Chen Hao opened his eyes, his fingers still resting on the stack of drawings on the corner of the table. The simple sketch of a chick on the top sheet was still holding a syringe, and his goggles were askew. He didn't move, just stared at the ceiling for two seconds, as if waiting for his brain to reconnect from the edge of a memory lapse.

"Nana," he said, his voice a little dry, "how's the production line going?"

"The 1,000th set of smart farm implements has been packaged." Nana stood in front of the control panel, her mechanical eye scanning the real-time data stream of the production area. "The cumulative number of delivered orders has reached 3,700, and the applications currently waiting to be scheduled for production come from 23 star regions."

Chen Hao sat up straight, the chair creaking as if protesting his prolonged sitting the night before. He patted his pocket, pulled out half a flattened energy bar, looked at it, and then put it back. "Alright, we've been running for twelve hours, time to wrap things up." He tapped the main control screen. "Notify the engineering team to switch on the backup power, don't let the motor burn out."

“Executed.” Nana pulled up the energy dispatch chart. “But an orbital anomaly was detected—an unregistered energy release occurred at the three o’clock position outside the atmosphere of the desolate planet, lasting for 0.8 seconds, with the shock wave peak reaching the level three alert standard.”

Chen Hao frowned: "It exploded?"

"Yes." Nana switched the view to the outer space monitoring perspective, where a grayish-white debris was slowly spreading. "Preliminary analysis indicates that the satellite self-destructed, and the model matches the 'Sirius Union' standard reconnaissance unit. No flight permit was applied for."

"Oh." Chen Hao sneered, "Using this place as a shooting range?"

“We cannot rule out the possibility of a technical probe,” Nana added. “The timing of the explosion coincides with the peak download of the white paper by 92 percent. The target is very likely to have cleared the remote nodes after obtaining the data to prevent tracking.”

"Can it be cleared out?" Chen Hao asked, tilting his head.

“It can’t be cleared.” Nana said calmly. “All deep access terminals have been marked. Subsequent document updates will automatically embed a lightweight tracking protocol, and as long as there is an internet connection, it will transmit location information back.”

"That's good." Chen Hao stood up, his slippers making a slapping sound on the ground. "Let them go, the more the better. Anyway, these workbooks are meant for copying—just don't let them copy and then complain about the person who set the questions being fat."

He walked to the window and looked up at the starry sky. The wreckage hadn't yet dispersed, like a torn piece of paper floating at the edge of the thin atmosphere. In the distance, the purple wheat fields shimmered faintly in the night, and the black crystal power generation array operated silently, as if nothing had happened.

But he knew that this was no longer just a war of words on the keyboard.

“If you’re not here to discuss cooperation, don’t come near our sky.” He said in a low voice, then turned to Nana, “Send three engineering robots to the launch silo to reinforce the protective shield. Also, cut a clip from the factory test video of the farm tools and upload it to the public channel.”

Do you need a caption?

"Just write one sentence: 'Welcome to learn, but please don't blow up our roof.'"

Nana didn't respond, but simply tapped her finger, sending several commands instantly across the entire network. Five minutes later, the official channel updated with a three-minute video: the first scene showed Chen Hao squatting beside the assembly line, holding a newly produced smart plow and waving it at the camera; the second scene switched to the test field, where the plow head cut into the soil, instantly activating the underground drip irrigation network; the final scene showed a scrolling order screen with numbers constantly increasing.

The background music is a mix of country whistles and electronic beats, as relaxed as if it were a local specialty product being sold.

The comment section immediately exploded.

"Can this configuration really withstand the environment of an asteroid belt?"

"I just ordered a set, it will arrive in three days. If it's fake, I'll livestream myself eating the instruction manual every day."

"No, upstairs. The instructions are encrypted; eating them will give you diarrhea."

Chen Hao glanced at the screen, his lips twitching. "These people know how to have fun."

Nana suddenly raised her hand: "New activity detected—an anonymous account is registering offshore purchasing companies in bulk, attempting to bypass the credit deposit threshold."

"Oh?" Chen Hao became interested. "How do you mean by going around it?"

"They forged agricultural cooperative qualifications and used thirty separate accounts to place orders, thus circumventing the system's risk control threshold."

“Smart.” He nodded. “Unfortunately, our system is designed to punish smart people.”

He reached out and pulled up the agreement template, quickly modifying a few parameters. "Change 'credit guarantee' to 'real-name farmland commitment,' and require each applicant to upload a video of themselves farming on-site. The content is not limited, but they must appear in the video, and the crop growth status must be visible in the background."

"They will find someone to take the photos for them."

“Of course,” Chen Hao laughed. “But as long as they dare to film, we can follow the trail. When it comes to farming, you can fool the algorithm, but you can’t fool the soil.”

Nana entered the command, and the new rule took effect immediately. In less than ten minutes, more than twenty accounts were automatically rejected by the system due to duplicate backgrounds and abnormal lighting.

“Seven more are struggling,” Nana said.

"Keep it." Chen Hao waved his hand. "Let them do whatever they want. Anyway, our production line will keep running. The more anxious they are, the more mistakes they will make."

The alarm sounded again as soon as he finished speaking.

"Secondary orbital anomaly." Nana quickly brought up the screen. "A miniature signal transmitter has been found in the wreckage, attempting to access the local communication frequency band."

"Trying to eavesdrop?" Chen Hao narrowed his eyes. "Or trying to plant interference?"

"It's more likely a positioning beacon," Nana analyzed, "to provide coordinate references for subsequent operations."

“Then don’t blame us for being uncivilized.” Chen Hao grabbed the tablet, flipped to the farm tool debugging interface, and said, “Change the initialization process for the latest batch of equipment—all users starting the machine for the first time must complete a multiple-choice question.”

"topic?"

"Then ask: Why did you buy this equipment? Option A: To farm; B: To learn; C: To mess with us."

Will option C be marked?

“No.” Chen Hao grinned. “Those who choose C will be directly presented with the complete ‘History of Failure on the Wilderness Star’, playing on a loop for three days without skipping. A beginner’s tutorial on ‘How to Properly Use a Shovel’ will also be included as a bonus.”

Nana paused for half a second, as if assessing whether the punishment was reasonable. "Deployed," she finally said.

Inside the control room, the three screens continued to operate. In the production area, the last set of farm implements slid off the conveyor belt, was smoothly caught by the robotic arm, and placed into a packaging box. The order curve continued to climb, the safety log showed no red dots, and the wheat fields at the exhibition booth rippled as usual.

But Chen Hao knew that the calm was just an illusion.

He picked up a glass of warm water, took a sip, his gaze still fixed on the wreckage of the tracks. "Tell the next wave of people who want to bomb us," he said, "our production lines keep running, and our counterattack never stops."

Nana stood to the side, her mechanical eye slightly adjusting its focus, scanning the wreckage distribution map one last time. "Threat level upgraded to orange," she reported in a low voice, "Defense protocol activated."

Chen Hao sat back in his chair, tapping his fingers lightly on the table twice, a slower pace than in the morning. He opened his new sketchbook and casually drew a small robot wearing a helmet, holding a magnifying glass, and standing on a pile of flattened satellite parts.

A line of text was written next to it: **"Don't mess with the fat guy, he'll throw farm tools down from space."**

He smiled and pushed the blueprints aside.

Just then, Nana suddenly turned around.

“A new signal source has been detected.” Her voice remained steady, but with a hint of seriousness. “It’s from an outer node of the G-73 cluster, attempting to parse the underlying structure of the vaccine process document.”

Chen Hao's finger stopped in mid-air.