Chen Hao's shovel was still stuck in the crack in the floor. The rustling sound from the wall crack made his scalp tingle, and the chick at his feet slumped over, its wings twitching twice, its mouth open but unable to chirp. His hand trembled, and the shovel crashed into the mud with a "bang." Without even looking at the crickets that were probably multiplying, he knelt down on one knee and picked up the little guy.
"Hey? Wake up?" He shook it; the chick's eyes were half-closed, and its breathing was rapid, like a bellows.
Nana's scanning beam almost brushed past his arm, a cold light sliding from the chicken's head to its tail. Her voice didn't change, but she was a beat faster when reporting the data: "Temperature 39.7, mucosal congestion, white blood cell count down 42 percent—acute viral infection, the spread has already covered the eastern chick area."
"No way..." Chen Hao looked up, "It's only been a few days since I got vaccinated, and the virus is as punctual as takeout?"
“No matching drugs.” She paused after saying that, as if waiting for him to curse, “I suggest using narrow-spectrum phototherapy, mainly 460-nanometer blue light, supplemented with 365-nanometer ultraviolet A.”
"Sunlight cures chicken plague?" He glared. "You call that treatment? I can't even get my fever down from sunbathing!"
“The treatment for neonatal jaundice is photolysis therapy.” She turned and walked to the workbench. “The difference is that this time we’re scanning for viral DNA, not bilirubin.”
"So, are we running a farm or conducting a photosynthesis experiment now?" he muttered, but he had already gotten up and started rummaging through the storage box. "Tell me, how many lights do you need? I only have two searchlights and a broken UV disinfection box left."
“Disassemble the searchlight.” She took the toolkit handed to her. “Keep the LED core and replace the filter. The ballast in the sterilization box is still usable; we can make a voltage regulator module from it.”
Chen Hao squatted down beside her, watching as she twisted her fingers, the metal casing popped open, and the circuit board was pulled out as easily as disassembling a matchbox. He couldn't help but ask, "Does your knowledge base even remember how a hen dreams?"
“It’s recorded.” Without looking up, she said, “During REm sleep, there are slight chirping and paw twitching, at a frequency of 3.2 times per minute.”
"...I mean, how do you know everything?"
"Database number AGRI-chN-2049 covers 87 cases of non-drug intervention for poultry diseases in the history of agriculture." She connected the wires and gently blew the dust off the vent. "Thirty-six of these cases successfully utilized spectral therapy."
"It sounds like a lottery, but the odds of winning aren't even as high as getting a discount on groceries."
There are no other options at the moment.
"This sounds more despairing than the virus itself."
The lamp stand was pieced together from old clotheslines, crookedly perched in the center of the chicken coop. Chen Hao tied it with hemp rope three times to stabilize it, muttering as he did so, "If this thing collapses and crushes the chickens, we'll have to switch to selling stewed whole chickens."
“The probability is less than 0.3 percent.” Nana inserted the modified light tube into the bracket. “After starting, run it at low power for ten minutes and observe the stress response.”
"What if they think this is a new kind of natural enemy? After all, who has ever seen a hen that glows?"
The lights came on.
A bluish light filled the entire chicken coop, as if someone had splashed a bucket of fluorescent paint on it. The adult chickens bristled and scrambled to squeeze into the corners. One speckled chicken even jumped onto the feeding trough, looking like it was ready to fight to the death.
"Damn it, it really feels like an alien invasion." Chen Hao shrank his neck.
But something seemed off about the chicks.
The first one to collapse, which had been lying motionless on the bedding, now slightly raised its wings and nodded its head, as if trying to focus. Then, it staggered to its feet, wobbled a couple of steps, and actually moved towards the light source.
"Huh?" Chen Hao pushed aside the fence and crawled inside. "You still recognize your own house?"
The chick ignored him and went straight to the lamp, tilting its head back and squinting in the beam of light, as if it were basking in... uh, basking in the blue sun.
Nana's monitoring data showed that it began to fluctuate: her heart rate returned to the normal range, her respiratory rate tended to stabilize, and the concentration of inflammatory factors decreased by 15%.
"It's working," she said softly.
"So fast?" Chen Hao was stunned. "Could it be faking illness to get into a warm place?"
"The body temperature has dropped to 38.3."
"...Then why didn't you say to use this trick sooner?"
"It is necessary to confirm the type of pathogen; incorrect wavelengths may exacerbate cell damage."
"Oh, so you have to ask the virus's name first before deciding how to kill it."
The second batch of chicks also began to move. The few that had been huddled in the hay tentatively peeked out. Seeing their companions standing safely under the light, they suddenly became bolder and began to scurry over, forming circles under the light fixture, as if participating in some kind of eerie ritual of light.
