Chen Hao rolled the warm egg twice in his palm and casually stuffed it into his pocket. He stared at the scattered positions of the stray cats, as if he had suddenly realized something important, and grinned: "Great, clear division of labor, the duty roster is all set up."

Nana stood to one side, her robotic arm turning slightly, its optical eye scanning the entire meadow. "Cooperation efficiency increased by thirty-seven percent," she said. "It's recommended to record this as the first case of a 'cross-species collaborative defense system'."

"Stop using all that jargon," Chen Hao waved his hand. "I'm tired of listening to it." He bent down to pick up the hoe leaning against the chicken coop, dusted it off, and said, "Anyway, the chickens are alive now, and the cats aren't stealing anymore, shouldn't we do something more productive? Like—try a variety of dishes?"

Without waiting for a reply, he swung the hoe and smashed it into the open space beside him. The clods of earth, still damp from the previous night's rain, splashed onto his shoes, but he didn't wipe them off.

He had only swung the hoe three times when a thin red line suddenly swept past his feet, as if measured with a ruler, cutting straight through the soil and extending all the way to the end of the field ridge.

Chen Hao froze, then looked up at Nana.

She raised her arm, her fingertips still glowing faintly red. "Laser mapping is complete," she said. "The tomato growing area needs to be moved 15 degrees north, which can increase the light absorption rate by 22 percentage points."

"What?" Chen Hao looked down at the line. "You drew a line for me with a laser? I thought there was a red rope buried underground."

“It’s precise planning.” Nana took a few steps closer. “The current area is under too much afternoon shade, which affects the accumulation of sugar in the fruit. Adjusting it will prevent a repeat of last month’s ‘rotten fruit incident’.”

"Last month it just rained too much!" Chen Hao retorted. "Besides, my dad has farmed all his life, and I've never seen him use a laser pointer."

“Your father’s yield is 300 jin per mu,” Nana said calmly. “Based on the current model, with proper planning, it could reach 800 jin per mu.”

Chen Hao opened his mouth, then closed it again. He stared at the red line for a long time before finally moving his hoe over and starting to dig again on one side of the line.

"Your machine brain really doesn't show any mercy," he muttered. "Yesterday you saved chickens, today you're in charge of farming, tomorrow will you even have to report which way I fart?"

“This function is not available at the moment,” Nana said, “but a gas flow monitoring module can be added.”

"Stop!" Chen Hao raised his hands in surrender. "I was wrong, I shouldn't have spoken."

He continued digging, but his movements were much more disciplined than before, each stroke carefully following the edge of the red line. Nana, meanwhile, constantly fine-tuned the laser's position, occasionally extending her robotic arm to lightly tap a spot on the ground, indicating, "The soil here is soft; it's suitable for deeper planting."

The sun slowly climbed higher, and the air became dry. Chen Hao wiped the sweat from his forehead, panting, and said, "Would you say we've started an agricultural revolution?"

“If we define ‘revolution’ as a fundamental change in the mode of production, then we are currently only in the initial optimization stage,” Nana said. “A true revolution should be accompanied by a technological leap.”

Before he could finish speaking, the ground beneath his feet suddenly trembled.

Chen Hao stumbled and fell face-first into the freshly turned pit. The hoe lay askew to one side, its blade embedded in the mud.

"An earthquake?" He stood up, supporting his back, and shook his head from side to side. "Or is my blood sugar acting up?"

Nana was already half-squatting down, her palms flat on the ground. Her optical eyes were flashing rapidly, and the internal data stream was constantly flowing. "Eight meters deep, concentrated energy, not natural geological activity," she said. "Direction—directly below."

"Wait a minute!" Chen Hao's eyes widened. "What's under our feet?"

"The spacecraft wreckage is buried at a depth of about 7.3 meters, and the alloy shell is 61% intact."

"Then why is it shaking its fart now!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than the ground shook violently again. This time it was even stronger than before, and Chen Hao almost fell over again, hurriedly grabbing onto a nearby wooden stake to steady himself.

Immediately afterwards, the ground not far away began to rise. It was as if something was pushing the soil up from below, and cracks spread rapidly, making a dull "crackling" sound.

Then, a plume of white mist shot out from the crack, carrying a scorching heat, and rose straight into the sky.

Chen Hao took two steps back, covering his mouth and nose: "What is this? A notice about the opening of the hot spring?"

Nana didn't move. Her eyes were locked on the center of the bulge, and the robotic arm slowly rose, entering alert mode.

