When Chen Hao opened his eyes, Nana was standing in front of him, her mechanical fingers drawing a virtual progress bar in the air.
"Physical recovery assessment complete," she said. "Result: Unsatisfactory."
"I just saved the entire heating system, and you're giving me a failing grade?" He tried to sit up, but his arms gave way and he fell back into the snowdrift. "This is a work injury, don't you understand? You should be bedridden for three days, receive a subsidy, and at least get a letter of commendation."
"Your heart rate is still unstable, and your muscle response is delayed by 37 percent." Nana remained unmoved. "Initiate the special training program: Run ten laps around the base, within a 30-minute time limit. Begin now."
"Wait—" he looked up abruptly, "Are you serious?"
"Countdown has started: 29 minutes and 58 seconds."
Chen Hao watched her turn and walk away, her back like a steel plate that wouldn't bend, not even bothering to look back to check on him. He opened his mouth, but only managed to exhale a puff of white air before slowly getting up and brushing the snow off his backside.
He walked the first lap slower than a leisurely stroll. He muttered to himself, "Is this some kind of punishment run? Last time you wouldn't let me die while we were stuck on the pipes, now you want to run me to death?"
He started panting heavily on the second lap. The wind wasn't strong, but he felt like every breath of air was mixed with sand, making his throat itch.
Halfway through the third lap, he gagged, clutching his knees, a metallic taste rising in his mouth—no, it was the taste of chili sauce. He remembered he still had half a tube of emergency condiments in his backpack, leftovers from yesterday's cooking, so spicy even the robot advised "sealing it away."
He pulled out the tube of sauce, unscrewed the cap, took a sniff, and his eyes instantly welled up with tears.
"I'll give it my all," he said. "Anyway, pain is proof that I'm alive."
The moment his tongue touched the sauce, a surge of heat shot straight to his head. He yelled and reflexively lunged forward, his steps unsteady as if he were dancing on ice.
He sped up on the fourth lap. Not because he had more energy, but because the pain was so intense that his brain couldn't process the fatigue. He shouted as he ran, "I'm going crazy! I'm really going crazy! But this feeling... is kind of exhilarating!"
Nana stood on the outside of the track, the radar continuously scanning his heartbeat. When the reading spiked to 198, an alarm sounded softly. She raised her hand, preparing to forcibly stop the training.
But Chen Hao didn't stop. His face was flushed, tears and snot streaming down his face, yet he grinned as if celebrating something.
At the end of the fifth lap, he collapsed in the snow, face down, sprawled out in a starfish shape.
“Abnormal vital signs.” Nana approached. “Heart rate 203, breathing disorder. It is recommended to terminate the mission immediately.”
"Don't... don't worry about me." He gasped for breath. "Let me... rest for a bit... just a little while..."
He rolled over and lay on his back, his chest heaving. Snowflakes landed on his face and melted faster than usual.
"What do you think people live for?" he suddenly asked.
“Survival is a basic need,” Nana replied.
“I’m not talking about survival,” he waved his hand. “I’m saying, knowing you might freeze to death, starve to death, or be poisoned by the fruit, why would you still run those ten laps? What’s the point?”
"You activated the chili pepper stimulation mechanism, which means that your subjective will is still driving your behavior."
"Nonsense." He chuckled. "I just don't want to have you carry me back again someday. Last time you fixed my radio, this time I'm heating the pipes. What about next time? What if you try to carry the fuel tank yourself because I'm too weak, and the parts freeze and crack?"
Nana remained silent for a few seconds.
"My structure has a cold resistance rating of minus eighty degrees Celsius."
“But you can break too.” He stared at the gray sky. “Robots get tired too, right? They just don’t say it.”
He struggled to his feet, wiped his face, and said, "Sixth lap, here we go."
For the next four laps, he didn't apply chili sauce again. But each step was more steady than before. The speed wasn't fast, but the rhythm didn't falter. Like an old machine with recalibrated gears, it creaked and groaned, but kept turning.
At the end of the ninth lap, he almost knelt down, only managing to stay upright by bracing himself against the wall with one hand.
On the tenth lap, he practically shuffled through the last fifty meters. His legs were too heavy to lift, and his knees felt like they were nailed to the snow. But he didn't stop or beg for mercy; he just kept his head down and shuffled forward step by step.
