The contents of the room in the basement remain an enigma, a mystery that has yet to be unraveled.
From the moment Allen first encountered this film's promotion, he had begun speculating about its secrets. Even now, within the horror movie itself, the information available to him remains scant.
For the time being, all that is left is to take things one step at a time.
The cursed high heels can now be used once again. Moreover, as long as there is an adequate interval between uses, his current stock of redemption points is sufficient for him to activate them three more times.
However... each use must be completed within ten seconds! The tenth second is the final threshold!
In the span of those brief ten seconds, even if the curse proves effective, whether it will allow him to survive the next two days remains uncertain. The soul-binding talisman, too, can only hold off the effects temporarily, offering little more than a fleeting delay in an emergency. Furthermore, he only has two of those talismans remaining.
For Allen, the priority is now to conserve his redemption points as much as possible.
Upon entering the living room, he finds that everyone has already woken up, including Wu Jun. At that moment, Zhao Xiaoya is placing the breakfast she has prepared on the dining table.
"Everyone, it's time for breakfast," she announces.
At her words, the others gather around.
The remaining six, according to the reshuffled script, are about to begin a new day.
"Hang Qing Shu's death, and the events of last night... I have to admit, the severity of the situation has exceeded my expectations," Hank says, inhaling deeply. "Perhaps opening the basement room is the only way forward. Even though things may worsen, it surely cannot be worse than the situation we are in now."
Initially, Hank had been one of those opposed to opening the basement door, but now, no one voiced any objections.
Zhao Xiaoya, meanwhile, asks, "But how do we open it? That door isn't easy to unlock."
"We'll have to try working from the walls," Hank responds, clearly having formulated a plan. "After all, it's not an external wall, so there's still hope of opening it. It will take some effort, of course. But before we do that, I have another idea. Let's write a letter to the person in the basement and attempt to communicate with them."
"Communicate?" The others exchange confused looks.
"The person imprisoned down there is likely a victim as well. If that's the case, perhaps we can try reaching out. We'll write a letter detailing our situation and send it down with breakfast, along with some paper and a pen, so that they can respond. This way, we might finally learn who they are and why they're locked up below."
The idea seems plausible to the group, and they agree to carry it out.
While some prepare breakfast, Hank gathers paper and a pen, beginning to compose the letter. Of course, the letter is simply a direct copy from the script, so Hank doesn't need to strain himself.
Once the letter is completed and folded neatly, Hank exhales a sigh of relief.
Over the past two days, he has been severely sleep-deprived, and his mental state has taken a considerable toll. However, in a horror movie, such exhaustion is hardly unusual.
Last night, he had narrowly escaped death, and yet, at the critical moment, Allen managed to discern that the shadow wasn't Cheryl—quite an impressive feat. How did he figure it out? At that moment, the surroundings were pitch-black, and he could hardly have seen anything clearly. But without such lines in the script, he didn't wish to stir up unnecessary complications. He would ask him later.
In fact, the reason Allen had noticed was quite simple. The shadow did not retrieve a phone to provide light. In such an inexplicable darkness, out of instinctive fear, everyone tends to turn on their phone to serve as the only available source of illumination. Allen and the others had done so, as without it, they would have been blinded in the pitch-black villa. Having survived the events in Horror Bus, Allen immediately recognized something was amiss and instinctively shouted. If he was wrong, no harm would have been done. But if he was right, it was a life saved.
What impressed Hank even more was that, in such an urgent moment, Allen had shouted, "He's not Lu Zenan," rather than "He's not Cheryl." In such a scenario, it would have been easy to misspeak. A slip of the tongue would have immediately ruined the take.
However, if the take had been ruined, then Ivan would have been revived. But there was no way he could deliberately ruin the take for Ivan's sake—doing so would cost him ten times the amount of redemption points, effectively condemning him to death.
Once breakfast was ready, the letter was sent down via the elevator.
"Does this villa really harbor a murderer?" Liu Ying asked, still visibly shaken. "I just have this unsettling feeling. This place has awful feng shui, I'm sure of it."
"Exactly!" Wu Jun echoed, his face a picture of panic. "Maybe it's a haunted house! Didn't you say this was for an experiment? Could it be that the unscrupulous real estate developers want to see if people die in a haunted house?"
In the reworked third act of the script, Wu Jun had finally "resurrected" and was now given lines. His redemption points deductions had also ceased.
Leaning against the refrigerator, Hank observed the agitated group and spoke: "At the very least, I can be certain of one thing—this villa definitely hides something extraordinarily dangerous and terrifying, something far beyond our comprehension."
Zhao Xiaoya turned her gaze toward him, contemplating his words: "'Far beyond our comprehension'? What exactly do you mean?"
