We Are Filthy, Born From Mud - Chapter 48

Chapter 48: Yes, She is Very Happy. She Will Climb Up by Herself…

“Sister Qi Fang, do I really have to act in this?”

Zong Yougu looked at the script in front of her and couldn’t help but complain. It was a comedy, and Zong Yougu was to play a guest role. The character was acerbic, mean-spirited, and nitpicky about every little detail. In short, she was very unlikable. It didn’t suit her at all!

“And if not this, then what?”

Zong Yougu was choked up. For a while now, Qi Fang had been very respectful of her opinions, giving her the illusion that she could call all the shots. Today, however, Qi Fang was exceptionally firm.

Zong Yougu refused to give up and started acting spoiled: “Sister Qi Fang, this character doesn’t suit me at all. What if I don’t act it well? If I perform poorly, won’t I ruin my own reputation? My public image finally improved a bit recently; I don’t want to mess it up.”

Qi Fang sighed, rubbing her temples. Zong Yougu’s recent good behavior had almost made Qi Fang forget the “notoriety” she held within the company; she had nearly forgotten that Yougu was a top-tier difficult artist to manage. Qi Fang lightly tapped Yougu’s head with a felt-tip pen.

“You have the nerve to ask me? Think about the things you did before. Leaving film sets on a whim, making life difficult for assistants, bullying other artists… those things will definitely be dug up eventually. The company’s consideration is to have you take on some roles that are more lively and cheerful, or that lean into your actual personality, to increase the audience’s acceptance of your character.”

Zong Yougu said nothing. She simply leaned back in her chair, fiddling with her fingers.

Qi Fang sighed again: “And even though it’s a comedy, the lineup is excellent. It can broaden your acting range and show future directors and producers your possibilities. You can also build some connections. In short, I wouldn’t harm you.”

“…Fine.” Zong Yougu let out a long sigh.

“So that’s how it is. I need to play a character like that.”

Zong Yougu propped up her head, staring blankly at Zong Liangu in shared distress.

“Am I really like that normally? Qi Fang actually told me I’m similar to this character! I’m clearly not like that. Where am I mean? Where am I acerbic? Anyone who knows me knows what a bright, kind, and gentle person I am.”

Zong Liangu, who was drinking water, began to cough. She burst into laughter, not giving Yougu any face at all. She pulled a tissue and carefully wiped the water from the corner of her mouth. Rolling her eyes, she said, “If you count as kind and gentle, then there are no bad people left in the world. It’s like you have a megaphone in your throat; you’re fine when you’re silent, but as soon as you speak, you’re incredibly sharp, specifically poking at people’s sore spots. You love to mock others. Anyone who didn’t know better would think you’re one of those professional commentators who got famous for being toxic.”

Zong Yougu snatched the water cup from Zong Liangu. She stared fixedly at Liangu, then watched the other woman while starting a cold, meaningful sneer. Zong Liangu caught the drift, curled her lip, and then chuckled: “Fine, I’m that kind of person too.”

Zong Yougu’s part wasn’t heavy, so she could join the set a bit later. During this interval, she harassed Zong Liangu as much as possible. The thought that Liangu would soon be able to go out in public with her legally, and that two such perfect people would exist simultaneously in the world, made her uncontrollably happy. Her hand would occasionally poke Liangu’s face, or she would annoyingly hook the bridge of Liangu’s foot with her own.

Initially, Zong Liangu just brushed Yougu’s hand away and turned her face. But Zong Yougu pushed her luck. Since Liangu and Yougu were the same person, Liangu wasn’t much more composed. Zong Liangu immediately chose to retaliate. Using a clever bit of leverage, she flipped Yougu onto the floor and lightly tugged at her hair, making it as messy as a bird’s nest.

“Are you crazy? You’re going to kill me!” Zong Yougu’s hands flailed wildly, her palms landing with crisp slaps on Liangu’s arms. “Vicious dog! Wild dog! Corpse! Making my hair so messy, honestly!” Zong Yougu was still screaming.

Zong Yougu tried to roll over and get up, but Zong Liangu was a step ahead, pinning Yougu’s shoulders down firmly. Zong Yougu was stuck, unable to move. Her eyes darted around; she tilted her head slightly, aimed at Zong Liangu’s eyes, and blew air directly into them.

As expected, Zong Liangu let go instantly and stepped back two paces. Zong Yougu grabbed her arm, stood up from the floor, and slid up her arm to close the distance between them.

“Zong Liangu, I’m so happy.” Zong Yougu leaned into Liangu’s ear, the warmth of her breath traveling along the earlobe. “Are you happy?”

Zong Liangu gave a cold snort and turned her head away in silence. Zong Yougu pressed further: “Are you happy?”

Zong Liangu’s voice was very small as she said, “I suppose I am glad.”

“Right, that’s it. Because I love you, every second I spend with you is joyful. You love me just the same, so you are happy too.”

