The light flickered, and Chen Hao looked up, staring at the ceiling for two seconds.

"Another problem?" he asked.

Nana stood in front of the control panel, her finger swiping across the screen. "Voltage fluctuation of 0.6 volts, automatically compensated." She paused, "It will not affect crop growth."

"That's good." He breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed his neck. "I thought the radish was going to be in trouble."

"All indicators are currently normal," she said. "The leaf spread angle of seven spinach plants has reached the harvest standard, and the average density of potato tubers is close to the edible threshold."

Chen Hao squatted down, dug away a clump of soil, and pulled out a small potato. Its skin was grayish; a fingernail pinched it left a white mark. He grinned: "The starch has come out."

"The moisture content is 18.3%, slightly lower than the ideal value," Nana said after scanning. "It is recommended to delay harvesting by three days, which could increase the yield by 12%."

"We can't wait that long." He patted the mud off his hands. "Look, these stalks are all yellow. If we don't harvest them soon, they'll rot in the ground."

"This is a subjective judgment."

“Our ancestors have been farming for thousands of years, relying on their eyes and hands to see and feel the land.” He stood up, patted his bottom, and said, “You say the data is accurate, I say it’s ripe. Let’s not argue, let’s compromise—harvest half first.”

Nana paused for two seconds. "We will allow a trial harvest of 50% of the mature plants."

"Deal." He rolled up his sleeves. "You pick the leafy greens, I'll dig up the roots. Clear division of labor."

He bent down and began to work, inserting his fingers into the soil and gently prying, pulling out a bunch of potatoes along with their roots. They varied in size, the largest being as thick as an egg. He picked them up and shook them: "See? A bumper harvest."

Nana used tweezers to pick up a spinach leaf, precisely cut it off, and placed it in a plastic basket. "The current estimated harvest is eleven kilograms, with an error margin of ±0.4 kilograms."

"Don't calculate so meticulously," he laughed. "We'll stir-fry some shredded radish later; that's more practical than any data."

The two worked for two hours. Chen Hao dug out three baskets of potatoes and radishes with his bare hands, his fingernails filled with black mud. Nana, on the other hand, inspected each leafy vegetable, taking only the most intact parts. The worktable was piled high with washed vegetables; the red radishes gleamed, and water droplets still clung to their green leaves.

"All done washing." He shook his hand. "What's next?"

“Nutritional analysis is necessary,” she said. “It is recommended that samples be retained.”

“Keep it, we must keep it.” He picked out the straightest carrot. “Use this one as a specimen, and label it ‘First Generation Harvest’.”

"At the same time, some of the ingredients can be cooked," she added, "to verify their actual nutritional value."

"That's what I've been waiting for you to say." He picked up a basket of radishes. "Come on, let's cook."

The kitchen sink was too small; it could only wash three or four radishes at a time. Chen Hao tried twice, but the wastewater overflowed onto the floor.

"No, it has to be changed." He turned around and rummaged through a pile of scrap bins, pulling out a metal filter. "This thing used to be in the air conditioner?"

"yes."

“Perfect.” He removed the frame, welded a simple bracket, and clipped the filter screen above the drain. “The mud blocks it, the water flows away, perfect.”

Nana brought in a cleaning robot to shuttle between the picking area and the washing station. The little machine carried baskets of vegetables, making trip after trip, doubling the efficiency.

"You're quite good at scheduling." Chen Hao wiped his sweat.

"Optimizing processes is a basic function."

"Then you should take care of the meals more often from now on." He was cutting radishes, his knife skills weren't very good, the slices were uneven. "When we grow chili peppers, I want to eat spicy stir-fried potato shreds."

"The growth cycle of chili peppers is more than ninety days."

"It's alright, I can wait." He poured the shredded radish into the pot, and the oil sizzled and popped. "When the minced garlic goes in and the aroma comes out, that's when life feels real."

