We Are Filthy, Born From Mud - Chapter 43

Chapter 43: Yes, They Are Perfect. Will Not Leave

After that, Zong Yougu didn’t stir up any more trouble. Following their agreement, she and Zong Liangu took turns completing the filming. Her state was excellent; taking advantage of this, the director re-shot several scenes she hadn’t been satisfied with earlier. Zong Yougu took a look—they were all scenes that Zong Liangu had filmed in her stead.

She burst into laughter. Zong Liangu had indeed acted well; to make such significant progress in such a short time was truly outstanding. However, Zong Liangu was not as good as her, Zong Yougu, just as she could not control her body the way Zong Liangu could. Standing before the camera, she compensated for her absence, her performance overlaying and replacing Zong Liangu’s.

Zong Liangu said nothing and showed no reaction. She simply watched from a distance, absorbing Zong Yougu’s experience like a sponge.

“Do you ever feel it’s unfair?”

“Unfair?”

“That no matter how much you contribute, it all gets credited to Zong Yougu in the end.”

Zong Yougu watched Zong Liangu prop up her head and think for a while, then smile.

Zong Liangu said, “I told you, we are collaborating. I will never feel it’s unfair.”

Zong Yougu pulled Zong Liangu into a sudden hug.

About another month passed, and the principal photography finally came to an end. So much had happened during this period that Zong Yougu had almost lost her sense of time. First was the sudden appearance of Quan He, then Zhang Yinyang’s confession.

Zong Yougu’s current thoughts were contradictory and fragmented. On one hand, she was relieved to know the truth; knowing she hadn’t actually abandoned Zhang Mumu made her happy. Seeing that Zhang Mumu—now Quan He—was living well finally dissipated the guilt that had haunted her for so long. She had made mistakes, certainly, but her mistakes would not chain her for a lifetime.

On the other hand, she was in pain. Because of the impact of that event, she had constantly looked down on herself, despised herself, and allowed herself to slowly fall into decadence. She had believed she was simply that kind of person.

Fortunately, Zong Liangu was by her side. Fortunately, Zong Liangu could understand her completely. Otherwise, she truly would have gone mad.

The flurry of events had left Zong Yougu dizzy, failing to notice the passage of time. When she felt as if the audition were only yesterday, the filming was already concluding.

“Three, two, one—Happy Wrap!”

The remaining actors shouted in front of the camera, their mouths wide open, revealing gums and the red depths of their throats. Everyone was happy, including Wan Chunming. She stood in the center of the group, crowded by the young actors. Looking at the tops of their young heads and their lively faces, it was impossible for her not to be happy. She hoped all these children would go higher and further.

“Post-production will be finished soon. We can probably submit it for review in about a month. After discussing with the investors, it should be released in the second half of the year or during the New Year period. All right, children, it’s been a pleasure working with you. I hope you all get better and better.”

Zong Yougu had no other filming plans for the time being. Qi Fang granted her a week of leave, sparing both her and Zong Liangu from the torment of work.

People cannot stay idle; once they do, they start acting up. At least, that was the case for Zong Yougu. Having just shed her psychological burden, she was in a very hyperactive state. She made the old wooden floors of the house creak loudly under her feet.

She treated the bed as a stage, leaping onto it and standing in the center. Like an actor delivering a soliloquy in a stage play, she raised one hand high and pressed the other to her chest.

“There is no one more virtuous in this world than I!”

Her tone was exaggerated, the over-abundant emotion making her lines sound theatrical and affected. Strangely, however, Zong Liangu didn’t interrupt her or offer her usual sarcasm. She just watched the self-entertaining Zong Yougu.

Zong Yougu plopped down on the bed. She stopped moving and simply looked back at Zong Liangu. Their eyes met, and they engaged in a silent standoff. Zong Liangu’s eyes seemed as though they would never go dry; she remained perfectly still.

Ultimately, Zong Yougu was the one to lose. She pulled Zong Liangu’s shoulder toward her and rested her forehead against the back of Liangu’s hand. Her voice was tiny and somewhat helpless, letting out a series of “un-huh” sounds like a cat: “What do you want to say? Stop staring at me.”

Zong Liangu’s eyes brightened. She pursed her lips, looking as if she were about to speak but hesitating. Zong Yougu gave a “tsk.” Just as she was about to speak, Zong Liangu finally opened her mouth:

“Teach me how to act.”

Zong Yougu tilted her head; she hadn’t expected Zong Liangu to say such a thing.

Zong Liangu continued to explain: “We say we are collaborating, completing the shoot with a shared performance. But for me, rather than calling it acting, it’s more accurate to say I’m just relying on the instincts trained into me from my previous life.”

“I jump when prompted, I run when prompted. I just sit there mechanically; only a few times have I actually entered the character. I like that feeling of being ‘in’ the character. In that moment, the rest of the world ceases to exist. You should understand what I’m talking about. Help me, okay?”

