We Are Filthy, Born From Mud - Chapter 54

Chapter 54: Yes, This is Zong Liangu. Even Though the Photo is Extremely Blurry…

Summer was so incredibly irritating.

The incessant croaking of frogs arrived alongside the exceptionally vicious sunlight; the sweltering heat and the clamor were enough to drive anyone to distraction. Large and small filming equipment stood upon the concrete ground, scorched hot by the sun, while a series of blue tents provided small patches of shade for the crew.

“Teacher Zong, that last scene was great. The director said we should hurry and shoot the next one while you’re in a good state.”

Zong Yougu took the water cup handed to her. The ice in the cup had already melted; tiny shards of ice had turned into slush, catching in her throat as she sipped through the straw. She lifted her eyelids and sized up this “Assistant Number Eighteen” before her.

“Didn’t Hu Yinghua tell you before she left? The water needs exactly thirteen ice cubes, and don’t pour it too early, otherwise the ice melts. I really don’t know how you can be so clumsy.”

Zong Yougu waved her hand, shooing away the new assistant. No matter how she looked at this assistant, she was dissatisfied. She secretly schemed that as soon as this scene was finished and she returned, she would apply for a replacement.

Back then, she had found even Hu Yinghua unpleasant to look at, but now she realized her value—she even missed Hu Yinghua a little. At least Hu Yinghua was meticulous, handled things thoroughly, and wouldn’t complain to her face.

Hu Yinghua had applied for leave two weeks ago. She hadn’t specified a reason, only offering a few words about “health issues.” No one pressed further, however, because everyone knew how difficult Zong Yougu was, naturally blaming Hu Yinghua’s departure on her temper.

Her work was now handled by this Assistant Number Eighteen. She seemed to be called Xu-something. Zong Yougu narrowed her eyes and frowned. In short, she was dissatisfied with this assistant in every way.

The new assistant ran over from a distance, eyes drooping and face mournful, panting for breath. Sweat flowed down her cheeks; some of it curved toward her neck, making the skin oily and shiny, while other droplets fell from her chin, dripping right onto Zong Yougu’s water cup. A bead of sweat mixed with dust dragged a streak of moisture down the side of the glass.

Zong Yougu knit her brows, using a great deal of effort to suppress her temper. Feeling disgusted and repulsed, she didn’t take the cup but merely stared at the assistant. She let out a sharp huff.

The new assistant froze in place, looking around awkwardly. The assistant’s panic and embarrassment smoothed out Yougu’s irritation; as long as someone else was unhappy, she felt better. Her brow smoothed instantly, and she gave a small smile: “Thanks. Just leave it there.”

Assistant Number Eighteen felt as if she’d been granted a grand pardon. She set the cup on the table and immediately fled from Zong Yougu’s sight. Watching the assistant’s hurried retreat, Yougu gave a self-mocking laugh. With a personality as foul as hers, everyone surely wanted to stay as far away as possible. Like Hu Yinghua, like Assistant Eighteen, like Zong Liangu.

Zong Liangu…

This was already the fifth time today she had thought of Zong Liangu. Zong Yougu pinched the flesh on her arm hard; the pain stopped her from letting her thoughts wander. She needed to live her life well now—to prove to Zong Liangu, to herself, and to everyone else that she was perfect on her own.

Zong Yougu pushed the water cup away and picked up the script. Her fingers traced lines of dialogue as she closed her eyes, simulating the performance in her mind.

The Death of a Wandering Singer was a new film she had just accepted. Qi Fang was very optimistic about the project because the theme and conception were excellent; it reflected reality without being overly somber or depressing. Zong Yougu had acted in many shows, but she had almost never participated in a major big-screen movie. This film was an excellent springboard.

The movie told the story of Lu Ting, a small-town youth who, after being diagnosed with a terminal illness, spends her final days singing in various corners of the city. Slums, “villages within the city,” and unfinished buildings were all her stages. When people asked her name, she would only smile and say nothing. Her actions gradually attracted the attention of media reporters, and “The Wandering Singer” became her alias. As she gained more attention, the places she visited were gradually noticed and improved. Finally, as her life reached its end, the places where she left her footprints saw dead wood meet spring—life continuing endlessly.

Zong Yougu played Lu Ting. This was her first work after becoming famous, her first leading role in a movie, and her first time filming since Zong Liangu had left.

“Teacher Yougu? We’re ready for you.” The stage manager shouted from a distance.

Zong Yougu smiled gracefully and nodded slightly. The scene they were about to shoot was the walk Lu Ting takes after leaving the hospital upon hearing her diagnosis. Zong Yougu looked up; the sun was exceptionally fierce, the dazzling light swirling in her eyes. She set down the script, stood up from the folding stool, brushed the dust off her trousers, and walked forward.

“Three, two, one, action!”

