As dawn broke, the door to the carpentry workshop was pushed open a crack. Chen Hao hunched his shoulders and squeezed in, rubbing his hands together and breathing on them as he muttered, "Why is this lousy place colder in the morning than at night?"

Nana stood in front of the workbench, holding a piece of freshly processed velvet grass in her hand, the optical lens gleaming slightly. "The material pretreatment is 80% complete, and the heat drying process is normal."

"You started work early again?" Chen Hao rubbed his eyes. "I didn't get to bed until almost ten o'clock last night, and you started working at six. Are you really not tired, or are you just pretending?"

“I don’t need rest,” she said, “but your heart rate indicates you didn’t sleep well last night.”

"Of course, my shoulder is covered in bite marks, it hurts to even turn over." He walked to the table, lifted the sack and glanced inside. "Where's the hay? Is it baled up?"

"The softening and initial crushing have been completed." She handed over a small handful of hay. "The breakage rate of the surface bristles has reached 92%, and the double-layered fabric wrapping can avoid the risk of puncture."

Chen Hao took the hay, smelled it, and found it had almost no odor. He then rubbed it between his fingers; it felt much smoother than yesterday. "Alright, looks like this time I'm not testing poison on my butt."

He pulled out the remaining coarse linen, cut it into a circle, folded it in half, and sewed the edges. The herringbone needle was still difficult to thread, but today he didn't complain about his thick fingers; he just took his time, stitch by stitch. Nana stood by, using a robotic arm to hold the corners of the fabric in place, ensuring the stitches were even.

The two worked for over an hour, and the six chair cushions were completed one after another. Each cushion was of uniform thickness, with a smooth surface and hidden snaps along the edges, unlike the loose ones last time.

"Finally, it looks like a proper furniture component." Chen Hao picked up a piece and shook it; no straw was missing, and no thorns were sticking out. "Let's go install it in the dining room!"

They carried the chair cushions out of the woodworking shop. Sunlight slanted across the stone path, casting long shadows. Chen Hao walked slowly, his arms aching, but a smile remained on his face.

Upon entering the restaurant, he first brought out the head chair, carefully slipped the cushion onto it, and pressed it down firmly. He paused for a moment before sitting down.

"Huh?" He blinked, then sank down a little more. "So soft."

Nana noted: "Pressure distribution detection is normal, and the buffer value in the ischial region has increased by 64%."

"Stop talking data, speak plainly." He crossed his legs. "It's just comfortable."

He got up and put cushions on the other chairs one by one. When the last one was in place, the whole dining room looked completely different. The tables were clean, the chairs were neatly arranged, and there was a small wooden shelf in the corner with a potted plant on it—a cutting he had casually stuck in the soil a couple of days ago, which had miraculously survived.

“It’s starting to feel like home.” He stepped back to the doorway, put his hands on his hips, and looked around. “Before, coming in felt like entering a warehouse, but now… it feels a bit like home.”

Nana activated the video recording mode, taking a panoramic photo of the entire venue. "The layout is 83% harmonious, the comfort level is up to standard, and the aesthetic integration is improved to 76%."

"You even give me scores?" he laughed. "Next time, give me a 'Best Lifestyle Connoisseur' award."

“The awards aren’t in the database,” she said, “but certificate templates can be generated.”

"Forget it." He waved his hand. "Right now, I just want to eat a meal, sit in the chair I made, and put my feet on the floor I laid out, to see if this house has really changed."

He acted immediately, turning back to the woodworking shop to retrieve two bowls and a pot of leftover porridge. Nana took out the tableware, placed it on the table, and the two sat down facing each other.

Chen Hao took a sip of porridge and looked up at the roof. "Our restaurant is finally usable."

“The function is complete,” she said. “It is recommended to replace the filling regularly to maintain elasticity.”

"Let me enjoy this for a few days first." He picked up a piece of pickled vegetable. "Do you think we could make a menu in the future? Just write it on the wall, like tofu on Monday, wild vegetable soup on Tuesday, and so on... It would be great if there was meat too."

“Currently, protein sources are limited,” she said, “but nutritional balance sheets can be designed.”

