Everyone confirmed their status.

Chen Hao pressed the start button. The engine emitted a deep hum, the hull shuddered slightly, and it slowly moved away from its original position. The water surface was parted, ripples spread to both sides, and the outline of the island began to shrink.

He turned to look at Susan, Carl, and Nana, his voice suddenly rising: "We actually did it!"

No one responded.

A salty wind blew in from the sea. Susan smiled to herself, looking down without lifting her head. Carl leaned against the ship's railing, tapping his fingers twice on the iron bars. Nana stood at the control panel; the optical lens flashed.

“Do you guys remember the time I fell into the storage box?” Chen Hao continued. “It was right after we left port. There was a big wave, and I just sat down in it, with half a bottle of water in my hands.”

“I remember.” Susan looked up. “You yelled ‘Help!’ but the water was only up to your knees.”

“That was shock,” Chen Hao said. “It wasn’t a matter of physical height, it was a psychological shock.”

Carl snorted: "You're like a rolled-over glutinous rice ball."

“I thought you were going to swim back,” Nana said.

“She actually understands metaphors.” Chen Hao pointed at Nana. “The robot has learned sarcasm.”

“I’m not being sarcastic,” Nana said. “Your movement trajectory matches the characteristics of a rolling object, with your weight distributed towards the back, resulting in three bounces upon landing.”

“Look, look, this is data-driven humiliation.”

Susan laughed. Carl shook his head too. The sea breeze made their clothes stick to their backs, and the heat subsided a little.

“To be honest,” Susan said, opening her notebook, “I thought we wouldn’t get out of that hole.”

"Which cave?" Chen Hao asked.

"The one that's glowing."

“Oh, the Intestine Cave,” Chen Hao said.

“Don’t give me a random name,” Susan said.

"It's all curved and glows green, isn't that just intestines?" Chen Hao shrugged. "Anyway, no one has registered an official name for it."

Carl said, "All I remember is that the oxygen gauge was almost empty. Also, my wrench fell into the crack."

"You're still thinking about that wrench?" Chen Hao asked.

“That’s the only tool I’m comfortable using,” Carl said. “The ones we have on board now are cheap ones that slip after a couple of twists.”

"Bring a few more next time," Susan said.

"Next time?" Chen Hao looked at her. "You want to do it all again?"

“It’s not that I want to,” Susan said, closing her notebook. “It’s necessary for the mission. That kind of food chain structure is worth exploring in depth.”

“But they’ll explode,” Chen Hao said. “If they explode after being eaten, who would dare touch them?”

“Just avoid the top of the food chain,” Susan said. “The bottom samples are very stable. The plant tissue sections are well preserved, and the spore activity is normal.”

"You mean, we can plant that purple leaf?"

“Theoretically, it is possible,” she said, “as long as the ambient radiation levels are controlled.”

Chen Hao looked at Nana: "She said it as casually as ordering takeout."

“Her judgment is based on existing data,” Nana said. “The risks are manageable.”

“You’re all crazy,” Chen Hao said. “I’m here to escape, not to conduct agricultural experiments.”

"Then why did you draw three routes?" Carl asked.

“That’s a professional habit,” Chen Hao said. “I draw for fun.”

“You’re even changing the route map in your sleep,” Nana said. “In the past 72 hours, you’ve brought up the navigation interface 47 times.”

“That’s insomnia,” Chen Hao said. “Not passion.”

“Mood fluctuation monitoring shows that your anxiety level dropped by 21 percent when planning your route,” Nana said. “This means you enjoyed the process.”

"Shut up," Chen Hao said.

No one spoke.

The ship continued forward. The island had become a dark line in the distance. The sky was clear with few clouds. The sunlight on the deck was a little too hot for our feet.

"Actually," Chen Hao suddenly said, "if we go through it again, could we avoid the hassle?"

Nana immediately replied, "Okay."

"Wait a minute." Chen Hao raised his hand. "I didn't ask you to answer immediately. I want a discussion atmosphere, not a quick reply."

“I’ve been waiting for you for thirty-seven seconds,” Nana said. “That’s your average thinking time after you ask a question.”

"You even consider this a compliment?"

"All conversation patterns are recorded."

"You're more annoying than my mom."

"Mothers typically lack the ability to analyze data in real time."

Susan laughed. Carl leaned against the railing and nodded slowly.

"Go ahead," Chen Hao said, shrugging. "What suggestions do you have?"

Nana walked to the control panel, and the screen lit up. Charts appeared.

“First, the storm warning,” she said. “The main reason for this delay was the failure to identify abnormal airflow in advance. If we had connected to the deep-sea pressure sensor network before departure, we could have received the change signal four hours earlier.”

“So,” Susan said, “we didn’t have to run into that rain?”

“It can be avoided,” Nana said.

"Then why didn't you answer?" Chen Hao asked.

“You pulled the antenna,” Carl said. “Tell it made you dizzy.”

"That thing is like a spinning mop," Chen Hao said. "Who could stand it?"

“Second,” Nana continued, “the cave exploration equipment is insufficient. The current lighting range is only five meters, and heat source identification is lacking. If we were equipped with a portable infrared imager, we could avoid accidentally entering high-temperature areas.”

“I remember that place was incredibly hot,” Susan said. “The soles of my shoes were so soft.”

