Just as the wind blew up a corner of the hand-drawn drawing in the corner of the wall, before Chen Hao could reach out to cover it, Nana's projection suddenly flashed in front of him.

"Leng Feng arrived ahead of schedule."

He paused, his feet still on the rocky platform, his hands hanging in mid-air. The energy he had just displayed, like a punctured balloon, deflated silently.

"What do you mean?"

"Within three days, the temperature will drop below minus thirty-five degrees Celsius." She switched the screen, and a dynamic cloud map unfolded, showing a grayish-purple air mass pressing in along the horizon, moving a full twelve hours faster than the model predicted. "The current temperature limit of the base is minus twenty degrees Celsius."

Chen Hao blinked, looked down at his greasy work pants, then looked up at the sky. The dark clouds seemed about to crash down, and even the wind had a different feel, chillingly creeping into his collar.

"So... we just finished building the loom, and now God is already charging us for electricity?"

"The weather system does not support bargaining."

“I know.” He jumped off the rock, his knees thumping as he landed. “But we have to pay the heating bill first.”

He turned and walked towards the workshop, his steps quick but not running—his 800-pound weight couldn't withstand a sprint. Nana followed closely behind, the projection swaying slightly, as if its edges had been blown away by the wind.

"Activate the emergency response procedure." Chen Hao slapped his thigh as he walked. "Concentrate fuel, plug leaks, preheat, shut off everything that can be shut off, and wrap everything that can be wrapped up."

"Two transport units have been dispatched to the open-air warehouse to collect the scattered fuel barrels," Nana said calmly. "The lighting system will be shut down three hours after sunset, the textile equipment will be stopped, and energy will be prioritized for the heating and control systems."

“Okay.” He pushed open the door, rushed into the control room, grabbed the whiteboard hanging on the wall, flipped to a blank page, and started scribbling with a pen. “Add antifreeze sleeves to the valves in the underground tank area. I’ll check the seals later. Seal the window seams with foam tape, and add double-layer covers to the inside of the glass—do you have any ready-made frames?”

“Scrapped solar panel brackets can be modified.”

“Then let’s do it.” He bit off the pen cap, spat it out, and continued writing. “Don’t heat the underfloor heating too much at once, the pipes can’t handle it. Raise it by five degrees first, let it stabilize for two hours, then raise it by five degrees again.”

"A progressive heating curve has been set."

Chen Hao slammed the record board on the table and took a breath: "Do I look like a project manager now?"

"Your instruction structure conforms to standard emergency management procedures."

"I don't need your certification, I just want to hear some human language."

"You're speaking in a commanding tone now, unlike usual."

"When life and death are at stake, who has time to tell jokes?"

He finished speaking and walked out, grabbing the foam glue gun leaning against the door. The sky outside was heavily overcast, and the wind was picking up, making the warehouse roof rattle. He walked to the first outer wall, squatted down, and held the gun barrel up to a crack in the wall.

"This thing was originally used to attach heat insulation layers, but now it's become a welding torch for pot menders."

Nana's projection floated on his shoulder: "There are a total of 37 wall joints, which have been automatically scanned, and nine of them are high-risk leak points."

"Then you give me the number, and I'll apply the glue."

She started giving him the coordinates, and he sealed each spot one by one. The gel sprayed out was milky white, expanding rapidly upon contact with air, hardening after filling the gaps, like a thick scab. The work wasn't difficult, but it was tiring. After each section, he had to lean against the wall to catch his breath, sweat beading on his forehead, his breathing heavy.

"The seventh site is complete," Nana said.

"What about the eighth one?"

"Three meters to the right, 1.2 meters from the ground."

He moved over, and just as he raised his gun, he suddenly heard a long, sharp, and piercing "squeak" from the metal.

"That's the release of stress from thermal expansion and contraction," Nana explained immediately.

"It sounds like someone stepped on my foot."

“Emotional metaphors do not affect actual judgment.”

"But my feet really hurt." He rubbed his left big toe. "The shoes I wore yesterday were too tight."

He continued applying the adhesive, his movements slow but steady. After dealing with the nine high-risk areas, he quickly swept over the remaining ordinary gaps as well. With the last shot, the adhesive was just used up.

"Three percent of the rubber compound remains; it is recommended to replenish reserves."

"We'll talk about it tomorrow." He threw the empty can on the ground. "Go check the storage tanks first."

The underground tank area was on the west side of the workshop, with a sloping iron gate at the entrance. He opened the gate and went down the narrow steps, squeezing sideways to get down. It was dark inside, with only a few emergency lights on, and a faint smell of fuel in the air.

Two transport robots are pushing in the last few fuel drums and neatly stacking them on the shelf. The antifreeze valve has been installed, and the indicator light is green.

