We Are Filthy, Born From Mud - Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Yes, This Place is Good.

 

Zong Yougu, taking advantage of the situation, reached out and stroked Zong Liangu’s face.

 

Zong Liangu finally reached her limit. She used her upper arm fiercely and threw the other person onto the bed.

 

She looked down at Zong Yougu, her tightly furrowed brow forming a deep frown between her eyes.

 

She saw Zong Yougu suddenly smile.

 

“Zong Liangu, you are so beautiful.”

 

Zong Yougu’s tone was sincere. She lay on the bed, her eyes slightly narrowed.

 

Zong Liangu’s expression remained unchanged: “We look exactly alike. Don’t think I don’t know you’re just finding a way to compliment yourself.”

 

“Then you compliment me, go on, say ‘Zong Yougu, you are so beautiful,’ quick, quick,” Zong Yougu rolled over, staring at Zong Liangu.

 

Zong Liangu knew that Zong Yougu wasn’t looking at her, but rather appreciating herself through Zong Liangu.

 

“Narcissist,” Zong Liangu commented.

 

Zong Yougu laughed louder. After laughing for a while, she waved her hand and said, “Oh my god, don’t you like yourself? That would be so strange. Clearly, the person who knows you best is yourself, and the person who can accept you the most is also yourself. Only I know all my likes, dislikes, and preferences. Narcissism is only right.”

 

Zong Liangu had nothing to say.

 

Zong Yougu checked herself in the mirror again before turning to look at Zong Liangu.

 

She pointed to a drawer nearby. The drawer was as shabby as the rest of the house, its yellowed paint chipped in patches, revealing the mottled dark brown wood core.

 

Zong Liangu pulled open the drawer, her eyes widening slightly in surprise.

 

Inside were some pieces of jewelry; various colored gemstones sparkled brightly.

 

Zong Yougu spoke airily: “Pick one and wear it. You’ll have a lot going on recently, and the other film is about to start. Can’t let people look down on you.”

 

Zong Liangu then carefully examined the jewelry in the drawer. There were necklaces and rings. Due to her past habit of handling a knife, Zong Liangu didn’t consider wearing a ring.

 

She studied the necklaces one by one.

 

One particular one caught her attention. A deep blue diamond sparkled on a thin golden chain. She reached out and picked it up.

 

Zong Yougu burst into laughter, bending over and slapping the pillow repeatedly.

 

She said, “How can your taste be so poor? With a whole drawer full of treasures, you pick a plastic fake. I’m going to die laughing.”

 

Zong Liangu wasn’t annoyed. She clenched the necklace in her hand and scrutinized Zong Yougu nakedly, making no attempt to hide the disdain in her eyes: “Vain.”

 

Zong Yougu beamed: “Well, I have the means for this vanity. I can buy whatever I wanted in the past.”

 

“I thought you were dirt poor.”

 

Zong Yougu indignantly took her phone from Zong Liangu’s pocket. She opened the browser, searched for her name, and then shoved the screen into the other person’s face: “I’m quite famous.”

 

There were indeed many reports about Zong Yougu on the screen. Zong Liangu slid her finger down, and as she scrolled, numerous negative reviews appeared.

 

Reading through the content, Zong Liangu narrowed her eyes. She had a rough idea.

 

Zong Yougu had fame but wasn’t exactly popular. She had no representative works and mostly played minor roles. The things that truly garnered attention were negative news, such as throwing diva fits or lacking professional ethics.

 

Zong Liangu recalled the script and guessed that this killer role was the first important character Zong Yougu had received.

 

“Throwing diva fits? Indulging assistants? Spoiled and unreasonable temper? You’re not doing so well either, are you?” Zong Liangu said scornfully.

 

“That’s because others don’t know me. Those who do know I’m the easiest person to get along with, and I am extremely kind.”

 

“Sick.”

 

Zong Liangu dropped the comment and heavily shut the door. She planned to go for a walk outside.

 

She really couldn’t get used to Zong Yougu wandering around in front of her. Sharing a room with someone who looked exactly like herself felt too strange.

 

She expertly put on a mask and a hat, just like in every past operation.

 

After finishing, she gave a self-deprecating smile. She was overly cautious. This world wasn’t as dangerous as the past. She was too tense.

 

She had to admit, she envied Zong Yougu. Her envy had reached a certain level and become jealousy.

 

She couldn’t understand why Zong Yougu could live so comfortably, becoming an actress who stood glamorous under the spotlight.

 

They shared the same background and the same experiences.

 

Why?

 

Fortunately, now she was Zong Yougu. She could rightfully enjoy all of this.

 

In a good mood, she hummed a tune as she went downstairs.

 

“Little Zong, day off today?” The security guard stopped her.

 

She looked where the voice came from, and she froze.

 

Because the person in front of her was very familiar.

 

The security guard who greeted her was about fifty years old. Her silver hair was cut short, and the hair at her temples was neatly tucked behind her ears.

 

Zong Liangu had an excellent memory; she remembered every person who appeared in her life.

 

She remembered her last name was Zhang, a kind old lady who had helped her more than once.

 

When she first started out as a killer, she always had large and small wounds because of her lack of proficiency.

 

This old lady was her neighbor. She always cared for Zong Liangu as if she were her child, helping Zong Liangu clean her wounds, yet never once asked about the source of the injuries.

 

Zong Liangu suspected that Granny Zhang had mistaken her for an abused child. But out of greed, she never explained, continuing to silently accept the care. As a killer, she was constantly dealing with all forms of malice. This was one of the few acts of kindness she had encountered.

