As dawn broke, Chen Hao squatted at the entrance of the chicken coop, munching on a cold biscuit. He hadn't slept well; he'd had three dreams the night before. The first was that chicken plague had returned; the second was that Nana suddenly started laying eggs; and the third was that he was locked in a cage, with a flock of chickens outside circling him with electromagnetic guns.
He rubbed his eyes and smeared the crumbs on his pants: "Living is so tiring."
Nana stood behind him, the robotic arm connecting to the last power cable. With a click, the indicator light on the spectral therapy device lit up again, and a message appeared on the screen: **System operating normally, vital signs monitoring restored**.
"The third sensor, which went missing last night, has also come back online," she said. "All surviving individuals have stable body temperatures, respiratory rates have returned to baseline, and immune responses continue to strengthen."
Chen Hao looked up at the quarantine area. The chicks were huddled together, a fluffy ball. Some of them were already able to stand, and one was particularly energetic, pecking at another's head with its beak. The one being pecked didn't seem bothered, just shook its body and continued to doze off.
"Does this count as recovery?" he asked.
"Following the standard procedure, if there are no abnormalities after another 24 hours of observation, the quarantine can be lifted." Nana pulled up the data panel. "Currently, the survival rate is 78%, and the proportion of hens that have resumed egg production is 91%. The closed-loop breeding system has been initially verified as successful."
Chen Hao paused for a moment, then slowly stood up and walked to the railing. A little chick tilted its head to look at him, its eyes wet, like an old man who had just taken a bath.
He reached out and touched its head; it was a little prickly, but warm.
"You really made it through?" he said softly.
“You didn’t look like this when you fell into the puddle yesterday.” Nana walked over, her mechanical arm gently brushing against his shoulder, shaking off a clump of dried mud. “Back then, you said, ‘I quit, I’m going back to Earth.’”
“That was an emotional statement,” he muttered. “Everyone has to leave themselves a way out.”
Sunlight filtered through the clouds, illuminating the newly hatched chicks, their downy feathers shimmering with a pale gold. In the distance, the sound of flapping wings drifted by; a flock of recovered chickens were released from their enclosure and tentatively wandered across the grass. One bold chicken plunged into the grass, snatched an earthworm, tilted its head back, and swallowed it whole, choking and jumping up and down in frustration.
“The free-range testing has begun,” Nana said, “and behavioral adaptation assessments are being conducted simultaneously.”
Chen Hao leaned against the door frame, looking at the group of lively guys, and suddenly felt even hungrier.
Before he could even pull out the last piece of dry rations, there was a sudden commotion in the bushes. Several chicks suddenly bristled, flapped their wings and ran back, while the rest scattered and all scurried under the corner awning.
"What's wrong now?" he frowned. "Who scared them again?"
Nana had already walked to the scene, her optical eyes quickly scanning the ground. A few seconds later, she crouched down and picked up a tuft of grayish-black hair from among the grass roots.
“Stray cat tracks,” she said. “Fresh, no more than six hours old.”
Chen Hao immediately became alert and turned to walk towards the storage box: "Those chicken thieves from last time? I remember their modus operandi—they only do it at night, they're quick, and they run away as soon as they get their hands on something, leaving not even a paw print."
He opened the box, took out the electromagnetic gun, and checked its power.
"Wait a minute," Nana suddenly said, "The wound comparison results are in. The wound on the chick yesterday was a 32-degree oblique cut, while the scratches found this time are blunt pressure type, which do not match the same attack pattern."
"What do you mean? Have they changed their modus operandi?"
"It's more likely—it wasn't them who did it."
Chen Hao stopped what he was doing: "Then who did it?"
Nana didn't answer, but followed the footprints towards the rock wall behind the chicken coop. He followed behind, stepped on a loose stone, and almost twisted his ankle.
There was bloodstains at the bottom of the crevice, not much, already half-dried, and next to it was a small piece of scaly skin, the edges torn, as if it had been violently ripped off.
