We Are Filthy, Born From Mud - Chapter 33

Chapter 33: Yes, She is Inferior to Her. The Howling Wind Seems as if to…

The howling wind sounded as if it wanted to destroy everything; the cameras and sound equipment swayed slightly in the gusts. Looking down from the four-story rooftop, everything on the ground appeared so minuscule.

Zong Yougu walked back from the edge of the roof. She had to complete the filming of her first scene here.

With a creak, the rooftop door opened, and Wan Chunming stepped out. She put on her headphones and sat down in front of the monitor. Zong Yougu saw her say something into the walkie-talkie, and then the cameras surrounded Yougu, constantly adjusting their positions. The rhythmic beeping of the equipment sounded now near, now far in her ears. Zong Yougu took two deep breaths.

She could play Yu Yulai well.

“Three, two, one, Scene One, Take One—Action!”

The crisp sound of the clapperboard rang out, and Zong Yougu entered her state. From this moment on, she forgot everything; she was no longer Zong Yougu, she was Yu Yulai.

Zong Yougu wandered across the rooftop, helplessness and confusion flashing across her face.

“Lin Lingwan? Lin Lingwan?” She called the name twice.

There was no response at all. The feeling of things spiraling out of control filled Yu Yulai with dread. Thus, Zong Yougu stood dazed in the center of the roof, her brows tightly furrowed, her forehead trembling slightly.

A camera was very close to her, filming a close-up. Zong Yougu took a deep breath and opened her eyes; the emotions swirling in her heart naturally manifested on her face. Helplessness and confusion were swept away, replaced by determination and composure.

“So, I’m the one who’s trapped this time,” she murmured to herself, then let out a faint, light chuckle.

She looked up. Sunlight spilled through the gaps in her fingers, and the light reflected off the boards illuminated her entire being evenly and perfectly. She paced back and forth, sweat seeping from her forehead and sliding down the curve of her face, trickling into her eyes. The stinging caused her eyes to twitch unconsciously, but Zong Yougu seemed entirely unaware, staring solemnly at the sun.

“Why am I trapped?” Zong Yougu whispered her few lines. “Why?”

Her eyeballs moved uneasily; her mental state was highly tensed.

Before this scene began, Zong Yougu had gone to the screenwriter’s lounge. When the screenwriter heard Yougu’s analysis, she laughed. She said Yougu was mostly right, but one point wasn’t quite accurate. She told Yougu: “Yu Yulai is terrified of the future. Just as you said, she worries about partings and the unexpected. Therefore, she has no choice but to grasp every second of the present to numb the fear in her heart.”

The screenwriter kept staring at Zong Yougu, her eyes curved with a smile: “So for Yu Yulai, killing the ‘self’ of today is the best way to leave the room.”

Zong Yougu began to laugh. She looked around, her gaze finally landing on a stone fragment that had fallen from the eaves. She stepped toward it, picked up the sharp pebble, and without hesitation, struck it against her head again and again. The blood bag hidden behind the stone burst open. Thick artificial plasma slid down her forehead, dragging a bright red, irregular trail.

“Cut!” Wan Chunming shouted, very satisfied.

Zong Yougu remained standing in place; she hadn’t yet emerged from the performance. After a moment, she snapped out of it and smiled at the director.

Her filming wasn’t over. The next shot was Yu Yulai leaping from the rooftop.

“Xiao Zong, you’ll jump down from that over there in a moment.”

Zong Yougu didn’t actually have to leap off the building. A small platform had been built on the roof, and she only needed to jump from that. Zong Yougu squinted at the platform. Though called “small,” it still had some height, roughly level with her chest.

“Okay,” Zong Yougu nodded with a smile.

“Scene One, Shot Two, Take One—Action!”

The smile on Zong Yougu’s face vanished instantly, replaced by Yu Yulai’s determination. She took a deep breath and began to run forward, unstoppable. She mimicked Zong Liangu’s style, placing her fingers on the top of the platform, finding leverage for her feet on the uneven wall surface, and with a heavy kick, she used the momentum to leap upward. She cleared the platform and rushed forward, soon falling straight down onto a soft mat.

“Cut!”

The dazzling sunlight made it impossible for her to open her eyes.

“Xiao Zong, can we do one more? Make the movement a bit more agile. Try again.” Wan Chunming spoke to her through the megaphone.

Zong Yougu made an “OK” gesture.

“Take Two—Three, two, one, Action!”

Zong Yougu kept running forward, her mind constantly replaying the image of Zong Liangu leaping high off a wall. So unrestrained, so light and nimble, so high-spirited. She could definitely do it too.

With the run-up, she got closer and closer to the platform. Her hands gripped the surface again, her toes kicked off lightly, and she successfully cleared the obstacle, landing on the protective mat.

