zhou Ruo An sat in his usual seat and got straight to the point. “Yesterday, I fell into Zhou Bin and Zhou Zhe’s trap. Thanks for getting me out.”
Lin Yi boiled water and prepared tea, sounding as if he didn’t quite understand. “I got you out? How so?”
“I asked around afterward. That hostess is someone Zhou Jing Tao favors. If I’d slept with her, it would’ve been a scandal. Zhou Jing Tao wouldn’t make a big deal over a nightclub woman, but it would definitely leave a bad taste in his mouth. And with the barely-there father-son bond between us, it would’ve been even harder for me to gain his approval afterward.”
“And there’s something else—do you know why Zhou Jing Tao always calls for that hostess?” Zhou Ruo An’s expression darkened, anger faintly surfacing in his voice. “Because she looks like Zhang Jin’s mother.”
Lin Yi paused mid-pour. “Since you figured that out, why did you still walk into the trap?”
“At first, she just looked familiar. I only confirmed it after seeing her without makeup.” Zhou Ruo An leaned back against the sofa, casually flipping through the account book as he spoke. “And right now, I’m using Zhang Jin’s identity. If I had really gone through with it yesterday and Zhou Jing Tao found out, he’d feel disgusted every time he saw me.”
Pouring the tea and rinsing it, Lin Yi spoke with faint mockery through the rising fragrance. “Yesterday, Young Master Zhou had already taken off his pants—you were only half an inch away from finishing the job.”
“Wait.” Zhou Ruo An ignored the sarcasm. Looking at the account book in his hands, he frowned slightly. “Why is there such a big discrepancy?”
After flipping through a few more pages, Zhou Ruo An came to a conclusion. “Lin Yi, you’re fucking useless.”
He stood up, pulled open the lounge door, and called for the floor manager. Though he wore a smile, his eyes were sharp. “I haven’t checked the accounts for two months, and the billiards hall’s performance has dropped this much? The colder it gets, the better business should be—people can’t stay outside in the cold, so they come here instead. But now revenue is falling instead of rising. Explain that to me.”
The manager glanced at Lin Yi standing behind Zhou Ruo An and stammered, “The boss said cigarettes and alcohol can’t be sold to anyone under eighteen. Alcohol has to be sold in its original packaging—no splitting it. The hourly rate’s been reduced by five yuan, and even instant noodles are fifty cents cheaper.”
With a sharp snap, Zhou Ruo An closed the account book and turned to curse at Lin Yi. “You joined the underworld, not the Red Cross!”
A trace of amusement finally appeared in Lin Yi’s eyes. With a flick of his hand, he dismissed the manager. Pushing a cup of freshly brewed tea forward, he said, “You know me—I’m not relying on this place to make money.”
“Then what are you relying on?” Zhou Ruo An stepped closer, looming over him as he asked coldly, “Robbing photographers?”
The smile faded from Lin Yi’s face. He raised his cup and took a sip. “You walked straight into your brothers’ trap. They hired someone to take photos, secure leverage over you, and use it later to stir trouble.”
“But according to that woman, the photo on my phone was taken by you.”
His voice dropped, cold and sharp. “You took it—and then sent it to me. What exactly are you trying to do, Lin Yi?”
Lin Yi brought the cigarette he hadn’t smoked much back to his lips and lit it again. Tossing the lighter aside, he asked in return, “What do you think?”
The room fell silent. In that suffocating stillness, even the slightest sound could ignite conflict.
Zhou Ruo An pulled out his phone and threw it onto the table with a dull thud. “Lin Yi, are you trying to threaten me too?”
Leaning in, he stared into that unnervingly calm face. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have taken that photo—or sent it to me.”
Lin Yi exhaled smoke, fanning it lazily away. He admitted it without hesitation. “You guessed right.”
Their eyes locked. “Young Master Zhou, why shouldn’t I threaten you?”
Zhou Ruo An grabbed Lin Yi’s wrist and yanked him forward, fury blazing in his eyes. “Why? Lin Yi, why are you doing this? Aren’t we friends?”
“Friends?” Lin Yi let out a laugh. “You’re a young master of the Zhou family, and I’m a lowly thug. We’re not in the same world—don’t try to force it.”
He pulled his restrained hand back slightly and said quietly, “Let go.”
When Zhou Ruo An didn’t move, Lin Yi placed the cigarette between his lips. With his free hand, he picked up the kettle from the tea table and, without hesitation, poured the freshly boiling water over the back of Zhou Ruo An’s hand.
“Fuck!” Zhou Ruo An jerked his hand back. Though quick, his fingertips were still scalded.
Lin Yi didn’t escape unscathed either—the hot water splashed across his own hand, leaving a patch of reddened skin.
