Mud beads

"I'm a male prostitute. What are you, a client?"

Liang Dong sat opposite him, his gaze frank and his face showing no anger, as if he were simply asking a question in response to his words.

Echizen Toru paused, holding his ebony staff.

The two men faced each other across a low table. The living room overlooked the water, and most of the courtyard lights outside the window were already off, leaving only a few dim yellow lights on the pond from under the covered bridge. Someone was clearing away cups and saucers from a distance; the clinking of porcelain was barely audible by the time it reached them.

Koshima Toru suddenly laughed.

He pulled his cane back, tapped the ground with the tip, and stood up, using one hand to hold onto the sofa armrest. His right leg landed a beat slower, but his shoulders and back remained relaxed.

He walked toward the billiards room.

Liang Dong sat for two seconds, then followed.

The billiard room doors were thick, upholstered in dark brown leather. No overhead lights were on; three brass lampshades hung above the billiard tables, casting a vertical glow that illuminated the dark green tablecloth in a deep, smooth light. The room was shrouded in darkness, with a row of leather bar stools against the wall and several unopened bottles of whiskey displayed in a glass cabinet. Cool air seeped slowly from the vents, carrying the mingled scents of chalk, wood, and leather.

Looking from the doorway, the billiard table occupies the center of the room. The brass corner protectors are polished to a shine, and the six leather bags have gaping, dark openings.

The waiter was already waiting inside.

Koshima Toru raised his hand slightly. The waiter took out nine balls, arranged them in a diamond-shaped frame, with ball number one at the front and ball number nine in the middle. After placing the cue ball on the break line, two glasses of ice water were placed on the side table, and then the waiter quietly withdrew.

Koshima Toru leaned his cane against the bar stool and pulled a dark-colored golf club from the wall. He picked up some blue chalk from the corner of the table and slowly polished the tip.

"Really?"

"So-so." Liang Dong walked to the table, his tone frank. "I know the basic rules."

"That's right." Toru Koshima scoffed lightly, handing the club to the tee line. "You go first."

Liang Dong didn't stand on ceremony.

His grip on the club was clumsy; his thumb and forefinger were clenched tightly, and his left hand, resting on the cue, was low to the ground. As he bent down, his white hoodie stretched into thin wrinkles on his shoulders and back. He aimed for a moment, then lifted his arm and struck the club.

The white ball collided with the ball array, and the nine colored balls scattered with a bang.

The number six ball bounced off the cushion twice and rolled into the middle pocket. The rest of the balls scattered across the green cloth, making a series of crisp, rapid collisions.

Liang Dong raised an eyebrow.

Toru Koshima sat down on the high stool next to him, his injured right leg stretched out loosely, the cue stick resting across his knee. He glanced at the potted number six ball but said nothing.

Liang Dong continued.

His second shot was very heavy. The cue ball hit the number one ball first, which rolled along the cushion, while the number four ball next to it was affected and changed its trajectory, veering off course and into the bottom pocket.

They've made it in again.

Liang Dong knew that these few shots were mostly luck. He straightened up, walked half a circle around the table, and looked for the angle for his next shot. The table lamp pressed down on him, casting a sharp shadow on his nose and brow bone. He hesitated before striking the ball, and the number one ball grazed the pocket, almost going in.

It was Echizen Toru's turn.

He stepped down from the bar stool, first bracing his left hand on the edge of the table, and then bending down once his right leg was firmly in place. His cue stick, however, moved very steadily, his fingers resting loosely on the cloth, the shaft gliding lightly between his fingers with almost no rustling sound.

The white ball gently bumps into number one.

The number one ball landed in the middle pocket, the cue ball passed the cushion, and stopped diagonally behind the number two ball. The angle was just right for the next shot.

Liang Dong stood at the other end of the pool table, watching him take down the number two and number three balls in succession. Echizen Toru didn't use much force when he hit the balls; the colored balls even rolled to the pocket with a slight sluggishness, almost stopping, before finally falling down the pocket.

