Chen Hao stared at the slowly rising metal plate, squinting as if trying to see through some secret. But before he could speak, a furry little head poked out from the edge of the cave, sniffing the salty smell in the air.
"Ouch!" He jerked back. "You scared me!"
It's a rabbit. The fattest one with gray ears and mud still on its front paws has clearly just wandered back from the vegetable garden.
Chen Hao looked into the vegetable garden through the beam of his flashlight—his heart sank. The carrot seedlings he had painstakingly planted yesterday had been eaten away, leaving only a few bare stubbles in the soil. The ground was covered with tiny footprints, densely packed like sesame seeds scattered on the ground.
"Again?" His voice trembled. "Did I owe your rabbit clan something in my past life?"
He plopped down on the sand, picked up a flattened carrot root, and examined it closely in his hand. "This isn't even enough to fill a tooth gap, and you guys insist on digging it up and chewing the root too?"
Nana had somehow appeared behind him, her mechanical eyes scanning the ground, a blue light gently brushing across the soil and fallen leaves.
"Collecting samples," she whispered.
The next second, a slender metal arm popped out from her wrist, glided along the ground for a short distance, precisely picked up a clump of rabbit droppings that had just been excreted, and quickly retracted into her body.
Chen Hao frowned as he looked at him: "Couldn't you have given me a heads-up beforehand?"
"Mute mode is enabled," she said. "Analysis results will be output in three seconds."
Sure enough, in less than five seconds, a few lines of numbers flashed in her pupils, and then she calmly announced: "The cellulose content is 42% lower than the benchmark value. The digestive system lacks the stimulation of crude fiber, which leads to increased gnawing behavior."
Chen Hao was stunned: "So they're not craving, they're... lonely in their intestines?"
"To be precise, it's an unmet physiological need."
"So what should we do? Get them a massage chair? Or have them do squats three times a day?"
"It is recommended to provide non-edible wood materials for teeth grinding and promoting intestinal peristalsis."
Chen Hao scratched his head, glancing at the group of rabbits leisurely licking their paws over the fence, his expression complicated. "You mean... I have to give them 'toys'?"
"Functional supplement, not for recreational purposes."
"Fine," he sighed. "Anyway, nothing I do is strange anymore. Last time I was even thinking of offering up the salted fish for two days before eating it."
He staggered to his feet, brushed the sand off his trousers, and dragged himself toward a pile of dead branches in the corner of the camp. Those were pieces of wood cut down a few days ago when they were repairing the sunshade; they hadn't been dealt with until now, but they were proving useful.
He carried a large bundle over and threw it all into the rabbit pen with a whoosh.
The rabbits all turned their heads at once, twenty pairs of eyes staring at the pile of dry branches, as quiet as if they were having a meeting.
"Eat it." Chen Hao stood with his hands on his hips. "Natural xylitol, zero calories, and it's good for your teeth."
Not a single one moved.
He waited for half a minute, and seeing that no one appreciated it, he had no choice but to take matters into his own hands. He broke off a thin twig, stuck it in the ground, and struck a pose like an advertising sign: "New product launch, limited-time offer!"
The atmosphere remained awkward.
"Forget it." He clapped his hands. "Take it or leave it, I'm not losing money anyway."
As I turned to leave, I suddenly heard a "thump".
Looking back, I saw the fat rabbit leading the pack banging its head against the wooden stakes of the fence.
It wasn't a test; it was a real, hard impact that sent wood chips flying everywhere.
Before Chen Hao could react, a second and a third rushed over, crashing into him one after another. Their movements were perfectly synchronized, as if they had practiced in formation.
"Wait... what are you doing?" He took a step forward.
"Warning: Structural load-bearing abnormality," Nana suddenly announced.
Before the words were even finished, several more violent impacts followed. The fence creaked and groaned, the connecting rope in the middle snapped instantly, and the entire wooden fence tilted to one side, crashing into the sand with a deafening roar.
The rabbits scattered abruptly, then leaped up in unison—not to flee, but to charge.
Twenty rabbits surged out like a gray wave, raising a cloud of yellow sand, and headed straight for the distant sand dunes.
"I put out animal feed!" Chen Hao shouted, waving a dry branch in his hand. "Not a battering ram!!"
Nobody paid him any attention.
He took off chasing after it.
