As soon as the wind blew on his face, Chen Hao sneezed.

He rubbed his nose, his mechanical hand still raised in mid-air; the wave he'd just made seemed to have stirred something. The fruit pit in his palm was spinning rapidly, as if spurred on by something. The dark green vines not far away remained still, but several root marks appeared on the ground, crookedly writing: "Entropy...Irreversible?"

"You're asking me?" Chen Hao looked down at himself. "I can't even copy my homework properly, and you expect me to understand this?"

Nana was already squatting on the ground, her fingers tracing the marks, the outer casing interfaces gleaming slightly. "The air molecules are moving in an abnormal direction, and the heat energy distribution violates the laws of natural diffusion." She looked up, "They are questioning the second law of thermodynamics."

"Who? These grasses?"

“They’re asking questions, not questioning,” she corrected. “They’re using interrogative sentences, which means they’re waiting for a response.”

Chen Hao scratched the back of his head and noticed that the hard layer under his scalp had warmed up again. "So now even plants are getting into academic discussions? Can you ask me if I want to participate first?"

Before he could finish speaking, he slipped and nearly knelt in the snow. It wasn't that the ground had softened, but rather that the temperature on the entire hillside had suddenly dropped by five degrees. There were no clouds in the sky, and the wind wasn't strong; it was as if the heat had been secretly drawn away.

Nana suddenly stood up straight: "Local entropy reduction detected—the air is spontaneously becoming more orderly."

What is entropy reduction?

"The level of chaos has decreased. For example, the trash in your house will fly back to the trash can by itself, and it will even be sorted."

"That's great," Chen Hao said, rubbing his arms. "At least we don't have to clean."

“But that’s impossible,” she said, her voice turning cold. “Unless there is conscious intervention in the physical processes.”

Chen Hao grinned: "Then tell me, is it because I wished yesterday, 'I won't go hungry tomorrow,' and the universe heard me?"

Nana didn't laugh. Her data screen was displaying a series of abnormal readings: airflow velocity, molecular kinetic energy, lattice density... all converging in a direction that shouldn't exist.

"What did you just do?" she asked.

"I just waved."

"The second time."

“Oh.” He thought for a moment, “I said, ‘Come in and take a look if you want to.’”

Nana stared at him for two seconds, her electronic eyes flashing blue. "You used the 'invite' action, triggering some kind of interaction protocol."

"I'm not treating you to dinner."

"But they interpreted it as a signal."

The dark green vines in the distance swayed gently, the eerie light at their tips flickering as if they were deep in thought.

Then, the blizzard came.

It didn't fall from the sky; it rose from the ground. The snowflakes drifted against the wind, making a crisp sound as they landed, like shards of glass hitting sheet metal. Nana's radar instantly went off, and three snow wolves burst out of the white mist, moving with a speed that seemed inhuman.

"The infrared sensor shows a body temperature of minus forty degrees Celsius." She quickly pulled up the image. "It's even lower than the ambient temperature."

"That's because the refrigerator has come to life."

“Where they pass, the ice and snow melt first and then recrystallize, resulting in a more stable crystal structure.” Nana’s voice was tense. “This is reversing the increase of entropy.”

Chen Hao didn't move. He bent down and picked up an ice spear—an old buddy from the last night hunt, its surface pockmarked and rough to the touch. He weighed it in his hand and sighed, "They used to chase us, now it's like they're here to teach us a lesson."

He did not retreat when the alpha wolf pounced.

Instead, he took a step forward and plunged the ice spear deep into the snow, hitting the spot where the wolf shadow had thrown it.

The moment the spear tip touched the ground, time seemed to freeze for a second.

The snowflakes stopped in mid-air, and the sound of the wind abruptly ceased. Suddenly, the alpha wolf's body split open, not in the way of tearing flesh apart, but like a mirror shattering, its entire body turning into countless tiny ice crystals, suspended motionless in place.

"..." Chen Hao took a breath. "Did I just kill a hallucination?"

Nana had already rushed over to scan. "The rate of increase in entropy within the space has reached zero, and the causal chain has been interrupted for 0.3 seconds." She turned back. "You did it. Your movements resonated with that location."

"I just randomly poked it."

