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

The cheat codes in the late Song Dynasty were so simple that it was as if someone had turned on a foolproof mode.

There are only two functions: one is to gain "screenwriting points" through writing, and the other is to exchange "screenwriting points" for lifespan.

The more detailed and realistic the script, the more likely it is to become a reality, or even to come true.

The corpse, which the cheat code called "low-level material," has now transformed into a short, ink-wash style text, consisting of only a few words, floating in mid-air.

[Low-level material: Wang Dazhi's corpse (click to view related content)]

Everything in the room that belonged to Wang Dazhi was erased by a mysterious force: blood, clothes, hair... even the stench of corpses.

The first thorny problem was solved, but the ever-shrinking survival time was like a Damocles' sword hanging over our heads.

Song stuffed the half of the skull back in and secured it with tape before scratching his head in exasperation.

She stared blankly at the long string of ink-wash characters in mid-air:

"The script, the script... what kind of amazing script do you want? Suspense, thriller, romance, fantasy, or satire of reality, or high-octane sports—"

What do you want to see? Just tell me!

I've never seen such a difficult customer.

It's like someone giving her a hammer and a piece of sheet metal, and then telling her:

Alright, your goal is to build an aircraft carrier. You have the tools and materials, go!

However, it didn't specify the type of aircraft carrier, its model, or even the font size, bolding, or enlargement of the text markings on it.

……

[Materials: None]

[Draft 1: ...At the end of the Song Dynasty, it was possible to achieve immortality and never die.]

[Requires 100000000 scriptwriting points; script rendering failed.]

[Draft 2: ...Song Mo, who had been resurrected, discovered that his wounds had healed and that he could replenish his energy simply by sunbathing.]

[Requires 1000000 scriptwriting points; script rendering failed.]

[Draft 3: ...Song Mo, reborn, returned to her original world.]

[The request went unanswered; the script failed to materialize.]

[Draft 4: ...The late Song Dynasty in this world has come to life.]

[The request went unanswered; the script failed to materialize.]

[Draft 5: (Incorporating low-level material: Wang Dazhi's corpse)... Wang Dazhi's corpse disappeared, and the biological traces he left in the rented house were erased by an unknown force. The police will not find Song Mo, nor will they suspect Song Mo of being the murderer.]

[Requires 100 script points. Script realization failed.]

[Draft 6: From a physiological, physical, and supernatural perspective, Song Mo truly came back to life, and the wound on his head healed.]

[Requires 5000000 script points. Script realization failed.]

[Draft 7: (Incorporating low-level material: the lost skull)... At the end of the Song Dynasty, with the help of an unknown force, he came back to life, picked up the skull, put it back in, and the skull healed...]

[Requires 10 script points. Script visualization failed.]

……

……

After trying dozens of times, Song finally figured out a pattern:

The more detailed and reasonable the script description, the fewer script points it consumes, and the more likely it is to become a reality.

But she doesn't even have the points for skull repair right now.

—Wang Dazhi is a living person. If his family reports him to the police, sooner or later someone will find out who she is.

Therefore, the most urgent task at the end of the Song Dynasty is to make the most of this corpse and write a good script that can earn script points.

"What should I write?"

After pondering for a while, Song Mo suddenly recalled a short story from "Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio" and inspiration burst forth.

[Draft 65: (Incorporating low-level material: Wang Dazhi's corpse)]

...Wang Dazhi's body appeared on the side of the national highway several kilometers away, and began to move on its own...It lived as normally as when it was alive...Until night fell, its family finally noticed that something was wrong, and a series of terrifying events unfolded...

Thoughts took flight at the end of the Song Dynasty, and as ink-wash calligraphy rapidly emerged, various details were continuously filled in.

This short story is like a gradually forming skeleton, slowly growing flesh and blood, becoming fuller.

[Script 1: (Consumes low-level material: Wang Dazhi's corpse), requires 0 script points. Select a concrete script and name it?]

[Note: Once the plot is successfully materialized, script points will be awarded based on the script's quality and impact.]

