Chen Hao's hand was still resting on the stone axe, his knuckles numb. Nana's blue light remained fixed in the northeast direction for a full ten seconds, flickering like a stuck light bulb. He held his breath, his ears perked up so much he could hear the sweat beading on his forehead.

The wind swept through the treetops, swirling up a withered leaf that slapped against his face.

"...That's it?" He peeled the leaf off and shook it twice. "It scared me. I thought an alien security guard in an invisibility cloak had come."

Nana lowered the scanning angle: "No danger source. The abnormal fluctuation just now was caused by airflow disturbance affecting metal fragments."

"So it's just a piece of metal dancing." Chen Hao released the axe handle and plopped back down on the rock. It was uncomfortable, but he was too lazy to move. "Fine, it's good that you're alive. Dying in the mouth of a wild beast is heroic, but dying from high blood pressure caused by a piece of scrap metal is an internet joke."

He looked down at the fur patch, which was pressed down by a stone. One corner of the patch was curled up, as if someone had secretly lifted a corner of the blanket. The outline drawn with grass stems last night was a mess, half buried in ash and half covered in mud, looking just like a notebook that had been scratched by a cat.

"Where were we yesterday?" He rubbed his face, trying to pull his mind back from the absurd feeling of "almost being blown away by the wind." "Oh right, clothes. Making clothes. Not blankets, not sleeping bags, but the kind that you can wear, walk in, and squat down to pick up stones without the seams breaking."

Nana didn't reply, but slightly adjusted the focus of the optical lens, casting a pale blue shadow that floated above the fur—the humanoid outline was clear, with separate upper and lower parts and smooth lines.

"Here we go again." Chen Hao stared at the shadow, then suddenly grinned. "Isn't this just a full-length mirror that lights up? And it even has a ruler function."

"I am a decision support system."

"Alright, don't take it so seriously." He stood up, supporting himself on his knees. His calves were still trembling slightly, but his energy had clearly returned. "Now that we even know 'what it should look like,' shouldn't the next step be to figure out 'what to use to make it'? We can't expect a golden needle to fall from the sky and a fairy tailor to teach me how to tie knots, can we?"

He paced around twice, his feet crunching on the gravel, then suddenly stopped: "Wait... you said this design has a reference, but where is that reference? You didn't just make it up out of thin air, did you?"

"Based on existing clothing samples."

"Samples?" His eyes lit up. "Wait, those emergency suits in the escape pod that were burned to half their original size? You still kept them?"

"The preservation rate is 37%, and the structure is identifiable."

"There's still hope!" Chen Hao slapped his thigh, but slapped it too hard, making him wince in pain. "Let's go! Let's go treasure hunting! Let's see what the last fashion legacy of human civilization looks like!"

The two trudged through the rubble at the edge of the camp to the wreckage of the escape pod. The outer shell was twisted into a tangled mess of metal, but the internal storage compartments, protected by a heat-resistant layer, barely maintained their shape. Nana reached into the crevice, her movements as precise as an automated vending machine, and soon pulled out a neatly folded, charred piece of cloth.

Chen Hao took it and carefully laid it out on the clean stone surface. The sleeves were torn off and the collar was charred, but the original shape of the shoulder line, chest, and hem could still be seen.

"Wow, that's pretty stylish." He ran his finger along the seam. "Why is this line slanted? Isn't it straight?"

"This design reduces the resistance of the fabric when raising your arms."

“Clever.” He nodded. “The ancients made spears to stab others, while modern people make clothes and even consider ‘whether it’s comfortable to raise your arm.’ They really pay attention to details.”

He stared at the clothes for a long time, then suddenly turned around, picked up a thin, dry twig from the surrounding area, squatted back down beside the stone, and began to gesture on the ground.

"Cut the shirt like this, make the pant legs a bit loose, and gather the cuffs..." he muttered as he drew, "The problem is, how do you connect them? Do you bite them with your teeth?"

Nana calmly replied, "There are currently no available suturing tools."

