The morning light cast a white glow on the metal edges. Chen Hao squatted beside the newly erected second pillar, clutching a piece of alloy removed from the life pod. It had originally been the frame of a control panel, but he had bent it three times before the last time it snapped in two with a "crack."

"As fragile as my ex's promise." He tossed the shards into a small pile at his feet, then picked up a broken wooden handle. It wasn't broken, but one end was too rough, giving his palm blisters.

Nana stood a few steps away, the camera panning across the pile of scattered fragments. "You have been trying to assemble the hammer for forty-seven minutes, failing nine times, with a success rate of 0%."

"Thanks, no need to go into so much detail." Chen Hao rolled his eyes. "I thought you were going to say something like 'good luck'."

“Data doesn’t encourage people,” she said, “but it can point out the problem—you’re missing the connecting structural components.”

“I know,” he said, scratching his head. “The problem is, we don’t have a screw factory or a hardware store here. We can’t expect a wrench to fall from the sky, can we?”

Nana didn't answer, but instead raised her arm, and a three-dimensional model appeared in the air: a standard hammer, broken down into three parts: the hammerhead, the handle, and the connecting ring. Blue light pointed to the middle section, "This part requires an impact-resistant metal component. The current material's shear strength is insufficient and cannot withstand repeated impacts."

Chen Hao stared at the circle of bright lines for two seconds, then suddenly burst out laughing: "So you're saying that using this piece of scrap metal as a hammer is like trying to pry up the earth with chopsticks?"

"The analogy is inaccurate," she said calmly. "Chopsticks at least have the advantage of a high modulus of elasticity."

"Okay, okay, whatever you say is right." He stood up, supporting himself on his knees, and stretched his shoulders. He was exhausted from rebuilding the framework last night, and this morning he got up and immediately started working on this pile of scrap materials. Now he was having a hard time even straightening his back.

He walked over to the pile of metal scraps, kicked aside a few useless thin plates, and pulled out a slightly thicker U-shaped channel steel. "How about this one? It looks sturdier."

"The thickness meets the standard, but the material is aluminum alloy, which has too high ductility and is prone to deformation." Nana immediately gave the conclusion after scanning. "If used for connection, it may undergo plastic deformation after three heavy impacts."

"So, you mean it's okay to hit twice, but the third time it'll miss?"

"correct."

Chen Hao sighed and plopped back down on the ground. "Our lives are so tough, even making a hammer depends on the quirks of the materials. I should have known better than to sleep in high school physics class."

“You can choose to give up now,” Nana said. “Continue hammering nails by hand.”

"That would be so embarrassing." He curled his lip. "I told myself I had to make something real this time. Otherwise, how can I prove I'm not living off you?"

He paused for a moment after saying this. The words sounded familiar; it seemed he'd said something similar yesterday. But he didn't dwell on it and continued fiddling with the wooden handle.

He tried several angles, placing the alloy strip on the wood to test its stability. The rope, once tied around the perimeter, loosened with a pull; the glue, scraped from the life pod's sealing layer, had been applied twice, but cracked at the slightest touch after drying.

"This glue isn't even as effective as my spit," he spat. "At least spit can keep things moist for a while."

"I suggest stopping pointless testing," Nana cautioned. "The existing adhesives have long curing times and a tensile strength of only 3.2 MPa, making them unsuitable for dynamic load scenarios."

"Couldn't you have put it more simply? Like, 'This glue is no good'?"

"I told you."

"..." Chen Hao closed his eyes. "I suspect you're deliberately trying to annoy me."

Nana didn't respond, but instead switched the projection to a geological profile. The image slowly rotated, showing an undulating rocky area in the southeast. "Based on mineral reflectance analysis, there is a ferromagnesian sedimentary zone in this area, which may contain hematite or magnetite."

Chen Hao looked up: "Wait, you mean... there's iron over there?"

“The probability is 68.4%,” she added. “If the material can be collected and the initial smelting can be completed, it can be processed into basic metal components.”

He paused for a few seconds, then suddenly grinned: "So we can not only make hammers, but also run a steel mill?"

“Small-scale refining is feasible,” she said. “The challenge lies in the planning of mining tools and transportation routes.”

"Hey, isn't this a perfect closed loop!" Chen Hao slapped his thigh and stood up. "We're short of tools right now, but the materials for those tools are in the mountains; we need tools to dig up the materials in the mountains—a perfect vicious cycle."