"Just as I thought!"

Song Mo snapped his fingers decisively, ignoring the chilly breeze on the back of his head, and added even more details before solemnly making his decision:

[0 Script Points consumed, script successfully materialized, now named: -- "The Resurrected Corpse"]

[Script generation in progress. Please watch patiently and wait for the rating.]

……

……

……

In the sweltering heat of midsummer, waves of 39-degree Celsius heat crashed down over Jiangcheng, and the asphalt road emitted a burnt smell. It traveled along the national highway, seemingly aimlessly, but in fact heading straight for home.

Sunlight fell on Wang Dazhi's face, which looked only slightly paler than when he was alive. His eyes were vacant, and his body was slightly stiff.

"drop--"

"If you're in such a hurry to be reincarnated, go jump into the river! Stop standing around on the side of the road! You old bastard!"

A passing truck driver honked his horn, noticed the large bloodstains on Wang Dazhi's shirt, and immediately dialed the police.

It didn't react at all, just looked up blankly, its empty head filled with only a vague thought:

Come back home.

Around 9 a.m., the traffic on the national highway became increasingly heavy. "Wang Dazhi" had been standing by the roadside for half an hour, motionless, attracting the attention of many drivers and pedestrians.

"This person seems to have mental problems. He's been standing there motionless for ages, and he hasn't said a word when the police ask him questions. Did he escape from some mental hospital?"

"Looks like it, his eyes are fixed on you. Keep your distance, don't cause trouble."

The two police officers who arrived after receiving the report patiently tried to communicate with it.

"Comrade, can you hear me? Where does it hurt? Do you remember how you got here?"

Wang Dazhi did not speak; his lips remained tightly closed, and he remained silent.

One of the police officers gently patted its shoulder, and despite the 30-degree Celsius weather, it actually shivered.

His body temperature was a bit low, unlike a normal person's. His skin felt slippery to the touch, like a piece of pork belly that had just been thawed in the refrigerator.

The police didn't take it seriously—they encounter several lost mental patients every month, so they can only take them back to the police station, check their identity information, and wait for their families to pick them up.

To avoid obstructing passing vehicles, two officers, one on each side, helped "Wang Dazhi" into the police car. His knees barely bent as he walked, and his movements were very stiff. The younger officer even muttered something under his breath:

"Why is this person so heavy? His whole body is stiff and I can't exert any strength. It's like lifting a corpse."

The older police officer rolled his eyes at his colleague, telling him to be careful:

"All mentally ill patients are like this. I've encountered some who absolutely refused to cooperate and would bite anyone they could get their hands on."

I bet he's just a drunkard who got into a fight... Let's get going, we've been stuck in traffic for ages."

Wang Dazhi sat quietly in the same spot, still in the same position as when he got on the bus, his eyes fixed straight ahead, like a colorful sculpture.

The police officer's body camera flashed red, faithfully recording the scene.

……

……

At 2:30 PM, Wang Hao received a call from the Chengdong Police Station. He was still curled up on the sofa playing video games, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. His game character on the screen had just been killed, and he cursed irritably:

"Feed? Who is it? The police station?"

Wang Hao sat up abruptly, a hint of fear on his face, but after hearing the details, he let out a long sigh of relief:

It's good that he wasn't caught red-handed taking photos. I know his dad is shrewd. He probably got into trouble somewhere and is now pretending to be crazy at the police station.

I wonder if things have been done yet; he was planning to make a fortune off those cameras.

When Wang Hao arrived at the police station, the officers on duty were already waiting for him at the entrance. The officers first checked his identification before taking "Wang Dazhi" out of the reception room.

"We just did a quick check and there were no obvious external injuries, but his body temperature was a little low. He wouldn't say a word when we asked him anything and his reactions were very slow."

"Take someone to the hospital right away to check if they bumped or bruised themselves; a head injury is no small matter..."

"Okay, okay, I'll take my dad to the hospital when we get back."

