EGRV 13 | Drop In! (2)

【It’s not as risky as you all imagine.】

Liang Muyi didn’t even bother going up for a second run. He just stood where he was and continued to watch. Sure enough, Gao Yi and Chi Yu went back up the mountain and did it again. Gao Yi, probably feeling that Chi Yu had already obliterated the competition, didn’t even try any more tricks. Instead, he just followed behind Chi Yu, filming him with a handheld camera. He watched as Chi Yu carved down the rock face switch, then chose another line through the small forest. He reached the cliff’s edge at the same high speed, but this time, he did a different trick. This time, it was a backflip.

Technically, a backflip is just one rotation, not as difficult as the Cork 7 from before. But he went into it with so much speed that he flew incredibly high. His right arm was fully extended, his body relaxed and stretched out, his posture in the one second of airtime like a pendulum. Perhaps finding a simple backflip too dull, he still grabbed the heel edge near his right binding with his right hand, throwing in a melon grab.

“Wildcat!” A backflip on a snowboard is also called a “Wildcat.”

This time, people had recognized his red helmet and orange snowsuit, and many were already filming. It wasn’t until Chi Yu slowed down that a number of people who had been waiting in the long lift line abandoned their spots and went over to give him a celebratory high-five.

Gao Yi was the first to emerge from the crowd and find Liang Muyi.

“What do you think? Our Instructor Chi is pretty amazing, right? You really lucked out learning from him. Five years, I’m telling you, you’ll be able to jump too,” Gao Yi said, taking off his helmet to wipe away sweat. He had an affectionate expression on his face, as if talking about his own little brother.

Liang Muyi nodded. A thought occurred to him, and he asked Gao Yi, “Was he just carving switch?” Chi Yu, like him, was goofy-footed, meaning his right foot was his lead foot.

“What do you mean, switch? That was fakie carving, carving backwards. Chi Yu always says he doesn’t like technical carving on groomers, but if he really wanted to get into it, he’d be better than anyone…”

Chi Yu got held up chatting with the spectating skiers and took a long time to break away.

When Gao Yi saw him, he gave him a thumbs-up. “Haven’t seen you in a year, and you’re still a fucking legend.”

Chi Yu was quite modest. “The Funnel is still as awesome as ever.”

Gao Yi asked him, “How’s your training been this year?”

Chi Yu answered honestly, “My fitness and strength have pretty much fully recovered, and I’ve been training well in the park. I’m going to start competing in the qualifying events this year. Then I’ll save up some more money and maybe go train in Australia or New Zealand this summer.”

His training had indeed gone well this year. He’d gotten a lot of his tricks back in the park, including the triple cork 1440 that had won him the Big Air championship in Aspen, Colorado, all those years ago. But times had changed; today, a triple cork 1440 wouldn’t even get you into the finals.

“So this is the season,” Gao Yi said. “Your comeback starts this season.”

Chi Yu nodded. “This is the year.”

“Keep it up. Looks like all I can do is work hard. My skiing days are numbered, ge. One day when I make it big, I’ll sponsor you. You have to call me for any competitions. If they’re in the province, I’m there whenever you call,” Gao Yi said with a laugh.

Chi Yu smiled and thanked him. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he added, “Oh right, I forgot to say it. Congratulations to you and Vivi-jie.”

Just the week before last, he had seen on Gao Yi’s Moments that his proposal to his girlfriend, Xiang Vivi, had been successful. The two had also met through skiing. Gao Yi had chosen a clear day with heavy snowfall, getting down on one knee at the mountain summit.

Gao Yi was also an amateur ski enthusiast, a die-hard skier who would pay out of his own pocket to practice flips at a trampoline center. He also ran an outdoor lifestyle channel focused on skiing. He and Chi Yu had met in Banff over a year ago when Chi Yu was in a self-imposed training retreat. Chi Yu had only recently regained many of his skills back then, and his more difficult tricks were hit-or-miss. When he couldn’t land his moves, his mood would plummet. But Gao Yi was there during that time and had witnessed him climb back from rock bottom, step by step.

Chi Yu chatted with Gao Yi for a while, asking about his plans for the rest of the day and who he was skiing with.

Gao Yi replied, “Zhang Chenxiao. You should know him, you probably taught him before.”

The skiing circle here was just that small. Chi Yu paused for a second, wanting to say something. But Gao Yi was older than him, after all, and had always been cautious. In the end, he only admonished, “You should check if he brought his safety trio. I wasn’t the one who taught his AST (Avalanche Skills Training) course.”

