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

Song Mo moved out of the rented house very quickly, and she didn't bother arguing with the sub-landlord about the remaining 300 yuan deposit, so she simply gave it up.

—Who knows if this house will still be able to be rented out after what happened to Wang Dazhi's family.

The original owner didn't have many personal belongings, mostly paper books and writing tips. There was one suitcase, two cardboard boxes, plus some miscellaneous daily necessities, so packing was quite quick.

Cui Lili and Ma Aiyuan should both be at home, but they didn't leave the house.

Song Mo didn't say goodbye to the two of them. After all, they were just roommates, and Cui Lili would feel more relaxed if she left.

The moving trucks drove through most of the city, and there were queues in front of supermarkets on the street. Many pharmacies had red paper pasted on their windows that read, "Glutinous rice has arrived."

The phrase "people are filled with anxiety" perfectly describes the situation in Wuhan these past few days.

……

……

The new residence is a six-story low building converted from a dormitory building constructed in the late 1980s by the work unit.

The exterior walls are covered with old-fashioned white ceramic tiles. Over the years, a layer of grayish stains has appeared on the tiles, and in some places the paint has peeled off, revealing the grayish-black cement base underneath.

The security door at the entrance of the building is new, made of stainless steel, and covered with stickers of various lock picking, lock repair, and drain cleaning tools, layer upon layer.

At the end of the Song Dynasty, a man was carrying luggage upstairs.

After all, she was a poor woman.

It was just the time when students were leaving school, and as she was moving for the third time, she bumped into someone in the hallway on the first floor.

She was a high school girl, walking upstairs with her head down as she came back from outside.

The other person was wearing a blue and white school uniform with a light blue school badge on the collar.

The clothes were wrinkled, as if they had been worn for a long time without being washed, and the cuffs and collar were a dull gray color.

Her hair was also messy, tied in a loose ponytail with lots of stray hairs sticking out, and her bangs were long, covering half of her forehead, making it impossible to see her eyebrows and eyes.

—He looked a bit gloomy.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I'm sorry."

The girl quickly apologized. She was very ordinary-looking, the kind of person you would never notice in a crowd; she had a round face and somewhat rough skin.

One of the backpack straps broke, so I tied it with a red plastic rope. The backpack was bulging, and the zipper was about to burst open.

"It's alright, you go ahead."

Song Mo stepped aside to let her pass. As the girl brushed past her, she looked up briefly, and their eyes met for a moment.

Song Mo then noticed that her eyes were red, as if she had just been crying.

The girl quickly lowered her head and hurried upstairs.

Her footsteps were light, as if she was deliberately trying not to make a sound, followed by the sound of a key unlocking the lock, the sound of the door opening, and then a man's roar:

"You actually know how to come back?!"

"Where's the money your mom gave you? Give it to me!"

A man's voice drifted from the third floor, clearly audible even through the unit door.

"What time is it? Why aren't you home from school? What are you doing out there?"

The door slammed shut, the sounds behind it became muffled, and then a long string of vulgar profanities followed.

Then came a clattering sound, like someone had bumped into something, followed by the dull thud of a belt striking something.

Song Mo stood at the corner on the second floor, her expression unreadable. She listened for a few seconds and then continued carrying things upstairs.

……

……

The move took Song Mo an entire afternoon; by the time she had settled everything, it was already late afternoon.

At the end of the Song Dynasty, he walked to the window and opened it. The streetlights outside came on, casting a dim yellow light on the cement road in the community, illuminating several slanted tree shadows.

The barren mountains opposite turned into a thick black mass in the night, and nothing could be seen.

It's quite lively downstairs in the evening when people get off work.

As Song Mo leaned against the window, the sounds of people chatting downstairs drifted up to him.

She looked down and saw several elderly people chatting around the flower bed at the entrance of the building, all carrying groceries and shopping bags, probably just off work or returning from grocery shopping.