"But you chose its shadow."

"The shadow is part of it too, isn't it?"

"Theoretically, no. A shadow is simply the absence of light."

"So, have I just stabbed something that doesn't exist?" Chen Hao looked at the ice spear stuck in the ground. "Is this illegal?"

Nana didn't respond. Her database was frantically processing data, trying to find a mathematical model for this phenomenon. A message popped up on the screen: [Nonlinear spatiotemporal perturbation observed; reassessment of macroscopic causality recommended].

She paused for a few seconds, then said softly, "Maybe... we've been wrong all along. It's not that you're adapting to the rules, it's that the rules are responding to you."

"Stop with that philosophy." Chen Hao pulled out his ice spear, shaking off the frost. "The remaining two are still getting closer."

The two snow wolves didn't stop. They avoided the spot where their companion had broken, their steps unpredictable, leaving footprints in different places with each step, as if they were in multiple locations at the same time.

Nana activated the electromagnetic net, and the current was frozen in the air as soon as it surged out, turning into a twisted ice thread.

"Target does not conform to classic motion models." The system warning flashed, "Evacuation recommended."

"Where to retreat to?" Chen Hao squinted. "The base gate is behind us, and I still have to pay the property management fees."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Many things flashed through my mind: the first time I dragged my injured leg up a hill, the fruit pit was so hot it felt like a piece of burning coal; randomly pressing buttons in front of the control panel, resulting in a three-day power outage for the entire base; and that time I had a fever of 40 degrees Celsius, lying on the ground cursing the heavens and the earth, but I still managed to pull through.

Every time he felt he should collapse, his body could always hold on a little longer.

It's not because they're strong, it's because they're too lazy to accept their fate.

He opened his eyes and whispered, "I don't believe in fate, nor in laws."

Then, he hurled the ice spear.

The spear slashed through the air, leaving spiraling frost patterns in its wake, as if someone had twisted chaos into a pretzel with a wrench. The two intersecting trajectories continued until they pierced the last two snow wolves as they met.

They both froze at the same time.

Then, as if crushed by an invisible hand, it collapsed into powdery ice dust and fell silently.

Nana's data screen suddenly displayed a new formula:

**ΔS ≤ -k·I**

She stared at it for a long time, then read it aloud softly: "The degree of local entropy reduction is directly proportional to the strength of an individual's will."

"What do you mean?" Chen Hao asked, panting heavily, the vine-like pattern on his chest burning hot.

“You mean…” she turned to him, “you didn’t break the rules. You rewrote their scope of application with your very existence.”

Chen Hao was taken aback for a moment, then laughed: "So I'm now a walking counterintuitive device?"

"In some ways, yes."

He looked down at his hands. The fruit pit in his mechanical palm was flashing on and off, its rhythm increasingly synchronized with his heartbeat. His body temperature was rising, not the feverish heat of a fever, but a warmth emanating from his bones, as if something inside him was rebooting.

“I feel… something’s not right,” he said.

In which aspect?

"It seems like something is about to wake up."

Nana didn't speak. She scanned his vital signs and found that his cellular metabolic rate was slowly increasing, exceeding the normal threshold by 12 percent, and was still climbing. This wasn't a disease, nor a mechanical malfunction; it was more like some kind of pre-programmed procedure being activated.

“Do you remember that the Code says ‘first memories are not reliable’?” she asked.

“I remember. That’s why I never recall exam answers.”

"But everything you're doing now is breaking known logic. Melting ice, controlling temperature, influencing biological behavior... it may even be changing the laws of physics themselves."

"so what?"

"So I'm wondering, are you really just a mediocre student who accidentally found the fruit pit?"

Chen Hao rolled his eyes: "You're starting to doubt my identity now? Do you want me to recite pi to prove my innocence?"

Nana didn't smile. A blue light emanated from the veins of her skin as she looked past him down the hillside at the still-stationary patch of dark green vines. They stood quietly at the edge of the snow line, as if waiting for an answer.

“The next question,” she said softly, “is it to continue upholding the existing order, or…”

Chen Hao raised his hand, palm facing the sky. The light from the fruit pit reflected on his face, flashing and flashing.

He suddenly realized that he had never been fat.