Water gushed from the showerhead, hitting Chen Hao's shoulders and creating a thin mist. He didn't move, just looked down at the water flowing down his stomach and swirling around his feet.

"The temperature is stable at forty-two degrees." Nana stood at the door, her voice calm and unhurried. "It can last for fifty minutes."

"Okay," he replied, rubbing his arms. His skin was red and a little itchy. It had been so long since he'd taken a hot shower that his body seemed to have forgotten how to react.

The water suddenly felt cold, and he jumped back a step, yelling, "Damn!"

“The external reflector has shifted three degrees due to the wind.” Nana turned and walked outside. “The heat collection efficiency has decreased by fifteen percent.”

Chen Hao turned off the valve and followed her to the window. The metal plates outside had been blown askew by the wind, preventing sunlight from reaching the crucial parts of the pipe. He grabbed some stones from the corner and placed them one by one under the support to press the plate down again.

"Alright." He clapped his hands.

Nana scanned the area and said, "The angle has been restored. The water temperature is expected to rise again in two minutes."

They returned to the bathroom. Sure enough, the hot water returned shortly afterward, flowing steadily.

"Don't break it this time," Chen Hao muttered softly, slowly extending his hand to test the water temperature. It burned him, so he pulled back and smiled, "It really worked."

He took off his clothes and stepped into the shower area. Hot water poured over his head, he closed his eyes, tilted his neck back, and relaxed completely.

“There’s a lot of dead skin buildup in the shoulder blade area,” Nana said. “I recommend rinsing for five minutes first, then using a cleanser.”

"Why do you care so much?" he said, but he still did as he was told.

Steam slowly rose, obscuring the "Building a Shared Home" map on the wall. The small stone figures became blurred, but their outlines were still discernible.

He touched the fat on his chest and rubbed off a layer of grime. "I used to just rinse off with cold water when I took a shower, I never imagined I'd be in this situation."

“Your heart rate has dropped by twelve percent,” Nana said. “Your breathing rate is stabilizing.”

“I know.” He squatted down, letting the water wash over his head. “Right now, I really don’t want to talk. I just want to stay here.”

"Do you need me to leave?"

“No need.” He shook his head. “I feel more at ease with you here. If the water gets cold again, at least we can curse together.”

Nana didn't reply, and slightly dimmed her optical glasses, as if adjusting to the steam.

Chen Hao leaned against the wall and slowly sat down on the floor. The hot water cascaded over his back, gradually softening his muscles. He hummed a tune he couldn't place, completely off-key.

“This is a snippet of popular music from somewhere on Earth,” Nana suddenly said. “The original song is called ‘Summer Breeze’.”

"Oh." He grinned. "Then play something else for me. It's embarrassing to just listen to me sing."

“I don’t have any audio equipment,” she said, “but I can simulate sound effects. The sound of rain, waves, and wind blowing through leaves.”

"Let it rain," he said.

The next second, a very soft dripping sound began, like water leaking from the eaves, or like leaves catching water droplets. The sound was not loud, but it just drowned out the splashing of the water.

Chen Hao took a deep breath, his chest filling with the warm, humid air. He suddenly felt a stinging sensation in his nose and quickly rubbed his face.

"What's wrong?" Nana asked.

“Nothing much.” He laughed. “I just feel… I’m still alive, and I’m quite comfortable.”

“You’ve always been alive,” she said, “and now you’re living more efficiently.”

"You're saying that sounds like you're praising a machine."

"I am a robot."

He laughed even harder and almost choked on his water.

He washed for almost half an hour before turning off the valve. Nana handed him a towel, which was scented with dried flowers and had a faint fragrance when wiped on his body.

He stood in front of the mirror for a while. The oiliness on his face was gone, his hair was no longer sticky, and even his eyes looked brighter.

"Is this me?" He touched his face. "I thought someone had sneaked in from the mirror."

“It’s you,” Nana said. “The surface contaminant removal rate is 93 percent.”

He grinned and vigorously rubbed his hair. "After all this time, it wasn't for nothing."