When it was number five's turn, he didn't rush to call.

"Does she know you have an older sister like this?" Toru Echizen asked.

After saying that, he thinned the shot.

The number five ball grazed the middle pocket and stopped less than half a palm's width from the pocket opening. The cue ball landed at a very comfortable angle, making it difficult even for a novice like Liang Dong to make a mistake.

Echima put away his pole and returned to his high chair.

Liang Dong glanced at him, then bent down and put number five into the bag.

"She knows I have work tonight."

Echizen picked up the ice water on the side table, took a sip, and remained noncommittal.

Liang Dong walked around to the other side of the table and looked down at the positions of the remaining balls.

He found the right angle for the seventh ball and putted it. The seventh ball hit the cushion, bounced back, and knocked the eighth ball next to it forward. The eighth ball traveled a long distance, hit the bottom cushion, and finally fell into the middle pocket on the other side.

Toru Koshima looked at the empty golf bag and chuckled, "Your job is to be someone's dog?"

Number Seven was still on the table. Liang Dong changed his position, placed his palm on the edge of the table, and leaned forward again: "Think what you want."

The club head stops behind the white ball.

Toru Koshima put down the water in his hand and turned his head: "Oh, I forgot, you're pretty much the same in front of her."

Liang Dong didn't immediately take his shot. He looked up at Yue Jianche across the scattered colored balls on the table, his expression still showing the focused concentration of someone aiming intently: "So what? I like her, I'd be happy to be her dog. I'm willing to be her dog, do you?"

The cue stick on Koshima's knee rolled slightly before he raised his hand to press it down.

He sat in the shadows, three copper lamps illuminating his features, a slight smile still on his face, his thumb slowly stroking the dark wood grain of the golf club.

Liang Dong withdrew his gaze, bent down, and struck the ball.

Number Seven veered off course halfway, bumped into Number Nine, and was bounced back towards the bottom bag by the edge of the storage compartment. It wobbled twice at the bag opening and then fell in.

The ball seemed to be in his favor tonight.

Liang Dong didn't show any joy as he walked along the pool table to the other end.

Only ball number nine remains on the table.

He bent down again. The cue ball bounced off the number nine and came to a slow stop in the center of the table. The number nine rolled a long way toward the bottom pocket, finally stopping after hitting the pocket opening.

It was so close.

Echizen Toru stood up, using the high chair as a support.

He walked to one side of the long table, first pressing his left hand against the edge of the cushion, then his left knee against the table. His injured right leg dragged loosely behind him, the toe of his shoe still touching the ground. As he leaned forward, his pure white shirt stretched along his shoulders and back, his waistline lowered, and half of his body leaned into the light above the goalposts.

"It looks like the game is about to end." Toru Koshima lowered his chin, his gaze following the cue stick past the cue ball and landing on the number nine ball in the distance near the pocket.

It's not difficult at all.

Liang Dong leaned against the liquor cabinet with his arms crossed, the golf club nestled in his arm, his gaze not on the ball: "She told me about you."

Koshima Toru's movements did not stop.

The cue stick was smoothly released from between the fingers. The cue ball slid out from the center of the table, crossed most of the surface, and gently touched the number nine. The number nine landed close to the pocket, and a muffled thud came from inside the pocket.

Liang Dong showed no surprise at Etsuya Toru's victory.

"You didn't cherish her, you treated her like she was always at your beck and call, and now you want to keep her by your side." He loosened his grip, placing the club back on the rack. "Have you ever heard the saying, 'Late-blooming affection is worthless than grass'?"

Echizen straightened up and placed the cue stick horizontally on the edge of the table: "People who have acted in movies can recite lines so fluently."

Liang Dong didn't reply, but took out his phone and glanced at the time. The screen lit up; there were no photos on the lock screen, only a message from Yu Zhu sent half an hour ago.

He turned off the screen and picked up his coat from the back of the chair.

"I'm going back now." He looked at Toru Echizen. "She's still waiting for me at home."