Nana took two steps closer, and the eye scanning module emitted a faint ring of light, shining it on the clump of soil for three seconds. The data stream was rapidly compared internally, and her voice paused slightly: "Sample collection for component analysis."

Chen Hao took the opportunity to scrape all the dust off the corner of the table, then used a discarded metal tag to hold it and handed it over: "Here, check a few more, what if it's a treasure? We don't even have lunchboxes in this shabby place, we have to carry water by hand and stuff things into our pockets, we should have some containers a long time ago."

“The current task priority is the mass production of tool components.” Nana took the sample and placed a trace amount of powder into the micro-detection tank. “However, if the resources are processable, the system will automatically update survival optimization suggestions.”

“Listen to this, ‘survival optimization suggestions’.” He grinned. “You say that like the cafeteria lady saying ‘there’s plenty of food today,’ it’s reassuring to hear.”

Nana didn't reply, but the blue light in her eyes began to flash rhythmically, as if she were silently thinking. A few seconds later, she looked up: "Test complete. The soil is highly plastic clay with a moderate silica content and a qualified aluminum oxide ratio. It has a stable structure after drying and is suitable for hand-shaping and low-temperature firing."

Chen Hao was stunned for a moment, then suddenly leaned forward from his chair: "Wait, what did you say? You can make pottery?"

“It is theoretically feasible,” she said. “Preliminary sintering can be achieved with a basic combustion device without the need for high pressure or extreme high temperature environments.”

"Oh my God!" He slammed his hand on the table, making several parts nearby jump. "Did we find a treasure? No, we found a family heirloom in a pile of scrap metal!"

He picked up the bag of soil and examined it as if it were a freshly baked pancake: "If I make a bowl, can I make soup? And if I make a jar, can I store some water so that the wild vegetables I pick won't wilt like dried noodles?"

“The container’s airtightness depends on the firing density,” Nana said calmly. “Initial products may have micropore leakage, requiring multiple trials to adjust the drying and heating process.”

“That’s no big deal!” He waved his hand. “Anyway, I’m not exactly an efficiency expert these days. Making a crooked pot a day is progress. Besides, I was a master at sculpting clay figures when I was a kid. Although my mom said I sculpted alien creatures, I think they look a lot like Grandpa Wang from next door.”

“The current sample size is less than ten grams.” Nana pulled up the 3D structural map of the base, and locked the cursor on the exposed ground area on the east side. “Deep vibrations may expose the clay layer. It is recommended to go and investigate the actual distribution range tomorrow.”

"I have to go!" He slapped his thigh and stood up, forgetting that there was a pile of molds at his feet. He almost tripped and stumbled a couple of steps before regaining his balance. "This is a crucial step in improving our quality of life! Do you know how miserable it is to live without a bowl? Last time I wanted to make some mushroom soup, I could only use a tin can as a pot. In the end, I didn't make any soup, and the can exploded. Sparks flew onto my trouser leg and burned a hole in it."

"Record: Avoid using flammable fabrics in heating experiments."

“I’m not an experiment, I’m life!” he protested. “People can’t just live by making hammers to keep going, can they? They need some kind of spiritual pursuit. For example—a bowl for eating, a cup for drinking water, and a chamber pot for using at night…”

"The chamber pot is not included in the current functional plan."

"How come all you know is how to say no?" He rolled his eyes. "Can't you just say, 'This idea is worth considering'?"

“All reasonable proposals that improve the quality of life will be included in the evaluation.” She paused, “including chamber pots.”

Chen Hao laughed, his shoulders shaking so much that his greasy jacket swayed with it: "Okay, you've finally learned to catch a joke. Looks like you're starting to feel human after staying on this crappy planet for so long."

He sat back down on the small stool next to the pile of materials, picked up a clean cloth from the ground, carefully wrapped the bag of clay, placed it in the most conspicuous spot on the workbench, and weighed it down with a small stone to prevent it from being blown away by the wind—even though there was no wind at all.

