The workshop lights were on, but no longer flashing.

Nana glanced down at the terminal logs. The power fluctuation was just a brief load during the cooling system restart; the data flow had returned to normal, and the equipment was stable. She marked the energy log as "investigated" and casually pushed the five-segment suppression method's operation template to the main control screen.

“We can continue,” she said.

Chen Hao was squatting next to the molding machine, holding a piece of composite material that had just come out of the cabin. It was thicker than the previous one, with neat edges, and the deep blue and silver-gray interwoven patterns resembled solidified waves. He tapped it with his finger, and the sound was crisp.

“This one’s really hard,” he said. “Unlike the previous ones, which made me want to cry as soon as I touched them.”

Susan looked up from her notebook. "The first batch of samples has cooled down. Shall we start cutting them?"

"Tch." Chen Hao stood up, patted his pants, and said, "I have to make lunchboxes and cookware; I can't just look at them and eat them."

Carl walked over, supporting himself on the edge of the table; his ankle was still a little sore, but he didn't mention it. He stared at the pile of boards. "Laser or mechanical blade?"

"Neither will work." Chen Hao shook his head. "Laser cutting is too fast and easily chips the edges; mechanical blades can't be sharpened. We need to find another way."

He turned and walked to the tool rack in the corner, dragging out an old grinder. It had been used to sharpen the blades of farm tools before; the motor was loud, the precision was low, but the power was great.

"We can modify it into a fixture and use it as a curved surface trimming machine," he said. "It's a bit slow, but it's stable."

Susan frowned. "Can this thing even be aimed?"

“No,” Chen Hao admitted. “So you adjust the angle, I’ll hold the material, Karl will keep an eye on the pressure, and Nana will watch to make sure it doesn’t get too hot.”

Four people gathered around, disassembled the outer casing, connected the guide rails, and welded the brackets. Thirty minutes later, a crooked new device sat on the operating table. It looked like a cobbled-together pile of scrap metal, but it ran smoothly after being powered on.

The first board was fixed in.

Nana started the program, the motor hummed, and the grinding head slowly made contact with the material surface. Fine metal powder floated up, shimmering faintly under the light.

"Two degrees to the left." Susan stared at the projection ruler. "Into half a millimeter more."

Chen Hao held the board with one hand and gently pressed the adjusting lever with the other. Karl squatted to the side, watching the pressure gauge, ready to call a halt at any moment.

Five minutes later, the outline of the first deep-bottomed rice cooker was formed. The body of the cooker had a natural curve, and the inner wall was smooth without any burrs.

"Did it work?" Susan asked.

"Don't get too excited yet." Chen Hao picked it up and examined it against the light. "We still need to test it."

They scanned the pot in the testing tank and found that its structure was intact with no stress concentration points.

“Next step,” Nana said, “is to make plates and soup bowls for use as a set.”

For the next three hours, the machines in the workshop ran non-stop. New molds were installed, and the parameters of the old equipment were constantly adjusted. Batch after batch of utensils were produced—impact-resistant plates, double-layer insulated lunch boxes, wear-resistant spatulas, portable water bottles, and modular storage racks.

Each piece features a unique blue-gray texture, and is heavy and sturdy.

"That's enough for the whole team." Susan finished counting the last set. "We still have three extra as spares."

"Send them to the living area first." Chen Hao picked up two pots. "Let's see if they can be used to cook rice."

In the kitchen, the heater still uses an old-fashioned alloy pot. The bottom of the pot is charred black, and you have to keep a close eye on the heat every time you cook, otherwise it will burn.

Chen Hao placed the new pot on the stove, poured in water, added grain powder, and turned on the heat.

Flames licked the bottom of the pot, and steam slowly rose.

“The temperature is rising slowly.” Nana stood beside her monitoring the situation. “The current thermal conductivity is only 62 percent of that of traditional alloys.”

"Then turn the heat down a notch." Chen Hao turned the knob back one notch. "Let it heat up slowly."

Time passed slowly. The water in the pot began to bubble, and the grain paste simmered evenly without any localized boiling or sticking to the bottom.

"Preheating complete," Nana said. "Now we can increase the heat."

Chen Hao did as instructed. The pot gradually heated up, but remained evenly heated throughout.

Ten minutes later, a pot of thick porridge was ready.

He scooped up a spoonful, tasted it, and nodded: "It's cooked, not burnt, and not undercooked."

Susan took the bowl, took a sip, and her eyes lit up: "This time it really warms me to the core."

Carl touched the outside of the pot: "It keeps the heat in good condition. It's not hot to the touch, but it's still bubbling inside."

"We won't have to fight for seats at meals anymore," Chen Hao laughed. "Anyone who comes can get a hot meal."

The news spread quickly.

People from the residential area gradually gathered to see the new creatures. Someone asked worriedly, "These things are so hard, could they be poisonous?"

Nana immediately pulled up the material stability report and played a video—a plate that had been steamed at high temperature for three consecutive days showed no change in its internal composition and no precipitates on its surface.

“Safe,” she said. “Can be used for a long time.”

"Then I'll go first." Susan immediately took a set of cutlery, including a lunchbox, soup bowl, and plate.

