The wind stopped. The dust settled, and the distant mountain silhouettes became clear. Nana stood at the edge of the resource point, the incubator on her chest still beeping intermittently. She glanced down at the screen; the temperature had returned to 6.7 degrees Celsius and hadn't risen any higher.

Karl, panting, his ankle bandaged, limped along behind. He looked up at her. "We...are we here?"

"We're here," she said. "Stay put."

Chen Hao leaned against a collapsed stone slab, dark stains seeping through the bandages on his leg. He raised his hand to wipe his face, his voice hoarse: "Where's Susan?"

“He’s inside.” Nana turned and walked toward the depression in the rock wall. “His vital signs are stable, but he hasn’t woken up yet.”

Carl sat down against the wall, taking off his coat and placing it under himself. He stared at the worn-out toes of his shoes, thinking, "At least they didn't fall apart on the road."

Nana removed the incubator from her chest and placed it on the dry ground. She crouched down to check the connector, pressing her fingers on the metal plate and then releasing it. The buzzing sound subsided slightly.

"How much longer can it last?" Chen Hao asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, “but it’s lighter than you now.”

Chen Hao grinned, "I don't think I'm heavy."

“You weigh 230 pounds,” she said. “Carl weighs 140, Susan weighs 105, and I weigh 87. That’s over 500 kilograms in total. You’re too much of a target to move around in.”

“Do you remember everyone’s weight?” Carl looked up.

“I remember everyone’s data,” she said. “Heart rate, blood pressure fluctuations, stride error. Your walking patterns are all archived in my database.”

Chen Hao chuckled. "So, do you still remember the time I stole some supplies?"

“Record No. 518-3: Chen Hao took two pieces of chocolate three days ago and lied that they were taken by a rat. The surveillance footage showed no signs of rat activity.”

"..." Chen Hao shut up.

Nana stood up, opened the terminal panel on her back, and brought up the geological scanning interface. Several wavy lines on the screen rose and fell slowly, their color changing from red to yellow.

“The vibration amplitude has decreased by 92 percent in the past three hours,” she said. “The vibration frequency is below 0.3 Hz, which is at the background noise level.”

“What do you mean?” Carl asked.

“It won’t collapse,” she said. “The probability of a secondary landslide is less than 0.3% for at least the next twelve hours.”

Chen Hao breathed a sigh of relief, then leaned back, his head hitting a rock without moving. He looked at the gray sky and said, "Then let's not go."

"Huh?" Karl turned his head.

“I said, we’re not going today.” Chen Hao sat up straight. “We’re all about to fall apart. Your ankle is twisted like that, Nana’s battery is only half full, my legs hurt like they’ve been hammered the whole way, and Susan is still lying down. If we set off now, we’ll all be collapsing halfway there.”

“But every extra day we stay increases the risk,” Carl said. “What if there are aftershocks?”

“As I just said, the probability is less than 0.3,” Nana repeated. “And I’ve already deployed four ground spike sensors, covering a radius of fifty meters. Once the ground displacement exceeds two centimeters, the alarm will ring directly in your ears.”

“It sounds pretty safe,” Carl said, scratching his head. “But I still feel that it’s better to leave than to lie around and wait.”

“You’re afraid of wasting time,” Chen Hao said, looking at him. “Actually, you know you can’t go very far right now.”

Carl didn't say anything, but looked down and touched his ankle.

"Walking steadily is more important than walking fast." Chen Hao broke off a piece of compressed biscuit and stuffed it into his mouth. "I used to be like that during exams too. I always wanted to be the first to hand in my paper, but I ended up making a lot of mistakes. Later, I learned to do it slowly, and I actually got higher scores."

“When have you ever gotten a high score?” Carl snorted.

"Do you understand the concept of a spiritual victory?" Chen Hao glared. "I'm using my life experience to guide the team's decisions right now."

Nana closed the terminal. "The simulation results show that if we rest tonight, everyone's physical condition will be restored to a usable state tomorrow, and the travel efficiency will increase by 42%. If we force ourselves to set off, the probability of injury or illness along the way is 68%."

"Look!" Chen Hao slapped his thigh, "The robot has the final say."

“I’m not a fortune teller,” she said. “I just do the math.”

"Anyway, the conclusion is the same." Chen Hao grinned. "We're not leaving today; we'll set off tomorrow morning."

Carl sighed. "Fine, I'll do as you say."

"Then go and take stock of the tools," Chen Hao said, pointing at him. "See if there's anything else we can use. We don't want to regret it tomorrow when we find we're missing ropes."

Carl nodded, moved to the backpack, and began rummaging through it.

Chen Hao looked at Nana, "How about you? How are the medical supplies?"

Nana walked over to Susan and scanned her neck brace. The green light illuminated, indicating that the support structure was functioning correctly.

“We have two vials of sedatives and enough anti-inflammatory medication for three days,” she said. “But we only have enough nerve repair medication for one dose. It must be used as soon as possible.”

"That means we can't delay going back." Chen Hao nodded. "We have to be there by tomorrow."

"The premise is that nothing goes wrong on the road," she said.

"Then let's hope nothing goes wrong." Chen Hao stood up and stretched his legs. "I'll go see if there's anything we can salvage."

He limped toward the pile of rubble, kicked aside a few pieces of scrap metal, and pulled out a flattened battery box. He shook it; it still had power inside.

"Hey, this thing can still be charged." He stuffed it into his bag.

Nana walked over and squatted down to inspect the metal frame on the other side. She removed the two complete supports, folded them, and tied them to her waist.

“It can be used as a walking stick,” she said, “or for self-defense.”

"You want to fight?" Chen Hao laughed.

