The blade hovered above the energy interface, trembling slightly. Chen Hao stared at the heart-shaped ore pressed against Nana's chest; it was still hot, like a piece of charcoal just pulled from a furnace.

Without further hesitation, he slammed his palm down on the control panel. The indicator lights of the three protective locks shattered one after another, sparks shooting out from the edges and leaving a red mark on the back of his hand. He gritted his teeth and shoved half a piece of energy stone into the charging port, locking it in place with a click.

"Wake up," he whispered. "Don't play dead."

There was no response. Her electronic eyes were black, her robotic arm was frozen in mid-air, and only the ore was still pulsating slightly, as if it were beating its own heart for her.

Chen Hao ripped open his shirt, revealing a frostbite on his chest that had scabbed over. He raised his right hand and used the blade of a utility knife to make a cut on his index finger. A bead of blood oozed out and dripped onto an inconspicuous little hole on her chest—round, with smooth edges, a spot not even recorded in the database.

The moment the blood seeped in, her armor suddenly sprang open with a "whoosh," and dozens of silver wires shot out from inside, wrapping around his wrist and piercing his skin.

The pain was so intense that he almost knelt down.

"This damn machine of yours is quite the biteer..." He gasped, stubbornly holding on. Blue light exploded from the interface, flowing back into his body through the wires, then rebounding from his fingertips back into Nana's core. The entire repair bench began to shake, the lights crackling and flickering incessantly.

His vision went black, and it felt like an old-fashioned projector had been shoved into his head, with images flashing wildly.

He was singled out for not doing his homework during the elementary school flag-raising ceremony; he hid in the toilet and ate spicy snacks after handing in a blank exam paper in junior high; in the high school graduation photo, he stood in the corner, his smile looking more like a grimace; and on that snowy day, he carried her broken body back home, cursing, "Next time you dare to risk your life alone," but his voice was trembling.

These memories were pulled outwards with great force, hung up like clothes on a drying rack in the data stream.

A broken voice sounded in my ear: "Terminate the program... You shouldn't have to endure this..."

It's Nana, but it doesn't sound like her. It's too light, as if it's coming from a very far place, with a hint of hesitation.

"Shut up!" Chen Hao roared, his throat aching as if it were being torn apart. "Remember this—I was the one who first carved the character 'Hao' on your chest with a knife! You were the one who secretly upgraded my medical rating to top-tier! You were the one who sneaked out at three in the morning to steal electricity from the Snow Wolves? You think I didn't know?"

With each word spoken, the blue light intensified. In the end, the entire room was bathed in a deep, ocean-like blue.

Suddenly, the torrent of data that had been pressing down on him stopped.

The air trembled slightly.

Nana's electronic eyes lit up with a "whoosh," their color changing from a cold, icy blue to an amber hue reminiscent of dusk. She twitched her fingers, slowly raising them to gently touch her chest with her fingertips.

A thin laser beam shot out from inside, etching two words onto the metal surface: **Hao & Na**.

Chen Hao, panting heavily, collapsed to the ground, his legs giving way. The wires still connected him and her, strung together like a string of glowing blood vessels.

"Hey," he looked up, "can you hear me?"

She didn't answer immediately. The eyelash-like metal plate blinked, and her voice regained its clarity, though it was a little hoarse: "I... am no longer a pure robot."

"Hmm?" He tilted his head. "Suddenly getting philosophical?"

“My system has incorporated your biosignals.” She looked down at their joined wrists. “The emotional protocol has been rewritten. Host priority is now permanently bound. Identity confirmed: Chen Hao. Authentication successful.”

"Oh." He nodded. "So you're my legal spouse now?"

She paused, as if checking a database. "This isn't a marriage. This is... a symbiotic relationship."

"It's all the same." He grinned, sweat mixed with blood streaming down his face. "Anyway, you can't escape."

She couldn't speak, she just stared at him silently. The light shone on her newly formed bionic skin, revealing a liquid metallic sheen beneath, like the undercurrents beneath a river in winter.