“Lin Yi, are you fucking insane?!”
Zhou Ruo An knew this lounge well. He yanked open the cabinet beneath Lin Yi’s desk, pulled out the medical kit, and rummaged inside for burn ointment.
Lin Yi lived a life on the edge, so he always kept medical supplies nearby. Zhou Ruo An had treated his minor injuries many times before; now, he skillfully applied a thick layer of ointment over the burn.
The cooling menthol in the ointment eased the stinging pain. Watching Zhou Ruo An’s lowered brows, Lin Yi said calmly, “Three hundred thousand, and I’ll give you the photo.”
Zhou Ruo An’s hand paused. His brows drew together. “Lin Yi… are you serious?”
Lin Yi withdrew his hand, took out his phone, and pulled up a payment QR code. With his other hand, he lifted the teacup and set it in front of Zhou Ruo An. “Young Master Zhou, this is my camera. The photos of you and that woman are inside. Thirty thousand—no, three hundred thousand—and the camera and all the photos are yours.”
Zhou Ruo An’s face turned ashen with anger. “You think I’m an ATM? Three hundred thousand—you’ve got some nerve asking for that!”
“Then two hundred eighty thousand. Not a cent less. Pay that, and you’ll be rid of future trouble. It’s a good deal for you.”
“The Zhou family may be rich, but that money isn’t mine.” Zhou Ruo An knocked the teacup aside. “Right now, I only get a fixed monthly allowance. Lin Yi, I’m not your cash cow!”
Lin Yi removed the cigarette from his lips, exhaling pale smoke, unmoved. “Two choices: either you take the camera back and enjoy the photos yourself, or you can enjoy them online—along with everyone else, including your father.”
“Damn it.” Zhou Ruo An surged forward, crossing the tea table and shoving Lin Yi hard into the sofa. “We’ve lived side by side all these years—we’ve frozen together, starved together, been beaten and beaten others. I may be in the wrong, but all I said was we shouldn’t see each other anymore. And you’re extorting me?!”
Lin Yi rarely smiled, yet now he mimicked Zhou Ruo An’s mocking tone perfectly. “Zhou Ruo An—don’t bring up the past. You don’t have the right.”
Zhou Ruo An stared at him for a long time. Only when he was forced to accept that there was nothing but cold indifference in those depths did he slowly calm down. “Fine. I won’t bring it up.”
He released his grip, stood, and fastened his loosened cufflink. “From now on, there’s no sentiment between us—only business.”
“Three hundred thousand, right? Fine. I’ll write you an IOU. I’ll pay you back when I have the money.”
Lin Yi pulled out paper and a pen, tossing them onto the cluttered tea table. “Young Master Zhou, your character aside—when it comes to business, you’ve always been reliable.”
Zhou Ruo An wrote the note and pressed his fingerprint beneath his name.
After finishing, he took out a tissue and wiped the ointment from his hands. “Where’s the camera?”
Lin Yi pocketed the IOU and handed the camera over without hesitation. “Aren’t you going to ask whether I made backups?”
Zhou Ruo An lowered his head, flipping through the photos. “No need. Brother Lin has his own principles.”
Suddenly, his entire body stiffened.
Aside from the photos in the car, he saw another image of himself—leaning against the restroom partition, disheveled and utterly undone.
Instinctively, Zhou Ruo An raised a hand to his face. His fingertips seemed to catch that same filthy stickiness again.
Yesterday, when he had finally snapped out of his delirium and saw his reflection—his face smeared with grime—the first thing he thought of was a line from Bai Ban: “a woman made filthy from head to toe.”
He wasn’t entirely without memory of that madness—at the very least, he remembered the rough calluses, the forceful rhythm, and Lin Yi’s expressionless face.
“Fuck.”
Leaning over the sink, Zhou Ruo An cursed—at himself, and at Lin Yi.- He turned on the tap and plunged his face under the running water…
“What was the point of taking that?” As he spoke, Zhou Ruo An had already deleted the photo.
“No particular reason. Just got a new camera—felt fresh, wanted to practice.”
Zhou Ruo An clenched his teeth, yet forced out a smile. “Lin Yi, sometimes the things you do are unnecessary. In a situation like yesterday, I could’ve handled it myself. No need to show off your clumsy skills.”
“Is that so? Then next time, I won’t use my hands.”
The remark sounded off. Zhou Ruo An was already suppressing his temper—now he held back even less. “Next time you fall into someone else’s trap, remember to call me. I’ll return the favor and show you what real bliss feels like.”
He slung the camera over his shoulder and turned to leave. His hand had just touched the doorknob when a low voice came from behind—
“Sure. Then I’ll be waiting.”
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