23. I don’t like it here

After a short period of adaptation, life in the northern base began to slowly and irresistibly weigh on every member of the team, bringing a suffocating and deep-rooted feeling of being out of place.

The tiny room they were assigned to, nestled on the edge of the prefabricated housing complex, was just the beginning. Less than 20 square meters, its walls were made of thin, musty synthetic material. A single, dim, energy-saving light, powered by the base's centralized electricity supply, hung from the ceiling, its pale light barely dispelling the shadows in the corners. Five crude, creaking iron beds filled the entire space, leaving only a narrow aisle in the middle. A crooked wooden table, scratched and stained, leaned against the wall. The air was perpetually filled with a damp, mingled smell of disinfectant and the faint, decaying air of the distant shantytowns. This place felt less like a home than a crowded, makeshift prison, barely able to provide shelter from the elements.

However, this cramped space is a "privilege" they must pay to maintain within the base. Everything within the base, from the most basic survival supplies to the slightest comfort, requires a cold number—contribution points. Clean food, drinkable water, necessary medicine, slightly better housing, and even some basic services all require contribution points. Contribution points are earned by either completing various missions issued by the base—most of which require deep into dangerous areas to clear high-level zombies, search for specific dangerous materials, or suppress possible internal unrest, involving high casualty rates. Alternatively, they can exchange their dwindling supplies for precious materials or provide supernatural services.

Lei Qing went to the mission hall for a quick look and returned with a face even grimer than usual. The news he brought back was disheartening: the highest-paying missions invariably required deep dives into radiation zones, mutant nests, or once-densely populated areas now devastated, with alarming casualty rates. The relatively safer missions of logistical support, area security, and technical duties were not only extremely low-paying and required waiting lists, but more importantly, these missions were often tightly controlled by well-connected individuals or groups within the base, making them virtually impossible for newcomers like them to obtain.

"Either you risk your life, or... you must learn to bow your head and seek 'connections.'" Lei Qing's voice was low, with a subtle hint of sarcasm. The "connections" he was referring to clearly meant integrating into the complex network of relationships within the base, and paying a price.

A Yan and Mu Lin's experience in the trading area was equally frustrating. They attempted to exchange some remaining, well-maintained ammunition and some rare, precision parts they had scavenged for Contribution Points to meet their immediate needs. However, the personnel in charge of evaluation and acquisition, sensing their new arrivals and desperate for Contribution Points, aggressively negotiated the price down with an arrogant attitude, offering prices that bordered on robbery.

"Damn it, this place is even more evil than the bandits out there! A fully-equipped assault rifle is only worth twenty contribution points? Not even enough to buy three days of synthetic rations!" Ah Yan returned to the hut and angrily kicked the thin wall. There was a dull "bang" sound, and the wall shook visibly. "These vampires! They're robbing me!"

Mu Lin remained relatively calm, but a lingering gloom hung over his brow. He gently pressed A Yan's shoulder to prevent him from actually kicking the wall down. "They're sure we're new here and have no foundation. Here, information and connections are sometimes more important than strength." His gaze swept across the small, oppressive room, his tone tinged with coldness. "We only have limited supplies, and living off them isn't an option."

What made them even more deeply uncomfortable was the blatant, pervasive hierarchy within the base. The color of the small identity card, like an unbridgeable chasm, clearly delineated each person's status and fate. While psychics with blue identity cards enjoyed higher status than ordinary people with gray cards, enjoying slightly better rations and living conditions, the hierarchy within the base remained rigid. Combat psychics, known for their aggressiveness and exceptional combat effectiveness, were the most valued, receiving high-paying missions and enjoying better treatment and respect. Control psychics like Mu Lin, and those "merely" spatial support psychics like Su Lin, while also needed, were clearly inferior in status and ability to access resources. As for "ordinary people" like Xingchen, bearing that gray wooden card that seemed to bear the mark of shame, they were practically at the bottom of the base's pyramid.

Stardust's days were the most difficult. As a "worthless" ordinary person, he was forcibly assigned to repair and clean the base's outer fortifications. He had to gather at a designated location before dawn each day, returning only after nightfall, his body nearly broken. The work was arduous and dangerous, often requiring the lifting of heavy building materials, clearing rubble-strewn areas, and even facing the occasional zombie that slipped through the outer defenses. The overseers were mostly low-ranking, frustrated psychics with strength or physical enhancements. They unscrupulously vented their frustrations and disdain for the "waste" on these gray-labeled laborers, frequently beating and scolding them, and withholding their already meager food rations.

After a few days, Xingchen would always return, dusty and sweat-stained. His exposed skin would bear new scrapes and bruises, and the blisters on his hands would burst and reappear, forming thick calluses. His share of food was always the smallest and worst, often consisting of a few hard, odd-tasting synthetic nutritional pastes that barely provided the necessary calories. He became even more silent, the light in his eyes dimming, as if he had returned to being the lone figure struggling in the wasteland, ready to be abandoned at any moment.

Although Ah Yan still despised him, calling him "useless" and "a drag on the team," when he saw the boy's miserable state, he would sometimes awkwardly and gruffly share some of his food with him, muttering in a snarly tone, "Eat more! Otherwise, people will say our team is abusing minors and bringing shame to us!"

Xingchen accepted it silently, never arguing, simply working harder to complete the assigned tasks, attempting, in this almost self-torturing way, to prove he wasn't completely useless. But in this cold place, his efforts were like a stone dropped into a deep pond, causing no ripples. Only when he returned to this crowded, oppressive little room each night and saw the barely concealed concern in Su Lin's eyes did he feel a faint glimmer of warmth. However, he also clearly sensed that the three men's protective circle around Su Lin was tightening, virtually cutting off any outsiders from approaching. He felt like an unnecessary, obstructive shadow, struggling to find a nearly nonexistent foothold in this small space and the larger rules of the base.

