Chen Hao stared at the paper on the bulletin board, his fingers tracing the paperclip a couple of times. The paper was still warm from being printed, and the title read in large characters: "Where are we going, how are we getting there, and what should we bring?" He glanced at Nana. "Doesn't this title sound a bit like a missing person notice?"

Nana stood by the control panel, the camera panning across the list. "The information is clear, the tone direct, suitable for quick communication." She paused for half a second. "You just said it was like a missing person notice, is it because we're also looking for ourselves?"

“No.” Chen Hao waved his hand. “I just think that adding ‘Please contact us if you have any leads’ would complete the job.”

Nana didn't reply, but simply uploaded the electronic version of the "Spring Outing Guide" to the waiting queue of the base's broadcasting system.

Chen Hao turned and walked to the door of the storage room. Five rows of backpacks were stacked on the floor, each with a different colored label on the side: red, yellow, blue, green, and white. He squatted down and opened the first one, unzipping it halfway. Inside, neatly arranged, were compressed biscuits, a small bottle of water, band-aids, a metal whistle, and a thin piece of silver cloth.

"A sun protection blanket?" He picked it up and shook it. "If this thing can even block radiation, it's a win."

"The UV intensity is expected to be level three to four," Nana followed. "Exposure for more than an hour may cause skin burns. This material meets the reflectivity standards."

"Okay then." He stuffed it back in. "Next time, could you wear a floral dress? At least it'd have a spring-like feel to it."

"We do not have such supplies in stock."

"I was just having some fun," he said, standing up and patting his knees. "Have you finished sorting the supplies?"

"Initial screening complete." Nana brought up the tablet interface. "The diet group is sorted by calorie density, the water group is equipped with a portable filter, and the first aid includes hemostatic powder and anti-allergy tablets. The tools include a multi-tool, rope, and signal mirror. The entertainment items include a jump rope, a deck of cards, and a harmonica."

"Who wants the harmonica?" Chen Hao frowned.

“One of the top three in the voting results,” she said. “Second is the rock-throwing game, and third is guessing shadows.”

"Where did this shadow come from in the base that you're guessing?" he muttered. "It's as bright as a light bulb exploding during the day."

"It's due to increased sunlight reflection," Nana explained.

"Never mind," he waved his hand to interrupt. "Continue."

"The personnel will be temporarily grouped into groups of five, and will be randomly assigned by the system to avoid emotional dependence affecting emergency decision-making."

"Random?" Chen Hao grinned. "Then I might be paired with Lao Li. He has to rest after every few steps, panting like a broken bellows."

“Your physical fitness assessment isn’t optimistic either,” Nana said, looking at the data. “I recommend that your weight be no more than 15 percent of your body weight.”

“I’m not a donkey.” He rolled his eyes. “I can carry 20 pounds and still run.”

"Last time, my heart rate exceeded 140 after running 300 meters, I vomited once, and couldn't get up for seven minutes."

“That was after dinner!” he argued. “And there was quite a lot of food.”

Nana didn't say anything, she just threw the record on the wall.

Chen Hao stared at it for a while, then sighed, "Alright, let's travel light. But you have to let me bring plenty of food, you know what I mean by spiritual nourishment?"

“One extra bag of non-essential snacks is allowed,” she said. “The types are limited to solid foods that do not melt easily and do not attract ants.”

"Chocolate won't work?"

"Melting point below 30 degrees Celsius."

"Dried fruit will do, right?"

"Can."

He nodded in satisfaction, "That's what you call humane management."

The two returned to the control room, where a map projection covered the entire wall. The grassy area in the southeast was marked as the main route, with a winding circular arrow and labeled "Green Line".

"Why is it called that?" Chen Hao asked.

“You named it,” Nana reminded her. “Last night’s meeting minutes show that you said ‘the mark of life’s revival’ and suggested naming it ‘Green Trace’.”

"Did I say that?" He scratched his head.

"The original sentence is exactly the same."

“That doesn’t sound like something I would say,” he muttered. “It sounds like poetry, or rather, the kind that’s badly written.”

Nana didn't refute, but instead zoomed in on the map details. Two red dotted lines ran across the middle of the path, with a small sign next to them: "Insufficient load-bearing capacity, no passage allowed."

"Did the drone fly last night?" he asked, pointing.

"After three rounds of scanning, it was confirmed that the soft ground was about 40 centimeters deep, and if you stepped on it, you might sink up to your calves."

"So deep?" He whistled. "If you step in, you won't be able to pull it out. You'll just have to wait until the autumn harvest to dig up potatoes together."

“The estimated response time is seventeen minutes,” she said. “That exceeds the safety threshold.”

“Then let’s go around.” He drew a large arc on the paper with his pen. “Go this way and go around. It’s a bit longer, but it’s safer.”

"The distance has increased by 1.2 kilometers." Nana finished calculating. "The total distance is now 4.8 kilometers."

"Why can't we round it up?" he complained. "Why do we have to get stuck at almost five?"

"Terrain limitations".

"Sigh." He put down his pen. "You can't blame the government for your bad luck, and you can't blame the navigation system for the bad roads."

