Chen Hao dragged the last piece of timber to the designated spot, panting heavily as he sat down on the ground. The pile of damp, freshly dismantled grass at his feet was still slightly damp, as if someone had brought half a swamp into the construction site. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, a gray streak appearing as his sleeve brushed against his cheek.
"Do you think there's a bunch of invisible toads living in this air?" He looked up at Nana. "How come my crotch is practically moldy after sitting here for five minutes?"
Nana stood in the center of the granary, her optical eyes scanning the surroundings. A blue light flickered on the wall: "Current humidity is 87 percent, exceeding the safe threshold by 20 percent. If this continues for more than 48 hours, fungi will begin to grow on the wooden structure."
"Good heavens, we haven't even stored up any grain yet, and we've already gotten the timber the ticket." Chen Hao stood up, supporting himself on his knees, and pulled out an old canvas from the pile of scrap. "Let's seal up the gaps underneath first, we can't let the earth's energy rise up like the heavenly aura."
He squatted down and stuffed the hay into the gaps at the bottom of the elevated platform. The hay was too fluffy; if he pressed it down, it would spring back, but if he didn't, gaps would remain. After struggling for about ten minutes, he was so tired that he was pounding his back. When he touched the inside of the canvas, his palm was wet.
"That's not right," he frowned. "Am I laying a moisture barrier or incubating mushrooms?"
Nana walked over and lightly touched the wall with her fingertips: "Your sealing method has caused a temperature difference between the inside and outside, creating a condensation zone, which traps moisture in the gap. I suggest you stop manually sealing it."
"Then what do you suggest? Chant spells to dispel the dampness?" Chen Hao shook the water off his hands. "Or how about we build a fire to dry ourselves off? I think that's what the ancients did."
"This solution may lead to wood carbonization, a 35% reduction in load-bearing capacity, and a risk of ignition."
"Alright, alright, high-tech doesn't care about old-fashioned methods." He waved his hand, then suddenly noticed the tin box in the corner. "Wait, isn't that the thing you said could dehumidify?"
Nana turned around and opened the box, revealing a machine pieced together from various parts: the outer shell was an alloy plate cut from spaceship wreckage, two fans were mounted on the front, wires were wrapped around the sides, and a leaky drip tray was welded to the bottom.
"The dehumidifier prototype operates using a regenerative cooling module and an air circulation system." She pulled out a power cord. "It needs to be connected to an external power module."
Chen Hao's eyes lit up: "Isn't that simple? Red against red, black against black, even a kindergarten electrician can do that."
"Reversing the polarity will cause the heating element to operate in reverse, and the equipment will release high-temperature steam instead of absorbing moisture."
"Oh, you're worried I'll break it?" He waved his hand. "I've never missed a direction when plugging in a USB cable since I was a kid—at most, I'll try twice."
Nana didn't say anything more, but silently took half a step back.
Chen Hao deftly stripped the wires, connected them, and tightened the screws. With a click, he pressed the switch.
The machine hummed to life, the fan whirred, but a few seconds later, a plume of white mist shot out of the vent, followed by a whooshing out of steam like a boiling kettle. A wave of heat hit us, and the grain silo instantly became shrouded in mist.
"Uh." He took half a step back. "Maybe... I was a little too enthusiastic?"
Nana stepped forward to check the data: "Positive and negative terminals reversed, confirmed. Heating mode is running at full power, current air outlet temperature is 63 degrees Celsius, and humidity has risen to 89 percent."
"It's gone up?!" Chen Hao's eyes widened. "Wasn't I trying to dehumidify? How come it's getting more and more waterlogged?"
"You are simulating a tropical rainforest environment."
Before he finished speaking, sunlight streamed through the cracks in the roof, piercing through the thick steam and casting a curved beam of colored light on the opposite wall.
The seven colors lay there silently, one end resting on the wet floor, the other crashing into a pile of scattered tools.
Chen Hao was stunned.
He slowly turned his head, looked at the machine, then at the rainbow, and then at Nana.
Then he suddenly burst out laughing, and the laughter grew louder and louder until he finally squatted down against the wall, his shoulders shaking.
"Hahaha... This isn't a granary we're building, it's a tourist attraction we've opened on the side! 'The only indoor artificial rainbow experience hall on this desolate planet,' admission is two carrots!"