Zong Liangu turned her head away again, remaining silent. Zong Yougu sighed in her heart, silently praying that Mother could find an identity for Liangu as soon as possible. She knew Liangu was feeling conflicted. On one hand, they were instinctively drawn to themselves and each other. On the other hand, Liangu’s desire for an independent identity made her resist her true inner feelings.

In a little while, none of this will be a problem, Yougu thought optimistically. But for now, she couldn’t just let Liangu’s emotions fester. Zong Yougu sat down in a chair and looked up at Zong Liangu. Their fingertips drifted together and apart, touching briefly over and over.

“How about you go for this shoot? I won’t follow. I promise I’ll stay home honestly and won’t go anywhere.” Their index fingers hooked together, swinging back and forth in mid-air like a swing. With every contact, an itch traveled up the finger and arm straight to the brain.

“Handing the mess over to me again?” Zong Liangu asked. Zong Yougu remained beaming. Although Liangu complained, she didn’t reject the suggestion. She loved freedom; she didn’t want to hide behind Zong Yougu forever. Even if this shoot was still conducted in Zong Yougu’s name, Yougu had given her enough autonomy, which was enough to briefly soothe her restless heart.

“Sister Yougu, is that… is that life assistant still not following today?” Hu Yinghua peered curiously over Zong Liangu’s shoulder.

“Just me.”

“Okay…” Hu Yinghua was somewhat hesitant. She hummed and hawed, repeatedly wavering before finally choosing to speak: “Sister Yougu, you are an artist, and your fame is rising now. If you’ve broken up, it’s best to make everything clear, otherwise it might be very troublesome later.”

Zong Liangu felt inexplicably angry. She loved Zong Yougu, but that love was merely an instinct. It wasn’t indestructible, nor had it reached the level of being unforgettable. In fact, Zong Liangu constantly wanted to escape from Yougu. Yet hearing Hu Yinghua say this made her feel annoyed and furious.

“Fine. Just drive.”

The car moved slowly forward as the road rushed backward. The dilapidated apartment building quickly vanished from Liangu’s sight; Zong Yougu was left behind her. This was the first time since their collaboration began that Zong Liangu participated in a shoot without Yougu’s company. She felt a lightness she had never experienced before, a sense of relief.

Without realizing it, time had slipped by; she was startled by the changing of the seasons. Outside the window, it was midsummer; the leaves were dyed a deep green by the sun. The dazzling, almost piercing sunlight lit everything up in brilliant gold. No one could look at such a scene without feeling hope.

The future must be won by oneself. Her adoptive mother’s words echoed in Zong Liangu’s ears. She let out a breath, clearly feeling her slightly trembling respiration.

“Sister Yougu, is it okay if I drop you off here?” Hu Yinghua turned back.

“Of course.” Zong Liangu’s tone was brisk.

Unlike the comfortable temperature inside the car, it was exceptionally sultry outside. Zong Liangu seemed completely oblivious; she didn’t use an umbrella or any sunshade, allowing the scorching sun to hit every inch of her body. Through the reflection of the building’s glass, she saw a glittering version of herself, the sunlight tracing a golden edge around her.

How was she different from Zong Yougu?

“Yougu!” A familiar voice came from afar.

Zong Liangu looked toward the sound; it was Su Tongguo, who was also participating in this shoot. Su Tongguo stood firm before her, standing straight with a wide smile. She said, “Long time no see.”

This was the first time meeting Su Tongguo since the audition for A Guide to Student Socialization; it had been over a year. Of course, they weren’t avoiding each other. It was just that as both of their fame grew, they became much busier. The hectic schedules always prevented them from meeting.

“Act well today. Let me see how much you’ve grown during this time, and whether you can truly live up to your fame. Of course, I’m ready for you to test me at any time.” Su Tongguo smiled brightly, completely devoid of her previous guilt or aloofness.

Zong Liangu smiled too. She tilted her head slightly to look at the sky—a vast, clear blue. Everything was changing: Su Tongguo was progressing, Zong Yougu was progressing, and she was progressing too.

It was the same sentiment: she would climb up by herself, slowly upward, and trample everyone beneath her feet. Naturally, that would include Zong Yougu.

“Actors in position! Actors in position!” the director shouted in the distance.

Zong Liangu looked at the script she had already memorized by heart. She examined it carefully again, adjusting her state as she spoke, slowly entering the role. She followed the method Zong Yougu had taught her: find one point of similarity and use it as a handle to feel the entire character.

When she opened her eyes again, she was completely in character. Acerbic, mean-spirited, nitpicky.

“Exactly. What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is yours. Everything must be clearly separated. Even twins demand fairness—we aren’t even the same person, so how could I let you take advantage of me?”

A sharp, highly penetrating voice spilled from her mouth. Even though it was loud, her lines remained perfectly clear. Catching the surprised expression on Su Tongguo’s face out of the corner of her eye, she felt very proud.

If only Zong Yougu could see this. She felt it was a bit of a pity, but the negative emotion flashed by in an instant, replaced by incomparable joy in her heart.