The door had barely closed when Chen Hao heard Nana say, "He needs to hurry."

Chen Hao didn't look up; he had already tried three different data cables. This one was still unstable, popping out after half a second. He tossed the cable aside and pulled out an even older one. The outer sheath was cracked, revealing the copper wires inside, as if someone had taken a bite out of it.

"Can this cable be used?" Susan squatted next to the power supply box, holding a corner of the voltage regulator box in her hand.

"We have to use it even if we can't." Chen Hao tore off a piece of tape and wrapped it around the joint. "Now is not the time to be picky."

Nana stared at the progress bar on the screen. Six percent. The numbers moved slower than a snail's pace. She swiped her finger across the interface and deleted two background programs. A system warning popped up, and she simply clicked "confirm."

“It saves three minutes,” she said.

"What can you do in three minutes?" Chen Hao scoffed. "The opening ceremony still has thirty minutes left, and we haven't even turned on the lights yet."

Just as he finished speaking, footsteps sounded at the door. Karl rushed in, carrying a worn-out metal plate with curled edges and a faded label that read "Training Machine B7".

“Found it.” He placed the board on the table. “Three connectors, two of which can still conduct electricity.”

Susan immediately leaned closer. She touched the contact point, her fingertip brushing off a layer of dust. "Severe oxidation."

“I’ll handle it.” Carl pulled out a piece of fine sandpaper from his toolbox and began sanding the pins. He moved quickly, one stroke after another, like sharpening a pencil.

Chen Hao picked up the soldering torch. The flame leaped out, making his face flush red. He moved closer to the interface board, aiming at the pins to prepare for soldering. But as soon as the soldering nozzle touched the pins, his hand trembled, the solder wire went astray, and it smeared directly onto the small capacitor next to him.

"Damn." He put down the welding torch and used tweezers to pick at it.

Nana glanced at it: "The spacing difference is 0.3 millimeters, you can't weld it like this."

“I know it’s off by 0.3,” Chen Hao said without looking up. “The problem is we don’t have a 0.3 adjuster.”

“Use the principle of thermal expansion and contraction.” Karl didn’t even look up. “Heat one side and let it self-calibrate.”

"You really have wild ideas." Chen Hao glanced at him. "Who's responsible if it gets burned?"

“It’s on me,” Carl said.

Chen Hao paused for half a second, then laughed. "Alright, the robot has learned to take responsibility."

He reignited the welding torch, this time heating the left pin first. The metal glowed slightly red; he watched the change, waiting for it to expand to its limit before quickly pressing the right connector onto it. With a click, it was perfectly sealed.

"Did it work?" Susan asked.

"For now," Chen Hao said, blowing out a breath. "We'll see if it lasts five more minutes."

Nana had already started loading the driver patch. She brought up the reverse mapping program and forced the protocol from the abandoned training machine into the main system. A bunch of error messages popped up on the screen, which she clicked off one by one.

"Compatibility is only 40%," she said. "It can only use the basic image channel."

"As long as it lights up, that's fine," Chen Hao said. "The audience isn't here to see the code."

Susan then brought over the voltage regulator box. The box was old, with a knob on the side that creaked when turned. She connected it to the circuit and turned on the switch. The ammeter jumped once and stopped at the middle position.

“The voltage is unstable,” she said, “fluctuating by about eight percent.”

"It's too high," Nana glanced at it. "It'll burn out the motherboard."

"Add a fuse." Chen Hao pulled a small round piece from the bottom of the toolbox and soldered it to the input end. "It'll trip if there's overvoltage, simple and straightforward."

“A quack,” Carl said.

"They've survived this long using unorthodox methods." Chen Hao clapped his hands. "Give it a try."

Nana pressed the start button.

The holographic display made a buzzing sound and flashed a light. Only half a frame of the image appeared, a blurry outline of a planet, before going black.

"It's broken?" Susan asked.

“The data streams are out of sync.” Nana quickly pulled up the logs. “The driver layer and the cache layer are disconnected.”

“Then cut the driver layer,” Chen Hao said. “Just keep the cache and put static images there.”

“Okay.” Nana operated the controls for a few moments, “but it can only display one image, I can’t change it.”

“One image is enough,” Chen Hao said. “The first image shown at the opening ceremony is an ecological nebula map, so we’ll use that.”

“I’m switching the power supply,” Susan suddenly said. “I’ll use a backup battery to power the voltage regulator box separately, avoiding fluctuations in the main power grid.”