Nana stood beside them, recording the cooking time, oil temperature changes, and stirring frequency.

"Are you doing recipe analysis?"

“Establish a cooking parameter model.”

"Whatever you like." He scooped it a few times. "Want a bite?"

She nodded. He picked up a piece of food with his chopsticks, blew on it, and handed it to her. She opened her mouth, took it, and chewed for thirty-seven seconds.

"It has a good crispness, but is 0.2 grams too salty."

"Wow, you're quite professional." He laughed. "Then have some more."

He ate about a third of the dish, and packed the rest into the refrigerator. "I'll cook porridge with the rest tomorrow morning."

Back in the greenhouse, he slumped into a folding chair, propping his feet up on another stool. "It was really tiring, but also really exhilarating."

Nana is entering data into her log. "Total harvest of the first batch of edible crops: 12.3 kilograms. Self-sufficiency rate increased to 17 percent."

"Seventeen is fine too," he squinted. "It's better than eating freeze-dried food every day. What do you think about us growing watermelons in the future?"

"It is feasible once environmental control standards are met."

"Eating chilled watermelon in winter sounds wonderful."

He sat for a while, then got up and walked to the seedling rack. A new batch of seeds had already sprouted, the tender shoots breaking through the culture medium and stretching upwards in a crooked manner.

“When these kids grow up, it’ll be another delicious meal,” he said softly.

Nana walked over, her optical lens scanning the seedlings. "Germination rate 91%, no abnormalities."

"That's good." He reached out and touched the strongest one. "Don't die, try to grow into a big cabbage."

She suddenly turned to the control panel. "The local humidity has increased by 1.3%, which may be a micro-leak in the drip irrigation system."

"I'll fix it," he said. "I have free time now anyway."

He squatted beside the pipe, tightening the connector screw. As soon as he loosened his grip, a drop of water seeped from the gap in the pipe above and landed right on his forehead.

"Hey." He wiped his face. "You've even learned to ambush people?"

Nana handed her a piece of cloth. "I suggest installing a sealing ring."

"We'll talk about it tomorrow." He stood up, shook his clothes, and said, "We harvested the vegetables today, so we should celebrate."

"How should we celebrate?"

"Let's find a chessboard and play a couple of rounds after dinner," he grinned. "The loser has to wash the dishes."

"The rules have been loaded into the entertainment module."

"Then it's settled."

He sat back down in his chair, holding the labeled carrot in his hand. The red color shone brightly under the light.

Nana continued to monitor the system's operation. The temperature was stable, the light cycle was normal, and the carbon dioxide concentration remained within the optimal range.

"The new batch of spinach is expected to be ready for harvest in thirteen days," she said.

“I’ll come back to dig again then.” He yawned. “But could you bring some tools next time? Digging with my hands is too damaging to my nails.”

"A semi-automatic harvesting device can be designed."

“That sounds impressive.” He squinted. “Once you’ve done a good job, I’ll be a farmer.”

He looked down at the potatoes in the basket; they were all grayish-brown, but firm.

"How many days can a person survive if they don't have food to eat?"

"Theoretically, it takes seven to fourteen days."

“But if we don’t even have vegetables, life is just about getting by.” He smiled. “It’s different now, we have vegetables to cook.”

Nana didn't say anything, but simply switched the "Running Mode" on the control panel to "Nighttime Hibernation".

The lights gradually dimmed, with only the seedling lights in the corner still on.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

I want to eat radish porridge tomorrow morning.

There was no response.

He opened his eyes a crack and saw Nana using tweezers to pick up a new leaf and put it into the sample box.

"Aren't you going to take a break?"

"The system needs to be continuously monitored."

"Alright then." He closed his eyes again. "You go ahead with your work, I'll take a nap."

He didn't know how much time had passed when he vaguely heard the sound of water flowing from the drip irrigation pipe.

Click.

A tender sprout struggled out of the culture medium and grew upwards by half a centimeter.