A drop of water fell on Chen Hao's forehead. He raised his hand to wipe it, then casually wiped it on his pants. The waterproof tarp above his head trembled slightly, and another drop of water slid down, hitting the tin bucket at his feet with a "clink".

The light is still on.

He looked down at the cookie wrapper in his hand, crumpled into a ball, his knuckles white. Then he slowly released it, the crumpled paper rolling into his palm before being flung away, flying into the recycling bin in the corner, missing its target, and landing beside him.

"The patching on this cloth is terrible," he said, "but it's a skill that it can hold up."

No one responded.

Carl leaned against the wall, legs stretched out, right arm draped over his knee, eyes closed, as if asleep. Susan sat in a chair in front of the monitoring console, notebook open, pen tucked behind her ear. Nana stood beside the terminal, screen lit, data scrolling up line by line.

Chen Hao cleared his throat: "We've been working ourselves to the bone for two days now, so we need to know what we did right, otherwise we'll be in this mess again next time."

Susan looked up: "You want to have a meeting?"

"Not really," Chen Hao waved his hand. "We're just chatting. Anyway, we have electricity now and the lights are on, so we can't keep moving scrap metal."

Carl opened one eye: "Will talking all the time stop the roof from leaking?"

“No,” Chen Hao said. “But before the next typhoon comes, we can replace the roof with sheet metal and rivets instead of just covering it with plastic sheeting.”

Nana replied: "I suggest initiating the post-disaster review process. We have retrieved all records of this disaster response operation, including construction time, materials used, structural damage points, and weather change points."

She paused for a moment: "A total of 1,723 valid data points were collected, which can generate a comparative analysis report."

“Look,” Chen Hao pointed at Nana, “the robot said we’re not just busy doing nothing.”

Susan opened her notebook: "Then you go first, which step do you think is the most crucial?"

"Reinforce the generator room," Chen Hao blurted out. "If that thing gets flooded, we'll still be using a hand-crank generator, and we can't even light a lamp."

“I agree.” Susan nodded. “Although a section of the flood wall collapsed, it blocked the peak of the flood in the first three hours, giving us time to make repairs.”

“And the drainage ditch.” Carl sat up straighter. “That night we were almost blocked by mud. If the water pump hadn’t been put in time, the water would have flooded the control room.”

“The drone discovered two hidden blockages,” Nana added, “resulting in a 39 percent increase in clearance efficiency.”

Chen Hao chuckled: "You even figured this out?"

“My job is to remember everything,” Nana said, “including which of you stole the sugar water from the spare can.”

“That’s not me,” Chen Hao immediately raised his hand. “It’s Karl.”

Carl rolled his eyes: "You're talking nonsense."

"Quiet down," Susan interrupted. "The question is, do we always have to come up with solutions on the fly? Is it possible to prepare in advance?"

"You mean...we were lucky?" Chen Hao asked.

“It’s not just luck,” she said. “With the first earthquake, we didn’t even know where the emergency kits were. With the second landslide, the communication system was completely paralyzed. This time, at least we knew about the typhoon in advance and were able to organize ourselves to get things done.”

“There has been progress,” Chen Hao admitted. “Before, I would want to lie down and sleep whenever I saw a screwdriver, but now I can assemble a junction box by myself—although Nana helped me modify it in the end.”

“Your willingness to take action has increased by 214 percent,” Nana said.

"Look, even the robot can tell."

Carl shook his head: "But there are still only four of us. No matter how well we prepare, we still can't withstand a stronger wind."

“Nobody said I had to shoulder this alone,” Chen Hao said, looking at him. “But if the four of us work together, we can manage.”

"What method?"

“Let’s learn from our experience.” Chen Hao stood up and walked to the monitoring console. “For example, this time, we knew that reinforcements had to be completed 60 hours before the typhoon; the generator room had to be waterproofed first; the drainage system had to be cleaned in advance; and the thermal expansion and contraction of the roof structure would affect the installation accuracy—these were not guesses, but the results of hard work.”

Nana pulled up a chart: "Comparing the response to the three disasters. The first earthquake, the risk of injury was 83%; the second landslide, it dropped to 56%; and this typhoon, the survival probability in key areas reached 68%."

“In other words,” Susan said, “we are getting stronger.”

"It's not that I've become stronger," Chen Hao corrected. "It's that I've become smarter. Before, I would only react when I was stunned by the attack, but now I'm thinking about how to dodge before I even get hit."

