We Are Filthy, Born From Mud - Chapter 36

Chapter 36: Yes, Perhaps She Could Be Better. Does She Really Need to Hide Forever…

“Xiao Zong, you did another great job today.”

Wan Chunming patted Zong Liangu on the shoulder, clearly satisfied with her performance.

Zong Liangu pursed her lips and offered a small smile, appearing as though she had known all along that she would succeed.

In reality, it hadn’t been like that at all.

Two hours earlier, Zong Liangu had arrived on the set. Her fingers traced back and forth over the script, even leaving faint indentations beneath the lines of text. Even while forcing herself to focus, she remained distracted. Her eyes were indeed fixed on the script, but her heart was elsewhere; she couldn’t take any of it in.

The sunlight was pleasant, casting a warm glow over her body. Zong Liangu moved her limbs slightly; her muscles were still aching. Scenes from the previous night surfaced alongside that soreness.

The entanglement under the dim yellow light, the panting breaths in each other’s ears.

A trace of embarrassment flickered across Zong Liangu’s face. She and Zong Yougu had been both too excessive and too restrained.

The sofa was small; they both feared rolling off, so they had to be careful, confining all their movements within a tiny space, suppressing their expanding desires and cravings. Yet, within that cramped space, neither she nor Zong Yougu would admit defeat. They competed with each other, using their bodies to explore and bite every inch of one another until they had no strength left.

Thinking back on it now, Zong Liangu still found it absurd.

For a fleeting moment last night, Zong Liangu thought that spending every day like this with Zong Yougu wouldn’t be bad. Intense pleasure numbed the nerves, allowing her to temporarily forget all her troubles. It was indeed exhilarating.

However, that thought quickly vanished. Zong Liangu pressed her fingernails into her skin, forcing herself to settle down. Her finger returned to the script, starting from the beginning once more.

The buildup of lactic acid made her muscles ache, and she let out a sigh. No wonder Zong Yougu was so reckless; it wasn’t Yougu who had to work the next day—it was Liangu. Fortunately, Zong Yougu still had some reason and a bit of a conscience; no marks were left on Liangu’s exposed skin. The intensity of the night was well-hidden beneath her clothes.

“Xiao Zong!” Wan Chunming waved to her.

Looking through the crowd, Zong Liangu gazed toward Wan Chunming. Today’s shoot was the scene where Yu Yulai rescues the first classmate, Wang Huai. Wang Huai was a school radio announcer trapped in the broadcasting room. When Yu Yulai bursts in, Wang Huai is sitting with her head down, facing a teacher with a distorted, angry face. Curses, accusations, and criticism were slowly pushing Wang Huai to the brink of a breakdown. At that moment, Yu Yulai shakes Wang Huai awake, and they flee the room together.

Zong Liangu’s task was to grab Wang Huai and run, then shake off the pursuing teacher once Wang Huai had successfully escaped. Zong Liangu squinted ahead; the actress playing Wang Huai was also a newcomer who had only played minor roles in the past with no representative works. She was currently filming a scene with Ge Ya.

Zong Liangu walked quietly behind the director’s chair. Standing behind Wan Chunming, she saw the fine beads of sweat already forming on the director’s neck. Before the official shoot, Wan Chunming had communicated every shot, camera angle, and framing with the director of photography. Each sequence was perfectly balanced, capturing the actors’ emotions while maintaining the overall aesthetic.

Zong Liangu couldn’t help but marvel internally.

“Wang Huai, do you know how much I expected of you? Yet you disappoint me again and again. I used to think you just didn’t work hard, but now I think you’re just stupid.”

“Like mother, like daughter. You’ll only end up just like your mother.”

“Your dreams? I can guarantee your dreams will never come true. Begging for food is your true destiny.”

Ge Ya’s emotions escalated layer by layer, her feelings becoming more agitated and her facial expressions more distorted. Wang Huai clearly couldn’t keep up; she was completely overwhelmed by Ge Ya’s performance.

Zong Liangu watched Ge Ya intently. She could learn a great deal from her. Years of acting experience allowed Ge Ya’s performance to transcend technique. Every line and every movement felt so natural; even the most exaggerated expressions didn’t seem strange on Ge Ya’s face.

If it were me, could I do that?

Zong Liangu furrowed her brows, mentally mimicking Ge Ya’s every expression. She sighed. She couldn’t do it. She was far from that level.

But Zong Yougu certainly could. Zong Liangu’s brow tightened, her knuckles turning slightly white. However, in my own field of expertise, I am the best. She could only comfort herself this way.

After several takes, the shot was finally finished. Wan Chunming took off her headphones, looked at Zong Liangu behind her, and smiled. “The next shot is yours. Get ready.”

Zong Liangu smiled. This scene was exactly her area of expertise; she wouldn’t make a mistake.

