Chen Hao fell onto the sand, his bottom sticking out from under several pieces of hard shell. He didn't move, first looking down at his hands—the old scar on his palm was still there, the color hadn't changed, but his skin felt a little hot, as if he'd been in the sun all afternoon.
He lifted his leg and pinched his thigh hard.
"hiss--"
I winced in pain, but felt a sense of relief. It wasn't a dream, nor a digital illusion. This body was real, the flesh was heavy, and the fat was real.
He pushed himself up from the ground, his t-shirt collar frayed and his shoulders aching as if he'd carried a whole refrigerator. In the distance, the receding tide revealed a large expanse of shallow water, the shimmering light reflecting off the newly emerging horizon—neither glaring nor warm.
"Nana?"
"I am here."
The voice came from the side, neither loud nor cold. He turned his head and saw her standing on the damp sand, the metal casing retracted, returning to its original appearance—a gray-white body with simple lines, and the blue light in her eyes shining steadily, just like when it was first turned on.
But he knew that she was no longer the auxiliary robot that could only report data.
"Did you... float by just now?" he asked.
“I recorded the frequency of spatial fluctuations throughout the entire process,” she said. “We experienced a nonlinear displacement of 17.3 seconds, and the final coordinates returned to the original planet’s surface with an error of no more than two meters.”
Speak like a human.
"We're back, and we're in the right place."
Chen Hao let out a long breath, lay back, and sank his head into the soft sand. The sky was overcast, cloudless and starless. The wind was light, a little cool on his sweaty neck.
"Do you think anyone saw us walking hand in hand on the starlight walkway in the universe just now?"
"No observed signal feedback."
"That's such a pity." He patted his belly. "Such a cool entrance, and there wasn't even an audience."
His stomach growled at just the right moment, so loudly that it startled him.
Nana glanced at him. "Your energy metabolism level has dropped to a critical level. You haven't eaten for over thirty-six hours."
“I know I haven’t eaten.” He sat up, rubbing his back. “The problem is, what do I eat now? I’m out of instant noodles, and I’ve already gnawed on the spicy snack box twice. I can still wear my snow boots, but I can’t use them for soup.”
Nana didn't reply. Instead, she crouched down, inserted her mechanical fingers into the damp sand, and extracted a small amount of mud. Her pupils flickered rapidly, as if she were retrieving some data.
“The shallow water has moderate salinity and stable pH, and the bottom sediments are rich in organic matter.” She stood up. “Traces of various single-celled algae and micro-crustaceans were detected, indicating that the conditions are suitable for primary fisheries development.”
Chen Hao blinked. "What did you say?"
"We can build a fish farm."
"Wait a minute." He raised his hand. "You mean, we just came back hand in hand from the ends of the universe, and now we're going to start digging ponds to raise shrimp?"
“Food supply is the highest priority for survival.” She said calmly, “After the star energy dissipated, my advanced functional modules have temporarily gone offline and are unable to synthesize matter or convert energy. The most feasible solution at this stage is to establish a sustainable intake system using local resources.”
Chen Hao opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Then he laughed.
"So our interstellar gourmet project has to be postponed?"
"It will be postponed until at least the energy system is restarted."
"Sigh." He sighed, rubbing his belly. "I was thinking of having a hot pot party on the spaceship someday, but now I have to catch my own seafood at the buffet."
He stood up, brushed the sand off his trousers, and walked to the edge of the shallow water. The seawater rose up, submerging his feet; it was icy cold.
He bent down, scooped up a handful of water, looked at it, and then splashed it back.
"You mean there's something edible in this water?"
"The probability is over 89 percent."
“Alright.” He turned around and pointed to a flat mudflat in front of him. “Let’s set up a small fishing ground here. It doesn’t need to be too big, just enough to make a living first.”
"I suggest collecting edible algae as a transitional food source first," she said, "while also planning the manufacturing process for fishing tools."
"Tools?" He scratched his head. "We don't even have a pair of scissors."
"I can disassemble some non-core components for processing."
"No, no, no." He waved his hand. "If you tear yourself apart to make a fishhook, who's going to cook for me?"
"I don't have a cooking function."
“Then you learn,” he grinned. “When the fish farm is up and running, you have to cook the first meal. It doesn’t matter if you fail, I have a big appetite anyway, I can eat even spoiled food.”
Nana stared at him for two seconds, and the blue light flashed slightly.
"Your optimism index is 42 percentage points higher than the normal value."
"Of course." He plopped down on the wet sand, looked up at the sky, and said, "I just came back from a trip around the universe. It's a miracle I didn't die. I'm lucky to be alive. Isn't that just good fortune?"
She didn't say anything, but simply walked to his side and stood there.
The wind carries the scent of the sea, neither salty nor fishy, but rather reminiscent of the seaweed soup stall outside my school when I was a child.
Chen Hao suddenly remembered something, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. The edges were charred, and the writing was blurry, but a few words could still be made out: "Wish List", "Learn to Cook", "No More Copying Homework".
He stared at it for a while, then smiled.
"This note is still here."
“It triggered the spacecraft’s core protocol,” she said. “It was the physical anchor point of the original host’s consciousness.”
"To put it bluntly, it's just that the dreams I wrote down back then have all been taken seriously by the universe."
He folded the note twice and stuffed it back into his pocket.
“But now…” he looked at the shallow sea, “the first rule needs to be changed. Before ‘learning to cook,’ we must first ‘learn to fish.’”
"I can provide technical support."
“Then you’ll be in charge of the design, and I’ll be in charge of the execution.” He patted his thigh. “Although I’m lazy, I may be fat, but I still have the strength.”
"Initial catches are not expected to be sufficient to support daily nutritional needs."
"It's okay." He grinned. "At worst, I'll go clam digging. I can't let a slacker like me lose to the beach."
Nana looked down at his sitting posture, his legs apart, his back slightly hunched, like a stranded sea turtle.
"Your posture affects blood circulation efficiency."
“I know,” he said, remaining still, “but it’s comfortable.”
She didn't correct her, but instead expanded the scanning range to a radius of 500 meters, marking the confluence of water flows, sediment deposition zones, and potential bioaccumulation points.
The data flowed before her eyes, but she did not report it immediately.
She simply stood there, gazing at the shallows left by the receding tide, the water shimmering in her eyes.
Chen Hao yawned and rubbed his eyes.
"Do you think we could build a house here someday? It doesn't have to be big, just one room, one bed, and a small stove."
"Based on geological stability analysis, this area is suitable for building temporary shelters."
“Then it’s settled.” He squinted. “Once the fish farm is up and running, I’ll officially retire, eat seafood every day, bask in the sun, and never have to worry about exams, further education, or finding a job again.”
"You have never held a formal job."
"The mental work was more tiring than the actual work."
He yawned again, and his eyelids started to droop.
"Nana... if I fall asleep, don't let me lie there for too long, or crabs might crawl into my shoes."
"We have detected an increase in the frequency of your eyelid closure. We recommend that you take a short break immediately."
"I'm not sleepy," he stubbornly insisted. "I just... want to take a nap."
Before he could finish speaking, he tilted his head and leaned against her arm.
She didn't move or push him away.
I simply adjusted his standing angle to make him more stable.
A gentle breeze blew, and ripples spread across the water's surface.
She looked down at his face, her breathing steady, a silly smile playing on her lips.
The blue light flowed slowly in her eyes, like a low-frequency rhythm.
After a moment, she said softly:
"I'll make the first fishing net a little smaller."
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