The red light on the screen of the incubator was still flashing, and the temperature had stopped at seven degrees and hadn't dropped any further. Nana squatted on the ground, quickly unscrewed the side cover with her fingers, inserted a screwdriver into the gap, and gently pried it open; the fixing plate had come loose.

“The contact points are oxidized,” she said. “The power supply to the cooling chip is unstable.”

Carl stood to the side, his legs trembling slightly. "Can it be fixed?"

“It’s already been repaired once.” She unplugged the connector and wiped the metal head with a cloth. “Tighten it again.”

She reconnected it and closed the lid. A few seconds later, the numbers jumped, dropped to 6.5 degrees, and then stopped.

"All done?" Carl asked.

“For now,” she said. “Don’t expect it to be too reliable.”

She stood up, removed the incubator from her back, took off the backpack frame, and secured it to her chest with straps. The incubator hummed softly against her chest.

“You look like a medicine deliveryman right now,” Carl said.

“That’s who I am,” she said. “It’s just that the client hasn’t paid yet.”

Carl smiled, then winced in pain. His ankle was swollen, and the slip had left him limping.

"Are you alright?" She glanced at him.

"What do you think? I've come all this way, I can't just give up now."

“I’m not telling you to lie down,” she said. “I’m asking if you can keep up.”

“Yes,” he said. “As long as you keep going, I will keep going.”

She turned and walked forward, her pace a little slower than before. The woods lay ahead, their shadows blending together, the ground covered with slippery moss.

As soon as they entered the woods, the wind died down. The leaves blocked most of the light, making it difficult to see the ground. Carl carefully moved forward, holding onto the roots of a tree, taking each step with great care.

He had been walking for less than ten minutes when his foot slipped, and he veered to the side. He reached out to grab a tree branch, but missed, and his knee hit the ground.

"Damn." He looked down at his foot. "I twisted it."

Nana stopped immediately, walked back, and squatted down. She touched his ankle, pressing down on it a few times with her fingers like a probe.

“Soft tissue injury,” she said. “Not serious.”

"It's not serious, but it still hurts." He grinned. "What do you suggest we do?"

She untied her bag, took out emergency bandages, and wrapped them around his ankle several times to tighten them.

"It will be tough," she said, "but I can manage."

“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s not the first time you’ve tied me up anyway.”

She didn't reply, but simply took his water bottle and half a bag of dry food and stuffed them into the remaining space in her own pocket.

"You're carrying so much, can the battery handle it?" He stood up and tried, and could still walk.

"You have to eat, even if you can't handle it," she said. "It'll be a problem for me if you can't walk."

The two continued forward, this time she walked in front, her arms slightly outstretched so he could hold on. The ground was uneven, and they moved step by step, relying on tree roots and stones.

The incubator beeped again.

She glanced down and saw that the temperature had risen to 6.8 degrees Celsius.

"The cooling module's output has decreased," she said. "It's probably due to vibration."

"Then what should we do?"

"Make it vibrate less," she said.

She pulled her elbow in a little, gripping the box tighter. A faint adjusting sound came from inside the machine, like some kind of machinery slowly turning.

“What did you shut off?” Carl asked.

“Non-essential systems,” she said. “Lighting, voice assistance, and environmental scanning have all been stopped.”

"Then will you still be able to see the road?"

“I can see clearly,” she said. “I still have my eyes.”

As darkness fell, the forest grew even darker. They could only make out outlines ahead by the faint light. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew, rustling the leaves, and the sound of a branch snapping came from afar.

“Don’t stop,” she said. “It’s just the wind.”

“I didn’t mean to stop,” he said. “My ears just suddenly started ringing.”

“Hypoxia response,” she said. “Slow down your breathing, don’t rush.”

They walked for a while longer and finally emerged from the woods. Ahead was an open area, where the wind was much stronger than in the forest, and sand and dust swirled around them, whipping up bits of grass that stung their faces.

“The last two kilometers,” she said.

"It doesn't look far," he gasped for breath, "but it'll be a nightmare to walk."

She switched the terminal to voice broadcast mode and set it to display the temperature every three minutes.

"Six point nine degrees," the voice rang out.

"It's alright," she said.

Five minutes later, it rang again.

"Seven points and one degree."

She didn't speak, but quickened her pace. The wind blew from the side, and she turned to the side, using her body to block some of the airflow.

"Are you using yourself as a human windbreak?" Carl said.

"Save your energy for talking," she said. "Just stay close."

They walked forward step by step. The wind grew stronger, making it hard to open their eyes. The screen of the incubator began to flicker, displaying intermittent data.

"Temperature... six o'clock... eight..." The voice trailed off, "...seven o'clock..."

She reached out and pressed the port, and the sound returned.

"Seven points and one degree."

“It’s dying,” Carl said.

“It’s stronger than you,” she said.

“I never said I was strong,” he said with a wry smile. “I’ve always felt that I’m quite fragile.”

“The weak would have fallen long ago,” she said. “You’re still standing.”

They continued walking. Eighty meters, fifty meters, thirty meters. The distant mountain silhouettes grew clearer, revealing the remnants of the camp buried by the landslide.

“Eight hundred meters to go,” she said.

Karl didn't respond. His breathing was heavy, his steps were slow, but he didn't stop.

The wind suddenly subsided a bit. The sand settled, and visibility improved.

She looked down at the incubator, and the screen finally stabilized, with the number settling at 6.7 degrees Celsius.

"It's still under control," she said.

“What if…it really breaks?” Carl asked.

“That would be terrible,” she said. “We didn’t bring back machines, we brought back medicine.”

"But medicine can also become ineffective."

“Then use it as soon as possible,” she said. “As long as we’re on the road, there’s hope.”

"Are you always this calm?" he asked.

“I’m not calm,” she said. “I just know that stopping won’t help.”

They took a few more steps forward. The ground began to solidify, no longer loose, dusty soil. In the distance, they could see the outline of the resource point's barbed wire fence, crooked but still intact.

“They’ll wait for us,” Carl said.

“Not necessarily,” she said, “but they’re worth the wait.”

She stepped over a collapsed stone slab, her foot pausing for a moment. A short, sharp grinding sound came from her right knee joint, like a gear stuck for half a second.

She didn't stop, she kept walking.

As Carl watched her retreating figure, he suddenly said, "If you ever find yourself unable to walk anymore, remember to let me know."

"Why should I tell you?" she asked.

"Let me carry you for a while," he said.

She didn't answer, but simply raised her hand and pressed the incubator on her chest.

The box is still rattling.