I, the screenwriter, have experienced a resurgence of inspiration.

At 2 a.m., the fog on Binjiang Avenue was so thick that you could almost wring water out of it.

The three drunk men remained completely unaware.

Old Zhang leaned back in his seat, his head spinning. The alcohol was slowly burning in his veins, making his senses dull and numb.

His friend sat beside him, staring unfocusedly at the thick white fog outside the window, muttering incoherently:

"I'm not drinking anymore, I have to go to the construction site to check accounts tomorrow..."

Old Zheng, who was sleeping the deepest inside, had his head leaning against the cold car window, his mouth wide open, and his snoring deafening.

The carriage was very quiet; there wasn't even the usual engine roar.

The shadows of the car swayed with the streetlights outside the window, occasionally twisting into eerie shapes.

After an unknown amount of time, Old Zhang felt his throat was dry and vaguely wanted to find some water to drink. But just as he looked up, a middle-aged man standing in the aisle suddenly appeared in his field of vision.

He was a middle-aged man who looked to be around fifty years old.

He was wearing a faded blue work jacket, his back was slightly hunched, his hair was sparse, and the outline of the back of his head was so familiar that it made Old Zhang's heart skip a beat.

"Old Qian? What are you doing here? What are you doing here?"

Old Zhang shook his groggy head, and a strange sense of warmth instantly welled up inside him:

"You went drinking too? Coming home so late? What a coincidence, we guys even took the same bus!"

The moment his hand landed on the man's shoulder, a bone-chilling cold crept up his hand, making Old Zhang shiver.

"My goodness... this car, the air conditioning, the cooling is really strong..."

The next second, Old Zhang's smile froze on his face.

The man turned his head very slowly.

That face was familiar, yet it also seemed not to be.

The man called "Old Qian" grinned, tilted his head down ninety degrees, and uttered a string of words in utter horror:

"Old Zhang, you're coming down to keep me company? Let's go to my place for a drink."

boom--!

The fragmented murmurs were like a thunderclap, sending chills down the spines of the three men, and all the effects of the alcohol rolled down their backs with cold sweat!

They remembered!

Old Qian is long dead!

He drank too much alcohol and developed cirrhosis of the liver. He suffered a massive hemorrhage and died at home in the middle of the night. His family helped him with the funeral arrangements!

His ashes were buried on the north slope of Taiping Cemetery.

A dead man, buried underground for half a year, appeared on a bus at 2 a.m. and invited them to his "home" for drinks.

"I*****!!"

Old Zhang sobered up completely, jumped up from his seat, his teeth chattering, and frantically scanned the entire carriage.

The bus was full of people, but not a single one of them moved.

They sat with their backs straight, hands on their knees, motionless.

Standing, with both feet dangling half an inch off the ground, stiff as a sculpture.

No one spoke, no one breathed, no one blinked.

The driver's seat is empty!

The steering wheel turned slowly on its own without anyone controlling it! The accelerator and brake pedals rose and fell, as if an invisible pair of feet were pressing them!

No driver!

A bus is moving without a driver!

The other passengers in the car were like manipulated puppets, their necks like rusty bearings, turning their heads inch by inch.

The man, dressed in an old-fashioned Zhongshan suit, had half his face shattered, and his mouth kept moving.

The mother, holding her child, remained expressionless, her severed wrist gently patting the cloth bag in her arms.

The old lady with bound feet, wearing a floral cotton-padded jacket, had wrinkled skin on her face and her hair was neatly tied up at the back of her head.

One after another, deathly pale faces slowly came into view of the three drunkards.

His face was completely bloodless, as white as a freshly plastered wall, and his eyes had no pupils, only large patches of white.

Their lips were all stiffly turned upwards, as if someone had pulled their skin up, creating a half-smile.

【whee……】

Hehehe... A new neighbor?

Are they also going to Taiping Cemetery?

They didn't buy tickets!

"A ghost...a ghost train..." My friend's voice trembled uncontrollably. "It's a ghost train! We're on a ghost train!"

"Get off...we want to get off!"

Old Zhang lunged at the car door, frantically pounding on its cold surface. "Open the door! Let us out! Please, open the door!"

But the car door didn't budge, as if it were welded shut.

The ghostly figures in the car continued to watch them silently, as if determined to take them away.

Old Zhang and his friend were so frightened that they backed away, hugging each other tightly and huddled in the corner by the car door, tears and snot streaming down their faces.

"We won't go! We won't go! Please, let us go!"

"We were wrong! We'll never drink at night again! Please let us go!"

The two men begged for mercy incoherently, and just when they were almost in despair, the back door of the bus suddenly creaked open—

Four young men and women got into the car, playfully bickering.

"Wow, there's still a bus this late?!"

"I'm out of money, I'll just throw in a couple of game tokens."

"So many people at 2 AM, don't the older generation ever sleep?"

The moment they stepped into the carriage, all four of them shivered involuntarily.

"Wow, it's so cold!" Wang Lei rubbed his arms. "The air conditioning is on really high!"

Old Zhang and his friend felt like they had seen a glimmer of hope and rushed down with all their might, but it was as if some force was stopping them. Before they could get close, the back door slammed shut with a loud "bang".

It’s over.

Old Zhang and his friend were immediately devastated, but the four young men and women who had just boarded the bus looked at them as if they were some kind of oddball. They were stunned for a moment, and then burst into laughter:

"Hahaha, are these two crazy?"

"They've probably had too much to drink. Look at them, they're scared out of their wits."

Lin Hao curled his lip in disdain and said to the two of them, "Hey! Why are you running? Is it really necessary to run like this if you missed your stop? Is there a ghost on the bus?"

After saying that, he turned to Wang Lei and Zhang Chao and smiled, "These two old men probably think we're going to rob them."

Wang Lei and Zhang Chao joined in the laughter, while Su Ya's face grew paler and paler.

"Brother Hao, let's get out of the car," Su Ya tugged at Lin Hao's arm, her voice trembling. "I feel... something's wrong with this car..."

She pointed to the driver's seat, her face pale.

The group followed his finger and gasped instantly, their blood freezing in their veins.

They also saw the empty driver's seat, and the smiles on their faces vanished instantly.

The chill in the carriage grew heavier, and a stench of decay and burning paper money quietly permeated the air.

A mechanical female voice sounded, carrying a chilling, sinister tone:

【Dear passengers, the dungeon is full (7/7). We have arrived at our final stop, "Taiping Cemetery." Please disembark first, then board in an orderly manner.】

Passengers without tickets, please wait inside the carriage.

The cold car door finally opened silently.

Outside the car was not a modern cemetery, but a dark and desolate graveyard.

Countless crooked earthen graves are scattered among the weeds, with tombstones leaning to one side and the other side.

A cold wind blew by, and crows cried mournfully in the thick fog. The withered grass rustled, as if countless people were weeping softly.

As the six people stared in horror at the scene outside the car, a line of ink-wash style text suddenly appeared in their minds:

[Welcome players Zhang Dong, Zheng Zhi... Lin Hao, and Su Ya (7/7) to the dungeon "Taiping Cemetery"]

[Instance Quest: Before dawn, find the tombstone with your name engraved on it and clean it thoroughly.]

[Duplicate Rules:]

1. You must not leave the area of ​​the mass grave.

2. No tombstones may be damaged.

3. Those who complete the task will receive a reward; those who fail will be permanently trapped here.

[Countdown begins: 3 hours, 59 minutes, and 59 seconds]

The moment the text appeared, a cold countdown number floated in the upper right corner of the six people's field of vision.

The red numbers kept jumping, and each jump felt like a death knell.

All six of the conscious individuals wore expressions of fear.