As dawn broke, the soil on Plot No. 2 in the east was still damp. Chen Hao squatted in front of the "No. 1" plow, tightened the last fixing bolt, and his knees made a dull thud as he stood up.
He rubbed his legs and muttered, "This body is more likely to fall apart than a plow."
Nana stood to the side, holding a tablet with a real-time monitoring interface on the screen. "Hydraulic system preheating complete, traction angle calibrated, environmental parameters meet the optimal operating range."
"Alright, alright, stop reading the manual." He patted the armrest. "Today we're not talking about parameters, we're talking about results."
Several workers approached from a distance, their steps lighter than yesterday. Some were carrying water bottles, as if they planned to do some work after watching the commotion.
Chen Hao gestured with his chin at them: "You're all here? Perfect, let's start the first round right away."
No one answered, but no one left either.
He smiled, went around to the back, pulled out the safety pin, and nodded to Nana: "Let it go."
Nana pressed the start button.
The plow wheels turned slowly, the tracks gripped the ground, and it moved forward steadily. The moment the plowshare cut into the soil, the dark brown soil was neatly turned up like a blanket being lifted, the cut surface moist and shiny, extending to a depth of more than forty centimeters.
The crowd fell silent for a few seconds.
Then a young worker couldn't help but speak up: "So deep? My dad never dug this deep when he was hoeing the ground."
Another person leaned closer to take a look and poked at the clod of soil that had been turned over: "It's so loose, it's like it's been sifted through; all the grass roots are broken."
Chen Hao stood with his hands on his hips, saying nothing, just watching the plow travel to the end of the field, automatically raise its body, turn in place, and then steadily fall back into the soil to begin the second pass.
"Does it know how to turn?" someone asked.
“Of course,” he said. “Otherwise, do you think I’m just doing this for fun every day?”
Nana added, "The path planning has been verified three times, and the error is less than two centimeters."
"Translate this—it's straighter than you walk," Chen Hao grinned.
Laughter erupted from the crowd.
Just then, the plow suddenly stopped.
Its forward speed slowed significantly, and the fuselage tilted slightly forward, as if it were being held back by something.
Chen Hao's eyebrows twitched, and he quickly stepped forward.
"It's stuck?" someone whispered.
“A hardened soil layer.” Nana had already pulled up the underground structure scan map. “There is a hardened soil zone at a depth of about 43 centimeters, and the hardness exceeds the preset threshold by 37 percent.”
“No wonder.” He stroked his chin. “We adjusted the angle according to the standard soil conditions, but this stuff is too hard and can’t withstand the force.”
An experienced worker nearby immediately shook his head: "I knew it. New things will break down when they encounter tough challenges."
Chen Hao ignored him and turned to ask, "Can it still be adjusted?"
“Yes,” she said. “By increasing the plow angle to twenty degrees and using hydraulic pressure, we can achieve effective soil breaking.”
"Then let's move."
The two immediately removed the side panels and adjusted the position of the support rods. Chen Hao hummed a song while tightening the screws, his tune wildly off-key, as if deliberately trying to lighten the mood.
The modification was completed in less than five minutes.
Restart.
This time, the plow's forward thrust was more pronounced, like an ox charging into battle with its head down. The moment the plowshare struck the hardened layer, it produced a muffled thud, then steadily cut in, and the earth surged up again, deeper and more evenly than before.
The onlookers collectively took a step forward.
"They really went in..."
"Look how clean the soil has been turned over; the white mud underneath is now visible."
Chen Hao dusted off his hands and looked at the old worker who had just shaken his head: "Do you believe me now?"
The man didn't speak, staring at the furrow for a long time before finally saying, "Indeed impressive."
“It’s not ‘impressive’,” he corrected. “It’s more convenient. You used to plow two acres a day and be so tired you couldn’t even lift your bowl for dinner. Now? At this speed, you can plow four acres without even breaking a sweat.”
Nana then played a comparison video: the old plow struggled to move forward on the same plot of land, with a tillage depth of less than 20 centimeters and frequent slippage; the new plow, on the other hand, moved smoothly and was nearly three times more efficient.
