Glasses, much like denim jeans, are a common, iconic symbol worn by people, serving both functional and decorative purposes, much like a dress, a camisole, stockings, or high heels.

Why glasses evoke sexual associations is a complex matter, one that would likely require thousands of words to detail, which goes against the spirit of this book. Thus, Hongchang will summarize it with a single sentence: "Upon seeing Anqi transform into a 'glasses girl' and then observing the thick, purple cue stick glide back and forth near her face, Wang Zhuo was immediately struck by a very profound mental image, leading him to awkwardly erect a tent!"

If we were to set the ancient sage Liu Xiahui, known for his complete immunity to female charms, as a baseline of one hundred, Wang Zhuo usually operates at fifty. When he is truly stimulated, this number plummets straight to twenty-five. Add the right environmental atmosphere and a few subtle details, and his immunity spirals toward zero!

In truth, the captivating elements surrounding the Anqi sisters are quite mixed—a case of having many traits but mastering none. For instance, their profession is coaching, not teaching; though they are sisters, their relationship isn't particularly close; and they wear uniforms, but not the usual fantasy attire...

Furthermore, they are a former police beauty and a former schoolgirl. These disparate elements combine like a heavy Northeastern stew—delicious, certainly, but it lowers the overall standard, not as appealing as a few carefully prepared small dishes eaten separately.

But the mere act of donning those glasses immediately flipped the situation 180 degrees. The "glasses girl" element instantly overwhelmed everything else, reducing the rest to mere floating clouds, igniting Wang Zhuo's long-dormant desire to conquer!

Men are inherently carnivores, born for the pursuit and conquest. Society, morality, and the law may smooth their sharp edges and neuter their primal instincts, but the deep-seated impulse remains. Thus, Wang Zhuo's instinct seized a small measure of control over his body in that instant, and a certain part became restlessly awakened!

The worst part was that Anqi happened to witness this scene. She glanced over twice without showing any reaction, deep in thought about something.

"Nanshan Amitabha, Supreme Laozi, haste as if with an urgent decree, Boundless Celestial Venerable, drink methanol, God protect Jehovah..."

Wang Zhuo silently recited this nonsensical litany, striving to subdue his restless lower half before Anqi yielded the break. Now, paradoxically, he hoped Anqi would hold onto the turn a little longer, even if it meant she scored more points.

"Hee!"

A trembling sound signaled a missed shot, followed by audible disappointment from the surroundings. Anqi had made an error at this crucial moment, failing to strike the cue ball exactly where intended.

In professional matches, this is one of the most severe mistakes; even among amateur masters, such occurrences are rare. Fortunately, Anqi had some luck; the cue ball rolled out at an angle, just grazing the object ball, thus avoiding a penalty deduction under the rules.

Wang Zhuo tried his best to appear composed, yet he had to secretly arch his back slightly to make the forward bulge less conspicuous. He deliberately kept his hands slightly cupped in front of him, shading the "tent" under the shadow cast by his hands.

Anqi almost burst out laughing; her entire focus at that moment was locked onto that bulge. She found it utterly absurd—how could someone focus on women while playing a match? What kind of brain was structured to do such a thing?

"Crack!"

Wang Zhuo pocketed a red ball with one stroke, then executed a more difficult snooker shot, returning control of the break to Anqi. He estimated that this shot would keep Anqi occupied in thought for quite some time, and the chance of her sinking it was slim, buying him enough time to deal with his predicament!

As expected, Anqi circled the table twice before falling into deep thought. He immediately seized the opportunity to resume his silent chanting.

The 'glasses girl' delicately bit her fingernail with her thin lips; her concentration made her even more captivating. Unfortunately, Wang Zhuo’s mind immediately wandered whenever he saw any rod-like object near a woman's mouth. He took only one glance before mentally begging forgiveness and turning to contemplate the wall!

Three minutes later, Anqi concluded her long contemplation, retrieved a rest cue, and began measuring shots on the table. Wang Zhuo had finally managed to calm himself down; feeling relieved, he stood up to survey the situation on the table.

"Crack."

The soft sound of impact broke the silence. Anqi used the cue ball to scatter three tightly grouped reds. The one struck hardest rolled out and hit another red, transferring its force and causing that second ball to crawl nearly twenty centimeters into the middle pocket.

"Great shot!"

"She really dared to try that; the difficulty was immense!"

"Even Ding Junhui couldn't have done better!"

"I certainly couldn't sink that; that was incredible!"

Amidst the praise, Anqi followed up fluidly, sinking six more balls in quick succession. Only when attempting a long shot on a red did a slight deviation occur, handing Wang Zhuo a chance to turn the tables.

"Too bad; she's still young, not quite steady enough."

"That shot was tricky; missing it is understandable."

"She should have played a snooker instead, don't you think?"

Anqi paused briefly after potting, then slightly pouted before walking toward the rest chair.

As they brushed past each other, Wang Zhuo smiled at her, "That shot wasn't your fault; it was the table's issue."

