When Chen Hao opened his eyes, a faint metallic smell lingered in his nostrils. He was lying on the sofa, still wearing his coat and shoes, looking as if he had been thrown in. His head was spinning, his limbs were weak, and even the slightest movement of his arm sent a jolt of soreness through his shoulder.

He sat up, holding onto the edge of the sofa, but everything went black, and he almost fell back down.

A hand reached out just in time, resting on his elbow to steady him.

"Don't rush to stand up," Nana's voice rang out from beside me. "Your heart rate dropped below 50 just now, and your blood pressure is a bit low."

Chen Hao took a breath and rubbed his neck: "Did I sleep too long?"

"Seven hours and twenty-three minutes of sleep is within your physiological needs." Nana released her hand. "However, you have experienced working in low temperatures, physical exhaustion, and emergency repairs for 48 consecutive hours, resulting in decreased muscle activity and slowed blood circulation. I recommend that you engage in light activity immediately."

Chen Hao looked down at his stomach; his clothes were a little tight. He pinched the flesh on his side and sighed, "If this keeps up, I'm afraid I'll strain my leg one day just from bending over to tie my shoelaces."

“The probability exists,” Nana said.

"Then let's move," Chen Hao slapped his thigh. "Otherwise, we'll really become crippled."

Nana glanced at him, and the projection immediately unfolded on the ground. Several light blue marking lines appeared on the open space, forming a simple training area.

“A basic exercise routine has been planned,” she said. “The first stage: marching in place for five minutes to improve cardiovascular circulation.”

Chen Hao walked into the circle and started lifting his legs. He was quite energetic at first, but started panting after the third minute. By the end of the fifth minute, he was covered in sweat and leaning against the wall, panting heavily.

"This is nothing..." he muttered. "Is this all I'm capable of?"

“Physical recovery takes time,” Nana said. “Next exercise: wall squats. The goal is ten reps per set, for a total of three sets.”

"Squats?" Chen Hao looked at the marked point with a doubtful expression. "Can my legs hold up?"

“The difficulty can be adjusted.” After Nana finished speaking, the projection changed, “Change to a half squat, back against the wall, hands on the chair for support.”

A chair was moved over. Chen Hao slid down against the wall, his knees buckled, and he lost his balance, landing directly on the ground.

"Ouch!"

“Action failed,” Nana noted. “I suggest controlling the descent speed.”

"Who told you I wanted to sit down?" Chen Hao got up and rearranged his posture. "I was sucked down by the earth."

He was a little more stable the second time, but he couldn't hold on for more than ten seconds before his legs started to shake. He barely managed to finish the eighth time, and on the ninth time, he had only squatted halfway down when his foot slipped, and he fell backward, almost hitting the corner of the table on the back of his head.

Nana reached out and grabbed him.

"Thanks." Chen Hao scratched the back of his head. "I feel like I wasn't working out today, I was risking my life."

"Your weight is distributed more in your upper body, and your lower body muscle strength is insufficient," Nana analyzed. "You need to strengthen your core stability training."

Speak like a human.

"It's because you're too fat and your legs are too weak."

Chen Hao rolled his eyes: "You really don't know how to comfort people."

"I'm not responsible for offering comfort, I'm only responsible for the accuracy of the data."

The next exercise was leg raises and high-fives. The exercise required standing on one leg, raising the other leg to waist level, and simultaneously clapping both hands above the head. Nana demonstrated it, her movements as fluid as a machine—oh, she is.

Chen Hao tried three times, each time more disastrous than the last. The first time, he lost his balance as soon as he lifted his leg and had to hold onto the wall to stay upright; the second time, he misaimed and slapped himself in the face; the third time, he finally managed to high-five, but when he landed, he stepped on his shoelace, fell forward, and his knee hit the table leg.

"Ouch—!" He clutched his knee and squatted on the ground for a while. "I don't think this counts as exercise, it's a work injury."

"No history of external injury." Nana checked and said, "There is slight pressure on the soft tissue, which will not affect subsequent movements."

"You're quite calm."

"Emotional fluctuations do not affect judgment."

"Could you please stop talking in that tone every time? It sounds like you're reading an instruction manual."

How do you expect me to speak?

"For example... 'Keep it up,' 'Not bad,' 'Try again.'"

Nana paused for two seconds: "Keep it up. Good job. Let's try again."

Chen Hao was stunned: "You're done with that?"

"Encouraging statements have been output as required."

"Forget it," he waved his hand. "I might as well shout it myself."

The last exercise is the push-up support transfer. The standard movement is to place your hands on the ground and alternately raise one hand to touch the opposite shoulder. Nana reduced the difficulty to the minimum: kneeling position, hands pushing against the wall.

Chen Hao stood in front of the wall, bracing himself with his hands, bending his knees, and was just about to start when his foot slipped, and he fell forward, his face almost hitting the wall.

"The anti-slip mat has been laid." Nana quickly spread a cloth on the ground. "Let's start again."

