When Chen Hao woke up, there was some sand on his chin and his neck was sore from being tilted. He raised his hand to wipe his face and found that the rope was scattered all over the ground, and a few strands of seaweed were still wrapped around his fingers, leaving light red marks.

Nana stood to the side, her robotic arm slightly raised, projecting a slowly rotating mesh structure diagram, the lines constantly disassembling and reassembling.

“You slept for forty-seven minutes,” she said. “Your heart rate has returned to normal, but your muscle fatigue index is still high.”

"Who told you not to wake me up?" He muttered as he sat up straight, the rock under his butt feeling uncomfortable. "I thought I was going to dream about a seafood feast, but I dreamed that I was entangled by an octopus and couldn't shake it off no matter what I did."

"Dreams may stem from subconscious pressure to acquire fishing tools."

"Stop analyzing, it's more tiring to listen to." He cracked his knuckles slightly, "What's so difficult about this damn net? It's just tying knots, isn't it?"

“It’s not about tying knots, it’s about weaving logic.” She pulled up a cross-sectional view of the hologram. “Every three intersections form a force triangle. If the angle deviation exceeds five degrees, the entire net will become unbalanced in the water.”

"So when you said three centimeters before, it was because..."

“A three-centimeter aperture can intercept 82 common benthic organisms at the current tidal velocity, while avoiding silt blockage.” She paused. “Your first six attempts had an average aperture of 4.7 centimeters, with the largest deviation reaching 1.9 times the standard value.”

Chen Hao looked down at his reddened fingers. "So what I've been weaving is a flour sieve?"

"The analogy is basically accurate."

He sighed, grabbed a bundle of dried seaweed fibers from the side, and started again. This type of seaweed was very resilient, and after drying, it had a texture similar to hemp rope; he had collected it from outside the low tide line. He clumsily twisted the two strands together, and the first knot came undone.

"Could you... teach me step by step?"

“I can provide tactile feedback simulation.”

Before he finished speaking, her mechanical fingers gently touched his wrist. A subtle vibration came through, like a rhythmic cue. He followed the rhythm, slowly tightening, circling, and threading, finally completing a fairly neat knot.

"It feels like your deskmate secretly passing you answers during an exam."

"I'm just transmitting action sequences."

"But you're so serious even when you're cheating."

The seventh weaving session has begun.

This time he was extra careful, referring to the standard diagram on the projector for each knot he tied. Sweat streamed down his forehead, dripping onto his knees, only to be evaporated by the heat. The sun was already setting, its rays slanting across the damp sand, casting his bent-over silhouette—like a flattened question mark.

Nana remained standing to the side and slightly behind, monitoring the tidal data and adjusting the projection parameters in real time. Her voice was steady: "End of the third line, entering the transition section, pay attention to the tension distribution in the upper right corner."

"I know, I know, stop chanting." He gritted his teeth, his fingers trembling from the strain. "Only two rows left... This time it'll definitely work."

The fishing net gradually took shape, with neat edges and much more even mesh spacing than before. He even began to imagine the scene when this net hauled up the first basket of live shrimp—maybe they could even be grilled and eaten, sprinkled with some salt, so there would be no need for spicy strips to make up the numbers.

“The anchor piles need to be reinforced,” Nana suddenly said.

"I'll do that later, let's finish this first!" He was in a hurry to tie the last knot, and his fingertip slipped, almost breaking the main thread.

Just then, a rather inconspicuous wave surged from the distant sea. Unlike the previous tides that advanced gently, it carried a low, sluggish thrust, silently climbing onto the beach.

"Warning: The reflux rate exceeds the predicted value by 31 percent." Nana immediately pulled up the dynamic model. "Immediate evacuation of the work area is recommended."

"Wait a little longer! Almost there!" Chen Hao gripped the corner of the net tightly, trying to wrap the last section of rope around the stake.

The sand trembled slightly as the wave crashed onto the beach.

The next second, a powerful suction force spread out from beneath their feet. The wooden stakes loosened, the ropes snapped, and the entire half-finished fishing net was suddenly pulled away as if by an invisible hand, tumbling and being swept into the receding water.

He lunged forward to grab it, but only managed to catch a handful of damp air.

The fishing net floated on the surface of the water, swayed a couple of times, and was then dragged away by the deeper undercurrent, disappearing into the white waves.

Chen Hao knelt in the shallow water, his hands empty. The seawater reached his calves, chilling him to the bone.

“It’s over,” he muttered. “I spent three hours painstakingly weaving this, and it’s not even as good as a sneeze from the ocean.”

Nana took a few steps closer and scanned his facial micro-expressions and heart rate changes. "His emotional fluctuations have reached the frustration threshold. Should we pause his work?"

