The fledgling bird dangled half its body in the air, its claws gripping the withered grass beside the nest. A gust of wind made the grass sway violently. Chen Hao squatted on the ground, his hands on his knees, not daring to blink.

Nana flicked a thin thread from her wrist, and a miniature drone slid out from the side of her backpack, silently taking off close to the ground. It flew slowly, like a leaf drifting upwards, and at the last moment gently nudged the baby bird's belly, pushing it in half an inch. The mother bird flapped its wings beside it, but neither cried out nor rushed over.

The fledglings retreated.

Chen Hao finally let out a breath, his shoulders slumping. "My goodness, this little thing is even more daring than me."

He sat down on the ground, brushed the dirt off his pants, and said, "Alright, the press conference will proceed as scheduled." He stood up and cracked his neck. "Let's go eat. I'm starving."

Nana put away the drone, and the thermal mat automatically unfolded from her backpack, laying it on a flat surface. She pressed a button on the side, and the edges of the mat heated up slightly, making the surface warm.

"You even brought this thing with you?" Chen Hao sat down cross-legged. "No wonder people always say robots are considerate."

"When food temperature is below 37 degrees Celsius, human satisfaction with eating decreases by 18 percent," Nana said. "This is common sense."

“That’s not common sense, that’s social etiquette.” Chen Hao opened his backpack and took out a few foil packets. “Come on, try my homemade cold-resistant energy biscuits. I guarantee they’ll keep you warm and full.”

He tore open a package and handed over a dark, unappetizing piece of bread. Its surface was pitted and uneven, as if it had been hit by a stone.

Nana took it, pressed it lightly with her fingertip; it wasn't deformed, but it wasn't broken either.

"Hardness testing complete," she said. "Approaching concrete consistency."

"Not at all." Chen Hao took a bite, almost choking on it. "It's just a little hard, but the more you chew, the more fragrant it becomes."

Others took the bread, took a few bites, and then started to frown. Some secretly stuffed the bread into their coat pockets, while others tried to break it into small pieces to soak in water, but even when the water was hot, the bread remained whole.

"This pancake can be used as a brick," Xiao Li spat out the crumbs in his mouth. "It can also be used for self-defense."

Chen Hao scratched his head, "I followed the nutrition chart, egg powder, soybean meal, compressed oats... how come it's so dense?"

No one responded, and the atmosphere became a bit awkward.

Without making a sound, Nana took a bottle of amber liquid from the storage compartment. The label read "Wild Berry Fermentation Liquid." She unscrewed the cap, poured a small bowlful, and handed it to Chen Hao.

“Try this,” she said.

Chen Hao took a sniff; it was sweet and sour. "Wow, you've been hiding some wine?"

"The alcohol content is less than one percent," Nana corrected. "It's a functional beverage."

He broke the pancake into pieces and threw it in, stirring it a couple of times. The pancake absorbed the sauce, softened, and became a bit brighter.

"Here, try again." He handed out bowls to everyone.

This time, no one frowned. Some people even drank two bowls and asked if there were any more.

"This is just rice porridge," Xiao Wang said with a smile. "It's actually quite delicious."

“This is called innovation in adversity.” Chen Hao raised his eyebrows proudly. “I’ll write it into my spring outing memoirs later—the first sweet porridge in the wild, made from a failed energy biscuit and a mysterious juice.”

Laughter spread, and someone started talking about rescuing the baby birds. They said the little drone flew like a mosquito, making no sound at all, and looked incredibly mysterious.

"If Nana hadn't reacted quickly, the little bird would have been smashed into a pulp today," Xiao Zhang said.

"The key is that she didn't scare the mother bird." Another person nodded. "If she had acted recklessly, the mother bird would have run away, and the chicks would have been doomed."

Chen Hao looked up at the treetop. The mother bird had quieted down and was huddled in the nest protecting her chicks. Sunlight filtered through the branches, shimmering on her grayish-brown feathers.

"Do you think they know we helped them?" he asked Nana.

