Chen Hao stared at the darker patch of moss, rubbed his fingers on the wall, and then smelled it. It had no smell and wasn't sticky.

“Do you think it might be… moldy?” He withdrew his hand and scratched an old scar on his arm. “We can even grow vegetables here, so a little green mold is part of the biodiversity.”

Nana didn't reply, her palm still pressed against the rock wall, blue light slowly flowing in her eyes. A few seconds later, she withdrew her hand and turned to face the planting area: "The upward trend in humidity hasn't stopped; I suggest prioritizing addressing the existing crop layout issues."

"Huh?" Chen Hao was taken aback. "Now you're talking about growing vegetables? The wall over there is practically sprouting new leaves and you're still thinking about my few wild vegetables?"

"It is precisely because the environment is unstable that we need to optimize management efficiency in advance." Without stopping, she walked to the first row of seedlings, squatted down to check the soil around the roots, and said, "The current average spacing between plants is twelve centimeters, which is below the safe threshold. Once local water seepage or fungal spread occurs, the spread of the infection will be difficult to control."

Chen Hao sighed and slowly followed. The feeling of surviving the ordeal hadn't completely dissipated, and his butt still felt the sharp rock on the ground. Just as he was about to rest for a bit, the other side started lecturing him.

"I don't grow vegetables to win awards," he muttered. "As long as they're edible, who cares if they're neat or not."

“When you said last week that ‘as long as they survive, that’s fine,’ all three Chenopodium distichum plants had rotted at the roots.” Nana said without looking up, “Your reason was that they were ‘too close together to breathe.’”

"...Why do you remember so clearly?" He rolled his eyes, but still bent down and touched the dirt at his feet. "Fine, fine, whatever you say goes. I'm free anyway."

Nana stood up, waved her arm lightly, and a semi-transparent projection unfolded in the air—three areas were marked with different colors, with a straight blank band interspersed in the middle.

"The leafy vegetable area is near the light source on the south side, the root vegetables are moved to the drainage ditch on the north side, and the seedling reserve area is located at the end of the central aisle." She gestured with her fingertips across the projection, "Each row is 0.8 meters wide, with a 50-centimeter gap for easy inspection and ventilation."

Chen Hao stared at the image for two seconds, then suddenly reached out and poked the edge of the projection: "Could you draw this red line a little more curved? It's too straight, it makes us look too curvy."

“This isn’t just for decoration.” She turned off the projector. “Let’s start adjusting it now.”

The first row was filled with litmus moss mixed with blue sedge, crammed together like passengers in a train carriage during the Spring Festival travel rush. Chen Hao squatted down and carefully cut into the side with a shovel, trying to move a plant with soil still attached.

"Ouch!" His wrist slipped, and the tip of the shovel grazed the leaf, shaving off half a leaf from the poor thing. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to... Don't die, I'll water you more to make up for it."

“It won’t listen to your apology.” Nana handed over a folded metal sheet. “Use this as a root protector to reduce damage.”

"You still carry gardening tools with you?" He took them, gesturing as he muttered, "Next time, will you give me a work hat with 'Technician of Cave Agriculture Demonstration Zone' written on it?"

“If you’d like to improve your work efficiency, I can apply for a voice announcement reminder service,” she said expressionlessly. “For example: ‘Please note that you are trampling on seedling area number three.’”

"Stop, stop." He raised his hands. "Can't I do it myself?"

Working together, the two moved the seedlings out one by one. Some seedlings had deep roots, so they had to be pried up whole, roots and all; others had just sprouted and wobbled at the slightest touch. Chen Hao's movements became more and more skilled, and he kept talking as he worked.

"If these vegetables had consciousness, wouldn't they feel like they've been kidnapped?" He straightened a newly planted flax plant. "It was sunbathing in its usual spot this morning, but by the afternoon it was thrown into the neighboring community, and even its neighbors have changed."

“They don’t have a nervous system.” Nana scanned and confirmed that the root system was intact, “but your analogy reveals a certain unease.”

"How can I possibly feel at ease?" He wiped the sweat from his brow. "One minute it's bugs eating it, the next it's strange walls gushing water, and now they won't even let me grow vegetables properly. Am I reclaiming wasteland or undertaking a community renovation?"

“All current operations are aimed at improving survival stability.” She moved to the next row. “Next is the transfer of the rhizome zone.”