"And then what?" Carl asked. "Are we just going to wait for the next disaster?"

“No,” Chen Hao said. “We want to make the base even harder to destroy.”

"Be specific."

"Stockpile more supplies, prepare an extra route, and add an extra layer of defense to the houses." Chen Hao slammed his hand on the table. "From now on, for everything, ask yourself first: Can this increase our survival redundancy? If it can, do it; if not, postpone it."

“‘Survival redundancy’?” Susan read it aloud. “You’ve really learned how to use words.”

“Nana taught me.” Chen Hao shrugged. “She said if I don’t learn new words, my knowledge base is useless.”

Nana: "That's true."

Karl was silent for a moment: "So you want to turn the experience of getting beaten up every time into a way to defend yourself next time?"

"More or less." Chen Hao nodded. "We can't predict everything, but we can remember what we've done."

“I suggest establishing a disaster response archive,” Nana said. “Each response process should be archived chronologically, with decision-making milestones, resource consumption, and outcome feedback marked. In the future, it can be used as a reference template for automatic recall.”

“Sounds like doing homework,” Carl frowned.

"It's just doing homework," Chen Hao laughed. "And the teacher is a ruthless robot."

“I will check the progress regularly,” Nana said calmly.

Susan closed the notebook and gently placed it on the table: "If that were really the case, maybe we wouldn't have to fight to the very last moment every time."

"Then let's start now." Chen Hao picked up a pen and wrote a few words on a piece of paper pasted on the wall: **Typhoon Response Summary**.

The following are some examples:

1. Enter defensive status 60 hours in advance.

2. Waterproofing should be prioritized for the generator room; a combination of sandbags and diversion channels is effective.

3. Roof reinforcement must take into account the thermal expansion and contraction of metal, and allow for adjustment space.

4. The drainage system must be inspected by drones, as manual inspections are prone to overlooking certain aspects.

5. Personnel rotation should be controlled at a pace of one rotation every two hours to avoid physical exhaustion.

After he finished writing, he took a step back: "Every time something happens in the future, I'll add a point. When we get old, maybe we can publish a book called 'How to Survive Longer in the End of the World'."

“The title is too long,” Carl said. “How about calling it ‘Don’t Wait Until It Collapses to Fix It’?”

“Okay.” Chen Hao laughed. “Subtitle: A Fat Man and His Robot Teacher’s Survival Notes.”

Susan's lips twitched: "Are you sure anyone will watch?"

"I have to write it even if no one reads it." Chen Hao put the pen back behind his ear. "What if I forget it? I'm not a robot, I can't remember that much."

“I can help you remember it,” Nana said.

“I know,” Chen Hao said, looking at her. “But I have to try my best to remember. Otherwise, if you break down one day, I’ll just be staring blankly at the cookie wrapper.”

The air fell silent for a moment.

Then Carl laughed and said, "You're so gloomy."

“It’s not despair.” Chen Hao sat back down on the edge of the monitoring station. “It’s clarity. We have no savior, no alien fleet, and no hidden base waiting to open the door. We only have this wretched place and three people willing to help fix the roof.”

He paused for a moment, then said, "That's enough."

Nana has started entering data. A new folder pops up on the screen, named: **Survival Strategy v3.0**.

The following subdirectories will be generated automatically:

- Seismic response record

Landslide handling process

- Typhoon defense review

Susan rubbed her temples, finally relaxing her shoulders. She closed the notebook tightly, tapped her fingers twice on the cover, and placed it on the corner of the table.

Carl didn't speak again. He leaned against the wall, his eyes closed again, but his breathing was more steady than before. His right arm was still on his knee, his posture unchanged, but he looked lighter overall.

The lights remained on steadily.

Chen Hao looked up at the tarpaulin on the ceiling. There was a noticeable bulge there, the edges curled up, and rainwater was slowly accumulating. He knew it would leak sooner or later.

But he didn't move.

He knew he would have to fix the roof tomorrow.

They also knew that after the repairs were completed, there would be more wind, rain, and troubles they had never encountered before.

But now, they have records, they have discussions, and they have reasons to do better next time.

He reached into his pocket and felt around; the damp biscuit was gone.

There was only a crumpled piece of wrapping paper, which he had just thrown into the recycling bin.

He didn't look for it again.