EGRV 20 | Waxing

【No, you were born to ski.】

While working, Chi Yu proactively updated Liang Muyi on Gao Yi’s situation. After two days of observation in the hospital, Gao Yi had been cleared by the doctors to go home and rest. Chi Yu said, “I told him it was you who drove me up that night. Yi ge asked me to pass on his thanks and said he wants to treat you to dinner sometime. Also, if you need to buy any ski gear at the resort, just let him know; he has a 30% off membership card.”

Liang Muyi just smiled and nodded, saying dinner was fine, but the other things weren’t necessary. Chi Yu said okay, and then fell silent again. They were both thinking about the same thing, yet neither wanted to be the first to bring it up. For a moment, the room was quiet, and the sound of Chi Yu scraping the base of the board became sharp and piercing.

After a short silence, Chi Yu walked over and plugged in the waxing iron. He was the first to speak. “Muyi, that day… I wasn’t in a good mood. If I said anything inappropriate, I’d like to apologize.”

He called him by his first name, just two syllables, with an intimacy that was more than just a friend’s. Liang Muyi wasn’t used to it and even spaced out for a moment. When he came to, he only caught the word “apologize.”

“It was an emergency situation that day. It’s all over now, and the important thing is that Gao Yi is okay. Now… can you tell me about it?”

“I also knew the person he was skiing with. A few weeks ago, my friends and I pulled him out of a tree well while we were skiing in the backcountry. At the time, he didn’t even have his avalanche safety trio. I should have anticipated that something like this could happen. But at the time, I didn’t stop Gao Yi. I was afraid of messing up his plans, of ruining his fun. I didn’t say anything.”

Hearing this, Liang Muyi began to understand his strangely agitated state on the drive back to the city that day. During that less-than-two-hour return trip, he must have replayed every single detail related to the incident in his mind. It was no wonder he had nightmares afterward.

Chi Yu went to grab the preheated waxing iron and a block of cold blue wax. He walked back to the workbench before continuing, “I actually told you everything that happened. I… I could have skied with him. But I had already agreed to teach you that morning, so I couldn’t change my plans at the last minute. In the afternoon… if I had been beside him, I probably wouldn’t have let him go down that slope. If he had insisted, I wouldn’t have gone down at the same time. If we had both been buried, I would have definitely found him.”

There were many more “ifs,” and for each one, he had a countermeasure. He would have brought a fully charged transceiver and probe, and he would have done everything in his power to find his companion as quickly as possible. As Liang Muyi listened to him speak in broken sentences, he finally realized this was the source of Chi Yu’s lingering fear.

After confessing, Chi Yu realized he had spoken carelessly and quickly tried to backtrack. “I’m not blaming you for having a lesson with me… that’s not what I meant.”

Liang Muyi didn’t mind. He said, “I know. And I believe you could have done it. But you can’t think about it that way. You had your own plans, your own schedule. Teaching a student, whether it’s me or someone else, that’s your obligation. Driving back immediately after finding out he was missing, and even going up the mountain to help guide the way—that wasn’t your obligation, but you did it all. Why don’t you think about it this way: if you hadn’t asked him that one extra question about his afternoon plans, if you hadn’t taken him to ski there before, if you couldn’t have guessed his possible location, if you hadn’t made all those calls—then where he would be now, or if he would even be, is hard to say…”

Chi Yu knew Liang Muyi was trying to console him, but he couldn’t bear to hear the words “if he would even be” and immediately cut him off. “Don’t say any more.”

The block of wax melted instantly upon contact with the iron. Chi Yu pressed his hands together and dripped the wax evenly onto the base of the board.

But Liang Muyi didn’t listen to him and insisted on continuing. “You made the right decision, the only decision you could have made. Who could have known a Class 2 avalanche would happen on a clear day? The patrol didn’t even see the danger in the backcountry that morning, so how could you have? Stop thinking about those ‘ifs.’ It’s a waste of life.”

Self-blame and lingering fear would only trap him in an endless cycle of internal turmoil. This was a path with no end and no turning back, one that Liang Muyi had walked himself. That’s why he stood on the roadside, trying with all his might to persuade everyone to look elsewhere, to walk towards open spaces.

Drip, drip. The liquid was transparent. The moment it touched the board’s base, it was smoothly spread out by Chi Yu’s iron. Then, it slowly cooled and solidified into a thin layer.