“Don’t mention the watch,” he interrupted. “I don’t want to hear reports during lunchtime.”

They quieted down and ate slowly. The room was quiet, with only the sound of spoons hitting bowls. Sunlight streamed in through the high window, falling on the table and casting dappled patterns of light.

After finishing his meal, Chen Hao put down his bowl, leaned back in his chair, and stretched. He almost fell backward.

"Ouch!" He quickly grabbed the table. "This chair is so comfortable, I feel like I'm going to collapse."

"The center of gravity shift is 15 degrees, which is within the safe range." Nana reached out and touched the back of the chair. "I suggest adjusting the backrest angle."

“No need to adjust.” He grinned. “I just love this feeling of not wanting to get up once I’m sitting down.”

He turned to look around, his gaze settling on the potted plant in the corner. "Don't you think we should hang something up? Like a painting, or a photograph?"

“There are no existing images available for printing,” she said, “but charcoal drawings can be used to create the wall decorations.”

"You can draw?"

"Basic sketching functions are available."

“Then try it tomorrow.” He pointed to the east wall. “Just draw a landscape, nothing too complicated, or it will be tiring to look at.”

Nana nodded and took notes. Just as she was about to speak, Chen Hao suddenly raised his hand, signaling her to be quiet.

"Wait a minute." He frowned and looked up. "What's wrong with this light...?"

“There are currently no lighting fixtures,” she said. “We rely on natural light.”

“I know there are no lights.” He raised his voice. “I mean, it’s so dark! I couldn’t even see if the pickled vegetables were moldy while we were eating.”

"The current light intensity is 120 lux, which is below the recommended value for dining."

Speak like a human being!

"Insufficient light affects visual clarity."

“That’s right!” He stood up, walked to the wall and looked up. “It’s fine during the day, but what about at night? It’s dark, who would want to come in to eat? We can’t all hold a torch and roast our food while we eat, can we?”

“Alternative light sources can be studied,” she said. “Some ore samples in the base’s storage area have luminescent properties.”

"The ore can glow?" He was stunned. "Isn't it just a rock?"

"Some minerals can emit visible light under certain conditions."

"Then why didn't you say so earlier!"

"It was not previously included in the priority of optimizing the living area."

"And now?"

"The task list has been updated, and the lighting system is the focus for the next phase."

Chen Hao stared at the ceiling for a while, then suddenly laughed. "Alright, let's take it one step at a time. The tables and chairs are done, the cushions are ready, now it's time to make it bright and airy."

He walked back to his seat, sat down again, and touched the cushion. "At least now it doesn't hurt my butt."

Nana sat back down, continuing to scan the environmental data with her optical microscope. "I suggest we begin investigating the light source at 6 a.m. tomorrow."

"Six o'clock?" His eyelids twitched. "So early in the morning again?"

"The most efficient period of time."

"You robots really don't show any mercy." He muttered, but didn't object. "Fine, fine, I'm used to it anyway. The first thing I do when I open my eyes in the morning isn't brush my teeth, it's get to work."

He leaned back in his chair, hands clasped on his stomach, staring at the ceiling. "Do you think our restaurant will start having long queues from now on?"

There are currently no plans for external visitors.

“I mean in the future,” he insisted. “Once we make the food taste better, brighter the lights, and add a few more tables, it might become the base’s canteen.”

"If the space is expanded, the load-bearing structure needs to be redesigned."

"Can't you at least praise me for my foresight?"

"Foresight is a subjective evaluation and is not included in the feedback agreement."

"Never mind," he sighed. "Talking to you is like talking to a brick wall."

“I don’t have a music input interface,” she said, “but I can play audio files.”

“I’m not listening anymore.” He stood up. “That’s enough for today. I need to go back and catch up on my sleep. I have to get up at six tomorrow morning. I’m going to die.”

He walked towards the door, his steps slow, his back slightly swaying. Nana closed the recorder and followed two steps behind him.

As darkness fell outside, only a sliver of light remained in the dining room. The bowls on the table hadn't been cleared away, the chair cushions were neatly arranged, and the leaves of the green plants in the corner trembled slightly.

Nana stopped and looked back at the plant.

A leaf is slowly falling.