This part was more troublesome. The roots of the blue sedge were deep and would break easily with the slightest force. Chen Hao simply lay down on the ground and carefully dug away the soil with his hands, as if defusing a bomb.

"Do you think we could build an automatic watering system in the future?" he asked as he dug. "Squatting like this every day is making my knees calloused."

“We can design a drip irrigation system,” Nana nodded. “The prerequisite is to find a stable water source and build a water storage device.”

"Finding and building all at once," he scoffed. "We're farmers, engineers, security guards, and cleaners now. Are we going to have to do veterinary work next?"

"According to database records, there are currently no domesticated animals on this planet."

"I was just using an analogy!"

"Understood. The metaphor function has been incorporated into the daily conversation module."

Chen Hao glanced up at her, then looked down and continued digging. Sunlight slanted in from the hole, falling warmly on the back of his neck. Mud clung to his fingernails, and his cuffs were damp, but he didn't feel particularly dirty; instead, he felt a strange sense of peace.

After the last row of seedlings was placed, the entire planting area was transformed. The neat rows looked as if they had been measured with a ruler, the paths were straight, and the boundaries were clear. Even the tools that had been piled up haphazardly before were reorganized by Nana and placed on a small stone platform in the corner.

She started the scanning program, and the data stream flashed by quickly in her eyes. "Air circulation efficiency has increased by more than 60%, soil moisture distribution is becoming more even, and the risk of disease transmission is expected to decrease by 53%."

"It sounds like a TV shopping ad." Chen Hao stood on the central walkway, hands on his hips, looking around. "But... it actually does look a bit like one."

He bent down, picked up a small pebble, and placed it on the edge of the newly marked path. "From now on, this will be the main road. Anyone who dares to step on it will have their name recorded."

“Currently, there are only two permanent members in the planting area,” Nana said. “The probability of violations is extremely low.”

"Prevention is better than cure." He patted his pants and stood up. "Besides, if a new person comes one day, there have to be some rules."

"There is currently no indication that any other life forms will enter the area."

"Can't you leave some room for imagination?" he scoffed. "I said 'what if,' not 'immediately.'"

Nana paused for two seconds: "We have included 'what if' in the simulation conditions of future emergency plans."

Chen Hao rolled his eyes, too lazy to argue anymore. He walked around the newly built path, checking the condition of each row of crops. Sunlight fell on the new leaves, giving them a soft glow. The wind was silent, only the rhythm of distant water droplets falling, one after another.

He stopped and looked at the innermost seedling area.

"After all this trouble, will our output really increase by 40%?"

“That’s what the simulation data shows,” Nana said, walking over to him. “The actual result depends on the quality of subsequent maintenance.”

"So that means we have to come every day?"

"It is recommended to conduct daily inspections and assess the rationality of the layout every two weeks."

"So this isn't the end, it's the beginning?" He smiled wryly. "I thought I could finally relax after this wave of work was over."

“There’s no real ‘lying down’ phase in survival activities.” She turned to look at him. “But you can choose to lower your standards.”

“That won’t do.” He shook his head, his tone suddenly becoming serious. “We have to eat the vegetables, tend the land, and keep living. Otherwise, what’s the point of coming here? To wait to die?”

Nana stared at him for a moment, and the blue light flickered slightly.

"Your decision is in line with the principles of sustainable development."

"Stop with the jargon." He grinned. "Speak plainly."

“It means,” she paused, “that you are in much better condition now than when you first woke up.”

Chen Hao was taken aback, then burst out laughing: "Hey, are you praising me? Robots can flatter now?"

"I am merely stating observed facts."

"Alright." He stretched, his shoulder cracking. "Okay, now that our vegetable garden has been upgraded to a science demonstration base, I can't let them down. Starting tomorrow, I'll clock in on time, no lateness whatsoever."

"There will be a brief period of enhanced light tomorrow at 7:18 AM, which is suitable for recording the first growth after optimization."

How can you even calculate the light so accurately?

"Because I don't sleep."

“…That’s true.” He scratched his head. “Then you stay here tonight, I’m going to get some sleep.”

He turned and took a few steps toward the exit, then suddenly remembered something and turned back to ask, "By the way, about that wall, did you find out anything?"

Nana's gaze shifted to the eastern rock face. The color of the moss there was deeper than it had been half an hour ago, almost dark green. She raised her hand, preparing to touch it again for testing.

Just then, the leaves of the spare seedling closest to the wall trembled slightly.

It wasn't blown by the wind.

Because there is no wind here.