"Stop my foot!" He jumped up, shaking the water off his hands. "I don't believe it! Let's do it again! I'll tear my clothes apart and weave a net!"

“Your current physical condition is not suitable for continuous high-intensity operations.” She didn’t move, but simply raised her arm and gently pressed it on a spot behind his shoulder.

A gentle pressure came over me, and my tense muscles immediately relaxed a little.

“Your heart rate just spiked to 128,” she said. “If this keeps up, you’ll either collapse from exhaustion or get cramps.”

"Then what am I supposed to do?" He plopped down on the rocks, his shoes filled with sand. "Sit here watching the sea and waiting for food?"

“We can optimize the process.” She retracted the robotic arm. “For example, we can switch to a two-person collaborative mode or adjust the material pretreatment method.”

"Easy for you to say." He looked down at his swollen, red fingers. "These hands were never meant for manual labor. I can even copy the wrong page when I'm doing homework, and now I want to be a master of fishing nets?"

“You have completed seven iterations of practice,” she said calmly. “Although there have been many failures, the types of errors have decreased each time. The first time it was node breakage, the sixth time it was overall deformation, and this time, the structural integrity was maintained until the final stage.”

"So I progressed from 'completely impossible' to 'almost possible'?"

"This means the success rate is rising."

Chen Hao snorted, took off his soaking wet shoes, and poured out a pile of fine sand. A small crab crawled out, waved its pincers, and quickly scurried into a crevice in the nearby rocks.

"Even crabs are more adaptable to the environment than I am."

"They have evolved over 300 million years."

"I've only gained weight in ten years, which is already considered fast."

Nana didn't respond to that. Instead, she squatted down, used her mechanical fingers to brush aside a layer of wet sand, and took out a thicker section of seaweed root. "This fiber is more suitable for making the main cable, with a tensile strength that is forty percent higher."

Why didn't you say so sooner?

“The materials you used in the first six knits were all surface floating materials. I judge that you need to establish a basic feel for it first.”

"So you even set up a tutorial for me?"

"The learning curve needs to be gradual."

He stared at the dark seaweed and suddenly laughed, “Do you robots all think humans are particularly stupid? You have to learn by trial and error, and fall down a lot before you know how to walk?”

“I don’t think so.” She looked up at him. “It is precisely because you are willing to try again and again that civilization has been able to continue.”

Chen Hao was taken aback for a moment, then waved his hand, "Stop with this sentimental stuff, you don't really understand."

“I don’t understand,” she said. “I’ve just observed it.”

The light on the horizon gradually dimmed, and the sea breeze grew chilly. Chen Hao sat on the rocks, hugging his knees, his shadow stretched long. He gazed in the direction where the fishing net had disappeared, saying nothing more.

Nana turned off the holographic projection, and the device switched to low-power mode, its surface gleaming with a faint metallic sheen. She stood two meters away, quietly scanning for the arrival time of the next tide.

After a long pause, Chen Hao spoke up: "The eighth time... do you want to go yourself?"

“I can provide tactile assistance,” she said, “but the one who weaves must be you.”

"Why? Can't you do it faster yourself?"

"Because when you make your first qualified fishing net, you'll believe it's really possible."

He scoffed, "I haven't even kept half a card."

“But you remembered every single mistake.” She looked at his calloused fingertips. “These scars are like progress bars.”

"You're quite good at comforting people." He rubbed his eyes and stood up. "Alright, let's continue tomorrow. But before the next high tide, make sure the stakes are firmly anchored."

“Three stable anchor points have been marked,” she said. “In addition, I found a piece of seaweed rich in colloids, which can be dried and used as a natural adhesive to strengthen the joints.”

"You've been hiding quite a few skills."

"I'm just waiting for the right moment to unleash my power."

He patted the sand off his pants, stretched, and his bones cracked.

"Speaking of which, if our fish farm really succeeds, do you think we should give it a name?"

"It is recommended to use a functional name, such as 'Food Supply Point No. 1'."

"That's so boring." He shook his head. "How about calling it 'Brother Hao's Seafood'? That sounds more impressive."

"The naming rights belong to the actual builders."

“Then it’s settled.” He grinned and turned to walk towards the shore. “When I catch the first fish, I’ll enshrine it as a lucky charm for the grand opening.”

Nana followed half a step behind him, her steps light and steady.

The waves continued to wash over the beach regularly, carrying away the remaining rope ends and the last trace of resentment.

Chen Hao walked to the dry sand, stopped, and looked back at the shallow beach.

Do you think...it will be windy tomorrow?

Nana looked up at the sky, her pupils flashing rapidly a few times.

"The weather model shows that the wind speed will drop to 1.2 meters per second tomorrow morning, which is suitable for precision work."