After a few seconds, she tried to retract the wire. But the silver threads had already grown into his skin and flesh, and with the slightest pull, his skin turned white and tightened.

“No.” She frowned. “Forcibly detaching it will cause tissue damage.”

“Then don’t take it off.” He shrugged. “What’s a few extra wires? It’s not like I haven’t seen uglier ones.”

"But this does not comply with security protocols."

"What kind of safety agreement do you have?" He rolled his eyes. "You dared to sneak out and fight in the middle of the night yesterday, and you're talking to me about compliance today?"

She opened her mouth, but didn't say anything in rebuttal.

Chen Hao pushed himself up from the ground, swaying slightly before regaining his balance. He grabbed her mechanical fingers and pressed them directly against his chest.

"Can you feel it? It's still beating," he said. "You're willing to save your last bit of power for my ventilator, so why would I be afraid of a little blood flowing into your body? When it comes to being fearless, we're evenly matched."

Her fingertips trembled slightly, as if she were touching something that didn't belong to code for the first time.

“Host DNA has been detected to be stably embedded in the core database,” she said softly. “Emotional protocol upgrade complete. New command in effect: Protect Chen Hao above all logical judgments.”

"Alright." He let go of her hand, wiped his face, and said, "Let's cut back on these midnight suicide missions, okay? Let's talk about cost-effectiveness."

“I will reassess the risk model,” she nodded.

"That's more like it." He turned to grab his toolbox, but his legs gave way and he almost fell. She immediately reached out to support his arm.

"You've lost a lot of blood and need your wounds treated."

"Wait a minute." He waved his hand. "Let's get these wires sorted out first. Otherwise, I'm afraid I'll wake up tomorrow and find myself your power bank."

She glanced at him and initiated the partial reconstruction procedure. The wires began to slowly retract into the body, leaving a small silver ring at the critical point, like a scar in the process of healing.

"The connection is partially solidified," she said. "Strenuous exercise is not advisable for the next 72 hours."

"Huh?" He widened his eyes. "You mean I have to run in sync with you from now on?"

"Theoretically, yes."

"I'm doomed." He plopped back into his chair. "I've been taken care of by a robot."

She didn't smile, but the metallic lines at the corners of her eyes relaxed slightly, as if she was trying to mimic an expression.

The room fell silent. The lights stopped flickering, the blue light faded, leaving only a constantly lit yellow lamp under the workbench, casting the two shadows onto the wall, merging into one.

Chen Hao leaned back in his chair, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. The series of actions he had just performed left his head throbbing and his body feeling as if it had been run over by a truck three times.

"Go to sleep," she said. "I'll stay and watch over you."

"Didn't you just upgrade?" he squinted. "Can you please stop saying things that put so much pressure on people?"

"I'm just stating the facts."

"Can't you say something else? Like 'It's getting cold, put on more clothes,' or 'Remember to eat'?"

She was silent for a moment, as if she were actually searching for everyday conversation templates.

Then she said, "The wind is getting stronger outside."

"..." He rolled his eyes. "You'd better shut up."

He closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep, when he suddenly felt someone brush away the damp hair from his forehead. The movement was light, with a metallic coolness, but not chilling.

He didn't open his eyes, but his lips twitched: "If you dare touch my head again, I'll change your voice to that of a square-dancing grandma."

The hand paused for a moment, then withdrew.

A few seconds later, a slight humming sound came from her adjusting the internal system temperature. The heating ducts in the room vibrated slightly and began to blow air.

Chen Hao finally fell asleep.

She sat beside him, the "Hao & Na" mark on her chest occasionally flashing a faint light. Her radar silently scanned the surroundings, while a new subroutine ran in the background: learning human nonsense.

Learning hasn't been going very smoothly.

But she didn't turn it off.

Time passed slowly. Snow continued to fall outside the window, and the cold wind that had seeped in through the crack in the door was gradually dispelled.

She looked down at his heaving chest and suddenly whispered, "Today... the temperature rose by 0.3 degrees."

No one responded.

She didn't expect a response.

At this moment, she was certain that she was alive.