Zong Liangu took Zong Yougu’s hand. Mimicking Yougu’s earlier gesture, she pressed her forehead against the back of Yougu’s hand. The temperature difference between skin and bone allowed them both to feel each other’s presence vividly.

“I want to become better. I want to be like you, thinking through every character. I also want to experience different lives under the spotlight.” Zong Liangu lightly kissed the back of Zong Yougu’s hand. She looked up, her gaze locking onto Yougu’s pupils, giving the other no chance to look away. “Tell me all your experience, okay? I need you. You’re the only one who can make me better.”

Zong Yougu narrowed her eyes, her vision now containing only Zong Liangu. She thought for a while, then fell backward heavily onto the bed.

A muffled voice came from the blankets: “Why wouldn’t I? Only I can make you better, and only you can make me better.”

Zong Yougu sat up quickly and pulled Zong Liangu onto the bed with her. They were both tall; standing on the bed, the ceiling was barely two fists away from their heads, giving them a sense of “holding up the heavens and standing on the earth.”

Zong Yougu grasped Zong Liangu’s wrists from behind, her hands guiding Liangu’s to move. Their hands stopped at the highest point.

Zong Yougu repeated the line: “There is no one more virtuous in this world than I!”

Her voice was loud, and standing so close to Zong Liangu, it almost seemed as if the words were coming from Liangu herself.

“You acted this scene very well. I admit I was inferior. Why do you think that is?”

Zong Yougu leaned close to Zong Liangu’s ear. Her voice was soft, but her breathing was heavy. The warm breath flowed around Liangu’s ear like water; it was hard not to suspect she was doing it on purpose.

“You don’t need to answer; it’s obvious. It’s because you could understand the character. You have almost the same experiences as this character, so for you, the difficulty was practically zero. You only had to present your truest state.”

Zong Yougu moved Zong Liangu’s hands again, letting them slowly drop. Two pairs of hands joined together over Zong Liangu’s chest. Zong Yougu’s hands began to tremble, causing Zong Liangu’s to shake as well.

“None of us are people who deserve to die.”

Zong Yougu’s voice became very loud. Looking in the mirror, it truly looked as if Zong Liangu were delivering the lines. One person performed in front while the other provided the voice from behind, like a two-man puppet show.

“Do you remember this scene?”

“Yes.”

This was the first scene Zong Liangu had filmed in Zong Yougu’s place for A Guide to Student Socialization. In that scene, Zong Liangu believed she had worked very hard. Her emotions were full, her lines were clear, and her body movements conveyed her feelings. She thought she was quite good.

But Wan Chunming hadn’t been satisfied. Because Wan Chunming had seen Zong Yougu’s acting, and if it had been Zong Yougu, she certainly would have done better.

“What do you think you’re lacking?”

“Me? Experience. Training.”

Zong Yougu suddenly let go, placing her index finger vertically in front of Zong Liangu’s lips.

“That’s true, but what you lack even more is understanding. You are me, and I am you. What I can do, you can certainly do too—it’s just a matter of sooner or later. Just like I said when we first got the role of Yu Yulai: as long as it’s a person, there will always be similarities. Use that as a starting point to dig deep and understand the character, and then all the acting will follow naturally.”

Zong Yougu was still holding Zong Liangu’s hand. Liangu gave a slight tug and then gripped Yougu’s hand back. Their tightly linked hands swung through the air and then dropped quickly.

“But you don’t need to be in too much of a hurry. After all, as long as we are together, we can compensate for each other’s deficiencies. As long as we are together, we are perfect.”

Because they had each other, there was no need to rush to shed their own flaws, nor any need to worry about the other mocking those flaws. Because no one in this world understood them better than the person standing right there.

Zong Yougu suddenly withdrew her hand and wrapped both arms around Zong Liangu’s neck, trying to pull her into a headlock. Naturally, she didn’t succeed. Zong Liangu twisted around, her hands blocking Yougu’s attempt to tighten the hold.

Zong Yougu hopped around in frustration.

Bang—

Her head hit the ceiling. This made her even angrier, so she simply crawled back under the covers.

Zong Liangu laughed, nudging the lump of blankets with the top of her foot. She said, “Your reactions can never be faster than mine. You can’t beat me in that department.”

She sat down beside the duvet, leaning lightly against it. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Zong Yougu’s presence did bring her peace of mind, and she was involuntarily drawn to her. They were narcissists at their core; it was impossible for them not to love each other.

“You won’t leave, right?”

“How could I leave? I died in my original world; I’m probably bloated and soaked in water by now. There’s no going back.”

Zong Yougu ignored Zong Liangu’s joke and asked again: “You won’t leave, right?”

Zong Liangu froze for a moment, then she let out a light laugh.

“Of course not.”