Chen Hao stood at the entrance of the resource application station, carrying an old projector. He squatted down, inserted the connector into the base, and the screen flashed, displaying a draft set of rules. There were still twenty minutes left, but quite a few people had already arrived.

Nana's voice came through the earpiece: "The live stream is now open. All users should mark it as a must-watch."

Where are the latecomers?

"Unable to access the main screen; a documentation submission is required to view the replay."

Chen Hao nodded. This tactic was added last night, and it was cleverly placed under rule sixteen, the "obligation to participate." No one expected it would actually come in handy.

Susan stood against the wall with her camera, the lens pointed at the crowd. She wasn't filming the argument; instead, she focused on several faces intently reading their screens. Some frowned, some nodded, and a repairman was taking notes while munching on bread.

Old Zhou arrived right on time. He was wearing faded work pants and had a towel draped over his shoulder. As he passed Chen Hao, he simply said, "Let's begin."

The projector switched to the system log interface. Nana pulled up all the task records for level three and above from the past seven days, scrolling through them one by one. Li Mao's task was in the third row, with a red warning icon lit up, indicating that the approval process was indeed stuck at level two.

Zhang Qiang stood at the front of the crowd, his face still flushed. "I submitted my application at ten o'clock last night, why should he cut in line?"

No one answered him. Old Zhou sat at the counter, his hands on his knees, as if waiting for a pot of water to boil.

“You applied early,” Old Zhou finally spoke up. “But your task is to change light bulbs, not to repair the main control circuit. The regulations are clear: priority is determined by the scope of impact.”

"Then he's also breaking the rules!" Zhang Qiang said loudly. "He triggered the claiming procedure ahead of time, and the system even issued an alarm!"

“Yes,” Old Zhou nodded. “He was wrong.”

Li Mao kept his head down, his fingers gripping the edge of the task sheet.

“You’re wrong too.” Old Zhou turned to Zhang Qiang. “You made threatening remarks on the public channel, saying ‘Anyone who touches a part will be in trouble.’ If that gets back to the energy bay, wouldn’t that be considered intimidation?”

Zhang Qiang opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"One mistake lies in the procedure, the other in the attitude." Old Zhou stood up, his voice not loud, but audible throughout the entire station hall. "Who should get the parts? Follow the rules. How should people be managed? It depends on whether they genuinely want to follow the rules."

He walked to the dispatch console and turned on the voice recorder. "The ruling is as follows: Li Mao's task was compliant, but his operation exceeded his authority. His collection time is postponed by two hours, and he must complete the approval process. Zhang Qiang's application is valid and will be postponed to the next batch. He will receive a verbal warning, which will be recorded in his personal file."

The scene was quiet for a few seconds.

“I have no objection,” Li Mao said.

Zhang Qiang gritted his teeth and finally nodded.

Chen Hao breathed a sigh of relief. He had thought it would be a long and drawn-out argument, but Old Zhou made the final decision, leaving no room for rebuttal.

"Meeting adjourned." Old Zhou put away his recorder and turned to leave.

"Wait a minute," Chen Hao called out to him, "won't you stay for lunch?"

"The tomatoes in the greenhouse are almost ripe." Old Zhou waved his hand. "Pruning is the priority."

The crowd slowly dispersed. Some scanned the QR code to check the ruling record, while others huddled together to discuss the details of the terms. Carl stood in a corner, staring at the system feedback panel, and noticed that three people had already submitted applications for review of past tasks.

Nana walked over, and the optical module flashed twice. "Data has been encrypted and uploaded; offline backup complete."

"No one deleted the records this time, right?"

"No. All operations are logged, including the number of times viewed and the duration of the session."

Chen Hao smiled. This was the effect he wanted—not to use a shout to control the situation, but to let the rules speak for themselves.

Susan put away her camera and walked over to him. "I thought a fight was going to break out."

“I thought so too,” Chen Hao said, looking at the notice board. “But it turns out everyone just wants an explanation.”

"Now we have it."

“Not everyone will necessarily agree,” Chen Hao said, “but at least they know that making a fuss is useless; the rules are what really matter.”

Just before lunchtime, a ruling briefing was posted at the cafeteria entrance. It was illustrated with pictures and text, with key points highlighted in bold, and a QR code attached at the bottom. Scanning it allowed you to hear Nana read the entire process aloud at a standard pace.

Several workers gathered around and watched, discussing among themselves.

"It turns out that emergency missions require three levels of approval before equipment can be used."

"I thought that submitting earlier would give me priority."

"I won't dare to speak recklessly anymore; that threatening remark is really on my record."

