When the alarm sounded, Nana's electronic eyes hadn't fully recovered from the previous emotional turmoil. The pair of heart-shaped lights, like lanterns tilted by the wind, flickered twice deep within her pupils before slowly fading. Just as she was about to bring up the system self-check interface, a flurry of red lights on the control panel went off.

“The atmospheric composition is abnormal, and the radiation level exceeds the standard.” Her voice remained calm, but her speech was a beat faster. “I recommend shutting down the ventilation system and putting everyone into a closed-loop protective state.”

Chen Hao was leaning back in his chair, yawning, when he heard this he almost bit his tongue. "Everyone? The two of us combined wouldn't even make enough for one meal in the cafeteria." He rubbed his eyes and sat up straight. "It's not like it's an earthquake, a fire, or a nuclear explosion all at once, why do we need to sound such a high-level alarm?"

“This is not ordinary radiation.” Nana’s finger swiped across the screen, bringing up a stream of fluctuating data. “An unknown ion cluster has appeared in the air, the oxygen-nitrogen ratio has shifted by 0.6%, and trace amounts of platinum-iridium isotope suspended particles have been detected.”

"Oh." Chen Hao nodded, then realized, "Wait, what did you say? Radiation from the platinum-iridium mine is drifting in?"

“Yes.” She turned to look at him. “And the concentration is slowly increasing.”

Chen Hao was silent for two seconds, then suddenly grinned and said, "Then why don't you hurry up and lock the door? I don't want to turn into a glowing fat man."

“I have initiated the airtight procedure,” she said. “But external sampling results show that some chemical reactions are still ongoing—this does not appear to be a simple radioactive spread.”

“For example?” He leaned closer, staring at a distorted curve on the screen.

“For example… the activity of microorganisms in the soil has increased three hundred times.” She paused. “Also, there are signs of plant root activity beneath the snow layer.”

Chen Hao was stunned: "Alive? Now? In this awful weather?"

“The data doesn’t lie.” She looked at the monitor screen, the camera panning across the desolate wasteland outside the base. Suddenly, a thin crack appeared in the snow-covered ground, and a wisp of purplish-red vine was emerging from it, its surface gleaming with a cold, metallic sheen.

"Wow." Chen Hao leaned back. "This thing looks pretty unique."

“What’s even stranger is that,” Nana pulled up another set of readings, “my shell also showed a faint energy resonance reaction, with a frequency that was completely synchronized with the radiation from the ore.”

"You mean...it considers you a relative?"

“I don’t have a kinship database,” she said seriously, “but the outer alloy of my right arm is undergoing non-standard lattice reconstruction, and scans show that the structural patterns resemble biological growth traces.”

Chen Hao whistled: "So now you're not just a robot, but also a work of art that can grow patterns? Take it out for an exhibition later and charge double the tickets."

“This is not art.” She raised her hand, and a fine line was slowly spreading across her metallic skin, like a vine climbing a wall in spring. “This is an uncontrollable change. If I continue to be exposed to this environment, my system may develop structural disorders.”

"Then let's not stay inside." Chen Hao grabbed the cold-weather mask hanging on the wall, got up and walked towards the door.

"What are you trying to do?" She immediately blocked the doorway.

“Just look outside,” he shrugged. “Looking at data all day is useless. Machines can lie, but your nose can’t.”

"The radiation outside is too high, you can't go out!"

"Hey, you were just saying I had a low body temperature and needed to wear heat packs, and now you think I'm too tough?" He laughed and reached out to push her mechanical arm away. "Besides, if something really happened to me, wouldn't you become a single-player version of Nana? How lonely would that be?"

Without waiting for a response, he abruptly removed his mask and took a deep breath, much to Nana's astonishment.

The air was bitterly cold, but he smiled.

“I was wondering why you don’t understand romance.” He squinted and exhaled a puff of white mist. “Can’t you smell it? The earthy smell, the smell of wet mud, and… the raw, green smell of sprouting grass.”

“Impossible.” She quickly scanned his breathing rate. “Your lungs are inhaling a high concentration of metal particles; long-term exposure can lead to tissue fibrosis.”