Nana stared at the light, her optical eye fine-tuning its focus: "The visible spectrum refraction phenomenon is caused by the dispersion of sunlight by water droplets suspended in the air. The duration is expected to be no more than four minutes."
"Even four minutes is worth it!" Chen Hao wiped away tears of laughter. "Do you know how many people on Earth pay to go to Iceland to see the Northern Lights? We're giving it away for free! Next time wild boars come, we'll just rename it a sightseeing tour."
"This phenomenon does not solve the humidity problem."
“But it healed my mood.” He patted his bottom, stood up, and pointed to the rainbow’s tail. “Look, even the shadow is dyed. My toes are purple now.”
Nana paused for two seconds: "Improved psychological comfort can indirectly affect work efficiency. According to the database, the human error rate is reduced by 12% when in a pleasant state."
“Listen to this, even you are praising my contribution.” He grinned, then coughed twice. “It’s just that this ‘scenic spot’ is too wet. If I stay any longer, my underwear will grow moss.”
"Please leave the high humidity area."
"You don't need to tell me." He waved his hand and walked to the machine. "What do we do now? Disassemble and reconnect it?"
"I suggest that I perform the circuit correction."
"No, no, no, let me do it this time." He waved his hand. "I've already made a mistake once. If I let the robots do it again, I'll lose face in front of the wild boars. They're better at tilling the land than I am. If I can't even connect a wire properly, wouldn't I be the most useless creature on the entire planet?"
Nana did not object.
Chen Hao took a deep breath, picked up the voltage tester, and checked the wires one by one, referring to the diagram. His movements were slow and his fingers clumsy; he nearly broke the wire ends several times. The sun gradually slanted westward, the rainbow over the granary disappeared, but the fog remained.
Finally, he reconnected the wires and patted the machine: "Let's try again. This time, I guarantee it will work properly."
Press the switch.
The sound of the fan changed, becoming deep and steady. The air outlet began to draw in humid air, and condensate dripped into the drip tray along the pipe, making a crisp "drip, drip" sound.
"It's done?" He leaned closer and touched the air vent. "It's cold! It's really cold!"
"Dehumidification mode is operating normally." Nana confirmed the data. "The humidity has begun to decrease slowly and is expected to enter a safe range in 72 hours."
"It's not easy." He let out a long sigh and plopped down on a wooden stump by the door. "First the house collapsed, now it's an air battle. I feel like I'm not farming, but participating in a live survival challenge."
“Your level of participation certainly meets the standards for a test subject.”
"You know what, I've actually gotten used to it." He looked up at the gradually thinning fog. "Before, I would lie at home scrolling through my phone and order takeout when I was hungry. Now? I build my own house, connect my own electricity, and fight with the air myself. Although I fail a lot, at least I see something new every time I fall down."
Nana stood next to the machine, the interface on its back connected to the power supply box, the blue light flashing steadily.
"The humidity curve is stabilizing, and the system is initially effective."
"So, does this mean we're officially open for business now?" Chen Hao pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, wrote the words "Moisture-proof Test Zone" crookedly with a charcoal pencil, and nailed it to the door frame. "The opening ceremony is complete. Welcome to visit the world's smallest, most unstable, and most prone to rainbows private storage center."
A low groan came from afar.
They both turned their heads at the same time.
The gray-bristled wild boar had wandered over sometime during the night, sniffing along the ground as it came, and stopped about five meters from the granary. It looked at the smoking machine, then at the piece of paper on the door, and suddenly raised its front hooves and pawed at the ground twice.
"It wouldn't happen to want to join us, would it?" Chen Hao chuckled. "How about we give it a name tag? Say 'Part-time Ventilation Supervisor' on it?"
The wild boar didn't move; it just stood there quietly, its ears twitching slightly.
Nana suddenly raised her hand: "A slight vibration was detected, with a frequency similar to yesterday's tillage signal."
"You mean...it's saying hello?"
Before the words were finished, the wild boar lowered its head, gently nudged a clump of wet mud with its snout, pushed it forward half a meter, then stopped and looked up at them.
Chen Hao blinked.
"Could it be trying to help...dehumidify?"
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com