"Let me tell you, when buying glutinous rice, you must buy long-grain glutinous rice; round-grain glutinous rice won't work."

An elderly woman with curly hair spoke the loudest, carrying a red plastic bag.

"Come on, what's the difference between long grain and round grain? They're all glutinous rice, what's the difference?" An old man in a plaid shirt waved his hand.

"The difference is huge! Longer grains are more sticky and absorb more radiation and negative energy!"

The old lady spoke with conviction, her expression as serious as if she were attending an academic conference, "Didn't you see what the experts online said? It has to be long-grain glutinous rice, soaked in water, to prevent zombies. Round-grain rice is only half as effective!"

Where did you learn all this from?

"It was shared in our group chat; it's internal expert material, and they don't allow it to be shared outside!"

More and more people gathered downstairs, and the conversation shifted from glutinous rice to other topics.

Some people have mentioned that there have been more patrol cars on the streets lately, blaring their horns all day long, wondering if something has happened again.

Someone chimed in, saying they'd heard the police cordon over Hongguang Residential Area hadn't been removed yet, and they didn't know what was going on inside.

Then someone lowered their voice, but Song Mo could hear it clearly from the fourth floor—the person said that the neighborhood committee had come to register residents' information a couple of days ago, asking very detailed questions, even whether anyone was on duty at home at night.

As they talked, the topic somehow veered towards the high school girl on the third floor.

"Old Liu beat the child again today," a middle-aged woman in a floral shirt said, shaking her head, her expression half sympathy and half disgust.

"I heard it in the hallway this afternoon. The belt was being whipped like it was free. The child didn't cry or scream, he just endured it. I couldn't stand listening to it."

"That girl and her mother are so pitiful. Having a father like that is worse than death."

The old lady with permed hair chimed in, putting the bag of glutinous rice on the ground. "Her mother, Cao Fang, works as a cleaner outside, earning only a pittance a month, which Liu Laosan takes for drinking and gambling."

"What kind of person is Liu Laosan? He doesn't work all day, just hangs around in the card room. If he wins money, he goes out drinking; if he loses, he comes home and beats his wife and kids."

"Isn't that right?" another middle-aged woman said in a low voice, but couldn't suppress her excitement about gossiping.

"There's nothing we can do. The police have come several times, but no one has died. They just give us a lecture when they come, and as soon as they leave, Liu Laosan beats us even more fiercely."

"This girl is so big, she's in high school, and she's still using the rice cooker cord to pull things out."

The woman in the floral shirt clicked her tongue twice, "She's covered in bruises all over her body. Even wearing short sleeves in the summer can't cover them up. It's a tragedy."

"What do you mean by fate? It's just that the father is a terrible person! Her mother, Cao Fang, is also incompetent. She can't control her husband, and the child gets beaten along with her."

……

Song Mo leaned against the window frame and listened to every word they said.

Her face was expressionless.

The discussion downstairs continued, and the topic shifted to the panic buying of glutinous rice and zombies.

It was as if the conversation about domestic violence that had just taken place was just a trivial incident.

For these people, Liu Laosan beating his child was nothing more than a topic of conversation over tea.

It's the same as talking about what other people ate today or what vegetables were on sale at the supermarket. Once the conversation is over, it's over, and no one will actually do anything about it.

The police can't do it, the neighborhood committee can't do it, and the neighbors upstairs and downstairs can't do it either.

Life went on as usual; people played mahjong and fought over glutinous rice as usual.

Song Mo closed the window to shut out the noise from downstairs and turned to walk towards his desk.

She should get back to her own business.

……

……

[Draft 1: ...Late at night, an old bus born of fear creaks and groans as it appears in the thick fog. Only those with tickets can reach the final stop, Taiping Cemetery... Of course, there are always exceptions. There are always one or two unlucky souls who encounter this fully loaded Route 404 in the dead of night...]

