EGRV 41 | Higher

[It’s hard to say which was wilder.]

The sky gradually darkened. In the small wooden cabin in Squamish, all the lights were turned off.

Their room couldn’t be locked. Or rather, there was no lock at all. Liang Muye propped a stool against the door, pulled Chi Yu onto the single bed, and the two of them slipped under the covers.

It was stuffy, sticky, and desire ignited with a single spark. Chi Yu had been longing for this moment. He didn’t hesitate at all, even lowering his head to give Liang Muye oral sex. It was just that his skills were truly lacking. After a couple of sucks, his hair was grabbed and his head was pulled up. The man sounded rather helpless, his voice a low whisper, “I’ll teach you some other day when I have time. No time today, I just want to fuck you.”

Outside the room, there was only the sound of the movie playing. Chi Yu didn’t dare to speak and could only obey.

Liang Muye seemed to have seized on the fact that he didn’t dare make a sound. After preparing him with a few fingers, without asking for permission, he pushed his hard and thick member inside. Chi Yu tensed his waist and abdomen, his body forming a beautiful arch, his cheeks flushed and hot against the cold bed frame.

The sleeping bag and moisture-proof mat were tossed in a corner. On the single bed, two figures were tightly intertwined, moving in a rhythmic union. Liang Muye held Chi Yu from behind, his right hand gripping his hair, forcing him to lift his head as his penis thrust into the deepest part of his body. Chi Yu didn’t dare to make a sound, so Liang Muye generously offered his own left arm for Chi Yu to bite.

The light wasn’t very good, but when he looked down, he could clearly see Chi Yu’s full buttocks quivering with each of his thrusts. He would pull out completely, the sound wet and slick, and Chi Yu would instinctively lift his hips, grinding against him. Then he would slam back in forcefully. This went on and on, until Chi Yu’s breathing became more rapid. The pleasure was too intense and concentrated, and fearing he would come in just a few minutes, he opened his mouth and said, “Too deep, let’s change positions.”

Liang Muye said, “No.” Not only no, but he intensified his efforts, thrusting even deeper, with nowhere to escape. Chi Yu had no choice but to arch his back to accommodate him, letting out low moans. He endured it with difficulty, his back drenched in sweat.

The overhead light was incredibly dim. The cheap wooden bed swayed nonstop with the thrusting, knocking against the wall.

Chi Yu was truly thin-skinned and said softly again, “The noise…”

Liang Muye lowered his head and said, “I know what’s playing every single minute. You can scream all you want.”

Chi Yu finally couldn’t hold back and called out his name. Liang Muye lowered his head to lick and kiss him, from his lips to his eyes, and then to his left ear.

The swollen penis felt as if it were embedded in his body. He caressed every inch of his skin, pausing at his lower abdomen before thrusting deeply again.

“Am I fucking you good?” he even asked.

Chi Yu didn’t speak. So he thrusted in again, like a violent storm, their gasps mingling, lewd and chaotic, indistinguishable from one another.

“Is it good?”

A long, strong left hand gripped the bedsheet, the skin pale, blue veins bulging. Chi Yu was now in a battle of wills with him, clenching his jaw, refusing to speak.

Liang Muye grabbed his ankle, lifted his left leg, and pushed his thick penis in again. He could feel the scar on Chi Yu’s ankle with his hand. He knew very well what such a scar meant—it must have been a reconstructive surgery. A comminuted fracture, steel pins implanted, six months in bed, rehabilitation starting with learning to walk again, another surgery to remove the pins, and more rehab.

The scar had healed ugly and deep, but it had healed. It was as if the great hand of fate had crushed him, and he had pieced himself back together. In that moment, overwhelmed by lust, he felt a brutal impulse—if anyone were to take the person beneath him apart, piece by piece, he wished it would be him, and only him.

Chi Yu felt like he was about to be fucked through. The man was too big. His hole was sore, swollen, and itchy, yet it always wanted more. When he hit the right spot, the pleasure made his scalp tingle.

“Chi Yu, speak.”

Outside, the movie suddenly fell silent. He naturally knew which part of the film it was. Zhong Yanyun was climbing the last rope section. Back then, there was no professional sound equipment, and he had recorded his own breathing.

Seeing him stop moving, Chi Yu slightly opened his mouth and uttered a single word: “Good.”

Outside the wall, an ice axe struck the ice wall, the static rope pulled taut. Ten years ago, he himself was suspended from a hundred-meter-high ice waterfall, ice melting into water above his head.