He put on his clothes and threw the dirty ones into the bucket. He looked up at the roof beam; the few metal pieces cut into star shapes were still swaying, and dappled sunlight crawled across the floor.

"You know..." he suddenly began, "wouldn't it be more complete if we could listen to some music right now?"

“It’s possible,” Nana said, “as long as there’s a sound-producing device.”

"How about making a guitar?" He sat down cross-legged. "We have wood, we can find strings, and you can even check the pitch, right?"

“I can provide support based on acoustic principles,” she said.

“It’s settled then.” He patted his knee. “Once I’ve settled down after a shower, I’ll start working on the instruments.”

"I suggest prioritizing structural stability," Nana said. "The body material needs to be moisture-proof and resistant to deformation."

"Don't start by pouring cold water on things," he waved his hand. "Let's think about what song to play first. We can't just start with 'Solar Heating Failure Record,' can we?"

“There’s a piece in the database called ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,’” she said. “It has a simple rhythm and is suitable for beginners.”

“Sure,” he laughed. “I’ll play this in the shower from now on. It’ll be perfect with those few scrap metal pieces on my head.”

He stood up, walked to the wall, and reached out to press the stone mosaic. The mosaic depicted a sun, a river, a house, and two little people.

"I didn't expect it would actually come in handy when I put it up," he said. "Now that I look at it, it actually looks pretty good."

“I remember the location of every single stone,” Nana said, “including the one you flung out when you tripped and fell.”

"You still hold a grudge?" he glared.

"I'm just recording the facts."

He shook his head and smiled, then walked towards the door. He had just taken one step when his foot slipped, and he almost fell.

"The ground's slipperiness coefficient exceeds the standard," Nana said. "I suggest adding an anti-slip layer."

"I understand." He leaned against the wall. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. I'm satisfied for today."

He leaned against the doorframe, looking up at the few stars. A patch of light traced a moving line across the toes of his shoes.

Nana stood behind him, without moving.

He suddenly said, "Do you think we could live like this every day from now on?"

Nana replied, "As long as the system is running normally, hot water can be supplied every day."

“I’m not talking about taking a shower.” He paused. “I’m talking about… this feeling. Not being afraid of anything, doing things slowly, and being able to laugh a couple of times after you’re done.”

“This model is sustainable,” she said, “provided that resources are continuous.”

“Then don’t break it,” he said softly.

He raised his hand and touched his chest, where the warmth of the hot water still lingered.

The sound of wind came from outside the door, making the metal plate rattle softly.

He walked out, stood at the entrance of the corridor, and glanced back at the bathroom.

The lights were off; only the natural light streamed in through the high window, falling on the wall.

Nana followed him out and stood beside him.

He pointed to the roof beam, "That smallest star is crooked."

Nana looked up. "Does it need adjusting?"

“We’ll talk about it later,” he said. “Let it hang there.”

He took two steps forward and then suddenly stopped.

"You know what?" he turned around, "I didn't even think about running away when I was taking a shower just now."

Nana looked at him.

“Before, no matter what I was doing, I was always thinking about where the dangers were,” he said. “Now, I just want to finish taking a shower.”

"This is a sign of increased psychological security," she said.

"Say what you will," he laughed. "I'm just happy."

He stretched his wrists and walked towards the living area.

Nana followed.

He suddenly stopped halfway there.

"What are guitar strings made of?" he asked.

“Metal wire, plant fiber, and animal tendons are all acceptable,” she said.

“Forget about tendons,” he frowned. “They’re too scary.”

“We can use wires from the spacecraft wreckage as a substitute,” Nana said. “They’re strong enough.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “We’ll turn over the scrap heap tomorrow.”

He continued walking, his steps lighter than when he had come.

Nana's optical lens flickered slightly, recording the changes in his stride frequency.

He walked to the table, sat down, took out a piece of paper from the drawer, and then took out a pen.

"Where should the first string be placed?" he asked, looking up.

Nana walked over and pointed to the center of the drawing.