Zong Yougu stepped forward, having entered the zone completely. She was now Lu Ting—the Lu Ting who had just stepped out of the hospital. Her medical records were in her left hand, and the report was in her right. The expert had told her to relax and adjust her mindset; with current medical standards, cancer was no longer a total death sentence, and with active treatment, she could live a normal life for a long time.

But Lu Ting knew it was a death sentence. Because she had no money; she had no way to afford the treatment. Even if medical insurance covered part of the financial burden, it was still more than she could bear. No one knew better than her that her life was on a countdown.

Zong Yougu’s pace was steady but slightly sluggish. She stopped on the final step, her right hand clutching the diagnosis, her knuckles white with strain. She seemed about to take a step, but her raised foot returned to its original spot. She dazed for a moment, then looked up at exactly the right time.

She looked ahead at the flickering green light; the yellow countdown hit zero. The green light turned red. She felt someone tap her shoulder; she trembled slightly as if startled awake. Someone urged her to move forward and not block the entrance; Zong Yougu nodded numbly. She started walking, silently merging into the flow of the crowd.

Zong Yougu looked up, watching the extras brushing past her. Some walked hurriedly, some looked at their phones, some smiled while holding a child’s hand. Zong Yougu slowed her pace, moving slower and slower. She stopped in the middle of the road.

The light in front of her turned red again. Standing in the middle of the street, Zong Yougu obstructed the cars; horns began to blare one after another. She remained indifferent; because of the tears gathering in her eyes, she could no longer see her surroundings clearly—everything was a blur. She was mistaken for a blind person, and a kind stranger pulled her across the street.

Glimpsing the camera at her side, Yougu knew the director would want a close-up. Her face and her emotions had to be at the absolute peak of perfection. Moreover, only a perfect performance was worthy of her, Zong Yougu.

Continuing to immerse herself in the emotion, Zong Yougu could completely feel what Lu Ting felt at this moment. She turned around. What she saw was a street with a never-ending flow of traffic, towering buildings, and people coming and going. Her lips trembled slightly, and her voice was hoarse.

“I’m clearly about to die, so why does the world look no different at all?”

Zong Yougu still didn’t move. She looked up, squinting against the blinding sun. She stared directly at it, the harsh light forcing tears from her eyes. One tear slid down, followed by more and more—a steady stream of tears. She opened her mouth again, sobbing softly: “I’m clearly about to die, so why is no one sad for me?”

“Cut!” the director shouted.

Zong Yougu quickly detached herself from the emotion. She took a tissue handed to her and slowly wiped the tear stains from her face.

“As expected of an award winner; that acting is undeniable.” The cinematographer was packing up the gear, giving her crossbody bag a quick tug to settle it. As she worked, she couldn’t help but praise Zong Yougu.

Zong Yougu was an absolute genius. Since filming started, every one of her solo scenes had been completed rapidly. Even when a few extra takes were needed because the director wasn’t fully satisfied, Yougu could quickly grasp what the director wanted through communication and adjust her state immediately. Furthermore, even when the director was dissatisfied, it wasn’t because she acted poorly, but because the director felt she could do even better. In short, Zong Yougu was truly formidable.

“Teacher Yougu, you’re really amazing. Many of my friends like you very much.”

Zong Yougu didn’t show anything unusual on her face—a perfectly calibrated smile, a perfectly timed nod. She appeared humble yet carried a trace of innocence.

“Alright, I’m going back to work then.” Zong Yougu waved to the camera operator.

the car to take her back to the hotel had arrived. She was a bit thirsty and wanted the assistant to wash the cup and get some water. She leaned back lazily against the seat, enjoying the cool breeze from the air conditioner. Her finger slid across her phone screen as she opened a social media app, browsing the comments under her account. Even if she didn’t care about others’ opinions, who wouldn’t like to see people praising them?

@HumbleValleyValley: I’m going to scream, how can she be so beautiful and talented, I’m going to faint!

@CuckooCuckooCalls: [Screenshot] Baby, you’re inside the screen, I’m outside the screen. Let’s just consider this our group photo~

@IHeardThereWasOnceAValley: [Image] Baby, I’m so lucky I ran into you! I was afraid of disturbing you so I didn’t go up to say hello. I hope you’re happy every day!

@HumbleValleyValley reply @IHeardThereWasOnceAValley: lol baby, I think you photographed the wrong person. Yougu baby joined a film crew recently, she’s not there.

Zong Yougu’s finger stopped there. She clicked on the high-resolution image in the comment, her fingers constantly zooming in. Her relaxed brow suddenly knit tight, and her fingers trembled slightly.

The person in the photo was dressed in a black casual tracksuit, with a black mask covering their entire face, leaving only the eyes visible. Slender fingers held an umbrella, and something was wrapped around the wrist—looking closely, it was a necklace.

Even though the photo was extremely blurry, she was absolutely certain: the person in the photo was Zong Liangu.