We Are Filthy, Born From Mud - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Yes, She is Destined to Shine.

Zong Liangu’s makeup and styling were simple. The makeup artist’s technique was professional, scientifically presenting the miserable state of an escapee chased into a dead end.

Zong Liangu looked at herself in the mirror. Countless faces of people she had hunted flashed before her eyes.

Having seen these scenes many times, she knew exactly what expression to adopt and could imitate it skillfully.

However, the problem was that the styling was too realistic; she looked completely gray and dusty.

Of course, Zong Liangu was not a noble person. She had considered secretly tampering with the makeup.

But she had concerns.

First, she wasn’t good at makeup, and making a mess would be bad.

Second… if she were discovered, she might lose even this small role.

“I told you, you’re just like me. We’re equally powerless.”

Zong Yougu’s gloating voice rang out from behind. Her eyes, hidden under the brim of her hat, licked at Zong Liangu without restraint.

“Weren’t you fiercely arrogant? Why are you so lacking in confidence now?” Zong Liangu’s tone was neutral, seemingly just a casual remark.

But the comment struck a nerve, and Zong Yougu fell silent.

However, she quickly returned to her usual flippant state.

“When was I ever lacking confidence? I firmly believe that one day I can step on everyone, and I firmly believe that one day everyone will look up to me.”

“You’re just talk. All you do is spout empty slogans,” Zong Liangu mocked mercilessly.

“Let me tell you something you might not know. It might be useful. You’re supposed to die from a gunshot, right? I just asked, and they are using the cheapest method on you. You have to manually squeeze the blood pack to simulate the gunshot effect. The blood splatter has nothing to do with the gun. In other words, you have some control over how you die, so you can strategize here. Though it won’t have much of an effect.”

Zong Yougu leaned in and whispered into Zong Liangu’s ear, her hands loosely circling Zong Liangu’s neck. Through her mask, she rubbed against Zong Liangu’s cheek and neck.

Zong Liangu fell into contemplation, even forgetting to push Zong Yougu away.

Blood pack, squeeze…

Her eyes lit up. She turned back and asked, “Is this shoot on location?”

“Yes. This director is wealthy and booked out an entire ancient town. Is there a problem?”

“So the dead end is a real dead end?”

“Well, yeah, what else would it be?” Zong Yougu was getting impatient. She poked Zong Liangu’s nose.

Zong Liangu stared blankly at herself in the mirror. She felt that everything had become clear.

Nothing would defeat her. She would complete this shoot successfully.

The smile on her face widened, and her eyes instinctively narrowed. As her vision narrowed, her reflection and Zong Yougu’s reflection in the mirror gradually merged, as if there truly was only one person.

Footsteps sounded outside the door, and Zong Yougu quickly stood up.

“Sister Yougu, you can head to the set now. Do you need me to hold your jacket? It’s getting windy outside, and it’s a bit chilly.”

Wind? Zong Liangu smiled even wider. She felt the blood throughout her body screaming with excitement, wildly rushing through every inch of her.

Due to her excessive excitement, she didn’t feel any coldness.

She smiled: “No need for the jacket.”

She walked onto the set. Various equipment was already set up. Looking up, she could see microphones and fill lights suspended in the air. Around her were not just cameras but also reflector boards, though mostly various pieces of equipment Zong Liangu couldn’t name.

She stood at her mark. The lights hit her face, and she felt incredibly brilliant right now. She deserved to be seen by more people.

She stood there for quite some time before the lead actor finally arrived fashionably late.

Zong Liangu frowned slightly, but she couldn’t deny that she envied this privilege.

Her peripheral vision scanned the surroundings. She finally spotted Zong Yougu, heavily disguised, in a corner.

“Three, two, one, action!” The clapboard snapped shut.

Zong Liangu quickly entered the zone.

“Surrender! Any further struggle is futile; you can’t escape,” she heard the other person say.

The faces of several people she had hunted in the past flashed before her eyes. She imitated them expertly.

Frowning, trembling, madness.

She spoke: “How could I fail? How could I fail?”

Her tone conveyed disbelief and a hint of self-important regret.

She saw the actor opposite her raise the gun. Her face flashed with pleading again, her eyebrows raised.

“Let me go, okay? Let me go! You’re only here to catch me because you’re greedy for my money, aren’t you? I can share it with you, just don’t kill me!”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and the tears that quickly streamed down didn’t interrupt her performance. She continued to plead and wail.

At the end of the road, desperate and unscrupulous.

Outside, the director, sitting in front of the monitor, picked up the walkie-talkie.

She said, “Give me a reverse shot.”

The camera turned toward the lead actor.

“Wrong! Don’t focus on the protagonist, focus on Little Zong. The shot is messed up. Let’s start over. Cut!”

The scene was inexplicably called to a halt.

Zong Liangu stood still. She didn’t feel much confusion. As long as she wasn’t told to leave the set, she still had a chance, didn’t she?

She wiped away the remaining tears on her face, her hand brushing against a layer of gray greasepaint.

The makeup artist immediately stepped forward, carefully touching up her makeup.

The brush gently stroked Zong Liangu’s cheek.

“Your performance just now was excellent. The ‘cut’ wasn’t your fault, so relax, relax. The director seemed quite pleased with you; she even wanted to give you a close-up shot. The cameraman made a mistake, that’s why she called cut. Performing just like you did should be fine.”

