Chen Hao squatted on the edge of the field, holding half a piece of chalk in his hand, and wrote crookedly on a wooden board, "Special product of Field No. 1, which defeated the beetle." He blew on it as if to blow away the dust, but he just wanted to look professional.

"Isn't that a catchy name?" he asked Nana, turning to her. "When it's written into history, people will immediately know what great things we've done."

Nana stood to the side, and the robotic arm gently lifted and removed the wooden sign. She glanced at it, her optical eyes flashing slightly: "This label indicates wheat, and the variety classification should be winter common wheat, number A-3. The current naming does not have information recognition capabilities; it is recommended to modify it."

"Hey, can you please stop reading the instruction manual as soon as you open your mouth?" Chen Hao rolled his eyes. "We finally managed to drive away the bugs and save the food, so can't the name have a bit more human touch? How about 'Nana's Wheat Nest'? It sounds so warm and cozy."

"If someone mistakenly uses this area as a residential facility in the future, it could cause confusion in movement patterns," she said seriously. "Furthermore, 'cozy' is not a warehouse management evaluation indicator."

“Let me tell you,” Chen Hao stood up, brushing the dirt off his pants, “people don’t live just to be accurate. Look at the clouds on the horizon—never mind, you don’t look at clouds. But what I’m trying to say is that some things, being accurate isn’t enough; they also have to be meaningful.”

“Currently, ‘interesting’ is not listed as a survival priority item in the system records.” She paused, “but it can be used as a reference for the auxiliary incentive module.”

The two were deadlocked. Finally, Chen Hao proposed a compromise: the main label would use her numbering system, with a small line of text next to it containing what he considered an appropriate title. After three seconds of deliberation, Nana agreed.

So they spent the whole morning working at the entrance of the granary. Wooden signs were painted with varnish and nailed to the corresponding stacks. Some read "triticum aestivum - Zone A", followed by a line of small red lettering: "Chen Hao Certified - Incredibly Delicious"; another was marked "Corn Reserve - b", with the note "Nana Provides Meals - Stealing is Strictly Prohibited".

By noon, the last sign was finally up. Chen Hao stepped back a few paces, put his hands on his hips, and admired his work as if he were looking at an art exhibition.

“That’s more like it,” he said. “Before, we farmed by haphazard methods, but now we have a system. Look at all these rows, how neat and orderly they are.”

Nana scanned all the marker locations and angles to ensure there were no obstructions or tilts. "The marker system deployment is complete, improving information readability by 62 percent." She paused for a moment, "Although the attached text is redundant, its emotional value has been included in the log."

"Good to know." Chen Hao grinned, casually pulled a bottle of water from his backpack, unscrewed it, and took a swig, only to choke. "Cough cough... Do you think if we're gone someday, but these signs are still here, will someone touch these tiny print and burst out laughing?"

“It’s unpredictable,” she said, “but the data retention itself is meaningful.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the sky suddenly darkened.

It wasn't a slow, oppressive darkening like dark clouds gathering, but rather like someone suddenly drawing the curtains. There was no wind, no birdsong, only the distant, short grunt of a herd of wild boars.

Chen Hao looked up at the sky: "This weather...something's not right."

Nana has already initiated environmental monitoring. "The air acidity is rising, the pH value has dropped to 4.1, and rain is expected within ten minutes. The rain will contain a mixture of sulfuric acid and nitric acid, which is highly corrosive," she quickly added. "It is recommended to immediately remove outdoor signs and move to a sheltered area."

"What?!" Chen Hao's eyes widened. "My cultural masterpiece has only been up for less than two hours!"

“Retaining the time frame is not a core function of the sign.” She had already started dismantling the first sign. “Priority: Information integrity > Aesthetic expression.”

"You're so heartless!" he complained as he rushed over to help.

The two moved swiftly. Wooden signs were pried off one by one and stacked on a makeshift wooden frame. Chen Hao carefully held the one that read "Incredibly Delicious" to his chest, muttering, "I can't let you die in this acid rain. You have a historical mission."

As the raindrops began to fall, they were carrying the last two pieces of signboard towards the cave at the foot of the mountain. The first drop hit Chen Hao's shoulder, hissing and emitting a little white smoke. He yelled and almost threw the signboard away.

"No wonder this rain is scalding hot!"

"It's not hot, it's an exothermic chemical reaction." Nana reached out and caught a drop; a light gray immediately appeared on the metal surface of her fingertip. "I suggest you speed up your movement."

They rushed into the cave before the rain began to pour down. The entrance wasn't high, requiring them to stoop to enter, but the inside was spacious. It had been cleaned a few times before and served as a temporary storage point for supplies. The two men leaned a wooden sign against the wall and sat down, panting heavily.

Outside, the rain was heavy, pattering against the rocks and leaves, and white mist rose up as if the whole earth was steaming.

Chen Hao looked down to examine the plaque in his arms and found that the four characters "Incredibly Delicious" had been washed away and were now blurred at the edges.

“It’s over, the cultural loss is devastating.” He sighed. “It hasn’t been that long, and we’re losing our heritage.”

"The original material was pine wood, and it wasn't treated with deep preservatives," Nana said. "Next time, we can consider using alloy nameplates."

"Next time?" He gave a wry smile. "I'm heartbroken even about this one. What's the point of all this hard work planting crops, controlling pests, building warehouses, and labeling them? Does anyone even come to see these things?"

Nana remained silent for a few seconds.

“No one is currently using it,” she replied, “but the system needs to be pre-programmed for the future.”

Chen Hao leaned against the stone wall, looking up at the dripping water from the cave ceiling. "So you're saying that what we've been doing isn't just so we can have enough to eat right now?"

“The significance of establishing order lies in its ability to persist even when no one is watching,” she said. “The markings are not written for people to see, but for the rules to see.”

He smiled and didn't say anything more.

The fire, left over from before, hadn't completely died down. Nana added a few more pieces of dry wood, and the flames slowly flickered, reflecting off the damp wooden signs. The numbers were still clear, and although the smaller print had faded, it was still legible.

He reached out and picked up the "Wheat-A" piece. The words "Chen Hao Certified" on it were slightly curled up by the rain, as if they were about to fly away.

“Actually,” he said softly, “I don’t think it matters whether a name is useful or not. What matters is that at the moment I wrote it down, I truly felt it was important.”

The flame flickered.

Nana looked at him, her optical eyes reflecting the color of flames.

“This act has been documented,” she said. “It has been named: the 187th unnecessary but effective mental constructive activity in humankind.”

"You actually remember that?" he chuckled.

“What you write down won’t really disappear,” she said. “Even if no one reads it, it’s better than doing nothing.”

Outside the cave, the rain continued unabated, and acidic mist filled the air, shrouding the entire base in a grayish-white hue. Inside this small cavern, a cluster of wooden signs stood silently, like a group of sentinels that refused to fall.

Chen Hao gently placed the plaque on his lap and slowly wiped away the water stains on its surface with his palm.

The firelight reflected the mud splattered on his face, and also the crooked little characters.

He suddenly asked, "What do you think... if someone actually finds this place and sees these signs in the future, what will they think?"

Nana did not answer immediately.

She simply lowered the brightness of the lights and quietly watched the flames.

Then he said:

"They will know that someone once lived a serious life here."