The wind was still blowing, and the last corner of the reflective cloth trembled slightly as it was nailed into the crevice in the rock, like a piece of scorching hot tin foil being carelessly tossed aside. Chen Hao lay slumped on the rock, his joints in his propulsion suit still humming, like an electric fan that had just run 800 meters.
"Your shed can block out the sun, but could you also shield me from my miserable life?" His voice was hoarse. "I'm practically a kebab, and it's still counting down."
Nana ignored him, twisted her mechanical fingers, and a miniature anchor launcher popped out of the side compartment of her backpack, locking the fabric edges shut with two clicks. She took a half step back to check the angle, and blue light swept across the shadowed area.
“The shaded area is now 3.7 square meters,” she said. “That’s enough to accommodate your and some of the equipment’s cooling needs.”
"I don't need space, I need water." Chen Hao raised his hand to wipe his face, his palm sticky with salt and sweat. "That lake was right in front of me just now, and what happened? My clothes got hot and I was chased back, and you even set up a tent for a picnic?"
“This isn’t for a picnic.” She turned and took a heat-insulating mat from the back panel, spread it out on the ground with a thud, and said, “This is to prevent the heat under your butt from making you faint again.”
Chen Hao stared at the cushion for three seconds, then snorted, "So I should thank you for putting a butt curtain under my butt?"
“If you’re willing to sit on the ground at 60 degrees Celsius and let it continue to heat up, I can take it back.”
He shut up, moved over and sat down, the propulsion suit emitting a weary groan of pressure relief. Nana crouched down and brought up the aerial projection—a red progress bar hovered between them: **Core module temperature 68°C → Target ≤ 45°C | Estimated remaining time: 28 minutes**.
"It will cool down on its own?" Chen Hao asked.
“The forced cooling process has been initiated,” she said. “But if your heart rate exceeds 120 beats per minute, it will prolong the recovery time.”
“My heart is pounding because I’m angry.” He pointed to the shimmering depression in the distance. “You say it’s wrong for me to rush over there? Then come up with a plan! In thirty minutes, when the sun is even stronger, it will still go on strike.”
“I’ve already taken it.” She pulled a silver-gray patch, a condenser pack, from the arm compartment. “Put it here.”
"where?"
"Carotid artery."
"Do you think I'm a fridge magnet?" He flinched. "Can't I just cover myself up?"
"Efficiency decreased by 62 percent."
He rolled his eyes, but still took the patch and pressed it on. A bone-chilling coldness instantly entered his blood vessels, making him shiver.
"Oh my god... did you just take this thing out of the freezer?"
"The cooling capacity is at forty percent," she said. "It's not to make you comfortable, but to prevent you from getting heatstroke and talking nonsense."
“I’m not talking nonsense.” He shrank his neck. “I just feel like we’re two mechanics standing on the side of the road, building a shed to charge a broken electric car.”
“The analogy is inaccurate,” she said. “An electric car won’t try to drive into a boiling pool just because its owner wants a drink.”
"That's my spirit of exploration!"
"Your judgment is impaired due to dehydration."
Chen Hao was too lazy to argue anymore, so he leaned against the rock and closed his eyes. A breeze blew in, carrying a dry, hot feeling, causing the reflective fabric to billow slightly, like a taut sheet of aluminum. He opened his eyes a crack and watched the sunlight reflecting off the fabric, making his eyes water.
"You know... if we bring a few more pieces of this cloth, could we spread them all the way to the lakeside and make a sunshade walkway?"
“We need at least forty-seven pieces of the same specifications,” she said. “We currently have one in stock.”
"How about I use my panties? White ones, the reflective material should look good too."
"The hygiene standards do not meet the requirements for use in the project."
"You actually started giving reviews?"
"I'm just stating the facts."
He sighed and looked up at the sky. The dim, yellow sun hung overhead like a broken old-fashioned light bulb, illuminating the entire wasteland with a tin roof-like sheen.
“I think it was intentional,” he said.
"who?"
"This planet," he waved his hand, "sets up a lake, but doesn't allow you to drink from it; lets you see it, but doesn't let you get close. It's like the cafeteria lady suddenly closing the pot when she sees a student about to get their braised pork."
“The planet has no subjective intentions,” she said, “but it does have multiple survival-limiting mechanisms.”
"Why do you always talk like a system notification?" He rolled over, his suit creaking. "Can't you be a little more cooperative? Like, 'Don't rush, bro, let the sun take a break'?"
"I do not have the authority to adjust the star's output power."
"Look, here we go again."
After a few seconds of silence, Nana suddenly raised her hand. A soft click sounded from the storage compartment on her back, and a metal ball the size of a fingernail shot out, hurtling towards the lake. Chen Hao's eyes widened: "What did you release? A spy drone?"
“A miniature probe ball,” she said. “It allows for remote collection of environmental samples, avoiding the risk of human exposure.”