Nana entered the new route into the system and generated a walking rhythm model: rest every 45 minutes after departure, each rest lasting 10 minutes, with a supply point set up along the way, and 60 minutes of free time reserved at the end area.

"Where should we put the food?" Chen Hao asked.

“The finish line,” she said. “The picnic spot is on a sunny slope, sheltered from the wind, with continuous sunshine.”

Who will cook?

"It's voluntary."

“No one will definitely steal it.” He shook his head. “Last time I cooked noodles, the bottom of the pot burned through, and the soup tasted like rust.”

"We're replacing the cookware this time," Nana said, "and adding spare fuel blocks."

“That’s more like it,” he laughed. “Otherwise, people would think we’re doing performance art—'The Hungry Spring'.”

After the map was finalized, Nana began layout the "Spring Outing Guide." At the top of the page was a hand-drawn sun, with the text below: "Depart at 10:00 AM, don't be late." Next were three icons: a footprint, a lunchbox, and a smiley face, corresponding to "walking," "eating," and "playing," respectively.

"This art style..." Chen Hao stared at it, "Who drew it?"

“The database uses an old template,” she said. “The art style comes from children’s science books from 2035.”

"No wonder it looks like a kindergarten brochure." He grinned. "That's good, the sillier the better."

Content is generated page by page:

- What to bring: backpack, water, food, jacket, whistle

- Don't bring: alcohol, lighters, pets (if you have any).

What to do if you get lost: Blow the whistle three times and wait where you are.

- If you see a strange plant: take a picture, don't touch it, and definitely don't eat it.

- Want to sing? Welcome!

- Feeling like crying: You're welcome to do so too.

The last page reads: "This isn't fleeing a disaster, it's going out for a stroll. The Earth is still here, and so are we."

After the printer was connected, it started working, spitting out sheets of paper one by one. Chen Hao picked up the first sheet, held it up to the light, and said, "The paper is so thin, it would fly away in the wind."

"Twenty copies were printed in total," she said. "One copy will be posted on the bulletin board, and the rest will be distributed to the entrances of each residential area."

"Should we get it stamped?" he suddenly thought, "like an 'official certification'."

“A 'approved' stamp can be used to mark it.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Add another line in small print: Counterfeiting will be prosecuted.”

“There was no motive for forgery,” Nana said, “and paper is scarce.”

"It's for the sake of a sense of ritual," he insisted.

She did as instructed and added a red stamp to the bottom right corner of the homepage.

After finishing, the two checked the seals of each backpack one by one. Zippers were zipped up, straps were fastened, and name tags were attached. Chen Hao casually picked up his own and shook it, hearing the biscuit bag inside rustle.

"Can we really go out tomorrow?" he suddenly asked.

"The weather is stable," Nana replied. "No precipitation, wind speed level 2, suitable for travel."

“I’m not asking about the data,” he said. “I’m saying… it’s been thirty years since we’ve gone out as a group. Will anyone be able to bring themselves to walk?”

“It’s possible,” she said, “but the probability of taking the first step is 23 percent higher than yesterday.”

"Because of this piece of paper?" He waved the guide in his hand.

“Because we are well prepared.” She looked at the row of backpacks. “Knowing where we are going and what to bring makes us less afraid.”

Chen Hao remained silent for a moment, then gently put the backpack back in its original place.

"Do you know what I'm most afraid of?" He suddenly laughed. "It's not landslides, it's wild animals, it's that everyone walks in an orderly fashion, without saying a word, like clocking in for work."

"The interactive activities can be started," Nana reminded. "Tug-of-war, storytelling, and gesture relay are all registered."

“But what if no one moves?” He looked at the empty corridor outside the door. “It’s been three years since I’ve seen any greenery, and people are practically turning gray.”

“Colors can evoke memories,” she said. “Green is associated with relaxation, growth, and safety. Visual stimulation can affect the emotional center.”

"You mean, seeing grass can bring a person back to life?"

"At least, they are willing to speak up."

Chen Hao grinned, "Then I hope the first flower is extremely ugly. The uglier the better, so that people can't help but laugh when they see it."

“Aesthetics are subjective,” Nana said, “but the appearance of flowering plants means the restart of the ecosystem.”

"Who cares about restarting or not." He patted his thigh and stood up. "As long as someone laughs, it's a success."

He walked to the bulletin board, pinned up the latest version of the route map, and weighed down the original draft. Sunlight streamed in through the high window, falling on the words "Green Line".

“That’s it,” he said. “The route is set, everything is ready, and the person should be awake by now.”

Nana simultaneously completed the last operation: pushing the emergency channel frequency to all handheld terminals and setting the automatic wake-up time to 9:30 the next morning.

“Is there anything else I’ve missed?” she asked.

Chen Hao walked around the storage room, looked at his backpack, and then looked up at the map. He reached into his pocket, took out a small bag of dried fruit, and stuffed it into the side pocket of his backpack.

“That’s it,” he said. “Everything that needed to be done has been done.”

He stood in front of the control panel, his hands resting on the edge of the table, staring at the scrolling weather forecast on the screen. The temperature curve was rising steadily, with a high of twelve degrees Celsius tomorrow.

"This time I can actually step on soft soil," he said softly.

Nana sealed the last package of supplies and placed it at the front of the line.