We Are Filthy, Born From Mud - Chapter 35

Chapter 35: Yes, They Are in Love. Who Cares About the Future?

“How was the acting?”

Zong Yougu’s lazy voice drifted from the room.

She was sitting leisurely on the sofa; the television volume was turned up high, yet she was merely staring blankly at the ceiling. This was the scene Zong Liangu encountered the moment she stepped through the door.

“I acted well, of course. Much better than you.”

Zong Liangu heard a light chuckle from the other woman. She walked over to the sofa and patted Zong Yougu, signaling for her to move over.

Zong Yougu lived in a suite equipped with all the necessary living facilities. The room certainly didn’t lack sofas, chairs, or other places to sit, yet Zong Liangu insisted on sitting on the very sofa where Zong Yougu was lying.

“Move over, I want to sit down,” Zong Liangu said, her voice tinged with displeasure.

Hearing this, Zong Yougu became even more aggressive in occupying the entire sofa. She looked at Zong Liangu with a rogue-like expression.

Zong Liangu narrowed her eyes and stared at Zong Yougu. She suddenly spoke: “You’re making things very difficult for me.”

“Difficult how?”

Zong Yougu maintained her mischievous grin, sprawling out like a giant character ‘大’ to monopolize the sofa. She blinked; the bright lights flickered in her eyes, fragmented and brilliant.

“Do you know what I want to do?” Zong Liangu sighed.

“Hmm?”

“Pin you down right here.”

Zong Liangu’s voice was very soft. It was precisely this airy tone that added a layer of ambiguity to her already suggestive words.

“And then?” Zong Yougu performed an exaggerated display of shyness. She picked up a small blanket to cover her face, acting affected yet playful.

“And then plunge a knife deep into your neck,” Zong Liangu said. “Then blood would spray everywhere, and the waste remaining in your body would burst out. Then I’d use detergent to carefully scrub every corner—though it wouldn’t matter if I couldn’t get it clean; a single fire would solve everything.”

A throw pillow flew straight toward Zong Liangu’s face. She caught it and saw Zong Yougu’s smiling face.

“You can’t bring yourself to do it anyway; you’re all talk.” Zong Yougu sat up, leaving a space for Zong Liangu.

“Yes, I can’t bring myself to do it.” Zong Liangu let out a sigh. “But you only need to die somewhere I can’t see. Poisoning, hiring a hitman—there are plenty of ways. You’d better live with your tail between your legs in front of me from now on, or there’s no telling when you might die.”

Zong Liangu sat down. With no outlet for the fire in her heart, she found everything she looked at irritating.

Zong Yougu laughed, her arms looping around Zong Liangu’s neck. She didn’t speak again, simply greedily contacting every inch of Zong Liangu’s skin. Zong Liangu’s body temperature transferred to her, and a familiar scent drifted into her nostrils.

Zong Liangu struggled to break free. It wasn’t that she was repulsed by Zong Yougu’s touch; on the contrary, she felt that her body, rather than rejecting the other, was actually accepting her. It was precisely because of this that she felt annoyed.

She and Zong Yougu were one person. Zong Yougu liked Zong Liangu very much—this was something Zong Liangu knew clearly. Zong Yougu always had the word “we” on her lips; she was always planning Zong Liangu into her future.

Zong Yougu said she and Zong Liangu would play Yu Yulai well together. She also said they would surely live in a better place in the future and lead a glamorous life together.

But that wasn’t what Zong Liangu wanted.

Zong Liangu pushed Zong Yougu away. The hands of the wall clock moved past each graduation mark, the sound synchronized with Zong Liangu’s heartbeat. She could see Zong Yougu’s face just by turning her head, but she didn’t dare turn.

Guilt, annoyance, resentment. These emotions were mixed together, ready to surge out if she let her guard down for even a second. Clearly, she wasn’t supposed to be like this; Zong Liangu was supposed to be a calm person, someone who remained unruffled in the face of trouble. Her current self was a far cry from who she used to be.

Why did it turn out like this? The culprit behind all of this was—

Zong Liangu turned her head and looked straight at Zong Yougu.

Zong Yougu laughed: “You won’t let anyone else kill me; I’m certain of that. Not because I’m conceited, but because I know you—you lack trust in others. As for poisoning, you’d have to do that yourself, and you can’t bring yourself to do it.”

Zong Yougu’s hands climbed up Zong Liangu’s neck. Just as Zong Liangu had choked Zong Yougu in the car that day, Zong Yougu was now tightly squeezing Zong Liangu’s neck. The strength in her hands increased; she saw Zong Liangu’s face gradually flush and her lips slowly change color, yet Zong Liangu didn’t utter a sound.

Zong Liangu did not resist; more accurately, she was enjoying Zong Yougu’s violence. To her, the lazier and more irritable Zong Yougu became, the happier she felt, because it provided ample justification for her wavering and betrayal, easing her moral pressure.

Seeing that Zong Liangu still remained silent, Zong Yougu let go in a fit of exasperated rage.

Zong Liangu remained sitting; she quickly adjusted her breathing and regained her usual calm. She said with a smile: “I’m going to take a shower. I sweated while filming today; there’s a smell on me.”

Unease spread through Zong Yougu’s heart; for the first time, she failed to fathom Zong Liangu’s mood.