“Cut!” Wan Chunming was very pleased. “This one was great!”

Zong Yougu’s mouth pulled into a wide grin, but before the smile could fully form, she heard another piercing voice.

“I actually think this one isn’t enough. She can do better.”

Zong Yougu looked toward the voice. It was Ge Ya. Ge Ya stood with her hands in her pockets, looking seriously at the monitor, reviewing the performance alongside the director. Ge Ya noticed her gaze and waved happily: “Hello! I didn’t expect us to work together again so soon.”

Zong Yougu smiled politely, but her heart was seething with indignation.

“Chunming, I’m telling you, she can definitely do better. Let me show you a scene she did before.” Ge Ya excitedly pulled her phone from her pocket and found the file of the scene she had filmed with Zong Liangu.

Wan Chunming’s confused expression slowly softened, and a spark of surprise and excitement flashed in her calm eyes.

“Yes, yes, that’s the feeling!” Wan Chunming was agitated, but she quickly regained her composure. “There are many factors involved in a good performance—timing, location, everything. Besides, a person can’t maintain a perfect state at all times. Xiao Zong, actually that last take was already very good. Do you want to try one more time?”

Zong Yougu’s heart thundered. That scene had been performed by Zong Liangu. Ten-plus years as an assassin had made every muscle in Liangu’s body flexible and agile; she could easily control her every movement. Even while leaping or falling, Liangu could maintain a perfect form.

But Zong Yougu couldn’t. At least, she couldn’t be as skillful as Liangu.

“Can I rest for a moment? I’m not quite in the right state; I need time to find the feeling.”

“Of course.”

Zong Yougu hurried away from the roof and ran to the dressing room. As soon as she opened the door, she saw Zong Liangu idly playing with white paper on the table. She had crumpled a sheet into a ball and was rolling it like a die.

Zong Yougu brushed the paper ball aside and grabbed Liangu’s shoulders: “I need you.”

Zong Liangu acted as if she hadn’t heard. She reached out and took the paper ball back.

“I need you!” Zong Yougu raised her voice.

Zong Liangu laughed and said, “Why didn’t you think of this when you were arguing with me on the way here? I’m still angry. Why should I help you?”

Zong Yougu didn’t say anything. She took off Liangu’s mask and turned her toward the mirror. The polished glass clearly reflected both their faces.

“Because I need you. Because you said we would cooperate.”

“I’ve regretted it. You should know I’m not someone who keeps her word.” Zong Liangu shrugged. “Why should I help you? What benefit is there for me in cooperating with you?”

Zong Yougu leaned down, whispering in Liangu’s ear: “I don’t believe you don’t crave the moments when you’re surrounded by lights and cameras. We both love our dazzling selves; we both enjoy performing.”

Zong Liangu pursed her lips and fell silent.

Zong Yougu continued, “I can give you this opportunity—no, rather, we share this opportunity. You have no reason to refuse me.”

Zong Yougu briefly described the content of the scene and softened her tone: “This scene suits you perfectly; it’s practically tailor-made for you. No one can do it better than you. I tried to mimic you just now, and I thought I did quite well—even the director was satisfied—but Ge Ya wasn’t. Because she has seen better. She has worked with you. I know the gap between us, so I feel only you can do it better. Only you.”

“Fine.” Zong Liangu finally removed the mask dangling from her ear. She pointed at the blood on Yougu’s forehead and asked, “What about this? Won’t I get caught as soon as I go up there?”

Zong Yougu smiled. “That’s easy.”

She reached out and pulled Liangu closer by the neck, closing the distance between them rapidly. Their foreheads pressed together. Zong Yougu rolled her forehead slightly against the other’s, and the blood on her face was printed onto Liangu’s. She then pressed her eyes close to Liangu’s, feeling the other’s eyeballs move.

She truly loved Zong Liangu and was grateful she had come here. The hand on the back of Liangu’s head tightened involuntarily.

Zong Liangu hissed, about to complain, but Zong Yougu spoke first: “Don’t go back, okay? I love you.”

“What nonsense are you talking? How could I leave? I died completely in the last world; there’s no way back even if I wanted to.”

Zong Yougu breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good.”

Their cheeks pressed together again, soft skin touching, their breaths mingling.

“Alright!”

Zong Liangu finally opened her eyes. After adjusting to the bright light, she saw two identical people in the mirror. They quickly swapped clothes. The warm clothes, carrying Yougu’s body heat, pressed against Liangu’s skin. Surprisingly, she felt no repulsion; her body accepted the warmth from Zong Yougu.

Zong Yougu tied up Liangu’s hair and joked, “Perform well. From now on, we’ll enjoy the good life together.”