“I know.” He rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t asking you, I was talking to myself. People tend to talk when they’re nervous, you know? Like when you’re taking an exam, you always want to chat with the person next to you, even if the proctor is watching.”

He paused, then suddenly looked up: "Wait, why do we have to use 'needles'? Can't we just tie it up directly? Or... use some kind of plant sap as glue?"

"Plant adhesives have insufficient adhesion and are prone to breakage under load."

"What about the thread?" he persisted. "Are there any vines that are both particularly thin and exceptionally strong?"

Nana's camera panned across the surrounding vegetation: "Three types of fibrous plants were detected that meet the criteria, with a maximum distance of seventeen meters, and can be collected."

“Alright.” He stood up, brushing the dust off his trousers. “Let’s solve the thread problem first. As for the needle…” He looked down at the withered twig in his hand, a sudden inspiration striking him. “I’ve sharpened the twig; could I use it as a needle?”

"Theoretically feasible. It is necessary to ensure the hardness of the tip and the penetration force."

“Let’s give it a try.” He picked up a flat stone, sat down on the ground and started sharpening one end of the branch. “Anyway, there’s no takeout available right now, so I have plenty of time.”

He sharpened it meticulously, occasionally rubbing the tip with his thumb to test its sharpness, then blowing on it after each sharpening, as if he were consecrating his first homemade sewing tool.

"Tell me, if this thing can actually be threaded and the fur sewn into clothes, wouldn't we be considered the pioneers of the Wilderness Star's clothing industry?" he asked as he pondered.

"The current activity involves the production of necessities for survival and does not involve industry definition."

"Can't you cooperate a little?" He looked up and glared at her. "At least give me a notification sound like 'You are creating a new era of primitive fashion'."

"The system does not have this function module."

"Sigh." He sighed and continued polishing his work. "Indeed, behind every great invention, there's always an assistant who falls silent."

The sun slowly climbed higher, and the shadows shrank to the feet. The branch in Chen Hao's hand was already taking shape, with a sharp end and a smooth surface; though rough, it showed the care put into it.

He held up the "wooden needle" and squinted at it in the sunlight: "Although it can't compare to the sewing needles sold in supermarkets, it's at least an attitude."

He then walked over to the fur, dipped some fruit juice mixed with charcoal powder into the earthenware bowl next to him, and began to trace the outline of the fur along the dotted lines projected by Nana.

He wrote each stroke slowly, afraid of making a mistake. His tongue was slightly sticking out, and his brows were furrowed, like a primary school student copying characters from a calligraphy book.

"The shirt part... ends here," he murmured. "Draw the pants legs separately, leaving some leeway, just in case I gain weight later."

As soon as he finished speaking, a blade of grass was blown by the wind and snapped against the tip of his nose.

"Ouch!" He flung his hand away. "This gust of wind always manages to mess things up at crucial moments."

He didn't stop, but instead grabbed two small pebbles and used them to weigh down the starting and ending points of the line to prevent it from being blown away again.

"Done." He took two steps back, admiring his "design," a smile playing on his lips. "It's a bit ugly, but at least it's a drawing. With a drawing, there's hope; without one, we can only rely on superstition."

He sat down to catch his breath, still clutching the wooden needle in his hand, and suddenly laughed, "Tell me, when we actually make clothes in the future, what should I embroider as a logo on them?"

"It is recommended to prioritize practicality over decoration."

"I'm just asking," he said, pursing his lips. "Like... a fat monkey carrying an axe? Or a sign that says, 'This product was jointly designed by Chen Hao and the robot Nana. Counterfeiting will be prosecuted.'"

"It has no practical significance."

“You’re really good at ruining the mood.” He lay down, his back against the rock, and closed his eyes. “But… to be honest, for a moment just now, I suddenly felt like we might actually be able to survive here.”

He didn't say anything more.

A gentle breeze blew by, and the dark lines on the fur shimmered in the sunlight, like a code yet to be activated.

The tip of the wooden needle in his hand was pointing directly at the sky, and he remained motionless.