The nearby customers stared.
Opened their mouth to comment, then closed it again.
No one knew what was worse - believing them, or realizing they actually believed themselves.
But even with the chuuni declarations floating around, it still didn't explain everything.
Not the way the balls had parted with grace, a ripple of motion that felt planned by the universe.
Not the way the cue ball drifted past every obstacle, curved with gentle restraint, and stopped at the exact center.
Elder Bai Qingshui circled the table. His eyes weren't just looking.
They were measuring!
Angle. Spin. Collision path. Margin for error.
Five open shots waited across the felt. Two solids. Three stripes. Each one promising a quick point.
But quick was not his goal.
He stopped near the right side pocket. A striped orange ball sat close to the rail.
Awkward position. Unforgiving.
Missing it could ruin the rhythm. But if it dropped, it would open the path to the green-striped one resting above.