Su Lin's situation was the most delicate and passive. He tried to keep a low profile and minimize his outings, but his striking appearance, clean demeanor, and identity as a space-based psychic, like a firefly in the night sky, attracted all sorts of malicious glances in this oppressive, gloomy, and power-worshipping environment. Besides Administrator Wang, several other psychic team leaders, self-proclaimed leaders of some power-based groups, or low-ranking officials from various departments within the base, overtly or covertly courted him. Their words of solicitation, inducement, and even outright harassment irritated him. They looked at him less as a survivor with powers than as if they were evaluating a rare, beautiful, and collectible item.

Every time he went out, he could feel those clingy, calculating gazes. Once, while he was fetching water from a centralized water supply station a little way from his home, he was stopped by a tall, supernatural being, said to be the leader of a patrol team, and two of his men. The man was a burly figure, his face covered in tattoos and scars, his eyes arrogant and possessive.

"A new space officer? You look really good." The man spoke in a frivolous tone, his eyes moving over Su Lin's face and body, "What future do you have following those useless teammates? Come to my patrol team, I guarantee you can have a hot shower and fresh food every day, how about it?" As he spoke, he actually reached out to touch Su Lin's face.

Su Lin stepped back suddenly, his eyes instantly turned as cold as ice, and he clenched the bucket in his hand, ready to smash it at any time.

Just as the conflict was about to break out, Lei Qing appeared at the alley entrance like a ghost. He didn't even utter a single word, merely staring intently at the patrol leader with eyes as cold as the Siberian tundra and filled with murderous intent. The fierce aura emanating from Lei Qing, a force born from a sea of ​​blood and corpses, and the distinct scent of blood from a battle-hardened elite, instantly overwhelmed the other's arrogance, which was bolstered by the base's order and status.

The captain's expression changed several times, sensing the dangerous aura that nearly made his hair stand on end. Finally, he withdrew his hand in frustration, glared fiercely at Lei Qing, and left with his men in disgrace. But the resentful and greedy look in his eyes before he left showed that this matter was not over yet.

"Don't act alone in the future." Lei Qing looked at Su Lin, his tone low and serious, with an irrefutable tone. He handed Su Lin an extremely sharp military dagger that he had just exchanged for from the mission hall, "Take it with you."

Su Lin took the dagger, feeling the cool metal. His heart felt heavy, like a huge rock pressing down on it. He realized that within this seemingly orderly place, the true danger might be just as great as that outside the walls, merely taking a more subtle form, more cloaked in rules. He was like a piece of fat meat caught in a jungle surrounded by hungry wolves.

Mu Lin attempted to leverage his water-based abilities to earn additional contribution points for the team, perhaps by providing purified drinking water to high-rise residential areas or key departments. However, this process was also fraught with barriers and exploitation. Required to go through numerous application and review processes, coupled with hefty "management fees" and "resource taxes," the contribution points they actually received were meager, barely enough to alleviate their plight. He also became increasingly aware that the base management seemed to have an unusual interest in and desire to control those with special and rare abilities, such as those with psychic and healing abilities. This heightened his concern for Su Lin and Xingchen's predicament.

The oppressive atmosphere filled the cabin like a rising tide, making it almost impossible to breathe.

"This place is so fucking suffocating!" One night, A Yan finally couldn't help himself and slammed his fist on the tilted wooden table. The loud noise broke the suffocating silence. "There are so many rules, contribution points are as hard to earn as gold, and you have to be on guard against those malicious bastards all the time! It's more tiring than fighting zombies outside! At least it was fun back then!"

Mu Lin gently wiped the slender ice blade that he never left behind, which gleamed with a cold blue light. He raised his eyes at the words and said softly, "At least... this place temporarily isolates the massive zombie tide and mutants, providing a relatively stable shelter. But the price to pay is a portion of freedom, dignity, and... the sense of crisis that the rules could always swallow us up."

Lei Qing silently maintained every part of his modified sniper rifle, his movements meticulous, as if he were performing some kind of ritual. Suddenly, he spoke, his voice remarkably clear in the small space. "The base's leadership seems to be planning a large-scale cleanup operation, targeting the abandoned industrial area to the west. Intelligence indicates a large number of mutants and a rare energy source are lurking there. The reward is high, enough to earn us enough contribution points, and perhaps even better residency rights. But the risks are… I heard that of the three elite teams sent last time, only one seriously injured member escaped."

The three of them subconsciously met each other's gazes. High risk meant high reward, and perhaps it could solve their current Contribution Point shortage dilemma in one fell swoop, but...

"I don't like it here," Su Lin whispered, voicing everyone's feelings and breaking the brief silence surrounding the mission. He leaned against the cold wall, his gaze vacant at the pale ceiling light. "The feeling here... is different from Blackrock Base. There was naked evil, but here... it's a suffocating feeling of being tamed by rules, priced in, and even the air smells of calculation." He couldn't forget the glances that scrutinized him, the exhaustion and numbness when Stardust returned each day, or the deepening solemnity between his teammates' brows.

Curled up on the bed in the corner, Xingchen quietly raised his head at the words, looking at Su Lin's profile, softly outlined by the light, then quickly lowered his head, burying his face in his knees. He didn't know what the future held. He was filled with fear of the dangers outside the walls and despair of the suffocating life within. But as long as Su Lin was there, anywhere was fine. But he also had a clear feeling that this team, this collective he had reluctantly clung to, might not remain in this cold cage for much longer. This realization gave him a faint hope, a hope he dared not even contemplate.