The condensation dripped onto the back of my hand, feeling as cold as if someone had secretly slipped me a block of ice.

Chen Hao jerked his hand back and opened his eyes. The metal plates on the roof were still in the same dead state, the welds crooked as if someone had stepped on them. He sat up, his sleeping bag slipped down to his waist, his coat hung on the hook, and his backpack stood by the door, the knots still tight, just like last night.

"You're awake." Nana stood in front of the control panel, her voice as punctual as an alarm clock. "Surface temperature is 38 degrees Celsius, wind speed is level 4, suitable for departure."

He didn't say anything, stared at his feet for a while, and then slowly put on his socks. "You said you'd walk eight to ten kilometers today?"

"yes."

"Then I need to eat something to calm my nerves."

"The food calories have been calculated. It is recommended to consume a combination of low sugar and high protein to avoid fatigue after a sudden spike in blood sugar."

"Couldn't you just say something as simple as 'eat a sausage'?" He pulled out a crumpled energy bar, took a bite, and almost stuck his teeth together. "Is this thing made of glue?"

"The ingredients include soy protein, dehydrated starch, and binders, and the shelf life is 23 days remaining." She paused, "Theoretically, it's edible."

“Theoretically, the food is the hardest to eat.” He swallowed, his throat feeling dry as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper. “Fine, I’ll go then. Anyway, lying down is waiting to die, and walking is also waiting to die. At least I can see the scenery when I go.”

Nana didn't reply, but simply handed over the propulsion suit.

The suit looked like a construction site reflective vest or a diving suit prop mannequin—bulky and with tubing. When Chen Hao tried to put it on, it got stuck on his shoulders, and he twisted it three times before finally zipping it up, panting more like he was turning on a machine.

"Did you adjust the size wrong?" He leaned against the wall. "I feel like I'm being dragged away to sell myself, all tied up."

“It has been calibrated based on your body measurements,” she said. “The initial load is twelve kilograms, including a water bladder, tool bag, and spare batteries.”

"I already weigh almost 140 pounds, and you're still adding to my load?"

"Without carrying necessary supplies, the chance of survival drops to 31.4%."

So you're forcing me to lose weight?

"I'm just stating the facts."

He rolled his eyes, picked up his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and almost fell over in a twilight spin. "Why is this bag heavier than yesterday?"

“A water purifier and emergency lighting module have been added.” She helped him adjust his shoulder straps. “The center of gravity was shifted to the right, so it has been redistributed.”

“Your robots are really interesting when they talk. ‘Reassigned’—it sounds like the cafeteria lady gave you an extra spoonful of vegetables, but actually she picked out the meat.”

Nana ignored him, walked to the hatch, and lightly tapped the panel with her finger.

The door slowly opened, and a wave of heat rushed out, as if someone had opened an oven. The horizon outside was blurry, the sand shimmered white in the sunlight, and the distant mountain ridges were indistinct, resembling jagged lines.

“Fifty kilometers to the southeast,” she said. “Expected arrival in five days.”

"Fifty kilometers?" He squinted at it. "I didn't even travel that distance during my college entrance exam."

"You can start your tutoring now."

He sighed and stepped out.

The ground was soft, and his foot sank half an inch in, kicking up a cloud of dust as he pulled it out. The propulsion suit's assist system hummed, and a slight push came from the sides of his calves, but it was far from enough to make him float; it felt more like someone was gently pushing him from behind to work.

His helmet visor fogged up quickly, and he wiped it a couple of times to clear his vision—just as he was about to feel smug, he tripped over a stone and stumbled.

"Watch your step." Nana followed on his right, her steps as steady as if drawn with a ruler.

"Can you please stop reminding me? I'm already trying so hard to act like a normal person."

"Your cadence is unstable and your breathing rate is 27% above the normal range. We recommend adjusting your pace."

"I'm just adjusting!" he panted. "Who do you think I am? A marathon runner? The most I've ever run is 800 meters, and that was because the cafeteria was about to close."

The two continued moving forward. The sun climbed higher and higher, and the air was so hot you could fry an egg in it. With each step, the sand seemed to suck in their feet, and the propulsion suits gradually became useless, as if they had never been turned on in the first place.

At the sixth kilometer mark, Chen Hao suddenly stumbled and fell to his knees, his knees sinking into the sand.

"Oh my god..." He lay there motionless, "I'm not moving, I'm just lying here, do whatever you want."

Nana crouched down, her blue light scanning his entire body. "Heart rate 142, blood oxygen 91%, significant muscle lactic acid buildup, physical exhaustion."