“Infrared images show that a fight took place here twelve hours ago,” Nana pointed to the inside of the rock wall. “One of them was larger and moved in a serpentine pattern; the other was a feline that launched an ambush. The battle lasted about four minutes before the predator finally withdrew.”
She pulled up a blurry video: shadows intertwined, claws flew, and finally a burly body quickly retreated into the forest, while a wild cat stood on a high place, covered in blood, its tail held high like a tattered flag.
Chen Hao stared at the screen for a long time, then suddenly laughed: "So they didn't come to steal chickens? They came to fight?"
"To be precise, it's about driving away the source of the threat."
“So…” he lowered his voice, “they helped us protect the chickens?”
Nana nodded: "According to ecological models, the feral cat population in this area has regarded this breeding site as one of the core areas of their territory. They eliminate higher-order predators, indirectly protecting the safety of the birds."
Chen Hao fell silent. He looked down at the gun in his hand and suddenly felt that it was a little heavy.
"So the people we've been guarding against all this time, treating thieves like thieves, are actually security guards?"
"Logically correct."
"Damn." He shoved the gun back into the case. "I was even planning to give them a nickname: 'Night Raid Chicken Thief Commando Team'."
Before he finished speaking, a rustling sound came from the woods.
Three stray cats came out.
One was the largest, with spotted markings and a missing corner on its left ear; another was thinner, with grayish fur and a fresh wound on its hind leg, walking with a limp; the last one was the smallest, almost still a kitten, clinging tightly to the adult cat.
They didn't rush up, nor did they run away; they stopped five meters away and quietly watched this side.
Chen Hao's hand slowly moved towards his waist—not to reach for his gun, but to touch the half-eaten smoked fish in his pocket. He had casually hidden it last night, intending to have it for a late-night snack.
He stared at the lead cat, who stared back at him, its eyes wary but not fierce.
Nana suddenly raised her mechanical arm, palm facing outward, making a stop gesture. Immediately afterward, her optical eye flashed twice, projecting the infrared image from earlier: the scene of a wildcat fighting a giant snake, slowly playing in the air.
The big cat's ears twitched, its gaze swept across the image, then looked at Nana, before slowly lowering its head and sniffing the ground.
Chen Hao took a deep breath, took out the smoked fish, and broke it into three pieces.
He bent down and gently tossed the first piece out.
The fish piece landed on the grass, rolled half a circle, and then stopped.
The stray cat didn't move.
He stood still.
The wind blew by, carrying the earthy smell of rain.
A few seconds later, the big cat walked forward, sniffed the cat, but didn't eat it. Instead, it gently nudged Chen Hao's shoe with its nose.
In that instant, Chen Hao almost jumped backward.
But he held back.
"You...you're quite good at greeting people?" he chuckled dryly.
The big cat ignored him, picked up the fish piece, turned around and walked to its injured companion, placing the food in front of it.
The third kitten came up and rubbed against Chen Hao's trouser leg, then leaped onto the stone platform next to him and sat down like a sentry.
The remaining two dispersed, one guarding the east side of the house, and the other hiding in the bushes to the north.
Chen Hao stood there, still clutching the remaining half of the smoked fish in his hand.
"That's... a reconciliation?"
“The cooperation is based on shared interests.” Nana put away the projector. “They need safe hunting grounds, and we need a stable ecosystem. Now, both sides have partially met their needs.”
"Now that you mention it, it makes sense." He looked up at the cat sitting on the rock, its tail held high and its ears twitching, watching the entire meadow.
Sunlight streamed down, and chickens pecked at the grass, clucking. One chick ran to the stray cat's feet, glanced up at it, and then lowered its head to peck at an insect on the ground.
The stray cat looked down at it for a while, then moved to a shady spot, giving it some shade.
Chen Hao grinned and pulled an egg from his pocket—the first healthy egg laid this morning, its shell still warm.
He put it in his chest pocket and patted his chest.
“Alright,” he said. “From now on, we’ll look after this land together.”
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