Chen Hao didn't step forward to explain. He sat at the dispatch console and opened the public platform's backend. Less than an hour after the briefing was published, it had over 90% readership, and more than twenty questions appeared in the comments section.

He selected a few typical questions to answer:

"Can non-urgent tasks be expedited? Yes, through the filing process, but the technical team's signature is required."

"Does a verbal warning affect points? No, but three warnings will automatically result in a point deduction."

"Can I apply for a hearing afterward? Yes, you can submit any disputed matter, and the rotating supervisor will arrange the process."

With each new message, a new notification pops up. Some people thanked for the answer, some continued to ask follow-up questions, and others proactively reported a device usage they had missed registering last week.

Carl walked over and placed a report on the table. "The system log shows that there were four minor violations this morning, all of which were proactively reported and entered later. At the same time last year, about 80% of these incidents were concealed."

"The changes are significant."

“The key is that someone has taken the lead,” Carl said. “Old Zhou’s sitting down is like telling everyone that rules are not just for show.”

Susan then handed her a glass of water. "I just went to the shower, and the new manual on the wall has been marked with pen and has several annotations."

Who wrote it?

"I don't know. But the handwriting is different; at least three people have changed it."

Chen Hao took a sip of water. It was a little hot, so he blew on it twice.

At 3 PM, Nana reported the latest statistics: the number of people scanning the QR code to learn exceeded 150, accounting for 70% of the total number of people in the base; the number of questions related to the rules decreased by 40%; and two technicians who had publicly questioned the rules had just jointly submitted an optimization proposal.

What did they mention?

"It is recommended to make the task priority determination criteria into an automatic prompt box to reduce human judgment errors."

"Quite practical."

"They also said they hoped to hold a hearing open day once a month so that everyone could listen in on the proceedings."

Chen Hao added the proposal to his list of items to be discussed. He knew this wasn't a change in the wind, but rather that people were beginning to feel that the rules could also serve their interests.

As the workday was drawing to a close, a few people gathered in front of the dispatch console. They were all from the maintenance team, checking the procedures with their application forms.

"We want to submit our equipment maintenance request for next week in advance," said the lead worker, "because we're afraid of having to wait in line again."

“Okay,” Chen Hao said. “Fill it out according to the standard format and go through the pre-screening process.”

"Um... could you expedite this?"

"Unless it meets emergency conditions."

“We know,” the other person laughed. “We were just asking, we weren’t trying to take advantage of them.”

Chen Hao smiled too. This was exactly what he wanted to hear.

As dusk approached, he checked the bulletin board one last time. The ruling briefing was still there, the pages neatly pressed, the silver clips securely fastening the corners. A gust of wind blew in, only ruffling the bottom line of text.

Nana stood to the side, the optical module glowing faintly.

“Today’s data has all been archived,” she said. “Backup permissions were not triggered.”

"Good."

"Twelve people have submitted applications for review of disputes concerning task allocation over the past three months."

"Get rid of it."

"The hearing has been scheduled for next week. The moderator will select the candidates randomly, and the list has been published."

Chen Hao leaned back in his chair and glanced at the clock on the wall. At 6:17, the corridor lights automatically turned on.

Susan was packing her bag to leave when she stopped as she passed by. "Has the venue for tomorrow's cultural sharing session been decided yet?"

"Right here." Chen Hao pointed around the dispatch console. "Remove two rows of chairs and make room."

"Okay. I'll bring the poster over."

Before leaving, Carl glanced at the monitor screen. "No one tried to tamper with the records."

"I know."

"This shows they've admitted it."

"Or they're scared."

“It’s all the same,” Carl said. “As long as the result is right.”

Most of the people had left, but Chen Hao was still sitting there. He flipped through today's unusual log, page by page. What was once densely packed with notes was now reduced to just a few scattered entries.

Nana suddenly said, "Li Wei is online."

"who?"

"The researcher who opened the energy module door without authorization. He just submitted a self-criticism and applied to attend the next round of rules training."

Chen Hao was taken aback. "What did he write?"

He said he thought that no one would care about small things, but now he finds that someone is watching everything.

Chen Hao marked this document as a high priority.

He stood up and stretched his wrists. His shoulders were a little stiff from standing for so long. Just as he was about to close the terminal, Susan came back.

"I forgot to mention," she said, leaning against the doorframe, "Old Zhou asked me to pass on a message to you."

"What?"

He said, "Now that the rules are in place, we have to let them run their own course."

Chen Hao nodded.

A breeze blew from the end of the corridor, causing the pages on the notice board to tremble slightly before being pressed down by a silver clip.