Chen Hao's fingers were still lingering on the edge of the dark mark, his fingertips rubbing against the ground, as if trying to pry out some clues from the neat cut. He looked up at the reflective spot in the distance, his throat dry and tight.
"Someone arrived before us?"
Before he could finish speaking, the alarm on the propulsion suit suddenly went off.
It's not the kind of warning that beeps twice; it's the kind that starts ringing and goes on and on, a long, incessant beeping that you have to manually turn off or it'll go on forever. Red text pops up on the screen: "External environment overload, equipment is about to overheat, please evacuate immediately."
He paused for a moment, then looked down at the device on his leg. "What does this mean? I haven't even gone halfway yet."
Nana had already taken a half-step behind him, and a blue light swept across the surrounding rocks. "There are highly thermally conductive minerals in the area ahead, and the accumulated sunlight has caused a localized high-temperature zone on the surface. Your propulsion suit's heat dissipation system is operating at overload."
"It's just a little hotter, isn't it?" He lifted his foot to walk forward again. "I'm not made of glass, I'm not going to melt in the sun."
“The propulsion suit isn’t the problem,” she said. “It’s the internal circuitry. Once the core module’s temperature exceeds a critical value, it will trigger a chain reaction of meltdowns, which could ultimately lead to an explosion in the power compartment.”
Chen Hao stopped what he was doing, turned to look at her, and asked, "You mean... this thing can explode?"
“The probability is 37%,” she answered decisively. “Not high, but not worth the gamble.”
He stood there, catching his breath. Sweat trickled down his temples, gathering into a drop at his chin before slapping onto the knee of his tunic. The lining of his suit was already soaked through, clinging to his skin like a steamed quilt.
"I've come this far," he said, his voice lowering. "The water's right in front of me, and you want me to turn back?"
"It is recommended to retreat 120 meters and wait for the system to cool down before assessing the feasibility of moving forward."
"One hundred and twenty meters?" He chuckled. "Then you might as well just say 'Don't go.'"
Without waiting for a response, he pushed off with his right leg, instantly maximizing the thruster output. But as soon as he took a step, he was pulled back by a reverse force, as if a rope had suddenly been tied around his waist.
"What are you doing!" He staggered to his feet, then turned and glared at her.
“The safety protocol has been activated,” she said. “The system has determined that there is a significant risk in the current direction of travel, automatically limiting power output and initiating a forced evacuation mode.”
"You seized control?"
“It was an autonomous response from the propulsion system,” she said calmly. “I just didn’t stop it.”
The next second, the propulsion suit started moving on its own—not forward, but backward. Its joints hummed softly, its steps mechanical and steady, carrying the still-struggling Chen Hao little by little away from the lakeshore.
"Stop! Stop it right now!" He slapped the control panel on his arm, tapping the option to turn off the alarm three times. A red message popped up: "Insufficient user privileges to unlock the security lock."
"You bunch of broken machines, all you do is meddle!" he yelled, trying to bend down to loosen the lock on his leg joints, but he lost his balance and almost fell. The propulsion suit sensed the imbalance and immediately increased the back support, forcefully straightening his back and continuing to back up.
"I order you to shut down this damn program!" he shouted, panting heavily.
“I haven’t received any life-threatening instructions,” she said. “And your current heart rate is 142 and your body temperature is 38.7 degrees Celsius, which is mild heatstroke. Continued exposure to high temperatures could lead to confusion, convulsions, or even coma.”
"So you're taking me away as a prisoner?"
"I'm just making sure you're alive."
He fell silent, letting the system relentlessly retreat step by step towards the lake. Each step felt like it was draining his last bit of strength. When the system finally stopped regressing, he was standing in the shadow of a protruding rock ridge, about 150 meters away from the reflective depression.
He slid down onto the ground against the stone, and the propulsion suit emitted a few faint overheat warning sounds, as if protesting the high-intensity operation he had just undergone.
