During The Blizzard (Amidst A Snowstorm Of Love)

Canto 74: Tide of Fate (2)

“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched  they must be felt with the heart.” - Helen Keller

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

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A beat of silence stretched into eternity. Then, Lin Yiyang spoke, his voice echoing through the hushed stadium. "Since everything's come to light," he began, a low rumble that resonated with hidden emotion, "Do I really need to answer?"

Applause erupted, a tidal wave of noise crashing over the stadium, a new climax in the unfolding drama. But through the roar, the commentator's voice cut through, determined. "Of course, Lin! Of course, we want to hear from you!"

Lin Yiyang's hand moved with a measured grace, the microphone switching from left to right. His gaze, however, traveled far beyond the camera, piercing the distance towards a lone figure in the arena. Yin Guo.

Her breath hitched. Her left hand tightened around her right wrist, unconsciously seeking comfort. What was he thinking? What answer would he give? It was a question that mirrored the one in her own heart, a question that resonated within every soul glued to the screen.

Across the miles, a connection sparked. Lin Yiyang remained fixed on her in the distance. The camera angle offered only a glimpse of his lowered head, his expression shrouded in shadow, a mystery even for the millions watching. Yet, for Yin Guo, that one movement the deliberate shift of the microphone spoke volumes. His eyes, she knew, were on her. And she, like the rest of the world, held her breath, waiting.

The silence inside was thick, a fog muffling the usual roar of the crowd. Lin Yiyang took a deep breath, his gaze falling momentarily to the floor. "Last year, I saw her in a small bar here," he began, his voice filling every corner. "I stood outside, staring through the window for what felt like an eternity. She never noticed."

A ripple of surprise went through the audience. Even in his home arena, this kind of vulnerability was unexpected.

"I wanted to walk in," he continued, his voice raw with honesty. "I wanted to buy her a drink, get to know her. But I was scared. What if I messed it all up? She was so beautiful, so perfect..." His voice trailed off, and a heavy silence descended once more.

Yin Guo sat in the stands, a choked sob escaping her lips. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the image of Lin Yiyang on the giant screen. Her hand reached out instinctively, searching for something, anything, to ground her.

A chuckle broke the tension, coming from the commentator. "So you finally took the courage to ask her out, Lin?"

"So today you did it?" the female commentator chimed in.

A hesitant smile touched Lin Yiyang's lips. "Hopefully," he replied, his gaze flickering back to the screen where Yin Guo's tear-streaked face filled half the frame. "I think," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "I think I will succeed."

Lin Yiyang's charming words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the playful jabs from the commentators' booth. "Such touching words," the female commentator sighed dramatically, covering her face with exaggerated theatricality. "Is he saying... he hasn't succeeded yet?"

A wry smile played on Lin Yiyang's lips. He knew the dance. The audience's adoration was a double-edged sword. They reveled in his victories on the court, but also held him to a certain standard a standard that perhaps extended beyond his athletic prowess. A flicker of unease crossed his mind. Was he letting them down by revealing this vulnerability?

"Lin, you've broken our hearts!" the male commentator chimed in, his voice dripping with mock heartache. "Last year's MVP, still pining for his happily ever after?"