“The steam pressure is rising,” she said. “The structural displacement is obvious, and the debris is rising.”

"Surfacing? It can climb up on its own?"

"The possibility of restarting the built-in power system cannot be ruled out."

"Didn't you say it was scrapped?"

“I said ‘the outer shell is 61 percent intact,’” Nana corrected. “The internal condition was not assessed.”

boom--

With a muffled thud, the entire ground exploded. Dirt and gravel flew everywhere. Chen Hao instinctively raised his hand to protect his face, his ears filled with the sound of sand and gravel hitting the ground.

As the smoke and dust dissipated, a rusty metal object slowly rose from the pit.

It is not the main body of the spacecraft.

It is a machine.

It is about one and a half meters tall, shaped like an inverted funnel, with three curved tracks at the bottom. The surface is covered with etched patterns, like some kind of ancient script. There is a circular opening at the front, inside which is a ring of gears, which, although covered in rust, are still slowly turning.

The strangest thing is that there is an antenna on top of it, which is trembling slightly with the rhythm of the steam, as if it is receiving some signal.

Chen Hao stood there dumbfounded, his mouth agape enough to fit an egg.

"What...what is this?" His voice trembled. "A seed-sowing machine left behind by our ancestors?"

“The model number cannot be identified.” Nana took a few steps closer, her optical eye scanning continuously. “But judging from the structure, it is indeed an agricultural machine, and its function is to disseminate seeds and compact the soil.”

How did it get out?

"The displacement of the debris caused the internal latches to loosen, and the steam propelled the machine upward."

"Then...can it still be used?"

Nana didn't answer. Her gaze fell on a nameplate on the side of the machine. There, a line of blurry writing was engraved, covered by rust, but still legible:

**"Gentler's First-Generation Automatic Seeding Unit"**

Chen Hao leaned over for a look and read it aloud: "Gengzhehao? Sounds pretty legitimate."

“The naming is in line with the standards for early colonial agricultural machinery,” Nana said, “but such equipment should have been obsolete two hundred years ago.”

"So it's an antique?"

"It's lost technology."

The two of them fell silent for a moment.

Chen Hao scratched his head: "The question is, why is it popping up now?"

Nana's robotic arm gently touched the machine's track. Rust flakes fell down.

“Perhaps,” she paused, “it has been waiting for the right conditions.”

"for example?"

“For example, ground temperature, humidity, and…” She looked up at the sky, “vibrations at a certain frequency.”

Chen Hao suddenly realized something: "When I was hoeing the ground just now, wasn't I constantly tapping the ground?"

“The frequency is close to 15 Hz,” Nana said, “which closely matches the startup band in the machine wake-up protocol.”

"So..." Chen Hao's lips twitched, "I woke it up?"

"The logic holds true."

"Damn it." He plopped down on the ground, staring at the antique machine that was still steaming. "I just wanted to grow more tomatoes, how did it turn into something like breaking some ancient seal?"

Nana didn't smile, but her eye components contracted slightly, as if mimicking a human expression.

“Perhaps,” she said, “this is the beginning of an agricultural revolution.”

Chen Hao looked up at her: "Are you serious?"

“The data supports this conclusion.” She pointed to a set of pipes that were gradually unfolding at the bottom of the machine. “There are still active residues in the internal seed storage compartment. If fuel is added, it can theoretically complete a full seeding cycle.”

"Wait a minute." Chen Hao raised his hands. "Let's not talk about planting seeds yet. I need to process this—I'm hoeing the ground, and I unearth an old machine that crawls up by itself. You still call this a revolution? This is like the opening of a horror movie!"

“Fear stems from the unknown,” Nana said calmly. “But now we have a basic understanding.”

"Then tell me, what if it suddenly starts up and uses me as fertilizer to plant in the soil?"

"The probability is less than 0.3 percent."

"This number doesn't sound reliable."

Just then, the machine's gears suddenly stopped.

Then, it slowly reverses.

It made a low "click" sound.

The three people—two living people and one robot—all stared at it.

Chen Hao slowly got up from the ground, grabbed the hoe next to him, and held it in his hand as a weapon.

"Is it... about to move?"

Nana raised her arm, her optical eye locking onto the core of the machine.

“The energy readings are rising,” she said. “Prepare for contact probes.”

Chen Hao swallowed hard and took half a step forward.

“If you dare to pounce on me,” he yelled at the machine, “I’ll dismantle you and sell you as scrap metal.”