Inside the wall, his chest and abdomen were bare, his desire naked, thrusting into Chi Yu’s endlessly rising and falling body, sweat dripping and gathering into streams.

It’s hard to say which was wilder.

The crampons crunched against the ice. Seizing the opportunity, he flipped Chi Yu over and fucked him again, face to face. He lifted Chi Yu’s naked legs high. His legs were so powerful, yet at this moment, they willingly let themselves be manipulated, every muscle tensed, swaying with his thrusts. The blanket had long been tossed aside. They were completely naked, fucking absurdly and fiercely, like two drowning people, as if there were no tomorrow.

With his hand, he helped Chi Yu with his own hard, hot penis, then watched him close his eyes and climax violently and silently, biting his own arm again. He pulled out, panting, and came on Chi Yu’s tense abdomen.

Again, there was a long silence.

Chi Yu had a gut feeling that the man beside him was, for once, a bit emotional. Not to mention he was much rougher and more direct than last time; he had held him tightly in his arms the entire time, as if trying to grasp something fleeting.

This time, it was Chi Yu who spoke first. 

“What’s wrong?”

Liang Muye’s craving for a cigarette returned, but this time he pulled Chi Yu’s wrist over and pressed his face against it, like a light kiss. He wanted to cool down, but Chi Yu’s palm was scorching, covered in a thin layer of sweat.

A crisp “click” came from outside. It was the sound of the ice axe being pulled from the last anchor point at the summit.

Liang Muye spoke, but it wasn’t an answer to the question. 

“Zhong Yanyun just redpointed.”

Chi Yu laughed. 

“You really do remember every minute.”

Liang Muye turned his head and said, “Yeah, I can’t forget.”

“So, you’re going to shoot another one?” Chi Yu had overheard the conversation at dinner and knew what Liang Muye’s filming in Squamish these past few weeks was for.

Liang Muye used a tissue to wipe his abdomen, then pulled him into his arms. Only then did he say, “You asked me before if I was looking forward.”

“Yeah.” It was that time they were drinking at the foot of the mountain. Of course Chi Yu remembered asking, and he also remembered Liang Muye hadn’t answered at the time.

“I think I have looked forward. At least, in my own way. I don’t want to chase speed or altitude records, not chasing first ascents—or as you big mountain skiers would say, first descents. That’s all meaningless stuff. Because of it, I lost my best friend. So this time, I want to film something different.”

Chi Yu listened, only half-understanding, and could only nod blankly.

Liang Muye saw this and turned the conversation to him. 

“What about you? What kind of high mountains do you want to ski?”

Without even thinking, Chi Yu said, “Verbier, Switzerland.” Naturally, the home of the Freeride World Tour.

Liang Muye said, “A little higher.”

“Chamonix, France.” Known as the paradise for all big mountain freestyle skiers.

“A little higher.”

“Alaska, So Far Gone.” This mountain range is near the coastal city of Valdez, Alaska. Deep snow accumulates on the glaciers, making it the ultimate dream for every freestyle backcountry snowboarder. 

“So Far Gone” was a name given by the backcountry community because the place is remote and the mountain stands majestic and steep, thus earning its name.

“Higher.”

Chi Yu turned to look at him, suddenly thinking of high-altitude mountains. 

“Everest? It’s not really suitable for descent. Once you get to the Hillary Step, wouldn’t you have to take off your board and rappel down? Are you talking about… the Lhotse Couloir?” The Lhotse Couloir is a naturally formed, almost straight corridor on Lhotse, Everest’s neighbor, at an altitude of eight thousand meters. It’s six hundred meters long with a slope of about 50 degrees. Alpinists call it the “Dream Line.”

Liang Muye said, “There’s nothing higher than that, is there?”

Chi Yu paused for a moment before saying, “I’ve actually looked into it. But the snow there is frozen into ice year-round. Even with skis, you can only side-slip the whole way. It’s not that interesting.”

Liang Muye asked seriously, “Then where do you want to go? What’s your favorite mountain?”

Chi Yu thought carefully for a good minute or two. Liang Muye almost thought he had fallen asleep again, but then he heard Chi Yu’s voice. 

“You might laugh if I say it. When I was twelve, my dad gave me a book called something like ‘Advanced Alpine Skiing.’ It was a Chinese textbook. The mountain on the cover was beautiful. Actually, on most terrains, a snowboard isn’t as flexible as skis—you can’t do cross-country or climb—but we are born for big mountain powder. And that mountain was perfect. To be able to carve such even and beautiful snow ridges, just thinking about doing a heel-side POW turn there… it would be… fucking awesome.”