“Also, I wasn’t actually asking about what happened on the mountain just now. I was asking about what happened in the car.”

Chi Yu’s right hand paused. His left hand was on the board’s base, checking the temperature. Because of that momentary hesitation, the temperature shot up. He had to apply pressure with his wrist to drag the iron further down.

Liang Muyi was fascinated by the process and had been watching for a long time before he heard Chi Yu say, “I’d rather not talk about it, is that okay? I just…”

He furrowed his brow, clearly searching for the most suitable words within his limited expressive range.

Seeing that Chi Yu had finished one pass with the wax, Liang Muyi changed the subject. “I want to try.”

He thought Chi Yu would refuse again, but surprisingly, the other man handed the iron straight to him. “Three passes should be enough. Keep your hand steady and try to move at an even speed.”

It was Liang Muyi’s first time, so naturally, his hand wasn’t as steady as Chi Yu’s. To maintain stability, he moved very slowly. As he moved, he said in a low voice, “It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it. You could have told me that the other night. When you asked, ‘Can you let me go home?’, it sounded like I was stopping you from leaving.”

Chi Yu’s left hand, resting on the base of the board, felt it getting hot, hot enough to burn his palm.

“I just wanted to help you. If you don’t need it, you could have just told me you wanted to be alone. I would respect that.”

He was moving the iron a bit too slowly. Chi Yu watched anxiously and reached out, his hand closing firmly over Liang Muyi’s on the iron. “Not that slow. The temperature is too high, you’ll delaminate the board if you keep waxing like that.”

They were too close. He felt like he could hear Chi Yu’s heartbeat. He had just thrown on a white T-shirt that day, his jacket left on the counter by the door. The cold temperature wax melted into a nearly transparent layer under their hands, and Chi Yu’s body heat seemed to radiate through the tight, quick-dry fabric.

He then heard Chi Yu say, “I’m sorry.”

Liang Muyi immediately replied, “Don’t say sorry. If you consider me a friend, just ask when you need help.”

As the iron moved faster, he also took a step to the right. Not paying attention to what was behind him, his shoulder bumped right into Chi Yu’s chest. For a rare moment, his heart skipped a beat, and he almost dripped wax onto the workbench.

“Forget it,” Chi Yu called out. “Let me do it.”

The moment Liang Muyi let go, he was shooed to the side by Instructor Chi, who quickly finished the step.

When it was done, Chi Yu picked up a towel to wipe his hands, then said with his head down, “What you said just now… I heard you. I understand.”

“Don’t be so serious,” Liang Muyi finally broke into a smile. “Let’s talk about something lighter. How did you and Gao Yi meet?”

“Two years ago, I was training by myself in Banff. He had taken a long break to improve his skiing. That’s when we met. We skied together for about a month or two, and he really looked out for me. I was going through a… a really difficult time back then, and it was rare to meet a friend like him.”

Every field has its hierarchy of contempt; professionals tend to look down on amateurs, but Chi Yu wasn’t like that. Having started the conversation, he decided to continue. “Gao Yi isn’t a professional skier, but he really made me realize how lucky I am, because even when I have nothing, I can still touch snow every day. Yi ge said that too many people in this world are just surviving and living, but very few are truly alive. Very few people turn what they love into a profession.”

As Chi Yu said this, he deliberately turned his face to look at Liang Muyi. “I’m one of them.”

When they first met, Gao Yi had just gotten out of a relationship. Drunk in a small cabin in Banff, he had poured his heart out to him, saying, “Chi Yu, I earn money to ski, and I earn more money to ski better snow. But you, you live to ski. No, you were born to ski.”

Counting from his first competition, his professional career had only been a little over a decade, yet he had already experienced the ups and downs of several decades. Even in his most uncertain times, Chi Yu knew that even if he couldn’t rely on anyone else in the world, he could rely on his own two legs, the board under his feet, and the great mountains behind him. He could rely on himself.

At that moment, Liang Muyi’s instinct was to reply, “Me too.” The old him would have said it without even blinking.

He just looked into Chi Yu’s eyes, then looked down at the smooth base of the D.O.A.

“Is it done?”

“We still have to let the wax cool, then scrape off the excess.”

“How long will that take?”

Chi Yu raised his hand, tossed the dirty towel into a corner, and then lifted his eyes to look at him. “About the time it takes to eat a meal.”