The music stopped.

The air blowing in from the vents carried a damp, earthy smell, somewhat like a sun-dried haystack. Chen Hao was still sitting in his chair, his headphones hanging around his neck. The smiley face icon in the lower right corner of the screen flashed briefly before disappearing again.

He didn't move.

Nana stood beside her, her optical lens scanning the terminal's data stream. "The central system is operating stably, and the humidity in the ecological zone has been adjusted."

“Oh,” he said.

A few seconds later, he reached out and took off the headphones, tossing them casually onto the control panel. The plastic casing made a soft thud.

He stood up, his legs a little numb, and he steadied himself by holding onto the table. The door to the control room was open, leading to a corridor, and then the exit.

"Do you want to go out and take a look?" Nana asked.

"You've been watching all along?" He took two steps toward the door, then stopped. "But it seems... you've never actually gone out."

---

When the door opened, sunlight streamed in directly.

He squinted and raised his hand to shield his eyes. The temperature was higher than he had expected, but the wind wasn't cold. There was a shadow on the ground—his own, chubby, leaning against the edge of the steps.

The ground beneath my feet was concrete, but after a few steps it turned into a path paved with gravel. Both sides of the path were lush and green. The seedlings were neatly arranged, their leaves still glistening with dew. In the distance, rows of vertical farming structures rose into the air, their robotic arms slowly moving to provide supplemental lighting for the tomatoes on the top level.

"Did we really do this?" he said in a low voice.

“The first patch of soil you turned over was in field number three in area A.” Nana said, walking beside him. “Back then, you said that if you couldn’t grow anything, you would switch to raising pigs.”

Did I say that?

"You also said that fertilizer smells like stinky socks."

He smiled and quickened his pace.

The sheepfold is in the southeast corner. The fence has been replaced with new material, with a matte finish. A group of goats are huddled in front of the feeding trough, their heads bobbing up and down. The automatic feeder dispenses a clump of hay every ten minutes, and they eat quite obediently.

"They've become obedient now?"

“Last week, a ram broke through the fence and got shocked,” Nana said. “Now it’s leading the line.”

"Serves you right." He snorted. "Who was chasing me half a lap around the base back then?"

When he reached the irrigation area, he suddenly stopped.

A leaf on the edge of a vegetable patch was turning yellow and curling up. He frowned and instinctively took half a step forward.

"Is the system acting up again?"

"No." Nana had already brought up the background screen. "The wind direction is 15 degrees west, the humidity forecast is off by 6 percent, and the central control started the compensating spray three minutes ago."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a small underground sprinkler appeared, hissing a few times as the mist dispersed. The leaves trembled slightly and began to unfurl.

He stared at it for about ten seconds, then took his hand out of his pocket and loosened his fist.

“It’s more meticulous than I am,” he grinned. “I was even planning to grab a shovel and dig a drainage ditch.”

---

The observation deck is on the top floor of the main building. Originally just a maintenance platform, it has now been widened, covered with a non-slip layer, and fitted with railings. They walked up the stairs, the metal steps making a soft creaking sound.

As he approached the top, Chen Hao suddenly stepped on a loose paving stone, and his foot thudded.

He paused.

"What's wrong?"

"Won't this place...collapse?"

Nana immediately scanned the area. "The structure is safe, the crack depth is 0.3 millimeters, and overnight reinforcement has been completed."

"Then why is it still ringing?"

"Because you're the only one whose walk is so shaky."

He turned to look at her. "Are you implying I'm fat?"

“I’m just stating a fact,” she said. “On average, you generate 87 kilograms of pressure with every step you take.”

"Then why didn't you say so sooner?"

"I'm afraid you'll switch to climbing stairs."

He rolled his eyes and continued scrolling upwards.

Once on the platform, the view suddenly opened up.

To the left are farmlands, patches of green stretching out like a jigsaw puzzle. To the right is an energy array, solar panels rotating with the sun, reflecting its light. In the distance, a protective fence with a pale blue edge appears as an invisible wall. The sky is clear, without gray clouds or that suffocating heat.

A bird flew by.

He paused, stunned. "That thing... is it a real bird?"

"We recorded the first migratory bird landing three days ago," Nana said. "Yesterday, five sparrows came and started fighting on the roof of section B."

"The animals are back too?"

"They cannot detect threat signals."

He stood still, the wind blowing and ruffling his hair. He hadn't been this quiet in a long time.

“You know what?” he suddenly said, “At first I thought I’d be lucky to live three months. But now…”

He didn't finish speaking; he just looked into the distance.

Goats are grazing, robotic arms are moving flowerpots, waterwheels are turning, lights are on, and even the air feels different.

“This isn’t just living,” he said slowly. “This is the future.”

Nana turned her head to look at him.

His face was a little red, probably from the sun or the wind. His eyes were wide open, unlike his usual lazy demeanor.

“I thought it would all be dark from now on.” He chuckled. “Machines would be running, lights would be flashing, and people would huddle in corners waiting to die. But now… we can actually bask in the sun.”

"Would you like to hear some data?" Nana asked.

"What?"

"The spring construction period has ended, and the ecological self-sufficiency rate is 87%."

He nodded without saying anything.

After a while, he took a few more steps forward and approached the railing. When he touched it, the metal was a little hot.

“When we were building this platform, you accused me of cutting corners.” He turned around. “Remember?”

"You tightened the screw two turns too little."

"Later, when it rained, it leaked, and you used waterproof glue to fix it for three days."

"Because you refuse to re-drill the hole."

"That's because I'm too lazy to move the ladder."

The two of them paused for a moment.

The wind carried away the sound, but they didn't speak again.

There are figures moving around below.

It wasn't either of them.

He blinked. "That's... a person?"

“It’s a projection,” Nana said. “While you were listening to music in the control room, the central system retrieved historical footage. What’s playing now is the spring construction record.”

In one scene, he's wearing a dirty coat, squatting on the ground shoveling dirt, cursing the weather as he does so. In another, he's lying under the maintenance bay, legs sticking out, holding a wrench, calling for Nana to hand him tools. On yet another occasion, he's carrying a bundle of electrical wires across a corridor, nearly crashing into a wall.

"Why are you storing all this?" he asked.

“Every process has value.”

"You recorded that fall too?"

"It's been recorded."

"Can I delete it?"

"It cannot be deleted, but it can be set to private."

He snorted, turned around, leaned against the railing, and looked up at the sky.

The clouds were thin and drifted slowly. The sun was in the middle, not dazzling.

"What do you think will happen in the future?" he asked.

"I have no idea."

"What if another storm comes?"

"We will fix it."

"What if everyone is gone?"

"Then let's wait for the next one."

He looked at her for a while, then suddenly burst out laughing.

"You really dare to say that."

“I’m telling the truth.”

He rubbed his hands together, then looked up again.

“Then I’ll live a few more years,” he said, “so that I can at least see everything in this field ripen.”

---

He stood there, holding onto the railing, his shadow stretching long.

Nana stood to the side, the optical mirror reflecting the entire base.

The vegetable seedlings in the field are growing, the sheep are moving, the protective netting is shimmering, and the robotic arm is slowly rising to place a newly opened flower on the top floor.

A gust of wind blew, and a piece of paper floated out from the direction of the control room, swirling over the wall and landing in the farmland.

It was a piece of printed paper, the edges were curled, and a line of text was printed on it: **User Chen Hao, Authorization Level S**.