"Hey, they're actually queuing up quite conscientiously." Chen Hao laughed out loud. "We can rename this chicken coop 'Dawn Sanatorium' from now on."
“Naming privileges are yours.” Nana adjusted the output power. “I recommend continuous irradiation for six hours, with a two-hour interval between cycles.”
"Well, I have to stay on duty and keep watch over the lights again." He plopped down on the wooden box, grabbed a handful of food cakes mixed with insect powder and threw them into the feeding trough. "Here, have some energy, or you'll peck me when you're hungry after the light therapy."
As soon as the food cakes hit the ground, several chicks, now refreshed, pounced on them, clucking with all their might. The one that had led the way under the lamp even chased after its companions a few steps, snatched a large piece, swallowed it with its head held high, and then glanced back at Chen Hao, its eyes bright.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he poked its head. "Do you expect me to give you a recovery certificate?"
Instead of dodging, it rubbed its head against his fingers.
"Oh, you've become family?" He chuckled. "Great! From now on, you're 'Brother Lamp,' in charge of leading the team to bask in the blue light."
Nana's data panel kept updating, and the infection index continued to decline. She archived the plan and named it "Spectral Therapy v1.0", with the note: "Suitable for sudden outbreaks of viral poultry diseases in enclosed environments, priority: high".
"Next step?" Chen Hao asked, munching on the remaining half of his pancake. "Should we give each chicken a light therapy membership card? The kind with an expiration reminder?"
"We could consider marking individual response speeds to optimize the irradiation sequence."
“You have absolutely no sense of humor,” he sighed. “I already said ‘membership card,’ couldn’t you have just said ‘points can be redeemed for feed’?”
“The logic is sound.” She paused, “but the current points system has not been established.”
"Never mind, forget I said anything."
As night deepened, the array of lights continued to operate, casting a soft blue glow. Most of the chicks had settled down quietly, their bodies undulating gently in the light, like a group of little blue elves having sweet dreams. The adult chickens also relaxed their guard and returned to their nests one after another. One old hen even stood under the light for a few minutes before slowly strolling back.
Chen Hao leaned against the wooden crate, clutching a notebook with a few crookedly drawn lines of chickens circling a lamp. His eyelids were drooping, but he still glanced at the data screen every now and then.
"Two more hours," Nana said. "The first round of treatment will be over."
"Hmm," he mumbled in response. "Once this wave passes, I'll have to seal all the gaps in the floorboards. Otherwise, if a cricket manages to crawl into the electrical box one day, we won't be able to turn on the lights."
"Maintenance task marked".
“You’ve taken notes, but who’s going to do it? You can’t expect the chickens to help.”
"We do not rule out the possibility of future behavioral training."
"Well, you really think they can get an electrician's license?"
As he was speaking, he suddenly heard a soft "snap" sound.
Looking up, I saw the light tube on the far side flicker twice, and the brightness suddenly dropped.
"What's wrong?" He sat up abruptly.
Nana's keen eye instantly pinpointed the problem: "The ballast is overheating, causing unstable output."
"Didn't they say it could last for six hours?"
"The equipment is aging more than expected."
"So we're using secondhand parts for medical experiments?" He jumped up. "Fix it now! Don't let these kids who just came back to life lie down again!"
She disassembled the base, her fingers quickly untangling the wires. Chen Hao held up his flashlight, muttering, "Do you think if this light went out completely, they'd think the sun was gone and start a hunger strike?"
"The possibility exists."
I knew you'd say that.
Three minutes later, the lights came back on, the blue light spreading steadily. The chicks gathered underneath stirred, but weren't alarmed, and went back to sleep.
Chen Haosong sighed and wiped his sweat: "Thankfully, it didn't turn into a 'doomsday scenario where chickens riot'."
"The situation is currently under control." Nana closed the casing. "No new malfunctions are expected for the remaining time."
“You make it sound so easy.” He plopped back down, rubbing his lower back. “I didn’t build all this muscle for the rescue equipment.”
"Your body fat percentage is indeed not conducive to prolonged bending over work."
"Hey, what time is it and you're still giving me a health assessment?"
"Habitual data analysis".
"...You win."
He leaned against the box, his gaze sweeping over the quiet flock of chickens, the light casting a faint blue glow on their feathers. The chick named "Brother Lamp" rolled over, its wings outstretched, and made a soft gurgling sound, as if dreaming of eating insects.
Chen Hao grinned, looked down and opened his notebook, writing the last line: "Light can cure illness, and it can also cure laziness—at least I didn't slack off today."
He had just closed his notebook when he suddenly heard a faint "click" sound above his head.
Looking up, a screw at the lamp holder's connection point was slowly loosening, its metal edge slightly raised, casting a thin shadow under the blue light, gradually sliding down towards the sleeping chick below.
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