Chapter 4: Chapter 4: Rules
In a daze, Zhang Wenda regained consciousness. He realized he wasn’t dead, but that was hardly something to celebrate.
The physical torment and the despair in his heart combined to make him feel utterly suffocated.
His body was almost impossible to control. Trembling, he curled into a ball, instinctively trying to shrink under the dark bed.
After what felt like an eternity, but was only five minutes, he finally let out a long breath and wrestled control back from the negative emotions.
"It was... being late! No, it was skipping class. I skipped class, I didn’t follow that rule! This is my punishment!" Zhang Wenda shouted his thoughts aloud.
It wasn’t because of something he did, but because of something he didn’t do.
The fact that only TV channel 6 had meat hanging from it suggested this world did have a logic to it; he just didn’t understand it yet.
If he wanted to survive, he had to abide by this world’s logic.
Zhang Wenda tried to lift his nearly numb right leg to crawl out from under the bed, but the pain in his joints made him suck in a sharp breath. His entire body felt like it was on fire; everything hurt.
It took him three minutes to crawl out from under the bed. Looking at his battered reflection in the mirror, Zhang Wenda raised his bruised left hand to touch the gash on his forearm. The searing pain confirmed it was real.
The meat hanging from the TV might have just been a harmless, albeit different, way of life, but this was different. He knew that if he didn’t solve this problem, he could very well die.
He had only passed out this time. What the price would be next time, he didn’t know, and he didn’t want to know.
Glancing at his two broken fingers, Zhang Wenda clenched his jaw, grabbed them with his right hand, and yanked. With a CRACK, he snapped them back into place.
His face was pale with pain as he looked at the dark red wound on his arm, which was still oozing blood. The fear of death made his breathing quicken again. ’No, I can’t just sit here and wait to die. I have to save myself.’
His first problem now was how to avoid another attack like that one. He couldn’t let it happen again. That feeling of being unable to fight back, of having his mind consumed by negative emotions, was just too unbearable.
Zhang Wenda looked up at the time and saw it was already 12:30 PM. He had been unconscious the entire morning.
After another glance at his all-too-familiar home, Zhang Wenda gritted his teeth and limped outside on his injured leg.
The grim situation meant he couldn’t stop for a second. He had to find that damn Fatty right now and get some answers.
The street was still the same street, the same Tianshan Road he had walked down countless times. The plane trees by the road, the chirping of cicadas in their branches, and the frisbee-shaped white water tower to the left were all so familiar, but Zhang Wenda was in no mood for nostalgia.
He kept his head down and hurried forward, trying to look and think as little as possible, terrified of triggering another rule.
Fatty’s home wasn’t far, just in the adjacent factory’s family housing complex. If it had been any farther, they wouldn’t have been able to play together as kids.
When Zhang Wenda called him out, Pan Dongzi was still holding a bowl of rice, piled high with meat and vegetables.
"What do you want? I’m in the middle of eating," Pan Dongzi complained as he shoveled rice into his mouth. He didn’t seem to react at all to the injuries on Zhang Wenda’s face.
Zhang Wenda looked at him with a complicated expression. Although this guy’s personality and appearance were very similar to the Fatty he remembered, for some reason, he gave off the impression of being a fake person, an imposter.
’I’m this badly hurt, and he’s not even a little surprised? Or is it because he’s a local in this godforsaken place and has seen all sorts of strange things?’
But as far as he could tell, no matter how weird this guy was, he didn’t seem to mean him any harm. Besides, he was Zhang Wenda’s only source of information right now.
Without a word, Zhang Wenda just rolled up his sleeve and showed him the wounds on his body. "I’m hurt. I’m asking you, are these injuries because I skipped class?"
"Huh? Who beat you up? That looks awful."
"Fatty, just tell me if it is or not."
"Uh... I don’t know. Probably? I think you should be a bit more mindful of the rules. At the very least, you should go to class." After speaking, Xiaopang pulled a small, palm-sized booklet from his pocket and handed it to Zhang Wenda.
Zhang Wenda took it and looked. The four large words written on it made his heart skip a beat: *Student Code of Conduct*.
Glancing at Xiaopang, who was busy gulping down his food, Zhang Wenda carefully opened it. Page one, line one: Students are prohibited from skipping class, being late, or leaving early.
"Fuck! So it’s true! I was attacked because I skipped class!"
He asked the Little Fatty, "Do you have to read this stuff too?"
"Of course. This is mine, after all. I’m very good at following the rules. I’ve even memorized the whole thing," Pan Dongzi said proudly.
Hearing this, the tense Zhang Wenda actually felt a sigh of relief. ’Rules are good. If there are rules, at least I can avoid breaking them.’
He no longer cared how bizarre the rules of this world were. He just didn’t want to be attacked again. The feeling was too awful; he never wanted to experience it a second time.
He went over to a long, white-tiled bench and sat down, beginning to read with his full attention.
Fortunately, the rules in the handbook weren’t overly harsh. Most of them were very simple to follow, like cherishing food, maintaining hygiene, keeping clothes neat, and not spitting on the ground. There were also rules about loving labor, and thinking for yourself to solve problems before asking the teacher.
But he understood this was different from the handbooks he’d casually ignored as a child. If you didn’t follow these rules, you could actually die.
This was a matter of life and death, and he couldn’t afford to be careless. If he wanted to keep living in this world, he had to avoid this kind of situation. He wouldn’t just read the rules; he would memorize them.
Just as Zhang Wenda was engrossed in his reading, a chubby hand reached out and pointed at the wound on his forearm. "What’s with your arm?"
"What?" Zhang Wenda followed his finger and saw a crooked red scar on his swollen skin.
His other wounds all hurt, but strangely, this one didn’t. ’I remember... I think this one came from the flashlight, right?’
He cautiously reached out to touch it and was surprised to find it really didn’t hurt. It was as if it wasn’t a wound at all, but more like some kind of red tattoo.
’What’s going on? What is this strange thing now? Is it good or bad?’ Zhang Wenda had no idea.
This world was very strange. He wasn’t sure if even wounds behaved abnormally here.
Glancing at Fatty, Zhang Wenda held out his arm and asked, "You don’t know what this is?"
"It’s on you, how would I know?" the Little Fatty said, shaking his head.
This sudden development made Zhang Wenda’s brow furrow. One problem wasn’t even solved, and another had already popped up. ’Can I even survive in this godforsaken place?’
"Hey, you still haven’t said. Who beat you up?" Fatty asked again, his eyes filled with curiosity.
"It was something I couldn’t see—" Before Zhang Wenda could finish, his scalp suddenly tightened. A sharp, tearing pain shot through his back again, forcing him to clamp his mouth shut. His trembling hands clenched his clothes tightly.
’Can’t talk about it, can’t ask others.’ He remembered the rule he had just memorized from the Student Handbook: When you encounter a problem, you must think for yourself before asking others.
It seemed to be a warning; the pain didn’t continue. From this, however, Zhang Wenda was able to deduce a new piece of logic: the punishment for breaking the rules hadn’t disappeared when he left his house. It was following him.
He wasn’t thinking about anything else. What he needed to do now was adapt to this world.
The TVs in this godforsaken place were weird, the *Student Handbook* was weird... God only knew if everything else in this world was even weirder.
Only by completely understanding this world would he have a chance to figure out how to escape the rules and regain his freedom.
Just as Zhang Wenda put down the little booklet and prepared to recite it from memory, he saw the Little Fatty had already put down his bowl and was coming down the stairs with a backpack on.
"Hey, Haozi, I’m heading to the Youth Palace this afternoon. You coming?"
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