“You don’t allow anyone to get close to Susan,” she said, “so I have to prepare.”

"I thought you were just a cold, emotionless machine."

“I am,” she said, “but I am following your orders.”

Chen Hao paused for a moment, then laughed out loud, "Alright, then you continue—pack up everything that's usable."

Nana nodded and turned to go to the other side.

Carl then shouted, "The medical kit is missing a compartment! I remember there was a small pouch for syringes, but it's gone!"

"Did you get lost on the road?" Chen Hao asked.

“Maybe,” Carl said, rummaging through his bag, “but I definitely remember putting it in.”

Nana walked over and scanned the inside of the backpack. "The last recorded opening was on the east side of the landslide area, about 400 meters from the current location. No lost item alarm signal was detected."

"So it's lost." Chen Hao sighed. "Never mind, let's sort out the rest first. Getting on the road tomorrow is the priority."

“I’ll check,” Susan suddenly said.

Everyone was stunned.

Her eyes were open, her face was pale, but she was conscious.

"Susan!" Chen Hao rushed over. "You're awake?"

"I just woke up," she said weakly. "I heard you talking."

"Don't move!" Nana immediately stepped forward. "Don't turn your neck around."

“I know.” Susan slowly raised her hand and touched the neck brace. “Just let me lie down. But I can help count the medicines; I remember the list.”

Nana paused for two seconds, then asked, "Are you sure?"

“I’m sure,” she said. “Lying down is a waste of time, so I might as well do some work.”

Nana handed over the terminal and pulled up the list of medical supplies. Susan took it and checked each item one by one.

"Two bottles of saline solution, six fever-reducing tablets, four packs of hemostatic cotton..." she read aloud, "What's missing is a spare syringe kit and anti-allergy medication."

“That bag is probably really lost,” Carl said.

“It’s okay,” Susan said. “As long as the main drug is available, we can use alternatives for the rest.”

"You really are reliable," Chen Hao remarked.

“You are the one who should be.” Susan glanced at him. “If you hadn’t insisted on staying, I probably would have been shaken awake by now.”

"That won't do." Chen Hao waved his hand. "The wounded must be given priority; that's the principle."

“Principles?” Carl laughed. “The last time you talked about principles was because you didn’t want to wash the dishes.”

"That was a special case!" Chen Hao argued. "This time it's a matter of principle."

Nana didn't join the argument. She walked to the center of the open space, removed the outer casings of two discarded pieces of equipment, pieced them together, and secured them with wire. The windshield was erected.

Then she took out a flashlight, turned it to the lowest power, and arranged it in a triangle around the edge of the campsite. The faint light illuminated just enough to show the surrounding outline.

"The warning zone is set up," she said. "In power-saving mode, it can last for eight hours."

"You're quite good at managing your finances," Chen Hao said.

“I’m not living a mundane life,” she said. “I’m conserving energy.”

"Same."

"no the same."

"Okay, okay, whatever you say." Chen Hao raised his hands in surrender.

He glanced at the sky. "It's getting dark. Who's on the first shift?"

“Me,” Nana said.

"Your battery is low," Chen Hao shook his head. "You need to charge it while it's in standby mode, otherwise who's going to save you if it crashes in the middle of the night?"

"I can run at low power."

“No way,” Chen Hao insisted. “You can just take charge of the monitoring system. People still need to be supervised.”

“I’ll do it,” Susan said.

"You should rest." Chen Hao pressed down on her shoulder. "You just woke up, don't push yourself."

“Then it’s me.” Carl propped himself up to stand up. “I can’t sleep, this will help me wake up.”

"Your feet are swollen and you're still keeping watch?" Chen Hao rolled his eyes. "Sit down."

"Then you do it?" Karl countered.

"Me?" Chen Hao pointed to himself. "Of course I'm here. I'm the captain."

"When have you ever called yourself captain?" Karl scoffed.

"From now on," Chen Hao said, puffing out his chest, "I hereby announce that we will take turns on night watch tonight, with each shift lasting two hours. I will be on the first shift, Karl on the second, Nana on the third, and Susan doesn't need to be on the first shift."

“That’s not fair,” Carl said.

“Fair.” Chen Hao took a bite of his biscuit. “I’m the fattest, with the most calories stored up, so I’m best suited to freeze.”

"You really think being fat is an advantage."

“That’s right.” Chen Hao grinned. “I call this a strategic reserve.”

Nana walked to a corner, adjusted the device's posture, and entered low-power standby mode. The indicator lights on both eyes remained constantly lit, and hot air slowly escaped from the heat vents on the back.

Carl pulled his coat tighter around himself and lay down on the makeshift cushions made of miscellaneous items. He glanced at Susan. "Are you really alright?"

"It's nothing," Susan said, closing her eyes. "I'm just a little tired."

Chen Hao sat at the campsite entrance, leaning against a rock, holding half a compressed biscuit in his hand. He took a bite, chewed slowly, and glanced at the distant mountain shadows.

A breeze picked up again, causing the lights to sway gently. The light spots moved across the ground, like a silent reminder.

Nana's voice suddenly rang out.

"The temperature has risen to 6.9 degrees Celsius."

Chen Hao looked up, "The box is broken again?"

“The cooling module is under increased load,” she said. “I recommend reducing vibrations during handling.”

"Understood." Chen Hao nodded. "Be careful tomorrow."

He looked at Carl, who was already asleep. Susan's breathing was steady; she must have rested too.

He looked down at the biscuit in his hand, and swallowed it in one last bite.

“You mean…” he suddenly began, “what if we can’t make it by tomorrow?”

Nana did not answer.

A few seconds later, she only said one sentence.

"Then let's stop here."