"Where did you get the batteries?" Chen Hao asked.

“These were taken down yesterday.” She pointed to the box in the corner. “I was going to scrap them, but I kept two pieces.”

"You really are a professional junk collector," Chen Hao laughed.

Susan ignored him and connected the battery pack. As soon as the circuit was connected, the voltmeter immediately stabilized, and the pointer stopped at 7.2 volts.

“It works,” Carl said.

"Let's try again." Nana took a deep breath and reloaded.

This time, she turned off all dynamic rendering, keeping only the most basic image cache. System warnings popped up everywhere, but she ignored them all.

start up.

The display screen emitted a low hum, and a beam of light slowly rose. First, there was static, then the image flickered a few times, and finally it froze—a dark blue planet floated in the air, with flowing clouds on its surface. Although the frame rate was extremely low and the edges were blurry, it was moving.

"It's lit up." Chen Hao's voice trembled slightly.

No one spoke. All four of them stared at the picture, as if afraid it would disappear in the blink of an eye.

"How long can it last?" Chen Hao asked.

"Fifteen minutes," Nana said, looking at the reading. "If we reduce the brightness, it can last up to half an hour."

"That's enough." Chen Hao looked up at the clock on the wall. There were still eight minutes until the opening ceremony.

He walked to the booth and stood still. He simulated the explanation process. Even if he only had a minute, he had to finish what he said.

"Distinguished guests, welcome to the Inter-Civilization Cultural Festival." He began, his voice lower than usual, "This planet before us is our common starting point..."

Nana remained motionless at the control panel. Her fingers were constantly adjusting resource allocation in the background. As the system temperature began to rise, she increased the cooling power and shut down three unnecessary modules.

“The main unit is overheating,” Carl suddenly said.

Chen Hao turned around. The computer case was hot, and there was almost no air coming out of the vents.

"Take it off," he said. "Anyway, we don't have time to worry about the appearance."

He unscrewed the screws and removed the side panel. Inside, the wiring was dense, and several wires had changed color. He grabbed a coolant spray and sprayed it vigorously onto the motherboard. White mist filled the air, and the temperature gauge dropped.

"The temporary cooling effect is effective," Nana said.

“Don’t get too excited.” Carl pointed to a main wire. “The insulation is aging, and continuous high loads could cause a short circuit.”

"Then prepare a backup line," Chen Hao said. "Connect the new one you have now, don't wait until it breaks before replacing it."

Karl nodded and began to connect the new thread in parallel. His movements were precise, each wrapping tight and precise.

Susan remained by the power supply box. She held the spare battery plug in her hand, her eyes fixed on the voltmeter. If the mains power fluctuation exceeded the threshold, she would have to switch over immediately.

"Do you think this thing can last until I finish my opening remarks?" Chen Hao stood in front of the booth and looked back at them.

"It's hard to say," Nana said, staring at the screen. "The system could restart at any time."

"Then hurry up and speak." Chen Hao grinned. "I'm not a long-winded person."

Time ticked by. The planets on the display screen continued to rotate, and although they sputtered, they never went completely black.

"Five minutes left," Nana reminded them.

"Notify the security team that the opening ceremony will begin on time." Chen Hao took out his communicator. "You can enter the stage area now."

The communicator chimed in: "Received, guiding the operation."

He packed up his equipment and returned to the front of the booth. He cleared his throat and checked his position and angle one last time.

"I'll start when the lights come on," he said.

Nana didn't speak, her finger hovering above the start button. She would immediately switch to the lowest mode if the signal was interrupted.

Carl stood beside the main unit, tools in hand, his gaze sweeping over every hot wire.

Susan squatted on the ground, her fingers resting on the spare battery plug, motionless.

Chen Hao stared at the pulsating image, sweat beading on his forehead, but a smile played on his lips.

He knew the system wouldn't last long.

But he also knew that as long as the light was on, there was still a chance.

The clock on the wall points to the last three minutes.

He raised his hand, making a gesture to prepare to begin.

The display screen suddenly flickered.

Nana immediately pressed the handle.

The screen froze; please reload.

The beam of light rose again.

The planet is back.

Although it's become a bit blurrier, it's still spinning.

Chen Hao breathed a sigh of relief.

“Come on,” he said.

He opened his mouth, ready to utter his first words.

Just then, a soft sound came from inside the main unit.

It sounded like plastic deforming due to heat.

Carl's eyes narrowed, and he looked down at the bottom of the circuit.

There, a yellow wire is slowly bending.