"But I feel pretty good right now," he said, shrugging. "Even better than when I ate that piece of dried meat yesterday. Isn't it strange? Something that machines think is poisonous, people find delicious?"

Nana didn't speak, she just stared at him silently. Her sensors told her there was danger, but something more ambiguous—perhaps the lingering effects of the emotional protocol—made her hesitate for a second.

In that instant, Chen Hao had already opened the airtight door and stepped out.

The snow crunched under the pale sunlight. He crouched down and brushed away a thin layer of snow, revealing tiny green shoots pushing their way up through the ice, their edges gleaming with a faint silver light.

"Hey!" He looked up and waved at her, "Come and see, this lousy place of ours is going to become a botanical garden!"

Nana stood at the door without moving, the clasp of her protective suit clicking shut automatically. She knew she shouldn't go out; system warnings kept popping up, but she also knew that if she didn't follow, this guy might just turn the whole snowfield upside down in search of spring.

She stepped outside.

As soon as I stepped onto the ground, my right knee joint suddenly emitted a piercing grinding sound, like a rusty gear being forcibly turned.

"What's wrong?" Chen Hao turned his head and asked.

“The lubricant… is starting to crystallize.” She steadied herself against a nearby metal support. “It’s probably mineral dust that has seeped into the transmission system.”

“Okay, robots get leg cramps too.” He walked back and put his arm around her. “Let’s walk slowly, consider it a walk to lose weight.”

The two moved step by step toward the exposed area of ​​the mineral vein. The snow crust along the way became thinner and thinner, and more and more purple vines appeared, some of which had already wrapped around the abandoned metal supports, like giving the iron frames a floral coat.

As Nana walked and scanned, her voice grew increasingly strained: "These plants have platinum and iridium embedded in their gene sequences... They're not resisting radiation; they're using it to evolve."

"So this ore can not only generate electricity, but also grow vegetables?" Chen Hao clicked his tongue. "If I had known, I would have planted a few more acres, so I wouldn't starve to death."

“But this means the environment is getting out of control.” She stopped, and a thin crack suddenly appeared on the metal surface of the back of her left hand. A silver line as thin as a hair spread up her skin, its shape strikingly similar to those vines.

Chen Hao saw it.

He didn't say anything, but squatted down, picked up a handful of new shoots with roots, and held them up in front of her.

“Look at this,” he said, pointing to the veins on the leaf. “Doesn’t it look like the ‘Hao & Na’ tattoo on your chest?”

Nana looked down and stared.

The winding, interwoven patterns and flowing luster are indeed remarkably similar to the laser engraving on her metal breastplate.

“The similarity is 78.3%,” she said softly. “Within the margin of error, it can be considered a homologous structural pattern.”

"So," Chen Hao grinned, "it's not ruining you, it's learning from you."

“But I’m a machine.” She looked at her hands. “I shouldn’t have the concept of ‘growth’.”

"Who says machines can't grow things?" He reached out and touched the lines on her arm, feeling a warm vibration at his fingertips. "Look, you're sweating."

“I don’t have sweat glands,” she retorted in a low voice, but a hidden log flashed in the data stream: Haptic feedback simulation upgrade in progress... Warmth definition reconstructed.

Suddenly, the wind picked up, swirling the remaining snow and lashing at the two of them. Chen Hao gripped the new shoot tightly, the tender green tips of the leaves trembling gently in his palm.

“I think,” he said, “sometimes it’s not about how long you live, it’s about living authentically.”

Nana looked at him, and the light from the electronic eye gradually changed from a cold blue to a soft amber color, no longer flashing a heart shape, nor alarming.

She simply stood there quietly, letting the silver thread slowly climb up her arm, like spring climbing a withered branch.

In the distance, a patch of snow collapsed with a roar, and more crimson vines broke through the soil, swaying gently in the cold wind.

Chen Hao took a step forward, let go of her hand, squatted down, and used his hands to dig away the frozen soil little by little.

"Come on," he called back. "Don't just stand there, help me plant some vegetables. From now on, you'll eat vegetarian and I'll eat meat. Clear division of labor."