Chapter 122 First Day Analysis Rules + First Day
Thank you, Professor. You returned to your tent.
Staring at the screen, I set the saved screenshots as my screensaver and slowly read and memorized them one by one.
As you gently swipe your finger across the screen, you analyze the hidden meaning behind it.
—Although Tamara has some issues, it would be nice to have someone to help you understand the rules.
Shake your head. Now is not the time to think about random things; we need to hurry.
You reread item 3.
Your praise brings joy to others, and vice versa.
The statement itself seems fine; in fact, people everywhere appreciate praise, as the saying goes, "A kind word warms the heart for three winter months."
Does the fact that it's specifically written in the rules mean that not praising someone will bring disaster?
You might think of the many short videos that satirize the fake, white-American flattery.
If we think about it more deeply, is it possible that if we blindly praise without considering the facts, then the lie we tell will become the truth?
What uncontrollable consequences will this lead to?
You then look at item 6.
"What do you mean by that?" was the final warning.
The translation is "What do you mean?" It's a simple and unambiguous sentence.
Why use the erotic language to specifically mark it? This probably means that this sentence itself is special, and no other synonymous sentence can be treated the same way.
What does it mean in a dungeon? Does it represent a trigger? Or a signal of "accountability"? Whoever says it is the one who will have the most impact.
If the other person says this, what should you do? If you encounter trouble, can you use it to get through the difficult time?
Your breathing is light, and the screen's reflection shows your serene face.
In fact, the rules this time are just like the Riddler game, but most of them clearly tell you what to do and what not to do.
You just can't be sure which things are really good for you.
Being too specific isn't good either; you'll always feel like there are traps everywhere.
You silently assess the situation in your mind.
Points 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, and 12 are all strongly related to "daily behavior" and are the most common pitfalls to avoid in the initial stages:
Fortunately, you don't need a refrigerator right now, so there's no question of overeating in this natural environment. As for smiling, you've already experienced the importance of "hahaha" firsthand today, so you probably won't make a mistake in the future. And the social media part of point 12 isn't particularly difficult either.
Rules 7, 9, and 10 are specific to certain locations and appear to be currently untouchable.
Only the phrase "knowledge is not a good thing" seems to be subtly implying something, and it's something we should always be wary of.
The numbers 5, 8, and 11 are the most ambiguous, seemingly referring to "state" or "ideology" itself, making them the most difficult to defend against and the most dangerous.
You stare at point 8:
"I" am more important than "you".
In a society that upholds individualism and elitism, there is absolutely no problem with advocating the law of the jungle; at worst, one can simply harden their heart and become a purely selfish person.
But the quotation marks seem to have a deeper meaning?
Who am I? And who are you?
It seems more like misleading novices into easily falling into the trap of "boldly putting your own interests above all others."
After all, in any society, even a place like a game that encourages bloodshed among outsiders, completely abandoning basic human decency to become a sophisticatedly selfish person will, in most cases, not be rewarded.
The more I think about it, the more I feel this is a sentence with a rather vague reference. Perhaps it's even a matter of the rules of language itself?
For example, using "I" is more effective than constantly pointing at the other person and saying "you"...
Thinking about this, you suddenly recall your conversations with Tony and Max, where they kept emphasizing "my" personal opinions, even though they were all directed at "you," the person they were talking to, as if that could neutralize any offense they might have inflicted on you.
Is that really the case?
Outside the tent, Becca calls out to you: "Hey! What are you doing in there? Don't sleep in, we're getting ready to go."
"Here it is." You quickly lock the screen, regain your composure, and put the phone back in your pocket.
There's no point in thinking about it any further; let's just take it one step at a time.
Stepping out of the tent, you first look at the rising hearth fire.
Freddy's breakfast had already been devoured. Noticing your gaze, he shrugged helplessly: "Next time, if you don't want to go hungry, you'd better come out for breakfast on time."
You indicated that you understood, and took out an energy bar to start eating.
Except for Carlos, who has difficulty walking, and Freddy, who stayed behind at the camp, everyone else was ready to go.
The professor held a brief meeting and briefly explained the newly revised schedule for today.
It may be inappropriate to say this—no offense intended—but Carlos's injury did indeed disrupt the rhythm of the entire expedition from the very beginning.
No formal sampling will be conducted on the first day. Even in the revised temporary plan, this day is packed with tasks, like a list that could explode at any moment.
The main problem is that with one less person, everyone has to take on more new responsibilities.
The morning's itinerary begins with the "Old Forest Fire Belt".
That was the area where the fire left over from last year. After the vegetation was burned, a new layer of mixed shrubs grew out. The soil temperature was high and the microbial community was sparse.
The professor led you through the shallow mist, explaining the key time points for mycelial recovery among the vines.