"Nonsense, I'm lucky I even made it this far alive." He lay back, his chest heaving. "If I died right now, would you bury me? Or would you just write 'This person was too lazy and died walking' and put up a sign?"

“No,” she said. “I would try CPR, which has a success rate of about 18%.”

"You really dare to tell the truth."

"I told you, I don't lie to you."

He grinned, then immediately frowned. "Could you lighten this tattered outfit? I feel like I'm carrying a refrigerator instead of batteries on my back."

Nana made a few adjustments, and a slight clicking sound came from the back of the propulsion suit. "Weight has been redistributed, with a 30% reduction in shoulder load and an increase in hip load. Low-power auxiliary traction has been activated to maintain basic propulsion."

Why didn't you do this sooner?

"We need to confirm whether you are truly unable to continue."

Are you testing my will?

"It assesses the true limits of physical ability."

He pushed himself up and sat up, catching his breath. "So you're telling me now that I'm not lazy, I'm really weak?"

"The conclusion is valid."

"Ha." He chuckled bitterly, "Being a bad student is bad enough, but now even my body is rejecting me."

“There’s no causal relationship between poor academic performance and physical strength,” she said. “But you definitely need to improve your endurance right now.”

"Then why don't you just sign me up for a gym?"

"No fitness facilities are registered on this planet."

"I knew it."

He slowly stood up, his legs still trembling, but thankfully he didn't fall again. The traction of the propulsion suit pulled him slightly, like an invisible thread guiding him forward, preventing him from giving up.

The last 800 meters were the hardest. Ahead lay a dry riverbed, low-lying, surrounded by scattered rocks. Nana insisted on going around to the rocky platform above and to set up camp.

"Why do we have to go there?" He pointed to the high ground. "It's flat here, and it'll be sheltered from the wind."

"The geological structure here is loose, and the groundwater level may fluctuate at night, posing a risk of mudflow."

How do you know everything?

"The database contains 3,700 cases of wilderness survival accidents."

So you're afraid I'll be buried alive?

"The probability is 6.3%. Although low, it cannot be ignored."

He was too lazy to argue anymore, so he slowly shuffled up the stairs, slipping twice on his shoes, only managing to stay upright thanks to Nana's help.

They finally arrived at the designated campsite. The setting sun was painting the entire wasteland orange-red. Chen Hao plopped down on a rock sheltered from the wind, feeling like his bones had been removed and he was barely clinging to life.

He took off his mask, wiped his face, and sweat mixed with grime, leaving streaks of dirt on his skin. His breathing gradually calmed down, but his muscles were still slightly sore.

Nana had already set up the tent poles; her movements were swift and efficient, and she had the basic framework erected in no time. The alert system activated, and a faint red light illuminated the surrounding area.

"Tomorrow's goal: 10 kilometers," she said, turning around.

He didn't answer, his eyes were closed, and his chest was rising and falling.

After a moment, he suddenly spoke up: "Do you think... the path we're taking is also preordained, like those markings?"

Nana paused for a moment. "There is currently no evidence that the trip was manipulated externally."

“I’m not talking about aliens.” He opened one eye. “I mean, could it be that from the very beginning, everything was pushing us this way? Fixing circuits, looking at star maps, discovering heat sources, trekking all the way… it’s like someone wrote a script and we were supposed to act it out.”

“If this were a script, your performance would be considered exceptional,” she said. “Based on the initial assessment, you should have given up at the third kilometer.”

He chuckled. "And what about you? Were you acting too? Or did you already know the ending?"

"I don't know the ending." Her blue light shone quietly. "I only know what to do next."

Chen Hao didn't ask any more questions, but slowly closed his eyes.

A breeze blew by, carrying the earthy smell of the daytime sun. The distant horizon had completely darkened, and the first star appeared.

Nana said softly, "Your body temperature has dropped; I suggest you go into the tent to rest."

He moved his fingers but didn't get up.

She reached out and gently supported his arm.

He used the momentum to slowly stand up, his steps unsteady, but he didn't fall.

With the tent zipper halfway up, he suddenly turned back and glanced in the direction he had come from.

In the darkness, the path they had walked had long been swallowed up by the night, leaving no trace.

He muttered to himself, "Tomorrow... I hope I don't have to go back to the same path."

Nana looked down to check the power connector, and her fingertips touched something damp.

That was his sweat from earlier, not yet completely dry, sticking to the metal casing and leaving a small, blurry mark.