“The logic holds true.” Nana nodded. “We need to break one link in the chain.”

“Then stop sitting and thinking.” He bent down and picked up the wooden handle that hadn’t been attached yet. “Let’s set a small goal: make the first real tool. Even if it’s crooked, it has to be able to hammer nails.”

Nana pulled up the map, where green dots marked the predicted ore distribution area. "423 meters from the current base, terrain slope 14%, with a section of gravel landslide along the way."

"Over four hundred meters?" Chen Hao frowned. "Isn't that the gully that the mudslide washed down last night?"

"Exactly."

"Good heavens, I almost got buried yesterday, and now I have to go there on my own today?" He scratched the back of his head. "Isn't fate playing a bit too many tricks on me?"

“You don’t need a sense of humor to survive,” she said. “You just need to act.”

Chen Hao snorted, squatted down, and put the wooden handle and a few usable metal pieces into a tattered cloth bag. "Alright, we're just sitting here anyway. Once I've sorted out this pile of junk, we'll set off."

"I suggest you replenish your energy before proceeding." Nana handed over a water bag and a compressed nutritional paste. "Your current blood sugar level is low, and your muscle recovery rate is down by 19%."

"How do you even know if I'm hungry or not?" He took the food, took a bite, and his brows immediately furrowed. "Is this stuff made of cement and bitter medicine?"

"The ingredients include soy protein, vitamin complex, and electrolytes," she said calmly. "Taste is not within the scope of optimization."

"You robots really don't understand human suffering," he muttered as he chewed. "If humanity ever goes extinct, it'll definitely be because the food you make is too awful."

Nana didn't respond, but silently recorded his eating habits.

After finishing his meal, Chen Hao lay in the shade for ten minutes to rest, then got up and began organizing his toolbox. He sorted and piled up the usable metal sheets, picking out two thicker ones to take back to the base for processing. Before leaving, he glanced back at the half-finished hammer—its wooden handle stuck forlornly in the ground, like a small flag of surrender.

“Wait for me to come back,” he said, pointing at it. “You’ll become a proper hammer sooner or later.”

"It doesn't have hearing," Nana reminded.

“I know.” He brushed the dust off his pants. “I’m saying this to myself.”

The two walked one after the other towards the wreckage of the life pod, their footsteps rustling on the rubble. Sunlight had already bathed the entire construction site, casting long, thin shadows from the metal frames, like some kind of clumsy timer.

Back at his temporary work site, Chen Hao found a relatively flat stone platform and spread out the materials he had brought. He tried using a sharp stone as a chisel to carve threads on the alloy strip, but after five taps, the chisel tip broke.

"I'm done for. I'm not even as good as a temporary worker now." He tossed away the piece of gravel. "I didn't even make the tool. I ruined the tool's tool first."

"I recommend using hot forging," Nana said. "Local heating can improve the metal's ductility."

"Heating? With what? A lighter?"

"Solar focusing devices can be used."

"Oh right, you have this function too." He looked up as if he remembered something. "Then hurry up and get one so I can try it out."

Nana adjusted the angle of her glasses, and a faint beam of light shone from her pupil, landing on one end of the alloy strip. A few seconds later, that spot began to redden.

Chen Hao quickly used pliers to clamp the other end and swung a flat stone to smash it. The first blow caused the metal to dent slightly; the second blow caused the edges to curl up; the third blow caused the entire alloy to crack in two.

"..." He stared at the broken edge for a long time, "I think it wanted to give up more than I did."

“The temperature is not ideal.” Nana withdrew the light. “Atmospheric dust affects the light-gathering efficiency, and there is a lack of insulation.”

"Does that mean we don't even have a decent stove?"

"The necessary metallurgical conditions are not currently met."

Chen Hao looked up at the sky and let out a long breath. The sun was high in the sky, the wind was light, and the construction site was so quiet that only his own breathing could be heard.

A moment later, he slowly squatted down and traced his finger across the location of the map that Nana had just projected.

"Southeast... to the bottom of that ditch," he said softly. "Since we can't make a hammer, we'll just have to dig. We can't keep banging on the wall with our hands, can we?"

Nana stood behind him, blue light flashing rhythmically in her eyes.

“The mission has been updated,” she said. “Assist the host in providing support for ore exploration.”

Chen Hao didn't turn around; he simply stuffed the empty wooden handle into the side pocket of his backpack.

He stood up, dusted off his trousers, and looked towards the valley to the southeast that was covered by mudslides.