Zhou Yu thought poverty was life's greatest terror. So, ignoring the rumors, he rented that apartment for next to nothing.
Beneath the mattress lay a leather diary, its eight “House Rules” written in dark red ink. He dismissed it as a pointless scare tactic.
Until, at midnight, seven figures appeared in the mirror behind him and whispered in unison, “You've broken the rules.”
Until a neighbor who looked like a paper effigy smiled and brought him a “welcome cake” bearing his name, then told him that the tenant who moved in yesterday had died in the attic that morning.
Night after night, something sat on his chest. The wardrobe opened and shut on its own. A foul-smelling liquid dripped from the faucet. Strange breathing came through his Bluetooth earbuds... Malice seeped from every crack in the apartment.
And the so-called “rules” began coming to life before his eyes, one by one: Don't look in the mirror at midnight! If a thirteenth step appears on the staircase, walk down backward! Never accept gifts from the neighbors!
He discovered that no one in the building was normal: the neighbor with the rigid smile, the black cat with pupils narrowed to slits, even the faint sighs drifting from inside the walls. Everyone seemed to follow some kind of twisted survival rule, and those who broke them kept disappearing.
To stay alive, Zhou Yu had to piece together the truth from the whispers of the ghostly bride locked in the ancient well, the sacrificial array hidden beneath Western-style wallpaper, and clues to a curse cast by a Southeast Asian evil god. As each layer of deadly rules was unraveled and twist after twist pointed toward the final answer...
The “person” who had always guided and helped him slowly peeled away their disguise.
On the last page of the leather diary, the small line of dark red text he had overlooked at first finally came into focus:
“Welcome home. Remember, you are the one whose rules we must follow!”