"Okay." He looked up at the dim sun in the sky, his voice hoarse. "Fighting to escape the wormhole, fixing the oxygen valve, passing through the atmosphere, landing and crawling so far... and finally getting stuck at 'too hot to go'?"
No one responded.
He turned to look at her. "Don't you think I'm pretty unlucky? Every time something seems about to succeed, a new problem pops up. Last time it was an oxygen leak, this time it's a feverish outfit, next time will it be raining knives?"
“This isn’t bad luck,” she said. “It’s that your understanding of the environment has consistently lagged behind reality.”
"You really dare to say that." He smirked. "So it's all my fault? I shouldn't have wanted to drink water? I shouldn't have moved forward? Or should I have just sat in the life pod waiting for the wind to blow it over?"
“You want water, that’s true.” She stood there, the blue light flickering slightly, “but you’re doing it the wrong way. You always try to solve problems by ‘rushing,’ but some obstacles only hurt more when you rush over them.”
Chen Hao stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed. "Do you know what's most ironic? I don't even have the energy to get angry now. I'm covered in sweat, my clothes are sticking to my body, and the rock under my butt is so hot you could fry an egg on it, and I still have to listen to your life lessons."
He raised his hand to wipe his face, his palm was wet. "How long has it been since I had a good night's sleep? Since I took a shower? Since I ate a proper meal? Now I can't even get a sip of water, and you're telling me to 'calm down'?"
Nana didn't move.
After a while, she took out a silver-gray folded bag from her backpack, and inside was a roll of reflective material.
“The propulsion suit needs to be left to cool down for at least thirty minutes,” she said. “I can set up a temporary shelter here to reduce the impact of surrounding heat radiation.”
"You really intend to stay here?"
"This is currently the best solution."
He leaned against the rock, closed his eyes, and said, "Don't you think... we're like two idiots? One of us is chasing water in power armor, and the other is trying to fight the sun with a reflective cloth."
“Logically, it’s not stupid,” she said. “The goal is clear, resources are limited, and actions are constrained. We’re just doing our best within the existing conditions.”
"Do our best?" He opened his eyes. "But I feel like we're just waiting to die."
“The survival probability is currently 76.3%,” she said, “as long as you don’t force your way through the system’s limitations.”
"You still remember this number?" He smiled wryly. "Last time it was 78.6%, and in just a few days it has dropped by more than two percentage points."
“The data will be updated as the environment changes.” She said while unfolding the reflective cloth. “For example, right now, because you have just struggled violently, the risk of dehydration has increased and the burden on your basal metabolism has increased, so the overall survival rate has been lowered.”
"Can you stop calculating like this all the time?" He rolled his eyes. "Can't you say something auspicious? Like, 'Hang in there, there's a barbecue stand up ahead'?"
No food source signal was detected.
"Can't I even talk in my sleep?"
She didn't respond further, but instead secured a corner of the reflective cloth to the crevice in the rock. A breeze blew, and the cloth billowed gently, like a sail not fully unfurled.
Watching her busy herself, Chen Hao suddenly asked, "Do you think... that mark on the ground just now, could it be a distress signal left by someone?"
“The possibility exists,” she said, “but it cannot be verified at present.”
"What if someone really came here? Did they also walk this far, then find it too hot and go back?"
“Or maybe they couldn’t get back,” she added.
The air suddenly became quiet.
He leaned back, his breathing gradually calming. The alarm on the propulsion suit had stopped sometime earlier, leaving only the cooling fan still humming.
“I’ll still go once it’s cooled down…” he said softly.
“I know,” she said.
"Then why are you stopping me?"
"If the conditions haven't changed, I will."
He grinned but didn't say anything.
A breeze blew from the direction of the lake, carrying a dry heat. The reflective fabric was pinned to a second corner, casting a small patch of shadow at an angle. He raised his hand, watching the sunlight filter through his fingers and fall on the back of his hand in his driving suit.
The third corner is now fixed.
His fingers slowly closed.
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