Chapter 131: Chapter 127: The Erased Middle School
Staring blankly at the script for a few seconds, Yang Xiao suddenly closed his eyes, shook his head, and slapped his face with his hand. When he was certain that he was awake and opened his eyes again, the script was still there.
"I... my mom..."
Although it wasn’t the first time receiving a ghost script, the sight of the candles planted on the cake sent Yang Xiao into a daze.
He had heard before that the ways in which ghost scripts appeared were bizarre, but for a ghost script to emerge from a cake—wasn’t that a bit too much? He had just made a wish, hoping to receive the ghost script later, not even getting the chance to blow out the candles.
At that moment, a few candles burned faintly, seeming to mock him silently in Yang Xiao’s eyes.
The script was named "Fu Lin Middle School", indicating that the story had something to do with a middle school. After cleaning the cream off the box, he could see the picture on the cover.
The drawing was gloomy and dark, likely depicting dusk. An old-fashioned iron fence gate with a "Fu Lin Middle School" sign hung on it, and in the background stood a three-story building, with lights flickering behind a few sparse windows, the only brightness in the picture.
Near the middle school, there were some low-rise bungalows, skillfully concealed by the artist amidst the surrounding gray backdrop, leaving only some outlines visible.
The entire picture conveyed a feeling of backwardness and decay; the middle school must have a history of at least 20 or 30 years, and it was located in a rather remote town.
The longer he looked, the more the atmosphere of the picture affected him, making Yang Xiao feel an oppressive sensation in his heart.
He began opening the script box, which quietly contained two leather pouches, one larger than the other.
Upon opening the larger pouch, there was a letter inside. The content of the letter was quite surprising to Yang Xiao. The writer claimed to be a friend of his teacher and had written to Yang Xiao because of a recommendation letter from his teacher, inviting him to act in a movie that they were involved in producing.
It also reminded him not to underestimate the film. Although it had low investment, low remuneration, and no stars acting in it, the film had significant social impact. If everything went well, it had the potential to be the dark horse of the year. And as a newcomer who had just stepped into the acting world, this was an excellent opportunity. The writer urged him to appreciate and be thankful for it.
But Yang Xiao searched the entire script box and couldn’t find any remuneration. However, from the letter, he learned about his role for this assignment.
He was a student from the acting department at a film academy, having just graduated. His teacher had recommended him to the person who wrote the letter, and that’s how he got the opportunity to be on camera.
After shaking the pouch, a card the size of a bookmark fell out, with roughly drawn human figure on it.
The more Yang Xiao looked at this card, the more familiar it seemed. Turning the card over, sure enough, in the top right corner on the back was a strange, triangular-patterned mark.
It was the identity card from the last ghost script, the Fengmen Ghost Drama!
"Could it be that every ghost script comes with the same identity card? Does everyone get the same one, or is there something wrong just with mine?"
With his doubts, Yang Xiao flipped to the back of the letter, where in the blank space, there were seven crudely drawn human figures, looking the same as the character card and indistinguishable as male or female.
It seemed that each ghost script was similar; aside from him, there would be seven other teammates in an 8-person version of the script.
He reached for the last small pouch and just by the touch, Yang Xiao could roughly guess what was inside – a few photos.
And indeed, there were three photos. Sadly, like before, each one was not very clear, as if intentionally hiding something.
The first photo was of a small room with the texture of a black-and-white image, simple furnishings inside: an old school desk from a student era, a wooden plank bed with an enamel washbasin and a spittoon underneath, and a towel hanging on the side of the basin.
A light bulb dangled from the ceiling overhead on an electrical wire, emitting a dim light.
The light was yellowish, casting an indistinct, ominous glow over the room reminiscent of an old-style dormitory.
A red cube-shaped tape recorder lay slanted on the old school desk, exuding a retro punk style, and this tape recorder became the only spot of color in the photo.
Seeing the second photo, Yang Xiao couldn’t help but pause for a moment. This photo captured a piece of paper covered in large and small bloody fingerprints, startling and eye-catching, with each print accompanied by a signature. At the top of the paper were the words "petition".
Swiftly, it was the last photo. This picture was taken on a rainy night. A disheveled woman knelt in the middle of the road, raising a piece of white cloth high above her arms. The white cloth bore a large character for "wronged" in blood-red, the harsh red of the character stark against the rain and darkness behind her.
Even through the photo alone, one could sense the woman’s intense resentment, leading Yang Xiao to wonder if this woman could be the fierce ghost from this assignment.
The previous episode with Ms. Chun had left a strong psychological impact on him, and he didn’t want to face a female ghost again. If possible, he’d rather it be a male counterpart.
Yang Xiao jumped, startled by his own vivid imagination. He picked up a fork, speared a piece of the cake base wrapped in cream, then inserted it into his mouth.
When in doubt, eat something sweet to calm the nerves; after all, the ghost script had already arrived, and there was no escaping it – better to face it head on.
"Thud!"
"Thud!"
The two knocks on the door almost made Yang Xiao jump out of his skin. He stared fiercely at the door, as the surroundings fell deathly silent.
This apartment had many residents and it was far from bedtime; it shouldn’t have been so quiet. More importantly, he hadn’t heard any footsteps in the corridor, as if the person knocking had suddenly appeared outside the door.
