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

Chapter 33 : High School Ghost Stories

When Liu Laosan died, his mind was completely blank.

He had just strolled out of the residential area, with two hundred yuan in his pocket that he had found at home, planning to go to the mahjong parlor at the alley entrance to play all night.

Although the neighborhood office and community groups have been telling people not to go out at night, there are always some people who don't listen to advice.

Liu Laosan drank alcohol before leaving home.

As the evening breeze blew, the effects of the alcohol kicked in, and he felt dizzy.

When he reached the main road, he suddenly realized something was wrong.

I can't lift my left leg.

A chill crept up the soles of my feet and down my back. My left foot felt like it was nailed to the ground, and I couldn't pull it up no matter what I did.

"...What the hell?"

He cursed and tried to lift his leg, but it felt like it was filled with lead and wouldn't budge.

The effects of the alcohol wore off almost instantly.

He looked down at his legs.

I'm fine, I didn't trip over anything, and I wasn't hurt.

Why can't I move?

"This is really weird..." he muttered, reaching out to rub his leg, but the next second, he couldn't move his arm either.

His right hand, outstretched, remained frozen in mid-air, like a marionette.

Liu Laosan's heart skipped a beat, and he panicked.

"What happened?!" He was about to shout, but as soon as he opened his mouth, a clump of sticky thread emerged from the flesh and stitched it up, stitch by stitch.

"Waaaaah! Waaaaah!"

The air from his chest was only going in and not out, making his face turn red, but the most unbearable thing was the physical pain.

Is it possessed by an evil spirit?

Liu Laosan's eyes darted around in a panic as he looked around.

The streets were deserted late at night, the streetlights were dim, and there wasn't a soul in sight.

The wind swirled fallen leaves past my feet, making a rustling sound that was especially clear in the quiet night.

In the distance, the traffic light at the intersection blinked forlornly, while a truck waited at the red light.

He could even see the driver looking down at his phone.

Look at me, look at me, you bastard!

Liu Laosan frantically scratched his face, but his body was stiff and he couldn't move at all.

He could only feel a stinging pain like being pricked by needles, and the agony of needles and thread piercing his flesh.

Just then, his right leg suddenly moved.

It wasn't under his control; it lifted itself up and mechanically and stiffly took a step toward the road.

The red light has turned green, and the truck driver has started the vehicle.

"No……"

Liu Laosan screamed in his heart again and again, his eyes wide with rage, but he couldn't utter a sound.

His body wouldn't obey him!

One step, another step.

My legs move mechanically; I want to stop, but I can't; I want to shout, but I can't make a sound.

However, his consciousness was perfectly clear.

He could clearly feel himself walking step by step toward death.

The two bright beams of light drew closer and closer.

The roar grew louder and louder, so loud that the ground nearby trembled.

In Liu Laosan's pupils, all he could see were the car headlights getting closer and closer.

The tires screeched as they rubbed against the ground, billowing white smoke.

"Bang--!"

The moment the enormous impact hit him, Liu Laosan even heard the sound of bones shattering.

"Hey? Traffic police? Someone suddenly rushed out from Jianguo Road... Yes, he seems drunk... He smells strongly of alcohol..."

"The person seems to be in bad shape... I was crossing the traffic light normally... Yes, yes, I have insurance... This person suddenly crashed into me, I couldn't stop at all!"

Under the car headlights, Liu Laosan's sewn-on mouth quickly returned to normal.

Dressed entirely in black, Ah Yan held a bundle of souls in her hand, laughing heartily.

……

After dealing with Liu Laosan, Ayan floated into the rented room through the window.

Seeing that Song Mo was deep in thought, she obediently did not disturb him, but instead sat on the ground and played with her new toy.

It was a tiny, palm-sized but incredibly lifelike "little man," a completely miniature version of Liu Laosan.

The red-clad demon's fingertips emitted a dozen sticky red threads, which, like manipulating a puppet, caused the little figure to struggle painfully with each gentle shake.

"Whoosh—bang!"

Ayan imitated the sound of a truck, suspending the little figure in mid-air, watching its limbs being twisted into a contorted position, its mouth wide open, emitting a silent scream.

Blood and tears flowed from its eyes and dripped onto the table.

Ayan had a lot of fun.

……

Song Mo raised his head, glanced at the obviously happy female ghost, and then lowered his head to continue creating.

The rented room was quiet, with only the occasional soft sobs of the little man.

Looking in through the window, everything appears normal.

The warm yellow light of the desk lamp, a girl deep in thought at her desk—it's another quiet night.

But in the real space, the scene is quite different:

Countless ink-wash characters emanated from the late Song Dynasty, filling the entire room.

Each word is a vague, unformed copy of the world.

A faint smell of blood filled the air, and the red-clad ghost laughed menacingly.

The shadows on the wall were twisted and deformed, like countless menacing ghosts.

A new script is slowly taking shape in Song Mo's mind.

She is like an elegant spider, meticulously weaving vast webs that spread across the entire land of China.

—When the net is pulled in, how many moths will have willingly flown in?

I don't know about the end of the Song Dynasty.

All she knew was that this script would be more interesting than the previous ones.

At the end of the Song Dynasty, a finger traced lines of ink-wash characters in the air:

[Draft 1: The God of the Fallen Cave]

[Draft 2: Seven Days of Return of the Soul]

[Draft 3: "The Cat-Faced Old Lady"]

[Draft 4: "Wishing Livestream"]

……

Inside the instance, time continues to pass.

"Splash—"

Deng Ziwen quickly pulled the heavy curtains shut, keeping out the handprints left by the ghost who banged on the window.

On the other side, Ding Feifan was pushing the table against the door: "Just like Weng Yang and the others said, as long as we don't look and don't make a sound, things outside can't get in."

Zhao Weilai sat leaning against the corner of the wall; the courage he had mustered that afternoon to poke the water ghost's eye socket had now dissipated.

After escaping from the pavilion in the middle of the lake, the three walked along the main road toward the old school building.

According to Ding Feifan, the old school building's toilets are likely the second location to visit the ghost story site.

But the fog was too thick along the way, and the three of them couldn't find the road at all.

As it was getting dark, they had no choice but to hide in the nearest government building, choosing an office at the very back to settle down.

Following the example of Weng Yang and the others, they blocked the door, drew the curtains, and went to sleep as soon as it got dark, never looking out the window.

"Slap... slap slap..."

The tapping on the window continued, slow and gentle, like someone pressing against the glass and gently patting it with their palm.

Through the curtains, one cannot see anything outside, only hear sounds.

This made Zhao Weilai even more uneasy.

In fact, shortly after dark, the group received news that the player had been eliminated.

[Announcement: Player Luo Yiming failed to complete the "Strange Tales" challenge and has died.]

[Announcement: Player Fang Wei's "Strange Tales" challenge failed; he has died.]

[Current surviving players: 4/6]

The ink-wash characters lingered in my field of vision for three seconds before slowly fading away.

The office fell into a deathly silence.

Deng Ziwen's Adam's apple bobbed, but he didn't utter a word for a long time.

Death was something very distant to them.