Chen Hao stared at the floor beneath his feet. The metal plate looked no different from the rest of the floor, but Nana said there was space underneath it.

He squatted down and tapped it twice; the sound was very muffled.

“It’s not the original structure.” Carl had already put on inspection gloves and ran his hand along the edge. “It was added later, and the screw holes don’t fit the standard specifications.”

"Who would go through the trouble of sealing off the floor?" Chen Hao looked up. "To hide treasure? Or to plant mines?"

“Both possibilities are true.” Karl stopped. “If we open it now, we’re actively probing for mines. If we don’t, the mines might detonate on their own.”

Nana stood at the door, the scanner never stopping. "No energy reaction inside, no gas flow, constant temperature. It doesn't seem like there's any mechanism running."

“But we can’t rule out dead trigger devices,” Carl said. “Old ships like to install passive traps that explode when touched, without any warning.”

Chen Hao looked at the parts box in his hand, then glanced at the safe. "I just got this stuff, I haven't even had a chance to warm it up yet."

“Take it back first,” Nana said. “We can do offline testing. We can talk about the mezzanine later, once we’ve confirmed it’s safe.”

Carl nodded: "Getting the stuff is half the battle won. Don't be greedy."

Chen Hao took a deep breath and tightened the box around his chest. "Okay, let's go."

The three returned the way they came. The docking bridge was even more shaky than when they came, and the deformed parts of the metal made a slight creaking sound. Chen Hao walked in the middle, the box pressed against his chest, afraid of bumping into it.

"The signal is weak," Nana suddenly said.

The communication relay beacon flashed once, the red light flashed once, and then returned to green.

“Frequency interference,” she said. “It can be fixed with a simple adjustment.”

She looked down and pressed the wrist connector a few times, and the signal stabilized again.

"This thing of yours is more reliable than a boat," Chen Hao muttered.

“I’m the only one who won’t break,” Nana replied calmly.

As they passed through the airlock, dust enveloped them. The dust suppression system activated, and the wind made them squint. Chen Hao held onto the box until the last ray of ultraviolet light swept over it before letting go.

The lights inside the main ship came on, and the familiar humming sound returned to our ears.

"Finally, this feels like a place for a person to be." Chen Hao took off his helmet and plopped down on a chair in the maintenance area.

“Don’t relax.” Carl picked up his toolbox. “Start changing the parts now.”

"Can't we take a break?" Chen Hao tilted his head.

"The parts will grow legs and run in by themselves?" Carl turned on the control panel. "If you want to rely on duct tape for another half a month, I have no objection."

Chen Hao sighed and got up to help.

Nana placed the part into the testing slot. The screen lit up, and the data stream scrolled rapidly.

"The exterior is 94% intact, there are no signs of short circuits in the internal circuitry, and the firmware version is compatible with the current system," she reported. "I recommend conducting a load simulation test."

“Then let’s test it.” Carl connected to the simulator.

A few minutes later, the waveform output stabilized and the curve became smooth.

“It works,” he said. “Let’s replace it.”

The process of removing the old parts was a bit slow. Two bolts were rusted shut, and Karl used a heat pen to heat them little by little before unscrewing them. Chen Hao handed over wrenches and took the screws, working up a sweat.

"Why do you think those two were left on the last ship?" he asked, wiping his sweat.

“They might have left in a hurry.” Carl twisted the last bolt, and it came loose. “They might not have even known this thing existed.”

“Or maybe it was left there on purpose,” Nana suddenly said.

The two stopped what they were doing.

"What do you mean?" Chen Hao asked.

“The safe wasn’t locked,” she said. “The hidden door wasn’t sealed either. It looked like… it was meant for someone.”

The air went still for a moment.

"You mean this is a setup?" Chen Hao asked in a low voice.

“We can’t rule it out,” Nana said, her tone unchanged, “but we currently have no evidence that the parts are faulty. All test results are normal.”

"Should we still change it or not?" Chen Hao asked Karl.

Carl tossed the old parts into the scrap bin. "Replace it. We have no choice. Either believe this stuff will work, or keep gambling with the tape."

The new component was installed, the interface latch engaged, the indicator light flashed three times, and then turned solid green.

System self-test starts.

The progress bar starts climbing from zero.

10%……35%……72%……

"Pray we don't get stuck at the last step." Chen Hao stared at the screen.

98%...99%...Completed.

A soft sound came from the main control panel, and the fault light went out.

The system status bar turns green.

"It's alive!" Chen Hao slammed his fist on the armrest. "It's fucking alive!"

Carl leaned against the wall and wiped his face. "At least I don't have to listen to the siren in the middle of the night anymore."

Nana pulled up the real-time data stream. "Pressure feedback is normal, vibration suppression meets standards, and thrust output is stable. It is expected to operate for a long time without the need for temporary maintenance."

"What does this mean?" Chen Hao grinned.

“That means,” Carl looked at him, “that you can no longer use ‘the system is about to crash’ as an excuse to skip your shifts.”

"That's so boring," Chen Hao laughed. "I was hoping to make a living off this."

"You're done for." Nana closed the monitoring interface. "Your next shift is in seven hours."

Chen Hao's face fell.

"You guys are really ganging up on me."

“It’s the rule,” Carl said, tidying up his tools. “It’s not targeting you.”

"You make it sound so real." Chen Hao rolled his eyes. "A robot and an old man, exploiting labor every day."

“You’re so fat and you still don’t work?” Karl looked up. “If you keep eating like this, you’ll have to squeeze through doorways.”

“I call this a prosperous appearance,” Chen Hao patted his belly. “Don’t you understand aesthetics?”

“I don’t understand,” Nana said, “but I’ve calculated that your body fat percentage is 37 percentage points above the standard, and I recommend that you exercise for at least 40 minutes every day.”

“Shut up,” Chen Hao said, pointing at her. “You’re just a cold, hard metal box.”

“I am,” she said, “so I don’t get high blood pressure.”

Carl slung his tool bag over his shoulder and headed outside. "I'm going to check the wiring to make sure the replacement hasn't caused any new problems."

"Go ahead, go ahead," Chen Hao waved his hand. "Let me enjoy five minutes of the spoils of victory in peace."

He slumped in his chair, his feet propped up on the control panel, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“You know what,” he suddenly said, “just now, I almost thought we were really going to be finished.”

Nana stood still.

“Every time I feel like it’s all over, but then it’s not,” he said. “I just live like this, a broken ship with tattered sails.”

“Our boat is really dilapidated,” Nana said.

"But I can still run." Chen Hao smiled. "That's enough."

He closed his eyes, and his breathing gradually became steady.

A few seconds later, he opened his eyes again.

"Hello."

"Um?"

"That hidden compartment... are we really just going to leave it alone?"

“It’s not a high priority right now,” Nana said. “System stability is the top priority.”

“But it’s right there,” Chen Hao said softly, “clearly waiting for people to see it.”

"We'll talk about it when we have the time," she said.

Chen Hao didn't say anything more.

The main ship glided smoothly through the star field, its engines humming softly, like a sleeping beast.

Seven hours later, the duty announcement sounded.

Chen Hao didn't move.

Nana walked over and gently patted his shoulder.

"now you."

He snorted and sat up lazily.

"Coming, coming, don't rush me like that."

He reached out to press the start button.

The instant the fingertip touched the button—

A very soft "click" came from below the console.

It's like a switch has been flipped.