This time he was much more careful. He braced himself with both hands and slowly raised his right hand to touch his left shoulder. His movements were unsteady, like a crab twitching. After five repetitions, his arms began to tremble. After the tenth, he slid down to the floor against the wall, panting heavily.

"All three sets are complete," Nana said. "The total time was twenty-seven minutes."

Chen Hao lay motionless on the ground: "I feel like I'm going to die."

"Restful heart rate rose from 52 to 89, blood oxygen saturation increased by 5%, and metabolic rate increased," Nana reported. "The initial effects are significant."

"So... I've come back to life?" Chen Hao grinned. "Although I'm exhausted, I'm definitely more energetic than before."

"It is recommended to perform this once a day."

"We'll practice again tomorrow." Chen Hao stood up, leaning against the wall. "But could we add some stretching? My back is stiff, my legs are hard, and I walk like a robot."

“It’s been added to the plan.” Nana nodded. “Tomorrow we’ll add a ten-minute relaxation workout, which includes stretching exercises for the shoulders, neck, back, and lower limbs.”

"Okay." Chen Hao walked to the water dispenser, filled a glass with water, and drank it all in one gulp. "I thought I was only good for fixing pipes, catching rabbits, and eating compressed biscuits for the rest of my life. Turns out I can still move around."

"A lack of exercise over a long period can lead to functional degeneration," Nana said. "Your current condition is mild disuse atrophy."

Speak like a human.

"I've been lazy for too long, and my body has forgotten how to use it."

Chen Hao choked: "Why do you keep poking at my lungs today?"

"I'm just stating the facts."

"The truth can't be this heartbreaking."

Nana didn't say anything, but simply synced the training logs to the system. The screen scrolled through the data, and she checked each entry one by one.

Chen Hao sat down in the chair, touched his still-feverish face, and stretched his shoulders. Although his whole body ached, the drowsiness had disappeared. His mind was clear, and his breathing was smooth.

He suddenly laughed: "You know, when I was in school I used to skip PE class, but now I actively want to exercise. If my high school teacher knew this, wouldn't he be moved to tears?"

"They might be more concerned about why you haven't learned how to exert force correctly yet."

"Alright, here we go again." Chen Hao waved his hand. "I've figured it out. I can't talk to you with any emotion. You'll break everything down into data."

“Emotional communication is not within my primary function.”

"But didn't you just say 'Keep it up'?"

"Those are program instructions."

"Are you not even going to pretend anymore?"

"There's no need."

Chen Hao shook his head: "Alright, at least you didn't lie to me. You can say you're tired when you're tired, and you can say you can't do it when you can't do it. You're better than those who just shout slogans."

He stood up and walked around the room twice. His steps were still a little unsteady, but much more stable than before.

"What time does it start tomorrow?" he asked.

"Seven o'clock in the morning," Nana replied. "It's most efficient to do it before breakfast."

"Can't it be nine o'clock?"

"You'll stay in bed past nine o'clock."

How did you know?

"Based on the past seventeen morning call records, your response delay after 8:30 is an average of forty-one minutes."

"...You even remembered this?"

“All actions leave a data trace.”

Chen Hao sighed: "I feel like a guinea pig."

"You are the only sample."

"That sounds even scarier."

The snow was still falling outside, and the wind howled low over the roof. The warm air blowing from the radiators was steady and continuous, keeping the room at a comfortable temperature.

Chen Hao walked to the window; a thin layer of frost had formed on the glass. He wiped a small hole with his hand and peered out. It was all white; he couldn't see anything clearly.

"I don't know when this awful weather will stop," he said.

"Weather models predict that the blizzard will last for at least ten days."

"So we're just going to have to stay here forever?"

There is no need to go out at the moment.

“That’s true.” Chen Hao turned around. “Anyway, now I’m not just lying down anymore, I can move around a bit. Although I fell three times, bumped into things twice, and almost twisted my ankle once… at least I finished.”

"Completion is progress."

"The way you're saying that sounds like encouragement."

"I'm just summarizing the results."

Chen Hao smiled and sat back down in his chair. He stretched his legs and flexed his wrists. His muscles were sore, but not painful. It felt like his blood was flowing again.

"Could you play some music when we stretch tomorrow?" he asked.

"Okay," Nana said. "What would you like to hear?"

"Anything is fine, as long as it's not electronic sound effects."

"An archived library of popular songs from the 1920s."

“Sure.” Chen Hao leaned back in his chair. “Play some old songs so I can stretch and reminisce about my youth.”

"Added to playlist".

He closed his eyes, just about to rest for a while, when Nana suddenly said, "Tomorrow's training will include a set of balance exercises."

"What?"

"You lost your balance three times and fell twice today. The risk is too high."

"Don't I have a chair to hold onto?"

"Chairs cannot be carried with you."

"So you want me to practice standing on one leg like a golden rooster?"

"Start by standing on one leg for thirty seconds."

Chen Hao suddenly opened his eyes: "Are you getting revenge for me saying yesterday that you're like an instruction manual?"