We Are Filthy, Born From Mud - Chapter 42

Chapter 42: Yes, Call Her Yougu. The Past is the Past, the Past…

Wan Chunming granted Zong Yougu three days of leave, but Zong Yougu returned on the second day.

She didn’t return to filming immediately, nor did she let Zong Liangu film in her place. Instead, she dragged Zong Liangu to lie in the hotel with her for two days. During those two days, they did nothing. They simply lay there, barely even speaking.

By the evening of the last day, Zong Yougu finally returned to her former self—laughing and chatting as usual, acting like a shameless rogue.

“Filming again tomorrow. I don’t want to go to work.”

Zong Yougu rolled across the bed, wrapping herself tightly in the duvet until only her round head peeked out. She looked at Zong Liangu with sparkling eyes. She began her antics again, tugging at Zong Liangu’s fingers and pleading for her to go to work in her stead. Once Zong Liangu agreed, she snatched away all of Liangu’s clothes, refusing to let her out the door for any reason.

“What exactly are you trying to do?” Zong Liangu’s voice was filled with utter helplessness.

Zong Yougu chuckled twice. She stopped talking and remained motionless, simply staring at Zong Liangu.

“Are you going to film tomorrow or not?”

Zong Yougu’s eyes darted around, and she squinted with a smile. “Of course I am.”

Zong Yougu switched off the light and turned over to face the balcony. As her eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, everything before her began to take shape. Tomorrow was important.

Wan Chunming finally understood why He Gui always looked so exhausted whenever Zong Yougu was mentioned.

Zong Yougu’s state was always so unstable. When she was “on,” she could nail several shots in a row in a single take, her performance nearly flawless. But when her state wasn’t right, she became extremely agitated and would try every possible way to evade the day’s shoot.

However, there was no denying that she was a brilliant actress—a rare, all-around talent. Wan Chunming stared blankly at Yu Yulai’s scenes in the script.

“What are you thinking about so seriously?” Ge Ya patted Wan Chunming’s shoulder.

Wan Chunming took off her glasses. “Nothing. Just wondering when Xiao Zong will fully adjust her state.”

Ge Ya gave a noncommittal “un-huh,” her tone unreadable.

Zong Yougu arrived at that very moment. She was already in costume, her eyes clear and bright. The sun was perfect that day, shining with a warmth that wasn’t scorching but rather the kind that makes one feel drowsy.

She looked around; Quan He had arrived as well. Quan He was sitting under a sunshade, pointing at the script, too focused to notice Zong Yougu’s gaze.

“Director Chunming.”

Zong Yougu nodded to Wan Chunming. Ge Ya, standing beside the director, also nodded to her with a smile. There was a hint of scrutiny in Ge Ya’s eyes; Zong Yougu didn’t know what it meant, so she simply smiled back.

“Even without you saying a word, I can feel your state is good today. I hope it stays stable,” Wan Chunming said while adjusting her headset.

“It will.”

Zong Yougu smiled, thinking of Zong Liangu. As long as they collaborated, they were perfect.

“Actors ready!”

The crew had already set the scene. Zong Yougu stepped forward and took her position according to the markers. Sitting across from her was Quan He—that is, Zhang Mumu.

They were about to film the final scene of the movie. Yu Yulai has successfully returned to the real world, and Lin Lingwan asks her about the meaning of life.

Zong Yougu took a deep breath and looked at the Zhang Mumu before her. Fragments of the past began to surge up, scene after scene flashing before her eyes. This was within her expectations. She wasn’t afraid or terrified.

Using her peripheral vision to scan the area, she indeed spotted the figure nearby, wrapped from head to toe in clothes despite the bright sun.

Zong Liangu, Zong Liangu.

She whispered the name twice in her heart. Her heart gradually steadied, and the images before her eyes faded away.

“Three, two, one—Action!”

Zong Yougu resumed her position leaning on the desk. The fierce, bright lights hit her directly from the side, casting her shadow sharply against the wall. Yu Yulai was exhilarated; she had successfully returned to reality. She had lived another day, possessed another day. As always, she leaned on the desk, savoring every minute and second of the present.

However, unlike before, she cherished every moment more than ever—enjoying today while looking forward to the future. This was the biggest difference.

Zong Yougu’s face rested on her arm as she stared out the window. Although there was nothing in her line of sight but cameras and sound equipment, she looked as if she truly saw the spring scenery outside. Her eyes were bright and shimmering.

The chair legs scraped against the floor; the sharp, piercing sound was enough to cause goosebumps. Lin Lingwan sat down in front of her. The other girl made no effort to hide the scrutiny in her gaze, her dark pupils locked onto Zong Yougu without moving.

“What’s the point of it all?” Lin Lingwan asked out of the blue.

Quan He’s voice was naturally thin and high, which added a layer of mystery and fragility to the character of Lin Lingwan. Yu Yulai ignored her, placing her index finger against her lips to signal Lin Lingwan to be quiet.