[Materials required: Route 404 Yin-Yang Bus, 15 low-level shadow materials]

[The script is being performed... Rewards for the instance will be distributed after it is materialized.]

【…】

[The script preview is over. Do you want to make changes?]

Song Mo quickly reviewed the script and made revisions.

[The current plot is a deduction plot. Modifying it will cost 20 writing points. Do you want to modify it?]

She hasn't even received the reward yet, and she already wants 20 script points?

The impoverished and helpless people of the late Song Dynasty had great backbone... and chose "No".

……

……

……

That night, the neon lights on the Jiangcheng Bridge flickered, and the river was calm.

Old Zhou, a police officer on the night shift, has been a policeman for fifteen years and has seen all kinds of situations.

His task tonight is to patrol the riverside section—for some reason, these past few days, the higher-ups have required all night shift patrols to double their frequency and to report any abnormalities immediately.

Every half hour, a call would come through the walkie-talkie from the command center, requesting each location to report on the situation.

"Group 2 in Jiangbin, everything is normal."

Old Zhou held up the walkie-talkie and replied, then downed the strong tea in his cup in one gulp.

His apprentice, Xiao Wang, was sitting in the passenger seat. The young man had graduated from police academy less than a year ago and was extremely sleepy, curled up and dozing off.

Old Zhou didn't call him. He lit a cigarette, but instead of lighting it, he just held it in his mouth and drove slowly.

It was close to 2 a.m.

The riverside road was as empty as a gray river, with streetlights on both sides extending into the distance.

Occasionally, a boat would pass by on the river, its "buzzing" sound drowning out the sound of the water.

As he drove, Lao Zhou spotted three figures in the distance, swaying as they walked on the sidewalk.

They were arm in arm, walking around for a while and then vomiting by the bushes; they were clearly drunk.

They often encounter this situation during their patrols: a bunch of drunkards who either cause trouble while drunk or lie down anywhere, only to wake up to find their clothes, wallets, and phones all gone.

"Xiao Wang, wake up, there's trouble ahead."

Old Zhou patted his apprentice, preparing to go over and take the man away—it wasn't safe for him to be wandering around on the street like this in the middle of the night.

"Driver, I've had a good sleep. I'll drive, you can rest for a while."

Xiao Wang rubbed his eyes and sat up. Just as he was about to speak, he suddenly rubbed his eyes again: "Are there still buses at this hour?"

A bus slowly pulled up in front of the three people.

The car door opened, and three drunkards got in, their arms around each other's shoulders.

Old Zhou slowed down, and Xiao Wang squinted, trying hard to make out the situation ahead.

The headlights cut out a white fan shape, and both of them could see the sign hanging on the back of the bus in front of them.

Two metal plates were attached to the rear of the car. One was the license plate number, an old-fashioned white plate with red characters, the characters of which were blurry and completely illegible.

The other sign was a route sign with two words written on it: "Region" and a number: 404.

……

"Region? What route is this?"

Xiao Wang leaned closer to look, his face full of confusion: "Aren't they all Jiangjin District, Nanba District, and Beian District? When did a 'large district' come into the mix?"

"The entire city is under lockdown tonight, and all commercial vehicles are suspended for limited periods. Why would any night buses be running here?"

Old Zhou's eyelids twitched: "Could it be a problematic vehicle operating illegally? Follow it and check the license plate, just in case there's any safety incident."

The police car slowly followed, intending to stop and conduct an inspection.

However, neither of them could explain when the anomaly occurred.

call--

A slightly cool river breeze, carrying moisture, swept ashore, leaving the ground shrouded in mist, as if large swaths of fog had sprung up out of nowhere.

A thick, gray fog suddenly enveloped the entire riverside avenue.

The sky was clear and cloudless, but suddenly a thick fog rolled in, and the gray-white fog swallowed the car lights in the blink of an eye. The blue and white lights shining on the fog looked a little eerie.

Although Jiangcheng is also known as the "Fog City", Lao Zhou has never seen such a thick fog that is so thick that you can barely see your finger.