“The first thing we’ll do tomorrow,” he said, rubbing his aching back, “isn’t going mining, iron smelting, or making any hammer-themed products. We’ll go find some mud first.”

“The exploration route has been initially planned,” Nana said. “The estimated walking distance is 3.2 kilometers, the terrain is relatively flat, and the risks are manageable.”

"3.2 kilometers? That'll break my legs!" he groaned. "I've been dealing with molten iron all night, my hands are practically the color of char siu. Couldn't you have said there was somewhere closer? Like... just dig a shovelful in the corner of the base?"

“Geological data shows that the area has the highest clay enrichment.”

“Data again,” he muttered. “You robots believe in this. If I could dream of maps, I could draw routes in my sleep.”

Nana was silent for a moment, then suddenly said, "Your body temperature is 0.8 degrees lower than normal, and your muscle fatigue index is too high. I suggest you rest immediately."

“I know I should sleep.” He raised his arm and sniffed it. “I also know I should take a shower, but the problem is—there’s no water. So I can only close my eyes and pretend I’m clean.”

He slowly gathered up the scattered tools, tightened the pouring valve, and after the furnace cooling program started, the red light turned to flashing green. The entire base fell silent, with only the low-frequency hum of the energy tank remaining.

He remained seated, kneading the lump of wet clay repeatedly in his hand, his movements gentle, as if testing its texture. The clay gradually became supple, no longer loose, and a faint sheen appeared on its surface.

"Do you think it can be formed?" he suddenly asked.

“Physical properties support shaping,” Nana replied. “The specific effect depends on the operator’s technique.”

"I'll give it a try." He placed the lump of clay on the table, slowly flattened it with both hands, and then lifted it little by little, trying to make a bowl-shaped outline. Unfortunately, he applied uneven pressure, and one edge collapsed, like a hamburger that had been stepped on.

“A failure,” he said, “but I think it has potential.”

“The success rate on the first attempt is about 31 percent,” Nana said. “Your case is within the normal range.”

"You actually dare to provide data?" He chuckled wryly. "So all the newbies in the universe are like me, starting out with stuff that's just for the dogs?"

"Some pottery from early civilizations was used for sacrificial rites or decoration, and not all of it was used as tableware."

“Oh, so maybe my crooked pot will end up in a museum someday?” He looked up at her. “The exhibition title could be ‘The First Artwork of Humanity Struggling to Survive on an Alien Planet’?”

“The possibility exists.” Nana’s lens brightened slightly, revealing traces of sweat and dust on his face, “especially considering its unique shape.”

Chen Hao laughed heartily, his laughter echoing through the empty base before dissipating. He stopped sculpting and instead laid the crooked little lump of clay out to dry on the corner of the table, covering it with a thin sheet of metal to keep it dust-free.

“I’ll find the source tomorrow and then I’ll make something proper,” he said. “A bowl with a rim, the kind that can hold soup. And then I’ll make a lid so the bugs don’t crawl in.”

He stood up, stretched, and his bones cracked. "I can sleep soundly tonight. Not because the work is finished, but because—we're finally more than just a blacksmith shop."

Nana stood by the stove, the system still recording clay parameters and marking potential sampling points. Her voice rang out calmly: "The ambient temperature will continue to drop overnight; we recommend wearing full protective gear."

"Got it." He dragged his feet toward the rest area, then turned back halfway and pointed to the bag of dirt on the corner of the table. "Keep an eye on it, don't let the rats carry it away."

"No rodent activity has been recorded in this area."

"What if there is?" he insisted. "These are ingredients for our future kitchen."

He finally lay down, wrapped himself tightly in the blanket, and closed his eyes. But after a short while, he opened them again.

"Nana".

"exist."

"You said... if we really make pottery, could we also fire a small flowerpot? I'd like to try growing something in it."

The camera paused on Nana for a moment.

Chen Hao's hand was still resting on the edge of the blanket, his fingertips lightly tapping the ground.