Seeing that the police didn't mention the hidden camera incident at all, Wang Hao finally felt relieved. He helped "Wang Dazhi" out of the police station and eagerly whispered in its ear:

"Dad, is everything settled? Have you gotten the camera back? Where are the other items? I'm still waiting to sell them."

"Are you getting old and your brain isn't working properly? Why did you go to pick it up during the day? Couldn't you have gone at night or when they were on the night shift?"

He had no idea that Wang Dazhi had been missing all night.

Wang Dazhi finally reacted, slowly raising his head as if to confirm something, only letting out a "ho ho" sound from his throat.

"No way, are you really stupid? You didn't get caught, did you? Fine, I give up, I only let you carry a camera... Let's go, let's go home, you're really embarrassing yourself."

Wang Hao's face darkened, his anticipation turning into impatience. He looked his father up and down and found that his face was pale and his eyes were genuinely dull, not faking it.

Only then did he belatedly realize that his biological father had truly gone mad.

……

……

When Wang Dazhi got home, his wife Liu Mei had just returned from walking the dog in the neighborhood when she saw her husband in this state.

She immediately started wailing and crying, lamenting her bad luck, and insisting on taking it to the vet. But Wang Hao, exhausted and panting, threw her onto the sofa and started cursing:

"Why see a doctor? My dad takes so many supplements and is healthier than anyone else. A check-up at the hospital would cost four or five hundred yuan."

"We have cold medicine at home, right? Just dissolve a packet in water and give it to him, then cover him with a blanket to help him sweat it out."

"Why can't she speak? I didn't see her when I woke up this morning. What did she do wrong to scare her like this?"

As soon as Liu Mei finished speaking, she saw her son's eyes flicker.

She suddenly realized something, grabbed the trembling Teddy dog ​​she had been holding since she entered the room, and threw it at it:

"Wang Dazhi, you wicked bastard, did you sneak into the tenant's room again?"

"Oh, are you trying to get yourself killed? Didn't I tell you before, if someone catches me doing this, I'll go to jail. How am I supposed to face them then?"

—Wang Dazhi had stolen clothes from a tenant before and was almost caught, but Liu Mei helped cover it up.

Who knew the man would dare to do it again?

Of course, she never considered stopping it or calling the police.

The dog was hurt by the falling object. It yelped and tucked its tail under the sofa, refusing to show its face.

Wang Dazhi slowly turned his stiff neck, staring intently at the direction where Teddy had disappeared.

……

"Mom, stop nagging. We haven't been caught yet, have we?"

Besides, there are only three women from out of town living in our house. Even if they find out, it doesn't matter.

Wang Hao held up his phone, urging Liu Mei to transfer money to him:

"I've made plans to go to an internet cafe to play games with my friends. Can you transfer me 500 yuan first? I won't be home for dinner tonight."

"You and your father are both debt collectors. I owe your whole family... When are you going to bring me a daughter-in-law so I can hold my grandson soon?"

Let me tell you, I think those young female tenants are quite nice. They're young, obedient, and tall; their children will definitely be tall too... If all else fails, I'll ask them in a couple of days...

Don't be like your dad, always fooling around. If you get caught one day, you'll have a hard time finding a wife.

With her husband in such a state, and her son still wanting to go online, Liu Mei shook her head helplessly, but still transferred the money, gave her son a few more instructions, and then went into the bedroom without even glancing at "Wang Dazhi".

The room fell silent instantly, with only the ticking of the clock on the living room wall and the whimpering of the teddy dog ​​under the sofa.

In the living room, Wang Dazhi remained seated upright, without uttering a word.

The sun shines brightly outside the window, but in this corner of the living room, it seems as if some sticky black substance is surging.

As darkness fell, twilight crept into the house, and a strange, foul odor slowly permeated the air.

Liu Mei was lying in her bedroom scrolling through videos, completely unaware that her family's Teddy bear had been silent for a long time.

"Crunch."

"Crunch."

"Crunch."

……

……