"I know," Anqi nodded calmly.

She assumed Wang Zhuo was praising her effort, so she responded with a cool indifference. She didn't realize Wang Zhuo continued, "But if you could factor in the table's characteristics, that shot might have gone in."

Anqi looked surprised, then gave a small snort and returned to the rest chair.

Back on the table, Wang Zhuo displayed his prowess. After scoring forty points, he set up a snooker for Anqi. Anqi failed to escape the position and returned the break to him. After he scored another thirty points, he set another snooker. After doing this three times, he cleared the remaining balls in one visit, winning the wager.

At this point, everyone realized Wang Zhuo's victory wasn't luck; his skill genuinely surpassed Anqi's. As for Anqi and Liu Yanghe, they were merely opponents for his warm-up.

"I don't accept that. One more round!"

Losing two rounds finally ignited Anqi's competitive spirit. She pulled out her wallet, counted out a thousand yuan, slapped it on the table, and declared, "This round, we don't pool the money; I'll bet you directly!"

"I'll match a thousand!" Liu Yanghe, knowing it was a situation where he'd lose more than he'd win, couldn't bear to lose face and also threw a thousand yuan onto the table.

"Anyone else want to match?" Wang Zhuo cheerfully surveyed the onlookers. "If no one matches, I'll cover it myself, shall I?"

"I'll match you."

The one who eagerly spoke up was none other than Anqi. She sided with Wang Zhuo: if she lost, her sister won a thousand from Wang Zhuo; if she won, she’d take Liu Yanghe’s thousand. No matter the outcome, the sisters would break even!

Wang Zhuo chuckled and asked the crowd, "I'll add two thousand of my own. Who's in?"

He chose to add money rather than increase the stake because increasing the stake would only win him Anqi's money. Adding money allowed him to gather funds broadly; anyone who thought Anqi would win could put some money down for a bet.

Indeed, there were those who didn't believe it—perhaps showing support for Anqi, perhaps thinking his good luck had run out, or maybe just for the fun of "participation"—and soon five people placed two thousand yuan on the table. Wang Zhuo also put in two thousand. If Anqi won, the money would be split proportionally among the five; if Wang Zhuo won, he took it all.

Now this felt like gambling. Wang Zhuo thought happily, though the stakes were still too low compared to rolling dice for golden flowers. Billiards didn't seem to have much of a future in that regard.

He was just considering whether he could clear the table in one go to wrap up the day's pool session when Anqi, at the break position and aiming, was stopped by a middle-aged woman hurrying over.

Anqi first spoke with her in low tones, then frowned in deep thought for a moment before nodding firmly, as if making a decision.

After talking with Anqi, the middle-aged woman's gaze swept over the cash on the table, then landed on Wang Zhuo with a thoughtful expression.

"Sorry, Father," Anqi walked over, offering Wang Zhuo a wry smile. "I have an important match to play shortly, so I can't continue playing you."

Wang Zhuo had already discerned the situation by reading their lips and asked with a smile, "Is someone here challenging the house?"

"Yep," Anqi shrugged. "Our main player sprained his ankle the day before yesterday and is still in a cast at the hospital. We have to make do with what we have, so they put me in."

"Is your opponent very good?" Wang Zhuo asked casually.

Anqi nodded. "Zhao Zijun. Ever heard of him?"

"Zhao Zijun?" Wang Zhuo’s gaze sharpened as he pondered, then he clapped his hands and said, "Is he under twenty, with some noticeable thinning on the sides of his forehead?"

"You know him?" Anqi asked, surprised.

"The sieve? I've known him for four years," Wang Zhuo laughed heartily. "I heard that kid went to England to become a professional player; when did he come back?"

Hearing Wang Zhuo admit he knew Zhao Zijun, the middle-aged woman chimed in with a wry smile, "He's home for the New Year, taking the opportunity to revisit every place he ever lost a match and stomp on it."

"Oh?" Wang Zhuo understood. This truly fit Zhao Zijun's overly serious personality. Bullying amateur players with professional skill—that was something only a guy like him would do!

"Father, how do you know him?" Anqi asked curiously from the side.

"I won his money," Wang Zhuo chuckled dryly. "At one point, I had accumulated over a thousand yuan. Later, his skill suddenly soared, and after losing a few times, I realized I couldn't beat him, so I stopped playing him!"

A burst of laughter erupted from the surrounding crowd; even the usually stern-faced Liu Yanghe couldn't help but smile. After all, although Zhao Zijun had been kicked off the national team, he had won a title in the Chinese Pool League; he wasn't some ordinary rookie.

"I heard his best score now is seventy points?" Wang Zhuo looked at Anqi teasingly. "Why don't I step in for you for this match? Maybe I can beat him again."

Anqi glanced at him and snorted in defiance, "What's your best score?"

"My best score?" Wang Zhuo smiled mysteriously and stated confidently, "You'll find out soon enough."