At midnight, the wild dogs outside began howling right on schedule.
Zhou Zheng and Tang Wei jolted awake from their dreams to find their entire residential complex submerged in a viscous, dark-red glow. The streetlamp that had been broken for three months was lit, casting an ominous blood-red halo. The wild dogs howling downstairs collapsed rigidly in the red light, dead and still.
And that was only the beginning.
When the security guard smiled and waved to them from downstairs, when their friendly neighbor persistently knocked at their door in the middle of the night to “help,” when the whole community held a silent, harmonious tea party in the red glow, Zhou Zheng and Tang Wei realized in despair that the everyday life they knew had completely collapsed.
Beneath the red glow, all the neighbors were “alive,” but they were no longer human. They remembered your name, mimicked the habits they’d had in life, and used the warmest voices to urge you to open the door, inviting you to join them with the most reasonable excuses.
The only rule for survival was simple: trust no familiar face.
But the food was running low, the water was running out, and the red glow ebbed and surged like the tide at regular intervals. When it shone brightest, even locked doors and windows were no longer safe…
When the whole world smiles and whispers, “Open the door,” how long can you hold out?
Welcome to The Redlight Exclusion Zone.
Be sure to read the first rule of the Neighborhood Guide: Don’t trust the neighbors, no matter how normal they seem.