When he finally stumbled across the starting line, he fell straight into a snowdrift, too exhausted to even turn over.
Nana crouched down, and the scanner swept over his limbs and chest.
“Severe dehydration, electrolyte imbalance, and micro-tears in muscle fibers,” she said. “I recommend resting for 24 hours.”
"Okay...whatever." He closed his eyes. "I can't even remember names anymore."
Just as she was about to get up, she saw him suddenly move his fingers and dig a few times in the snow beneath him.
"What's this?" He pulled out something wrapped in animal hide, which was heavy and had a thin layer of ice on the edges.
Nana glanced at it but didn't say anything.
"Dried meat?" He was stunned. "Where did it come from?"
“Unknown source,” she said.
"Bullshit." He sat up straighter, his voice clearing. "Our inventory was wiped out a long time ago. This thing must weigh at least two pounds. Where did you get it?"
"Residual materials were discovered during a night patrol."
"When?"
"last night."
"While I was unconscious?"
She didn't answer.
Chen Hao looked down at the piece of meat, his fingers tracing the rough animal hide. He knew how cold it was outside, and he knew what it meant to be out alone in this weather. And she hadn't woken him, hadn't mentioned it, hadn't even registered it in the system.
"So you're planning to wait until I'm fully recovered before secretly stuffing it into my lunchbox?" His voice was a little hoarse. "Or are you waiting for the day I complain about not having any food, and you casually say, 'I just happened to find some'?"
“If it’s not entered into the nutrition rationing system, it’s considered non-existent,” she repeated. “Therefore, it doesn’t belong to the current reserve resources.”
"Then why did you bury it in the snow?"
"To prevent attracting wild animals."
"You call hiding it so shallowly a form of prevention?"
"The original plan was to retrieve the equipment this morning, but it has been postponed due to special training arrangements."
Chen Hao stared at her for a long time, then suddenly laughed. His shoulders shook as he laughed, as if he had heard something utterly absurd.
“You really are…” He shook his head, “You made me run ten laps because you were afraid I’d stay in bed; you sneaked out hunting in the middle of the night because you were afraid I’d go hungry. And you still say you have no emotion module?”
"I am simply executing the optimal survival strategy."
"Then tell me, the optimal strategy includes exposing yourself to a blizzard for three hours just to get me some meat?"
"Environmental risks are within a controllable range."
"Controllable my foot." He stuffed the meat into his coat, moving it very gently. "Next time you sneak off to work, remember to hide it deeper. If some other animal digs it up, I won't be able to chase after it with chili sauce."
Nana did not respond.
A gust of wind swept through the empty training ground, carrying a cloud of snow. Chen Hao sat in the snow, his clothes soaked and his face pale, but he remained seated, refusing to lie down.
"How many more laps do you think I can run?" he suddenly asked.
"Under the current circumstances, it is not recommended to engage in any high-intensity activities."
"I mean, if one day we really have to run for our lives, will I be able to keep up with you?"
"Based on the current data, irreversible physical exhaustion will occur after five laps."
“That’s not enough,” he grinned. “You need to be able to run at least fifteen laps. Otherwise, carrying me while you run will drain too much electricity.”
"You don't need to meet that standard."
"But I have to try." He slowly stood up, his legs still trembling, and said, "How about we continue tomorrow?"
"Your body needs a recovery period."
"Five laps it is then, take your time." He patted the snow off his pants. "Anyway, I'm free."
Nana watched his upright figure, the scanning beam lingering on his back for two seconds before quietly turning off.
A new record is generated in the private data stream:
**"Progress in clearing traces of nighttime activities: 78%"**
She turned toward the base entrance, her steps steady.
Chen Hao followed behind, walking unsteadily, one hand in his pocket and the other carrying the piece of dried meat. As he passed the section of the main pipeline he had posted yesterday, he looked up at it.
A small water stain remained on the metal surface, shaped like a crooked handprint.
He didn't say anything, but paused for a moment before continuing to walk forward.
Nana walked to the control panel, preparing to access the next phase of the energy dispatch plan. Just as her fingers touched the panel, the casing emitted a very faint buzzing sound.
Immediately afterwards, the visual signal in the right eye was interrupted for a moment.
She stopped what she was doing and looked down at her arm.
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