Outside the car window, not even the streetlights could be seen; everything was a blur of white.

"The fog is so thick, Master! What... what should we do?"

Xiao Wang sat bolt upright, stiff as a ribbonfish: "Did...did you touch...you know...that?"

He suppressed the word "ghost" on his tongue, seemingly afraid to utter it, lest he disturb something.

How can fog appear out of thin air?

Old Zhou, with his rich experience, skillfully parked the car on the side of the road, waiting for the thick fog to ease slightly and visibility to clear a little—

Looking ahead, the road was completely empty.

The old, dilapidated bus and the three passengers who boarded it have disappeared.

As the fog dissipated, the riverside avenue stretched out before us, completely empty from the front of the car to the end of the road.

There were no vehicles, no people, and no tire tracks.

It was as if the thick fog and the bus from earlier were just their imaginations.

An utter silence instantly enveloped the entire police car.

Old Zhou's foot froze on the accelerator, his blood seemed to freeze, and his scalp tingled.

impossible!

Absolutely impossible!

This riverside avenue is a closed, straight road with guardrails and the riverbank on both sides. There are no side roads, no auxiliary roads, no turns, and no blind spots where vehicles can hide!

The bus had just stopped in the center of my field of vision, and only three or four seconds later it was covered by thick fog. How could it have disappeared into thin air?

"Where's the car?! Where are you?!"

Xiao Wang's voice trembled, his eyes filled with disbelief, and he suddenly leaned out the window.

The two immediately pushed open the car door, rushed out of the car, and repeatedly checked the spot where the bus had stopped.

The road surface was smooth and clean, with no brake marks.

A gentle evening breeze blew along the riverbank, the river surface was calm and still, everything seemed normal, eerily quiet.

Old Zhou stood there, the night wind blowing, the sweat on his back was whipped by the wind, and he shivered from the cold.

He suddenly realized something.

That's not a "region".

Those two characters should be "太平" (Taiping).

Taiping Cemetery.

That was a "Taiping Cemetery" that lacked the required strokes.

So what did they just see?

Old Zhou suddenly started trembling.

The shivering wasn't from cold skin, but rather a numbness that ran from his spine all the way to the back of his head, until his entire scalp felt tight, as if a cold brush was scraping across his spine.

Xiao Wang realized something and his face gradually turned pale.

"Hey, feed me?"

Old Zhou picked up the walkie-talkie with trembling hands, his throat sounding like it was being choked, and it took him a long time to squeeze out a few words:

"Jiangbin Second Team... calling command center... there's a situation..."

[Jiangbin Group 2, please speak.]

"We...we saw a bus..."

Old Zhou swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Route 404, heading towards Taiping Cemetery... There were passengers on the bus, and then... then the bus disappeared."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the walkie-talkie.

Please repeat.

"It didn't drive away, it disappeared. Right in front of us, the fog lifted, and the car was gone."

[Jiangbin Group 2, please confirm your location. Have you ruled out visual errors?]

"Rule it out. Both pairs of eyes saw it."

Old Zhou's voice finally became a little more steady: "I requested to retrieve the surveillance footage of the eastern section of Yanjiang Road, which was taken two minutes ago."

Also... I'd like to ask the command center, were there any unusual reports from Taiping Cemetery tonight?

There was another long silence on the other end of the walkie-talkie:

[Jiangbin Group 2, please remain in place and do not move. Follow-up personnel will arrive shortly.]

Old Zhou hung the walkie-talkie back on his waist, bent over with his hands on his knees, and gasped for breath.

Xiao Wang stood to the side, his face as white as paper. His lips moved, but his voice was so soft it was almost inaudible:

"Master...do you think those three drunkards knew what kind of vehicle they got into?"

Old Zhou didn't say anything, finally lit a cigarette, and took a deep drag.

He had a premonition that something bad was going to happen tonight.