"Sealing test?" he asked.

"Three cycles of testing have been completed, and no leaks were found."

"Good." He patted the nearest oil drum. "You bunch of lumps of iron have finally done something reliable."

Back on the ground, he went straight to the control room. The wind outside was stronger, whipping up sand and dust that lashed against the walls. He took a sip of hot water from his thermos, which burned his mouth, but he still gulped it down.

"How is the underfloor heating system heating up?"

"The base temperature has increased by five degrees, and the pipeline pressure is stable."

Are the lights off?

"Non-essential circuits will be cut off precisely two hours and forty-seven minutes after sunset."

"The loom has stopped?"

"Power has been cut off and the equipment has been sealed."

He leaned back in his chair, letting out a long breath, his chest heaving. The day had been a leap from "I want to build a hoe" to "I want to keep the heating on," quite a jump, but he adapted rather quickly.

"Do you think we're doing a reverse upgrade?" He stared at the ceiling. "We've just learned how to weave cloth, and now we have to learn how not to let it freeze into ice."

"The need for survival takes precedence over the need for development."

"What you're saying sounds like motivational quotes written by AI."

"I am merely stating the system logic."

“System logic also needs to be humane.” He sat up straight. “For example, you should say ‘thank you for your hard work’ now.”

"Your physiological indicators show a 40% increase in fatigue level. Rest is recommended."

"That's not human language."

"Then what do you want me to say?"

For example, 'You did a good job today.'

"Your decision-making efficiency in emergency responses has improved by 29% compared to the past."

"Alright, you're complimenting me."

As he was speaking, he suddenly noticed a small patch of white frost on the edge of the window frame, like a layer of salt had been sprinkled on it.

Where did it come from?

"Indoor moisture condenses when it gets cold, indicating that there is a localized low-temperature zone here."

"That means it's leaking."

He immediately got up, rummaged through the tool cabinet for a roll of composite aluminum foil, cut out a piece, stuck it on, and then secured the four corners with tape. He worked quickly, but only after finishing did he realize that the size was a bit small and the edges were curling up.

"Re-cutting would be more suitable."

"There's no time." He pressed down on the curled-up edge. "Leave it like this for now, we'll fix it tomorrow morning."

Nana's screen flashed: "The double-layer cover design has been generated, and the material cutting program is ready. Production can begin at 6:00 AM tomorrow."

"Okay." He sat back in his chair and rubbed his face. "After the cover is finished, check all the seams again. Will the wind power generation last for three days?"

"Currently, the output power fluctuation is small, and it is expected to be able to maintain the operation of the heating system for 107 hours."

"That's fine then."

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed for a moment. Outside, the wind howled, and the metal structure occasionally made a soft "click" sound, as if it were slowly tightening its muscles.

"Do you think this weather just happened to pick the moment we were about to breathe a sigh of relief?"

"Meteorological changes are not intentional."

"But it just so happened to be there."

"And you just happened to be prepared in time."

He opened his eyes, glanced at her, and smiled: "You're quite good at comforting people."

"I'm just calculating probabilities."

"The probability has been calculated too?"

"Seventeen minutes after you proposed building the hoe, a cold wave warning was triggered. The time correlation between the two was 83.6%, which is significant."

"So you're saying that as soon as I make empty promises, the weather turns cold?"

"It can be understood as a manifestation of the system's balancing mechanism."

"So next time I want to eat hot pot, do I have to stock up on coal first?"

He laughed, the sound echoing in the empty control room. Outside, it was completely dark, and the base was silent except for the faint hum of the heating pipes.

He drank the last sip of the now-cold water and put the glass on the table.

"The first thing to do tomorrow is to install the cover panels, replace the sealing strips, and check the vents." He stood up and stretched his shoulders. "We also need to clean the roof gutters to prevent them from freezing and collapsing the scaffolding."

"It has been added to tomorrow's task list."

"Don't make a list, I'm afraid I'll forget."

"I will remind you."

"You're always more clear-headed than I am."

He walked to the window and looked out at the dark wasteland. The wind was still blowing, making the searchlight's bracket sway slightly. In the distance, the windmill blades turned slowly, like beating a rhythm in the cold night.

“This battle isn’t about moving forward,” he said softly, “it’s about preventing us from retreating.”

Nana stood behind him, the screen quietly lit up, reflecting a steady stream of data.

Indoor temperature: 14.3°C

Outdoor temperature: -8.7°C, continuing to drop.

Fuel reserves: Ample

Insulation progress: 78%

Chen Hao stared at the string of numbers for a while, then suddenly turned around, picked up the notepad, and wrote a line on the back:

"Don't let the heating kill you tomorrow."