Perhaps sensing he was being too serious, Chi Yu changed his tone, telling him to be safe and have fun before leading Liang Muyi away to continue their lesson.

Liang Muyi skied until he was ravenous. On the way back, he insisted that catching the bluebird day was thanks to Chi Yu’s good luck and that he had to treat him to a meal. Chi Yu seemed to be in a good mood too and, surprisingly, didn’t turn him down.

They stopped by a Western fast-food restaurant in the village for burgers. Chi Yu flipped through the menu and, after a long look, even ordered a large pint of beer. He asked Liang Muyi what he wanted to drink, but the man just waved his hand and said he’d quit drinking.

When the burgers arrived, Liang Muyi opened his phone and found it had been flooded with notifications. Cheng Yang had added him to two or three large ski group chats when he heard he was learning to ski. Now, people in every group were posting videos. He clicked on one—orange jacket, red helmet—it was none other than the footage of Chi Yu skiing The Funnel that morning. Judging by the angle, it was probably filmed by Gao Yi with a panoramic camera.

“God Yu jumping off a cliff again!”
“Ahh I was at 7th Heaven this morning, how did I miss this”
“A once-in-a-lifetime Whistler event…”

Onlookers who were lucky enough to see it had uploaded his backflip from various angles—that was his second jump. Later, someone dug up a video of his first jump, the FS cork 7, from the account of a foreign spectator, sparking another round of amazement.

Liang Muyi clicked through the videos one by one. After watching them, he put down his phone and closely observed the Chi Yu in front of him.

As soon as Chi Yu started eating, he seemed to instantly revert to being sixteen or seventeen, like one of those big teenage boys who could never eat enough during a growth spurt. He hadn’t had a proper meal all day while skiing and was so hungry his stomach felt plastered to his back. He was now wolfing down his burger and chugging beer, a far cry from the elegant, cool-but-roguish figure in the videos.

After eating half his burger, Chi Yu looked up and noticed Liang Muyi’s odd expression, watching him while holding back a laugh.

“What is it now?”

Liang Muyi handed his phone over. “See for yourself.”

Chi Yu held up his hands, indicating they were greasy from the burger. Liang Muyi had no choice but to lean over, placing his left hand on the back of Chi Yu’s chair and holding the phone for him with his right hand, reaching around his back.

Chi Yu watched two videos and then looked away.

“How did you decide—”

As if sensing his question, Chi Yu spoke first. “The Funnel is a natural backcountry run, but I’ve ridden it thirteen or fourteen times, in everything from ten centimeters of snow to half a meter. How deep the descent is, whether the landing is soft or hard—I know all that before I even drop in from above the tree line. You could say it’s by feel, but it’s also based on countless practice runs and repetition. It’s not as risky as you all imagine.”

Liang Muyi looked down and saw his gaze had stopped on a message— “When will we see God Yu on the FWT?”

“What’s FWT?” he asked.

“It’s the Freeride World Tour. It used to be called Xtreme Verbier. It’s currently the highest level of competition for big mountain freeriding,” Chi Yu explained earnestly.

Liang Muyi rephrased the question from the person in the group chat: “You’re so good, aren’t you going to give it a try?”

Chi Yu got that look on his face again. His brows furrowed slightly, his eyes grew somber, showing a world-weariness that didn’t match his age.

“I’ve competed in the junior tour, and the qualifiers. Later…” Chi Yu didn’t finish his sentence, just summarized, “There are very few spots for the FWT main event finals—only two worldwide. You have to earn them through points from various levels of qualifying events a whole year in advance.”

Liang Muyi asked the same question: “Aren’t you going to try?”

“It’s not that simple,” Chi Yu said.

Hearing that from a very simple person was such a contradiction. But after dropping that line, Chi Yu said no more and didn’t elaborate on why. Instead, he picked up the beer glass from the table and downed the remaining half in one go.

He had watched Chi Yu order a large draft of a local beer, an IPA, a big hopper. Chi Yu really had a peculiar taste, he thought. That IPA was so bitter it could seep into the marrow of your bones.

Chi Yu had eaten his burger down to the last bite when his phone vibrated. Only then did he wipe his hands, pick it up, and glance at the screen. In an instant, his expression changed drastically.

The message was from Gao Yi’s girlfriend, Xiang Vivi.

“Little Yu, I can’t get in touch with Old Gao, and the person he was with isn’t answering either. What time did you guys split up this morning?”