Outside the window were the sounds of birds and cicadas. Piercing through the nearby noise, one could hear the distant sounds of people.

Lin Lingwan persisted: “What is the point, really? What’s the meaning of everything you’ve done? You already have the praise of others; you don’t need to do this anymore. Don’t tell me you saved them for ‘classmate bonds’ or out of ‘justice.’ I don’t believe it.”

Lin Lingwan’s voice trembled slightly, her brow furrowed.

“What are you worried about?”

Yu Yulai finally looked up and turned to face Lin Lingwan. Zong Yougu dazed for a moment, as this was the first time she had looked at Zhang Mumu while in a calm state. Since Zhang Mumu was a frequent guest in her dreams, her face was incredibly familiar. But she had never imagined what Zhang Mumu would look like grown up.

Because she had previously convinced herself that “Little Cow” was someone with no future.

Zong Yougu adjusted her breathing slightly and submerged herself back into the performance.

“I—”

Just as Lin Lingwan was about to answer, Yu Yulai placed her finger against her lips again, stopping her from speaking.

“You are very insecure,” Yu Yulai chuckled softly.

Lin Lingwan’s face changed instantly. Her eyes widened, her eyebrows knitting together. Her hostility toward Yu Yulai became intense.

“Heh, are you joking? Me? Insecure? Impossible.”

Yu Yulai leaned back leisurely against the chair. She slowly raised her wrist and pointed at Lin Lingwan, the corners of her mouth curling into a smile.

She said, “Because you have no idea what you actually want. You keep questioning the future, only to end up with nothing.”

Lin Lingwan sat back down. She turned her head away but didn’t interrupt Yu Yulai again.

“You are very talented. You learn everything quickly, so you take pride in your talent and look down on all of us. But in reality, you have no idea what you want, right? So you struggle, you’re conflicted, and deep down, a sense of misplaced insecurity has grown.”

Yu Yulai’s way of speaking had always been this blunt and merciless, because she felt that beating around the bush was simply a waste of time—a waste of precious life. At this moment, Zong Yougu fully understood Yu Yulai’s state of mind. Feeling what Yu Yulai felt, her face wore a perfectly calibrated look of impatience and mockery.

“So? What should I do? You’ve counseled so many people, why can’t you help me?”

Lin Lingwan’s tone was calm, her thin, sharp voice drifting in the air. Yu Yulai smiled and shook her head, looking out the window.

The boom mic and cameras reappeared in Zong Yougu’s vision, as did Zong Liangu. She took a slow breath and became Yu Yulai once more; before her were bright sunlight and lush, dark green leaves. Yu Yulai turned her head back, smiling brilliantly. Her eyes, squinted into thin lines, looked like crescent moons reflecting water with fish swimming through.

She let out a breath and closed her eyes. “Actually, I should thank you. If you hadn’t dragged me into this mess, I wouldn’t have known my own flaw. I value the ‘now’ too much, while you value the ‘future’ too much.”

Zong Yougu slowly opened her eyes and turned back to look at Lin Lingwan. She said:

“What happened in the past cannot be changed. The future has not yet arrived. All we can see is the present. Lin Lingwan, instead of wasting every ‘today’ pondering the meaning of ‘tomorrow,’ you might as well live today well. You are so smart; through the actions of each day, you will eventually figure out the answer you want.”

The past is the past; let the past remain in the past.

After saying this, Zong Yougu felt her own heart tremble. She didn’t know who this line was truly meant for. Lin Lingwan? Quan He? Zhang Mumu? Or Zong Yougu herself?

Zong Yougu lifted her head again, smiling gently as she looked at the Lin Lingwan before her—at the Little Cow before her. She couldn’t help but feel emotional.

Zhang Mumu had grown up. Her overall appearance was very different from before. If one didn’t look closely, they would never associate Zhang Mumu with the Quan He standing here. Only upon close inspection could one find evidence in the similar features to prove they were the same person.

Lin Lingwan murmured to herself: “The past cannot be changed, and the future is too far away.”

No one should be trapped by a past that cannot be changed. No one should be anxious all day about a future that hasn’t arrived. Everyone was like this—Zhang Yinyang, Zhang Mumu, and so were she and Zong Liangu.

“Cut!”

“Sister Liangu, I’m really happy to see you again,” Quan He said while drinking water. “You’re truly incredible. No matter how I try, I just can’t catch up to you.”

Zong Yougu smiled and patted Quan He on the shoulder. “I’m happy to see you again too, Quan He. Next time, just call me Yougu.”

Zong Yougu let out a deep breath, feeling as if the stagnant air trapped in her internal organs had been completely expelled. She hadn’t felt this light in a long time. Instinctively, she looked toward Zong Liangu. Zong Liangu was still leaning lazily against the doorframe.

Even from that distance, Zong Yougu knew Zong Liangu must be watching her.