"Then why didn't you do this sooner?"
"Previously, the distance was too close, and thermal radiation interfered with signal transmission. Now the location is safe and suitable for release."
Three minutes later, the ball silently returned to her palm. She tapped her fingertips lightly, and the data stream unfolded in the air.
Chen Hao leaned closer: "How is it? Isn't the water temperature actually only around 30 or 40 degrees Celsius? Can we just add some ice and drink it?"
Nana looked at the readings and said calmly, "The surface temperature is 62 degrees Celsius, the pH value is 8.7, it contains a high concentration of magnesium sulfate and sodium chloride, and the dissolved oxygen is extremely low. Direct consumption can lead to electrolyte imbalance, acute kidney injury, and in severe cases, coma."
Chen Hao was stunned: "Sixty-two?! That's like boiling dumplings—already cooked?"
“Theoretically, it can be used to steam or boil food,” she said. “But currently there are no airtight containers, and the evaporation process will accelerate the concentration of minerals, which will actually increase toxicity.”
So... this water is undrinkable?
"Not available at the moment." She put away the data. "It can only be used as a reference point for the construction of future purification systems."
He sat there, motionless, his lips moving slightly: "I thought the problem would be solved once I got there. But what happened? When I got there, I found it was a pressure cooker."
“Your expectations are too linear,” she said. “Survival is not a game of level completion; there is no ‘arrival equals victory’ scenario.”
"But even my reason for failing is so absurd." He smiled bitterly. "Others struggle to survive because they have no water to drink, but I have water but can't drink it. What kind of plot is this?"
“Reality is often more absurd than fiction,” she said. “Accepting it is more helpful than complaining.”
He leaned back, this time without saying a word. The cooldown bar on his propulsion suit jumped to **90%**, turning from red to green, and the fan noise gradually subsided. A breeze blew from the direction of the lake, carrying a dry, scorching scent.
After a long while, he suddenly spoke: "Nana."
"I am here."
"Do you think... we might become like that someday?"
Which one?
“That cut on the ground,” he said, his voice lowering, “is so neat, like someone carved it. Could it have been left by someone from before? They got here, found they couldn’t drink water, and couldn’t go back, so they just lay down and even their bones have weathered away?”
Nana's blue light flickered slightly: "It's possible. But we can't verify it at the moment."
"I was just asking casually." He looked up at the sliver of sky cut through the edge of the reflective cloth. "Why do people always think about moving forward, even knowing that there might be no result?"
“Because stopping means admitting defeat,” she said. “And humans would rather hit a wall than admit defeat.”
"You talk like you know everything."
“I am not human,” she said, “but I have observed many people who are about to die, and when they finally open their eyes, they are all looking in a certain direction.”
Chen Hao grimaced, but didn't actually laugh.
The cooling progress bar reached zero, the propulsion suit emitted a crisp "beep", and the screen displayed: **System restored to normal, power module ready**.
He slowly stood up, his joints becoming much more flexible, no longer as stiff as before. He stretched his arms and legs and looked towards the lake.
“There are still five minutes of cooling time left,” she said. “I suggest waiting a little longer to ensure stability.”
“I know.” He clenched his fist. “I’m not going to charge. I just…want to see the lake.”
He walked to the edge of the awning and squinted at it. The depression still shone with a blinding light, like a piece of molten glass.
"Why do you think it's hot?" he asked.
"Geological activity causes groundwater to heat up and rise, forming high-temperature lakes," she said. "These are commonly found in volcanic zones or areas with weak crust."
“Oh.” He nodded. “So it’s not an ordinary lake. It’s… Earth’s version of a spa.”
“There are no bathing facilities,” she said. “Skin contact with liquids exceeding 55 degrees Celsius for more than ten seconds can cause second-degree burns.”
"I'm not going to take a bath," he said, pursing his lips. "I was just expressing my feelings."
He stood there, his shadow stretched long across the red earth. The wind blew a corner of the reflective cloth, gently patting his shoulder armor.
"What do you think we should do next?" He turned around. "We can't drink, we can't touch anything, and we have to avoid the sun. This place is practically targeting me in every way."
“First, confirm if there are other water sources,” she said, “or look for mineral-based cooling layers.”
"Looking for someone again?" he sighed. "I feel like a deliveryman, always on the move."
“You are indeed the recipient,” she said. “You received a survival package that you didn’t really want.”
He paused for a moment, then burst out laughing: "Your words... are quite humorous?"
"I am merely stating a logical chain."
"Come on," he waved his hand. "You just think I'm fat, impulsive, and not very bright, and you still have to package me like a robot."
She didn't respond, but simply adjusted her posture, and the blue light swept around her.
The propulsion suit is now stable and cooling is complete.
The wind stopped for a moment.
The reflective fabric draped down and adhered to his shoulder armor.
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