As a junior undergraduate student who came to help, you somehow ended up working with Mina as instructed in the documents, responsible for recording the soil temperature and humidity data on site.
Without drone aerial photography, Max volunteered to film with his phone from the sidelines, saying very little.
Becca, Tony, and Dora also have their own jobs, which you don't really understand, so you haven't paid much attention to them.
Lunch was a simple affair at an old landslide site.
The food was cold roasted cassava cakes prepared in advance by our guide, Ramon. They had a rough texture, like biting into a mouthful of old tree bark.
But perhaps because it was local indigenous food, no one said a word, and instead praised it repeatedly.
You chimed in with a few laughs, saying, "It tastes really interesting."
It's not exactly lying.
The afternoon itinerary was changed to the Wet Slope area.
This is the area that the team plans to focus on sampling. The woodland has complete stratification and rich biodiversity, making it an important experimental zone where microbial and fern parasitic communities overlap.
Whenever a group was short-handed, the professor would pull you in. This time, you and Tony tested the stability of the GP number at two coordinate points and made preliminary corrections by comparing the data with last year's data.
You can't understand anything, so you can only rely on a serious attitude and good self-brainwashing, "It's okay to make mistakes, it's okay, I'm an undergraduate student," to stabilize your mindset and enter all the numbers into the document.
After such a busy day, you almost forgot you were still in the dungeon.
To be honest, it's quite interesting.
Back at camp in the evening, everyone was both tired and excited.
Max then called for everyone to come and watch the unedited raw video he had recorded.
Everyone in the photos looked like an ugly monkey in his pictures, and Tony laughed and jokingly beat him up.
When you see yourself looking silly while holding your computer and recording data, you feel like you're really having a miserable time, but you also find it quite funny.
Soon, the scene showed you all walking through the vines, the light and shadow intertwining, and in one frame—Dora suddenly sat up straight, pointed to a corner of the screen, and whispered, "Is that...Carlos?"
Everyone was stunned, because Carlos had not left the camp tent all day.
Even if he wanted to, and even if Freddy were really so careless as to not be able to take care of a patient, he still couldn't do it... You glanced at Carlos, who had been groaning incessantly ever since the main force returned, looking so weak that he was almost pitiful.
Max immediately jumped over and snatched the phone back, pausing and zooming in on the image. It was just a blurry human figure among the shadows of the trees. The next second, the camera shook, and it became impossible to see anything clearly.
“It might be a double image,” Max reassured everyone.
Everyone else echoed this sentiment.
Professor Shia had been listening nearby for some time. She glanced at the report and then spoke up, startling everyone: "Don't exaggerate these baseless accusations. Get some rest, prepare dinner, we have a lot to do tomorrow."
Besides the nutritionally balanced but unpredictable food prepared by the team, Freddy also picked some wild mushrooms from somewhere, which had a strange aroma.
But your guide, Ramon, a local, ate with such gusto that your eyes lit up, so you ate your fill without worry.
After dinner, the time allotted for the group finally came to an end.
Except for not being allowed to leave the camp, everyone can finally do whatever they want.
While Tony was out exploring the forest during the day, he was still talking about doing some group activities together after dinner.
But when the time really came, after finishing the meal, all the excitement faded away, leaving only fatigue that lingered like mud stuck to the skin in the humid environment.
The sunset came out, casting a rusty red glow on the ground through the dense foliage, but you didn't even have the energy to sit and admire it, and Max didn't even raise his phone.
Helping Freddy clean up the dinner fire, everyone's movements became mechanical: putting away bags, checking equipment, and organizing the day's output.
No one has any romantic fantasies about "hiking" or "adventure" at this point—it's practically a survival test—especially not for you.
You sit under a makeshift plastic sheet, looking down at your shoes.
Covered in mud, one shoelace was broken, and socks were soaked.
Pulling my feet out of the wet shoes and socks, my soles were white and soaked, like tissues that had been in water for too long.
The climate in the rainforest is changeable; it is not always cool, but it is exceptionally humid.
The air felt like a damp towel clinging to my face, neck, behind my ears, behind my knees, and even... the inside of my genitals.
You can't imagine how terrible it would be if a girl with irregular periods were in this situation and suddenly got her period without any preparation.
When I'm busy, I can seem to ignore these discomforts, but when I'm sitting still, even if I take off all the clothes I've worn all day, I still feel uncomfortable.
You can't help but start thinking: Can I take a shower?
You don't know if this kind of thing, which would inevitably be brought up by a female character in a TV drama and then trigger a series of disasters, is actually true, so you don't feel comfortable asking. You just listen quietly to what everyone is discussing.
Just look at how stupid these people are. You won't believe it until you feel uncomfortable and can't stand it yourself.
Sure enough, Max muttered to himself, "I smell terrible, I really need to take a shower..."