Carl also took his share, and even picked out a shovel with the most comfortable handle.

Chen Hao was the last to receive it. He laid out the entire set on the table, arranging them from left to right, as if inspecting troops.

“Eating used to be like a battle,” he said. “Now it finally feels like home.”

That evening, the entire team used the new utensils for the first time during dinner.

The table was set with silver-gray bowls and plates with blue stripes, and steaming hot food filled the air. Some people were serving soup, others were dividing dishes, and laughter filled the air.

Carl picked up the bowl and took a sip. It was so hot that he breathed out in pain, but he didn't put it down: "This bowl is so durable it won't break if you drop it, it's worth it!"

"You actually fell?" Susan asked.

“It cracked when it fell on the ground last time,” Carl grinned. “I’d dare throw this one.”

"Don't throw it away," Chen Hao said. "There's nowhere to fix it if it's broken."

"Should we get your name engraved?" Susan suddenly suggested, "so we don't mix them up."

“Sure.” Carl pulled out a small knife. “I’ll have ‘Carl’s Only, Fines for Misappropriation’ engraved on my own.”

"Where did you get the fine from?" Chen Hao laughed. "The base's currency system hasn't been established yet."

“Debt settlement in kind,” Carl said. “Whoever took my bowl by mistake will be punished by washing the pots for a week.”

Nana silently opened her terminal and created a new document titled "Draft of the Management System for Household Appliances".

Susan saw it and laughed out loud: "You've even prepared the rules?"

"Plan ahead," Nana said, "to avoid resource disputes."

"Now you're even going to control the bowls?" Chen Hao looked at her. "Next, are you going to keep track of who eats an extra bite?"

“If it affects fair distribution,” Nana said seriously, “I will make a note of it.”

Everyone burst into laughter.

After the meal, everyone voluntarily cleared the table. The new tableware was neatly stacked and placed in a modular storage rack. It consists of six compartments, each corresponding to one person, with a non-slip mat on the bottom and a sealable top.

"This design is great." Susan pushed the lunchbox in. "I won't have to worry about mice gnawing on it anymore."

“There are no rats in the base,” Chen Hao said.

“I said just in case.” Susan glared at him.

As night deepened, the residential area was brightly lit.

Chen Hao sat at the head of the table, holding a still-steaming soup bowl. He had just told a lame joke, saying he dreamed of using a lunchbox as a shield to fight monsters, only to have his teammates throw it at him like a projectile.

Susan laughed and retorted, "Your lunchbox is too heavy. You can't throw it far; it'll just hit your own foot halfway there."

Carl interjected, "If I were the enemy, I'd surrender the moment I saw one of these flying over."

Nana didn't say anything, but she was also drinking her soup. Her movements were very gentle, taking small sips, as if she were experiencing something new.

Susan suddenly realized, "Hey, Nana, have you ever had soup before?"

“Databases show that soups make up 17.3 percent of the human diet,” Nana said. “But I’ve never eaten them.”

"So you're... tasting it now?"

“I’m collecting user feedback.” Nana put down the bowl. “The temperature is maintained well, the container is not deformed, so the user experience should be positive.”

"Do you have to say it so mechanically?" Chen Hao laughed.

“I’m stating the facts,” Nana said, looking at him. “Weren’t you also evaluating performance while eating?”

"I just said it offhand."

“Your exact words were, ‘If this soup gets cold, it’s its fault.’”

Everyone laughed again.

When the laughter subsided, the atmosphere quieted down.

The dishes on the table were clean, the steam had dissipated, and only residual heat remained on the surface of the utensils.

Chen Hao leaned back in his chair, looking at the group of people, at these new guys, and suddenly felt that all the trouble he had been going through recently had really come to fruition.

It's not about surviving.

It's to live like a human being.

He reached out and touched the side of the lunchbox, where there was a tiny scratch, left from when he accidentally bumped his head on the corner of the table. The mark was very faint, almost invisible.

But the lunchbox wasn't cracked.

She didn't cry.

It just stayed there quietly, like an old friend who never complains.

"Tomorrow," he said, "I'll try making a wok."

"Do we need to add a coating?" Nana asked.

"Don't add it yet," Chen Hao said. "Let's see if dry burning works."

"High-temperature dry burning may cause localized oxidation," Nana warned.

“I know,” Chen Hao grinned. “If it explodes, consider it a lesson; if it doesn’t, consider it experience.”

Susan shook her head: "With this kind of mentality, you'll ruin the workshop sooner or later."

“We’ll scrap it and rebuild it.” Chen Hao shrugged. “Anyway, we have a pot now, so at least we can cook a bowl of noodles for the deceased.”

Carl picked up the empty bowl and shook it. "Then I'll have to apply for priority in my will—have my 'illegally taking fines' engraved on my tombstone."

Nana opened the record interface and typed: "[Suggestion to add a personal logo engraving service]".

She looked up, about to speak.

Chen Hao suddenly reached out and handed over the soup bowl.

"Want to try a bite?" he said. "The last spoonful."

Nana looked at the bowl and paused for a moment.

Then I took it.