“It’s impossible to determine whether birds possess a sense of gratitude,” Nana said. “However, behavioral data shows that the mother bird’s heart rate has returned to normal, and the feeding behavior has resumed at a frequency of once per minute.”

"Then everything's alright." Chen Hao grinned. "The spring of survival is the true arrival of spring."

He looked down at the bowl in his hand, where a few crumbs of softened bread remained. He casually dumped them onto a rock not far from the mat.

Not long after, a yellow butterfly flew over and landed on the debris, its wings opening and closing.

"Oh, so Xiao Huang really came to freeload a meal." Chen Hao laughed.

“Individual number b-01,” Nana said, “has appeared in human-inhabited areas three times in a row.”

"Calling him Xiao Huang would be much better." Chen Hao waved his hand. "The number sounds like a wanted criminal."

He turned to look at everyone and noticed that many people were also watching the butterfly. Some were taking photos with their devices, while others were quietly discussing the color of its wings.

“There wasn’t even a bug outside the base before,” Xiao Li said. “Now there are not only butterflies, but also birds, moss, and even the ground has softened.”

"That proves our efforts weren't in vain." Chen Hao patted his thigh. "This trip wasn't just about getting some fresh air; we actually saw something alive."

Nana turned on her portable speaker, playing a mix of sounds from a stream and birdsong. The volume was low, just enough to drown out the rustling of leaves in the wind.

"Are you trying to create a lively atmosphere?" Chen Hao glanced at her.

“Background noise can improve emotional stability when humans are eating in groups,” she said. “Data supports this.”

"You're not a robot, you're a housekeeper," Chen Hao said with a laugh, stuffing a piece of flatbread into his mouth. "Could you make some braised pork next time?"

“Protein sources are limited,” Nana said. “The fat charring reaction cannot be simulated under current conditions.”

"Alas, my dream is shattered," he sighed. "But I'm content to be able to eat sweet porridge."

The sun moved overhead, and the temperature rose a bit. Everyone took off their coats and sat around the mats. Some people talked about how, when they used to hide underground, they dreamed of eating fresh vegetables; others said their biggest fear was never seeing green leaves in their entire lives.

"Now not only can I see it, but I can also sit and eat," the man said. "Soft earth beneath my feet, blue sky above me—what else is this but living?"

Chen Hao didn't speak, but looked up at the sky. The clouds were thin, and the sunlight shone down, making people's faces feel warm.

He suddenly remembered something, pulled out his waterproof notebook, and turned to a blank page.

“I have to make a note of this,” he said. “Time: 12:07 p.m. Weather: Sunny. Event: First outdoor communal meal, eight participants, main food was failed energy biscuits and homemade juice, side dishes included hope, laughter and a free-riding butterfly.”

He finished writing, closed the notebook, and stuffed it back into his pocket.

"Do you think this counts as history?" he asked Nana.

“Everything that is recorded is history,” she said.

“Then I’ll have to write more.” Chen Hao grinned. “Maybe I can even publish a book in the future, ‘My Days of Picnics in the Apocalypse’.”

“The title is redundant,” Nana said. “I suggest changing it to ‘That Day We Ate Pancakes’.”

"Too shabby." Chen Hao shook his head. "At least call it 'The First Meal of Spring'."

They remained silent, simply sitting. The yellow butterfly in the distance flew away, then circled back, hovering twice above the food scraps before slowly drifting into the woods.

Xiao Wang suddenly pointed to the tree and exclaimed, "Hey, a bird is peeking out!"

Sure enough, the baby bird poked its little head out of the nest, opened its beak, as if it were trying to sing.

The mother bird bent down and fed it a bite, then quietly lay back down.

Sunlight fell on the picnic mat, and someone was asleep leaning against their backpack, breathing steadily. Another was humming a tune softly, the melody distorted, but no one interrupted.

Chen Hao held half a softened pancake in his hand, looking up at the treetops. The mother bird had her eyes closed, her wings covering her chicks, and remained motionless.

The corners of his mouth slowly turned up.

Nana sat to the side, the camera aperture narrowed, as if she had also closed her eyes.