The makeup artist concentrated on touching up Zong Liangu’s makeup while speaking.

“Thank you,” Zong Liangu said.

“Second take ready! Three, two, one, action!” The clapboard snapped again.

Zong Liangu inhaled, re-entering the zone.

“Surrender! Any further struggle is futile; you can’t escape.”

With the experience from the first take, she now had more time to observe her scene partner.

She had to praise the other actor’s brilliance.

She had to rely on her past experiences for acting, while the other person could portray a gun-wielder realistically and naturally without any actual experience. That was truly impressive.

“How could I fail? How could I fail? Tell me, how could I fail?” Zong Liangu’s state was excellent, the madness and frustration conveyed vividly in her lines.

She caught a glimpse of a camera pointing at her in her peripheral vision. She knew it was meant to capture the details of her performance. The indicator light blinked constantly on the camera. Zong Liangu felt her heartbeat synchronized with the pulsing light.

The gun muzzle was aimed at Zong Liangu.

She stared intently at the dark, hollow muzzle, her voice trembling as she spoke: “Let me go, okay? Let me go! You’re only here to catch me because you’re greedy for my money, aren’t you? I can share it with you, just don’t kill me!”

As the other actor advanced on her with the gun, Zong Liangu immediately turned, running forward with unsteady, stumbling steps.

Soon, she reached a dead end.

The dark gray cement wall stood tall. She looked up in despair, and then looked back.

When she saw the approaching muzzle, determination flashed across her face.

Her fingers clutched at a crevice in the wall. She successfully found a foothold on the mottled surface. Then, kicking off forcefully with her legs, she nearly leaped over the high wall.

For an instant, she was enveloped in bright sunlight. Cutting through the stacked buildings and winding walls, she could almost see the long-lens cameras set up in the distance.

Just then, the wind picked up.

The hair covering her face was blown back, leaving only a few strands covering her eyes.

She could see her own shadow in her peripheral vision. She knew her movements were flawless now.

Then her eyes met the lead actor’s gaze. Their eyes intersected. She knew it was time.

Bang!

The instant the gun fired, she didn’t hesitate. She pulled the simple mechanism hidden in her hand.

The blood pack burst open, and reddish-brown liquid splattered everywhere, glistening in the sunlight.

She immediately released her tension, falling heavily to the ground.

Her elbow scraped against the rough surface, and pain shot from the back of her head to her nasal cavity.

Will I get a concussion? she quietly asked herself.

Probably not. After all, she was accustomed to rough falls.

“You deserve to die,” the lead actor said, then pulled out the evidence from Zong Yougu’s pocket.

Everything stopped there. There was no sound, no one reacted.

Lying on the ground with her eyes closed, Zong Liangu enjoyed the mild, warm wind. With her eyes closed, she felt like she was back in the past.

Actress or killer.

Both jobs satisfied her because, in both, she could freely utilize her talents.

Disguise and ruthlessness. That was all she was good at.

“Cut!” The director was the first to speak.

The grip, the assistant, and other staff members streamed forward, cleaning up the set and attending to her co-actor.

She opened her eyes and watched everything. She didn’t feel much envy.

Because now she felt that everything the other person possessed, she would eventually possess too.

Hu Yinghua ran up, looking somewhat anxious.

She complained quietly: “Sister Yougu, you were so dangerous just now, didn’t you know? No, you’re still dangerous now. Falling from such a height, does it hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital for a check-up?”

Zong Liangu waved her hand, refusing Hu Yinghua’s help. She pushed up on her knees and stood up deftly.

“It’s not that serious,” she laughed heartily.

Her gaze fell on the distance. Zong Yougu had already left.

She chuckled softly.

She had said she would shine, and she would make “Zong Yougu” climb higher step by step.

She heard a few laughs nearby. Zong Liangu’s ears twitched. It sounded like it came from two people.

One was the leading actress, and the other must be the director.

“Little Zong,” she heard the director call her.

She turned and walked over.

“Little Zong, you surprised me. Do you know? You’re playing a small role—in fashionable terms, cannon fodder. Don’t be offended if I’m honest, but I didn’t have high hopes for you. I thought it would be fine as long as there were no mistakes.”

The director reached out and patted Zong Liangu’s back.

“But you were truly brilliant. The roles in this film are set, but we must continue to collaborate if there’s a chance.”

Zong Liangu smiled, nodding obediently.

“I love working with people like you the most. A good opponent lets me immerse myself more. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this exhilarated,” the leading actress said.

A business card was handed to her.

“I certainly hope to continue working with you, but I’m a bit greedier than her,” the actress tugged at the director’s hair. “I want to be friends with you. If you ever have difficulties, you can always come to me. I keep my word.”

“Thank you,” Zong Liangu accepted the business card.

“Little Zong, hurry up and treat your wounds. If you feel uncomfortable, you must go get checked out. All medical expenses will be reimbursed.”

“Thank you,” Zong Liangu smiled in gratitude again. She turned and left.

She looked at the gold-embossed letters “Ge Ya” on the business card. She read it several times, confirming that she had accurately memorized all the information, then shredded the card into pieces, throwing the tiny paper fragments mercilessly into the trash can.

“Sister Yougu, over here!”

Hu Yinghua drove the car to her. Zong Yougu was already sitting in the car, her eyes hidden under the brim of her hat.

Zong Liangu pulled open the car door, silently got in, and said nothing about the business card.