Zong Liangu burst through the door, kicked away the teacher in front of Wang Huai, and pulled her into a run. Her movements were smooth and seamless, executed in one breath.

“Cut!” The first shot was complete.

Next was a long take. Yu Yulai still hadn’t let go of Wang Huai; they kept running desperately. The muscles on Zong Liangu’s arms were taut; she took large, light, and vigorous strides.

The set was noisy—the sound of equipment, people talking, and distant noise blended into a roar. Areas the camera couldn’t see were messy; a crane arm swung in mid-air, and a half-finished bottle of water lay on the ground. But for a moment, Zong Liangu seemed unable to hear any of it; she could only hear Wang Huai’s terrified screams.

For a split second, she didn’t even see the camera following closely beside her. Her vision held only Ge Ya and the actress playing Wang Huai. At that moment, she was certain she was Yu Yulai.

Yes, she was in character.

As she ran, the corners of Zong Liangu’s mouth curled up slightly. With a horizontal sweep of her leg, she knocked away the desks and chairs blocking her path, throwing them behind her. Exam papers from the desks scattered everywhere.

“Cut!” Zong Liangu stood in place, panting heavily.

For some reason, she felt this time was more exhilarating than any before. Zong Liangu has always been able to do things well; no one can do it better than me, she smiled inwardly.

About two hours later, Zong Liangu finished the day’s filming.

“Xiao Zong, you did another great job today.” Wan Chunming patted Zong Liangu on the shoulder, making no effort to hide her praise. She smiled again, took a bottle of water from a nearby crate, and handed it to her.

Zong Liangu pursed her lips and smiled, as if she had known she would do well. A layer of fine sweat had broken out on her neck, and sweat from her forehead slid down her cheeks. She took the towel handed to her by Hu Yinghua and wiped herself carefully.

“Xiao Zong, you really are suited for Yu Yulai,” Wan Chunming said thoughtfully as she checked the footage.

Zong Liangu froze for a moment. She never felt she was “suited” for any specific role. In her mind, the “thought” was the core of a character, and that part was performed by Zong Yougu. Therefore, Zong Yougu would worry about deciphering the character’s psychology and feel anxious about understanding them. Zong Liangu never felt that way; she only needed to handle the running and the fighting. She never thought she was suited for a specific role because, as long as she was with Zong Yougu, she could suit any role.

Zong Liangu smiled and asked, “Director, why do you say that?”

Wan Chunming smiled, fine wrinkles appearing at the corners of her eyes. She pointed at the screen:

“Xiao Zong, from the beginning, I felt you had to play Yu Yulai. Your performance today makes me even more certain. Perhaps you haven’t realized how well you fit this character yourself. Look here, when you’re running with Wang Huai, you grip her wrist tightly but also slightly shield her behind you. These details aren’t in the script; they’re your own interpretation. It’s very good.”

Wan Chunming switched the shot, and the frame froze on Zong Liangu’s smile. “But none of that compares to this. Why would you smile here? Anyone else with this script would have a tense, serious face. But you’re smiling. Maybe it’s your ingenuity, or maybe it’s a subconscious reaction. But whether it’s a coincidence or a deliberate choice, you are Yu Yulai. You are the best choice for her.”

Zong Liangu didn’t speak. She recalled the shoot just now; for a moment, she really had seen herself as Yu Yulai. Yu Yulai cherished every day and treated every challenge as a game. Yu Yulai should smile, so Zong Liangu had smiled involuntarily. In that moment, Zong Liangu had lost herself.

Maybe the gap between me and Zong Yougu isn’t that big. Maybe I can do better. Maybe I can surpass Zong Yougu. Is it necessary for me to hide behind Zong Yougu for the rest of my life?

Zong Liangu’s restless heart beat joyfully. She knew that the moment this thought appeared, the pact between her and Zong Yougu was in jeopardy.

The director packed up her kit; she had to oversee another scene’s filming today. Before leaving, she turned to Zong Liangu and said, “Xiao Zong, Quan He has mostly recovered. You’ll be a bit freer these next two days; you can go find her to rehearse. You have a lot of dialogue together, so it’s best to find your rhythm early.”

Zong Liangu nodded.

“Quan He.” She repeated the strange name in her head over and over, as if to chew it thoroughly.

Zong Liangu sensed someone staring at her and quickly turned to look. The gaze was coming from the building opposite; by the time she looked up, the person was already leaving. Zong Liangu only saw a silhouette—a very familiar silhouette.

She had a premonition that the person was Quan He. But she shouldn’t have met Quan He before; why did she look familiar? Could she have inadvertently met Quan He in her previous world?

Quan He, Quan He. Zong Liangu muttered the name twice more. Then she let out a breath, tossing the messy thoughts aside.

She’d let Zong Yougu handle the brain work. For now, she was going to rest.