"I don't know. But it's certainly not as simple as we might think. While the idea of a haunted house may be exaggerated, it's possible that the true nature of this place is far worse than we imagine."
From the current reworked script, there is still no clarity on what is imprisoned in the room below. Perhaps that room is like Pandora's box—something that cannot be opened. If it is opened, even with ample redemption points, survival remains uncertain, and escaping the cinema alive would not be guaranteed.
Of course, the actual situation could be the complete opposite. If the basement door is opened, perhaps everything will take a turn for the better, and the film could undergo a massive shift in direction.
If deliberately ruining the take would result in a redemption points deduction he could afford, he might consider forcibly opening that room, only to reverse it and fix everything if the situation turned wrong. But that is not possible. If he intentionally ruins the take, he can be absolutely certain that after the movie ends, he will die due to his redemption points becoming negative.
Indeed, there are potential benefits to deliberately ruining the take, which is precisely why the redemption points deduction is so strictly monitored.
For now, they all waited for a reply.
About ten minutes later, the elevator returned. But instead of a letter, only the dishes were sent back—no response!
"What is going on here?"
"This is ridiculous!"
"We should just find a way to break through the walls! Let's see if we can find some tools!"
Hank sighed heavily. "Fine! This seems to be the only option."
The group then dispersed to search for tools. Of course, it was still a long process.
Meanwhile, Hank entered the room where he had discovered the blood handprint beneath a chair. He scanned the porcelain and antique furniture scattered around.
As he passed by a vase, he suddenly grabbed one of the bottles.
"Wait... this porcelain pattern seems familiar. Have I seen it somewhere before?"
He carefully held the vase, examining it from top to bottom with great scrutiny. Suddenly, he exclaimed, "I remember now! This—this porcelain... yes, the pattern, it's the Ouyang family crest! This place... is it... the Ouyang family's?"
At the sound of his exclamation, Cheryl was the first to rush over.
"What's going on, Liu Haiping?" Cheryl entered, her voice laced with confusion. "What do you mean, the Ouyang family?"
"All of these porcelain pieces are specially crafted by the Ouyang family!" Hank pointed excitedly at the vase. "I saw this pattern in an article about ceramics!"
"What does the Ouyang family mean?"
"The Ouyang family is a very famous clan in Hong Kong, said to have originated during the Qing Dynasty. They've long been devoted to researching supernatural phenomena and are even referred to by some as a 'ghost-exorcising family.' There are many legends about this family, some of the more exaggerated ones claim that they raise zombies and drink the blood of the living. It's also rumored that their activities extend into mainland China, particularly in Guangdong, Zhejiang, and Jiangsu provinces. And this family is known for crafting porcelain and collecting antiques. Their porcelain is called 'Blood Porcelain,' and it's said that the process involves materializing spirits and using their vengeful blood in the kiln to imbue the porcelain with spiritual power."
Of course, Hank wasn't particularly convinced by these tales. If the porcelain truly had such powers, the script would have identified it as a cursed object belonging to the dead.
"Never heard of it. Such obscure knowledge, and you happen to know about it?" Cheryl asked incredulously.
"Actually, the Ouyang family is quite well-known in Hong Kong. There have been many paranormal TV productions in Hong Kong that sought out the Ouyang family to appear on their shows. This family's lineage is ancient and shrouded in mystery. They're said to frequently consult on feng shui for the wealthy and even exorcise ghosts. But of course, like all rumors, some parts are likely exaggerated."
"Could it be that the owner of this house bought porcelain made by the Ouyang family?"
"Impossible! A magazine specifically stated that the Ouyang family would never sell their porcelain. The magazine had the rare opportunity to feature the Ouyang family's work. You see, the 'Blood Porcelain' is quite famous in Hong Kong. It's said that even Li Ka-shing, the billionaire, tried to buy it at a high price, but the family refused. Of course, who knows whether that's true."
Hank couldn't help but marvel at how far-fetched the script had become, even pulling in Li Ka-shing.
"Wait a minute, porcelain that valuable?" Cheryl was stunned. "Does that mean if we take one back, we could trade it with someone like Li Ka-shing?"
Just then, Cheryl suddenly froze, a chill running down her spine.
"Hold on, what did you just say?"
"The Ouyang family... they raised what?"
Hank nodded, speaking slowly, "Zombies! It's said that the Ouyang family exhumed the dead, reanimated their corpses, and turned them into terrifying undead zombies. But... it's probably just a myth, right? Hong Kong people are quite fond of zombie legends—like the Taoist priest Lam Cheng Ying or I Have a Date with a Zombie…"
"No..." Cheryl began rubbing her hands together nervously, her voice trailing off. "It's hard to say... perhaps... what's locked in the basement..."
"A zombie!"