 

Just like all shallow, vulgar stories designed to grab attention, good people never had good endings.

 

The old lady was killed by robbers during a home invasion, dying alone in her house.

 

Zong Liangu nodded blankly. She managed to force a smile: “Yes, nothing going on today. I came out for a walk.”

 

“I’m a security guard at a complex where celebrities live, you know. I can go back and brag to my grandkids for ages,” Granny Zhang said, smiling at Zong Liangu.

 

Zong Liangu stared at her blankly.

 

“Excuse me, excuse me! No parking here! Right, right, you can park outside, but this spot is owned by a resident, you can’t park here!” Granny Zhang yelled while running away. In her fifties, her body was still strong, and her voice was just as loud.

 

Zong Liangu continued walking, feeling an indescribable mix of emotions.

 

From Su Tongguo to Granny Zhang, they all had better lives here.

 

Su Tongguo didn’t die from a fever, and Granny Zhang didn’t encounter robbers; she even became a security guard.

 

They were still alive and vibrant here.

 

Zong Liangu grew more and more attached to this life. Her determination to replace Zong Yougu became stronger.

 

She wouldn’t let anyone threaten her.

 

Not even Zong Yougu.

 

She needed Zong Yougu’s guidance for now, but once she completely adapted to this place, she would eliminate Zong Yougu without hesitation, handling everything secretly, just as she had in the past.

 

Zong Yougu continued to laze on the bed like a salted fish. She was naturally happy about Zong Liangu’s arrival.

 

She despised everyone and looked down on everyone.

 

When people asked what kind of friend she wanted when she was a child, and later when filling out surveys for an ideal partner, her answer was always the same: herself.

 

Although Zong Liangu vehemently insisted they only shared the same appearance, Zong Yougu firmly believed they were the same person.

 

Thus, based on her love for herself, she extended that love to Zong Liangu.

 

“Please enter the password—Please open the door—”

 

It was Zong Liangu returning.

 

The room wasn’t large. Through the bedroom door, Zong Yougu could see the small living room.

 

She watched Zong Liangu change her shoes by the door. She seemed to be carrying something white and dangling in her hand.

 

Soon, Zong Liangu walked in. As she got closer, Zong Yougu smelled a strong, pungent odor of livestock.

 

Zong Yougu narrowed her eyes. She finally saw it: Zong Liangu was holding a plucked chicken.

 

Before Zong Yougu could react, the chicken was shoved into her hands.

 

The cold, soft, sticky sensation made her skin crawl.

 

She looked down and saw the dense bumps on the chicken skin. Some of the bumps had black dots—feathers that hadn’t been plucked cleanly.

 

The sight of real goosebumps made her get another round of goosebumps all over.

 

She stiffly looked up and met Zong Liangu’s icy gaze.

 

Zong Liangu smiled sweetly and said, “Miss Yougu, please take care of this. I specifically bought it back. Since you say we are the same person, this shouldn’t be a difficult task for you, right?”

 

Zong Yougu wanted to refuse, but Zong Liangu was so forceful, giving off the impression that she would use a knife if Zong Yougu didn’t comply.

 

She reluctantly headed to the kitchen.

 

It had been a long time since she had been in the kitchen. It was less a kitchen and more a small area separated from the living room by a plastic partition.

 

The space was narrow. She took the chopping board from the wall, slowly rinsing it under the tap, then pulled out the rarely-used cleaver, washing its sticky surface.

 

Yes, she was trying to stall for time as much as possible.

 

She cautiously glanced at Zong Liangu, who was still staring at her.

 

She placed the chicken on the chopping board, her left hand holding the chicken, her right hand gripping the cleaver.

 

She was genuinely scared. Her left hand, which was loosely resting on the chicken meat, felt unsteady.

 

Her imagination was vivid. She felt the chicken skin and flesh slowly separating, the outer layer of skin constantly peeling up, seemingly trying to oilily wrap around her left hand. For a moment, she thought she could hear the chicken’s heart beating, and her own heart was pounding heavily.

 

Many images flashed before her eyes.

 

Her internal organs churned, her heart slowly swelled, and breathing became incredibly difficult.

 

Bang!

 

The knife plunged heavily into the chopping board but missed the chicken meat.

 

Her legs gave way, and she collapsed onto the floor.

 

She strained to look at Zong Liangu. Zong Liangu made no move to help her up.

 

She had no choice but to prop herself up and slowly crawl toward the plastic stool.

 

She heard Zong Liangu’s wild laughter, a sound that seemed very distant, very far away.

 

“You look pathetic, quite miserable,” Zong Liangu’s voice was cold.

 

Zong Yougu watched her walk into the kitchen. She picked up the cleaver stuck in the chopping board.

 

She lifted her hand and brought the knife down cleanly.

 

Bang!

 

“Zong Yougu, we are different.”

 

Zong Liangu looked at the pale, sweating Zong Yougu and said, yet the movements of her hands were completely unaffected by her divided attention. The knife still landed precisely.

 

Bang!

 

“Even though we were born the same, even though we have the same background, undeniably, you’ve been too comfortable for too long.”

 

Bang!

 

“You can’t become me, but I can replace you. I advise you not to think too highly of yourself. You are useful to me now, but what about later?”

 

Zong Liangu efficiently processed the chicken. The meat was neatly arranged on a plate, blood seeping from the bones.

 

She looked at Zong Yougu, a hint of triumph in her eyes.

 

Zong Yougu didn’t deserve to live here; only she did.