Thinking back now, Chi Mian’s gift wasn’t very thoughtful, and the content in the book was outdated. But that mountain, it haunted his dreams. To call it a dream was too distant; it was more like a symbol, an emblem. There’s no such thing as free love in this world, and there’s no such thing as a perfect mountain.

Liang Muye didn’t laugh. He held him casually, his left hand resting on his shoulder, lost in thought for a moment. Then, he tilted Chi Yu’s chin, forcing him to turn back, and saw his face full of reverence and longing.

Liang Muye spoke, but he was teasing him, “Better than sex?”

“Better than sex,” Chi Yu caught on this time, and added with a hint of resignation, “But that was ten years ago. These are glacial mountains, they probably don’t even look like that anymore. With global warming now…”

Only then did Liang Muye let go of his hand. Chi Yu thought that with his years of high-altitude mountaineering experience, he would offer some comfort, but instead, the man said, “It was probably Photoshopped to begin with.”

Chi Yu laughed along with him. He had also drunk a lot at dinner and felt that their hearts were especially close. The single bed was too narrow, and Liang Muye’s left hand was on his shoulder again. He was actually exhausted from the day, but he was so used to sleeping alone that now, even with his eyes closed, he couldn’t fall asleep.

Chi Yu was even less sleepy. An idea he had suppressed countless times was suddenly stirring in his heart, impossible to ignore. The alcohol gave him courage, the timing was right, and he suddenly spoke, “You said your brother was also a skier…”

A moment later, he heard the person behind him speak. 

“Yeah. Coming here to ski this time, I saw the scenery he saw before. It’s not bad.”

“Back then, what happened?”

“On the way to a competition, there was an accident.”

“Was it…”

“The other driver was fully at fault. A young guy in his twenties, drunk, trying to overtake in the wrong lane.”

Enough, stop here. Don’t ask anymore.

Alarm bells were ringing in his head, but his mouth was completely out of his control. Liang Muye rarely showed strong emotions; he was always in a relaxed state, never getting angry or holding grudges, as if nothing could touch him. But today was different. Chi Yu didn’t understand matters of the heart, but he could feel that the man had let his guard down tonight. He was so close to the truth, and he wanted to get just a little closer.

“Was your brother driving?”

Liang Muye was still being honest. 

“No. He didn’t have a license. It was someone else.”

“Do you know… who it was? What happened to him later…”

“I don’t know. And I don’t want to know.” Liang Muye’s reply was firm, his voice cold and hostile.

Chi Yu suddenly lost all desire to sleep. He threw off the covers and got out of bed. His eyes stung, and he felt an inexplicable sense of grievance. It was true, the world was unfair. He was just one person, while Liang Yichuan had so many people who loved him, yet he was the one who survived. Everything before him was built on a lie of his own making; he had woven his own cocoon. Apart from those four words, “I don’t want to know,” he didn’t deserve any more of an emotional response.

“I’m… going to sleep in the sleeping bag. It’s too hot.” He knew his excuse was lame, but he couldn’t care less.

Liang Muye threw off the covers and sat up.

“Are you angry?”

Chi Yu said, “No.”

Liang Muye mulled it over in silence for a while. Connecting it to their previous conversation, he guessed, “Chi Yu, I don’t see you as a substitute for my brother. Don’t overthink it.”

Chi Yu climbed into the black sleeping bag, leaving only his bare left arm out, reaching across his body to pull the zipper. The zipper got stuck and wouldn’t move. The atmosphere was frozen and extremely awkward. He continued to find excuses, “The door doesn’t lock. We… should sleep separately.”

This guy, he dares to sleep with me but not sleep next to me? Liang Muye couldn’t figure him out and could only continue to coax him, “Come back up. The door is closed, I’d like to see who dares to come in.”

Chi Yu still didn’t say anything. The zipper finally cooperated and zipped up with a “zrrrrip.” Chi Yu retreated into his black cocoon.

After a long time, his muffled voice came out, “That bed is a bit soft. I… have a bit of a sports injury in my back, I prefer to sleep on a hard surface.”

This explanation was barely passable. Liang Muye thought of the KT tape on his back during training and knew he was telling the truth. He didn’t insist further and, on the single bed, drifted off into a groggy sleep alone.