During The Blizzard (Amidst A Snowstorm Of Love)

Canto 63: Bridging The Gap

"A bridge can only be built if people on opposite sides are willing to reach out to each other." - R.J. Palacio

Translator: Wuxia Studio, Editor: M.H Lovecraft (Enochian_)

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Lin Yiyang dropped his brother's family back home, then pulled into the familiar driveway of his rented place. Jiang Yang sprawled on the worn sofa, looked up with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

Last night, Lin Yiyang had promised a visit to the graves the next day, sending his brothers laden with wine boxes.

Only Jiang Yang, just back from a grueling closed training camp, had stuck around. The solitude had evaporated with Lin Yiyang's return, and a silent hope flickered in Jiang Yang's eyes maybe this time, his junior brother wouldn't be leaving again.

The third-floor renovation, completed last month, stood in stark contrast to the unfinished second floor, held by the stubborn hot pot restaurant refusing to relocate.

Upstairs, bathed in warm light, the space unfolded like a personal haven. A pool table dominated the center, surrounded by plush armchairs that beckoned relaxation. Tucked away in the north corner lay two inviting bedrooms, each with a matching bathroom, creating a private sanctuary.

Jiang Yang, with his usual thoughtfulness, had already furnished one simply, yet with a touch of modern design, transforming it into a cozy haven.

Lin Yiyang, restlessness etched on his face, sat hunched over on the sofa. He reached into his wallet and withdrew a notepad, the worn leather cover creaking in his grip. The corners, once pristine, were now marred by a web of black grime.

Jiang Yang shuffled towards the bathroom, the silence thick enough to cut with a knife. As he reached for the light switch, a flicker of movement caught his eye. He turned to see Lin Yiyang clutching the notepad, his face pale and drawn.

"Are you hurt?" Jiang Yang's voice was a low murmur, barely audible in the tense atmosphere.

Lin Yiyang remained silent, the only sound the strained rasp of his breath.

Jiang Yang, sensing the futility of pressing for an answer, walked towards the bathroom. He flicked on the light switch, a hollow click echoing in the room. Just then, a muffled voice drifted in from behind the closed door, laced with anger, "My health is already failing! Another outburst from you, and I..."

The rest of the tirade was swallowed by the thin walls. Jiang Yang stood frozen, the weight of the unheard words hanging heavy in the air. He knew the teacher wouldn't have mentioned Lin Yiyang by name yet again, the year spent in hiding had been exposed.

But unlike before, Lin Yiyang only flinched, the pain in his eyes a silent plea for understanding. Jiang Yang swallowed the questions churning in his gut, the unspoken bond between them a silent promise of support.

Their teacher, once a source of respect, is now a figure of simmering resentment. Jiang Yang, despite the darkness, located the toilet by the faint moonlight and entered silently.

Lin Yiyang remained on the sofa, the crumpled note clutched tightly in his hand. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he stuffed it back into his wallet.

He rose and wandered outside, drawn towards the familiar comfort of the billiard hall. Stopping by the nearest pool table, he paused.