At first, he thought he could easily catch up, after all, although rabbits are fast, he at least has two legs with wheels. But after running less than fifty meters, he realized something was wrong—these rabbits weren't running around randomly at all. They had split into three groups, flanking from both sides while the main force in the middle charged straight ahead, constantly changing their routes, making him dart around in all directions, and he was exhausted like a dried-out fish.
"Who taught them military strategy?!" He gasped for breath as he turned a corner, nearly falling into a shallow pit.
Nana stood still, but raised her arm and projected a semi-transparent trajectory map with twenty small red dots moving rapidly and spreading in three directions.
“I suggest abandoning the pursuit and reassessing the fence design,” she said.
"Give up?!" Chen Hao shouted as he ran. "That's our only source of meat! What if they swim away into the sea?!"
"Land-based rabbits do not possess ocean-going capabilities."
"What if it's a mutant?!"
He gritted his teeth and continued the chase, finally cornering a lone rabbit behind a high sand dune. Seeing no way to escape, the rabbit actually spun around in place, and then—spit a piece of grass at his shoe.
"You still dare to provoke me?" Chen Hao reached out to grab him.
The rabbit leaped three feet away, landing lightly before turning back to glare at him, as if to say, "Are you worthy?"
Chen Hao slumped onto the sand, face up, chest heaving violently, his tongue almost sticking out.
“I…I never want to raise rabbits again…” he said haltingly. “I’m going to switch to raising snails…at least they can’t run away…I can keep up with them…”
Nana walked slowly over, the beam of light sweeping across his face. "Heart rate 148, respiratory rate above normal, risk of dehydration increased, immediate rehydration recommended."
“Don’t talk to me about data…” he raised a hand, “Let me die in peace for a while…”
"The probability of death is zero."
"You really don't know how to comfort people."
In the distance, the last few rabbits disappeared behind the dunes, leaving only the wind whipping up fine sand across the ground.
Nana glanced down at the data panel in her hand. "Motion trajectory recording complete. It is recommended to install pressure sensors next time and adopt a triangular anchoring fence structure."
"Next time?" Chen Hao struggled to roll over and lay on the ground. "I want a next time? I want to surrender whenever I see a rabbit now."
He slowly got up, supporting himself on his knees, still clutching the withered branch tightly in his hand, his knuckles white.
"Why do you think they have to run away?" he asked.
"It is speculated to be a group stress response. The way the dead branches are thrown is similar to territorial marking behavior, which may be misinterpreted as an intrusion signal."
"So I meant well but did something wrong?"
"The conclusion is valid."
"So, I'm not the zookeeper, but the instigator of war?"
Nana didn't answer, but simply put the projector away gently.
Chen Hao stared in the direction the rabbits had disappeared, then suddenly grinned: "Do you think... they might come back on their own? They'll remember I have carrots here when they're hungry."
"The possibility exists, but the activity range of natural enemies and the distance to water sources need to be considered."
"Couldn't you just say 'maybe'? Why do you have to list a bunch of variables?"
"My language module does not support fuzzy expressions."
"Then you might as well just stop talking altogether."
He turned and staggered a couple of steps, then stopped and looked back at the collapsed fence.
"Hey, Nana."
"exist."
"Tomorrow... could we not look for other food? Let's just wait here and see if they come back."
"Yes, but I suggest bringing a fishing net."
"You also think they'll come back?"
"No. I'm worried that something will come and steal the leftover pickled fish before you recover your strength."
Chen Hao was taken aback for a moment, then laughed out loud: "You understand me quite well."
He walked back step by step, his steps heavy, his shadow stretched long by the rising sun.
Nana followed two meters behind him, her body covered in sand, her mechanical eyes flashing faintly as she recorded the wind speed, temperature, and the depth of the remaining footprints.
When they reached the leeward side of the third sand dune, Chen Hao suddenly stopped.
He bent down and drew a crooked circle in the sand, then added a few short lines.
"What is this?" Nana asked.
“The plan,” he said, “is to raise the fence by eighty centimeters next time, bury barbed wire underneath, install a spring door at the entrance, and hang a bell.”
"Insufficient budget and materials."
“I know.” He clapped his hands and stood up. “So I’ll draw a dream first.”
He looked up at the sky, the sunlight so bright it made him squint.
On the top of a distant sand dune, a gray ear peeked out, stared at them for a few seconds, then leaped and disappeared behind the slope.
Chen Hao's lips twitched.
He raised the withered branch in his hand, pointing it in that direction, his voice low but earnest:
"You better remember this, I'll hold this grudge against you."
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