“I remember it too,” Chen Hao said. “I stepped on a bunch of sticky stuff.”

“It’s an unsolidified mineral deposit,” Nana said. “The temperature is 43 degrees Celsius.”

"It sounds like a hot spring," Chen Hao said, "but I don't want to soak in it."

“Third,” Nana pulled up the supplies list, “the classification logic needs optimization. The most time-consuming part of this sorting was sample archiving, mainly due to the chaotic labeling system. I suggest using a three-level emergency coding system: red for immediate availability, yellow for pending inspection, and black for isolation and sealing.”

"Are we using colors now?" Chen Hao asked.

“You’re using sticky notes right now,” Nana said. “They fall off after you write on them.”

“That’s easy to spot,” Chen Hao said. “What’s lost is unimportant.”

“Your freshwater label has fallen off three times,” Nana said. “One of those times led to you accidentally drinking disinfectant.”

“That doesn’t count,” Chen Hao said. “That was a deliberate frame-up.”

“Nobody’s going to change your bottle,” Susan said.

"Someone must have tampered with it."

“The behavior log shows that you took the wrong one yourself,” Nana said.

"I'm not listening." Chen Hao covered his ears. "Next topic."

“Summary complete,” Nana said. “The three optimization suggestions have been entered into the task file, number Ex-620.”

“What does Ex mean?” Susan asked.

“Explore,” Nana said.

"It sounds like an obsolete model," Chen Hao said.

“You’re the one on the verge of being eliminated,” Carl said. “You don’t even know how to wear a life jacket.”

“I will!” Chen Hao said. “I just don’t like the feeling of having my stomach constricted.”

“You put it on backwards twice,” Nana said.

"That's a design problem!"

"The design meets international standards."

"Standards can be wrong sometimes."

Susan looked down and flipped through her notes, adding a line to the page about blue-winged beetles: "Average flight time is thirty-seven seconds, and the frequency of light emission is related to humidity."

Carl sat at the stern, inspecting the mooring lines. One was loose; he wrapped it around a few times, tied a knot, and tightened it.

Chen Hao stood beside the cockpit, holding the flight path map in his hand. The edges of the paper were a bit rough, and it had been soaked with sweat several times.

"Actually," he said, "if there really is a next time... could I be the navigator?"

“You are now,” Nana said.

“I mean, the official kind,” Chen Hao said. “Not a temporary replacement, and not because others are too lazy to care.”

“You locked the rudder last time,” Carl said.

"That was just a mistake."

"You pressed the lock button."

"I didn't know that was the lock button."

The label says 'Do Not Touch'.

"The text is too small."

"The magnifying glass is right next to us."

“…I don’t want to argue anymore,” Chen Hao said. “Just remember the important thing—I want to get something done seriously.”

Nana glanced at him.

The optical lens is dimly lit.

“It’s been recorded,” she said. “Chen Hao has applied to officially assume the navigator role for the return trip and subsequent missions. Awaiting base approval.”

"Whether they approve it or not is their business," Chen Hao said. "I need to maintain the right attitude."

Susan closed her notebook and smiled.

Carl tied the last rope and clapped his hands.

The sea was calm. The boat was moving at a steady speed. The sun was beginning to set.

"By the way," Chen Hao suddenly asked, "are we considered a professional team now?"

“No,” Nana said.

"Why?"

"Professional teams don't realize they forgot to bring a water filter only three hours before departure."

"That was an accident."

"We wouldn't use potato chip cans to modify fuel containers."

"That was groundbreaking."

"The risk of explosion has increased sixfold."

"But it pulled through."

"No accidents have occurred yet."

"Are you going to turn every highlight into a potential problem?"

"My job is to identify risks."

"Can't you say something nice?"

Nana paused for two seconds.

“Your performance,” she said, “exceeded the initial assessment model’s predictions by forty-one percent.”

"Is that a compliment?"

"It's a fact based on data."

“I accept,” Chen Hao said, “even though it sounds like a machine trying to force praise.”

Susan walked to the bow of the boat and looked out at the sea. The wind ruffled her hair slightly.

Carl took a sip of water and put the empty bottle into the recycling bag.

Nana continued to monitor the navigation data while simultaneously updating her experience profile.

Chen Hao folded the route map neatly and stuffed it into his breast pocket.

He straightened up a bit.

“Next time,” he said, “we’ll prepare earlier, bring enough tools, and go according to plan.”

"The premise is," Susan turned around, "that you can tell which button is for starting and which is for self-destruct."

“I know the difference,” Chen Hao said. “The self-destruct button is usually red and has a skull icon.”

“The last one had it too,” Nana said. “You still pressed it.”

"That's a coincidence!"

"The button is labeled 'Test Mode'."

"I thought it was decoration!"

"The font size is 12."

"The lighting is bad!"

"You're wearing a headlamp."

"..." Chen Hao shut up.

Laughter came from the stern of the boat.

He turned and glared at him, but Carl, who was unscrewing the kettle lid, pretended not to hear.

Susan leaned against the cabin door, her shoulders trembling.

Nana's scanning light flickered slightly.

Chen Hao sighed.

He looked up at the sky.

There are more clouds than before.

The ship is still moving.

A gash was torn open in the sea, and then slowly closed.