Tony lay lazily on the recliner, rolled his eyes, and said, "Where do you want to wash? It's dark now, you can't exactly go down to the river."
Becca emerged from Carlos's tent, carrying a pile of treated gauze, and looked over at you: "Those who want to shower can wait until tomorrow; we'll pass a water source. Just wipe yourselves down with towels tonight. Wilderness expeditions require getting used to dirty and chaotic environments, and it will also help build up your immune systems."
Max immediately asked, unwilling to give up, "Why? Actually, we could all go to the river together, turn on the lights, and quickly wash ourselves."
She tossed the gauze into a trash bag: "Turning on the light? Are you going to take a shower or become prey?"
Max slapped his forehead and chuckled, "Teaching Assistant Becca is so thoughtful; I didn't even realize that."
Becca patted him on the shoulder, but put her arm around you: "Besides, it gets cold quickly at night, and you're more likely to catch a cold after showering. You might have to go home early then."
You burst into laughter.
The evening chat lasted for another ten minutes or so before ending with Tony saying he was tired.
Tony then crawled right into your tent.
Oh, so your roommate is Tony.
You had no choice but to return to your own tent.
It's even stuffier inside than outside. Moisture is trapped between the fibers, like inescapable mold.
You open the side pocket of your backpack, pull out a compressed towel and a bottle of spray disinfectant, and carefully wipe your neck, armpits, and behind your knees.
Sigh, even you felt a little disgusted by your own dirtiness, so you tried your best not to look at the color, just sealed the dirty rag in a plastic bag, tied it tightly, and threw it into the corner of the tent.
But no matter how clean you are, Tony, who doesn't care about these things at all and just takes off his outer pants and coat and lies down dirty, still exudes a sweaty stench that makes it hard for you to open your eyes in the enclosed space.
"I think we should wash it up; maybe it will be more comfortable to sleep in then." You mimicked Tony's tone, carefully choosing your words.
“What’s the big deal? I don’t want to catch a cold, and maybe it’s just different from your Chinese habits, but I don’t really like using disposable products,” she said, her tone warm and sincere. Her eyes fell on the large wad of wet wipes you had just thrown away, and she laughed, “It’s not very environmentally friendly.”
With that, she lay down and fell asleep.
You were left stunned.
Don't be angry, she's just a fool in this game, don't be angry.
Remember rule 11: as long as you have a broad mind, the air can smell sweet.
Whether it was the rules taking effect or the sheer power of human adaptability, you actually drifted off to sleep.
Until the itchy skin woke me up in the middle of the night.
The back of my ears was damp as if I had just washed them and hadn't dried them properly. You could hear the sound of water dripping from the tent fabric, the sound of leaves rustling against each other, and someone coughing softly in the distance, like Carlos.
And there was also the unmistakable snoring coming from nearby Tony.
You close your eyes and swallow a mouthful of warm saliva.
I'm trying to lull you to sleep again with my broad embrace.
But the sounds at night are so varied.
At first, you might think it was rainwater, or some insect that had crawled into the tent's gaps. The rustling sound was extremely fine and light, like a mouse carefully walking on a plastic sheet.
You even try to turn over and ignore the past, but it doesn't stop.
Instead, they're getting closer and closer.
It wasn't the sound of the wind, nor the sound of water droplets, but rather the slow, clumsy footsteps unique to humans—someone walking through the woods, carefully shifting their feet, traversing fallen leaves and mud.
Pat-pat.
You held your breath, waited a few seconds, and then gently pulled open the small ventilation window on the side of the tent. The movement was slow; you didn't want any sound to escape.
Through that transparent plastic film, you see a shadow pass by at the edge of your field of vision.
It's...it's Carlos.
You recognize him almost instantly—his left leg wrapped in bandages, his expedition team T-shirt soaked with sweat, and his hair styled with hair gel.
He was standing less than ten meters away from you, with his back to the camp, leaning slightly forward, as if listening to something.
You instinctively held your breath, almost afraid to move.
Shouldn't Carlos be in the tent? He has a fever, a fractured leg, and was barely able to move during the day.
But he's standing now.
He wasn't just standing there; he was slowly walking further out.
You know that's the direction the professor emphasized "don't go near" during the day.
He carried no headlamp, no cane, and made no sound of breathing. His steps were limping, yet each step trod on the cleanest mud, as if he were tracing some unseen path.
He stopped.
Did he see something?
He turned around.
He made eye contact with you, whose eyes were the only part of his face that were visible!
You suddenly buried your head in your hands, your heart pounding like a drum.
Logically speaking, I shouldn't be able to see you.
You sat holding your breath for a while, until the rustling sounds gradually faded away.
Carlos didn't return to the tent; he walked away completely.
You glanced at it again.
He met those cloudy black eyes directly.
You and he are only separated by a plastic film.
-----------------------
Author's note: Hehe
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