Passing through several doors, Zong Liangu walked into the bathroom. Once the door closed, Zong Yougu lost sight of her completely. Her heart began to race. The sound of water drifted from the bathroom, a pitter-patter like rain.

Then, a crisp sound was heard amidst the splashing water. Zong Yougu was very familiar with that sound—it was the sound of a palm meeting a cheek. Zong Liangu had slapped herself. They shared the same habits; Zong Yougu realized that Zong Liangu must be feeling extremely frustrated right now.

Zong Liangu showered very slowly. About an hour passed before the water stopped. With a click, the door opened.

When Zong Liangu opened the glass bathroom door, Zong Yougu was already waiting at the entrance to greet her. Before Zong Liangu could speak, Zong Yougu pressed her lips against hers.

Water droplets still clung to Zong Liangu’s hair; the damp strands rested on Zong Yougu’s shoulder, water tracing a long streak across the dark grey fabric. Zong Liangu moved twice but didn’t break away. Was Zong Yougu’s strength greater, or had she never intended to push her away? She didn’t know herself.

She felt Zong Yougu’s tongue sweep across her lips, and her heart shivered. The resentment and annoyance that had been circling in her heart earlier suddenly inflated like a balloon at this moment, exploding in her mind with a bang. All emotions veered toward the extreme, transforming into pleasure.

Zong Yougu slowly ended the kiss and looked directly at Zong Liangu. She asked, “What does it feel like?”

Zong Liangu smiled. She pursed her lips and then said honestly: “It feels great.”

Zong Liangu’s arms were also wrapped around her waist, so they were now holding each other, like a strictly planned, symmetrical mural.

Zong Yougu laughed too. She said: “What a coincidence. Me too.”

Their arms tightened simultaneously, clutching each other very hard.

Zong Liangu sighed and said: “If only I were a single person.”

Zong Yougu tightened her grip defiantly and said: “We were always one person.”

Zong Liangu smiled. she kissed her way along Zong Yougu’s cheek until she reached her ear. She said: “What I mean is, if only we were in the same body. Then there wouldn’t be all this mess. Heaven has already allowed me to come to this world and meet you; why couldn’t it help me a bit more and let me live directly inside your body?”

Zong Liangu rested her head on Zong Yougu’s shoulder. Zong Yougu’s thick, heavy hair provided a lightless sanctuary for her. Zong Liangu’s voice grew even softer: “Like this, one moment I feel like you are me and I am you, but a moment later, I can’t help but hate you.”

A drop of water fell onto Zong Liangu’s neck. She looked up and found it was Zong Yougu’s tear. Zong Yougu’s eyes darted away, and she wiped her tears onto Zong Liangu’s clothes.

Only after doing this did she say: “Me too.”

“You don’t understand.”

Zong Yougu didn’t argue; she just nuzzled against Zong Liangu’s hair. Their warm breaths spilled over each other, soothing their restless hearts.

The embrace continued. They still held each other tightly, both wishing they could rub the other into their own body. Two forces collided and contested; they lost their footing. Fortunately, the sofa caught them both securely.

“The bed is over there,” Zong Liangu said.

“It’s too soft; sleeping there causes nightmares.” Zong Yougu seemed to remember something funny and giggled. She scraped the tip of Zong Liangu’s nose with her finger: “It’s all your fault.”

Once things calmed down, the negative emotions in her heart returned. Zong Liangu leaned down and took the initiative to kiss Zong Yougu. Sure enough, the intense stimulation masked the distracting thoughts. Zong Yougu reached out and pinched Zong Liangu’s nose, cutting off her breath. The burning sensation brought by suffocation made Zong Liangu enjoy the kiss even more. She didn’t stop her movements; she even held Zong Yougu tighter.

Zong Yougu let go: “Psychopath.”

“Then you’re a psychopath too.”

Zong Liangu bit down on Zong Yougu’s earlobe, leaving a bite mark on the thin skin. The toothmarks, moistened with saliva, shimmered with a crystalline light under the lamp.

Zong Yougu casually slapped the light off. The bright illumination vanished instantly, leaving only the bedside lamp on. The warm yellow glow it emitted was like a tiny ocean. They drifted and surged in this ocean, and the only thing they could hold onto firmly was each other, so they naturally treated the other as a vessel.

The shadows on the wall shifted and undulated constantly, like the way mountains rise and fall when a car drives through a continuous range. Zong Liangu felt Zong Yougu; she felt every detail carefully. Her mind held nothing but pleasure.

Everything that had troubled her before was cast to the back of her mind. Although Zong Liangu knew that the resentment and indignation would surely occupy her heart for a long time—

But who cares about the future?

When the car reaches the mountain, there will be a way; when the boat reaches the bridge, it will naturally go straight.

Zong Yougu’s panting was in her ear, and she was panting herself. Everything returned to a state of calm. Both were covered in a fine layer of sweat, their hair stuck messily to each other’s faces.

When the excitement faded, the muscle aches arrived late, and drowsiness swept in. They both closed their eyes.

Just as Zong Liangu was about to fall asleep, she heard Zong Yougu’s voice.

“Don’t leave me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Zong Liangu agreed, though no one knew better than she that she was lying. She would surely leave in the future.

But who cares about the future?

Zong Liangu embraced Zong Yougu once more.