“The data doesn’t lie,” she said.
“It’s just too dazzling.” Chen Hao interrupted, “It’s okay if you don’t understand, just remember one thing—less work, better land, more food.”
The crowd began to stir.
Several young people surrounded him, asking how to apply for a trial, whether there was any operation training, and who to contact for repairs if it broke down. The questions came one after another, as if they were afraid of missing out on the opportunity.
Chen Hao waved his hand: "Don't rush, just register and get a number. Use it for three days first, and if you're not satisfied, return it; I'll buy it as scrap metal."
"Then you're at a loss?" someone laughed.
"I'll accept the loss," he shrugged. "Anyway, the cost of the ingredients isn't much more expensive than my lunch."
Nana quietly opened the registration form and began entering the information.
The test continued. This time, the location was changed to the junction of a slope and heavy clay soil. The terrain was complex, and even experienced drivers usually had to be very careful, fearing a rollover.
Chen Hao asked Nana to switch modes.
“Switch to ‘Complex Terrain’ mode,” he said. “Let it adapt on its own.”
The system responds quickly, with the plow automatically adjusting its center of gravity and traction, ensuring the wheels grip the ground firmly on slopes and turning the soil evenly and smoothly. Even halfway through, it can automatically avoid piles of buried gravel, making subtle route adjustments without hesitation.
On the other hand, an old plow slipped twice on the slope as soon as it entered the same area, the plowshare lifting up and unable to penetrate the soil.
The worker driving the plow was sweating profusely. He cursed something and pressed down hard on the handle, causing the plow to tilt and almost tip over.
He awkwardly straightened the machine, and when he looked up, he saw the new plow smoothly passing by, the waves of earth as neat as if cut by a knife.
He paused for a few seconds, put down the old plow, and walked straight to Chen Hao: "Can I try that?"
“Of course.” He grinned, revealing a set of white teeth. “Welcome to modern civilization.”
After half a day, the three plows worked in shifts, covering an area of more than eight acres. After each round, someone would come forward to check the plowing depth, touch the soil, and take photos as evidence. The crowd, which was initially skeptical, now mostly gathered around the equipment and refused to leave.
As noon approached and the sun rose higher, Chen Hao was finally able to sit down and have a drink of water.
He leaned against the shade of the plow and wiped the sweat from his face: "Looks like it was right not to sleep last night. If this goes wrong, we'll have to go back to selling kebabs."
Nana stood to the side, exporting the day's operational data. "Current user satisfaction rating: 8.7. The main deduction is due to excessive vibration intensity of the handrail."
"Oh?" He frowned. "Who brought that up?"
"Three of the five trial users reported that prolonged use caused soreness and numbness in their arms. One of them said that if they used it continuously for more than two hours, their grip strength might decrease."
Chen Hao thought for a moment, then got up and walked to the handrail. He gripped the bar with both hands and swayed it as if he were pushing it.
"It was shaking," he admitted. "We were so focused on letting it walk on its own that we forgot we had to support it."
“I suggest adding a shock-absorbing structure,” she said. “Elastic cushioning pads can be added to the connection points, and the grip curvature can be optimized to fit the curve of the palm.”
"Okay." He took out a marker and wrote four words directly on the side of the machine: "Vibration needs to be modified."
"Is that how you remember it?" she asked.
"You can only remember something if you can see it." He patted the machine. "Next time we produce, add padding to every single one of them. People will only be willing to use it if they're comfortable."
In the afternoon, a new round of testing began.
This time, the workers operated the machine themselves. Chen Hao stood by and guided them through the basic button functions, while the rest was left to the machine to run autonomously.
A young man pushed the plow for about ten meters, then suddenly turned around and shouted, "This thing can find its own way?"
“Yes,” Chen Hao responded loudly, “As long as you hold on tight, it will take care of everything else.”
"This is so weird!" he laughed. "It feels like I'm walking a dog, but it's a dog, and plowing the field is like taking a walk."
Laughter echoed across the fields.
Before finishing work at dusk, the last run was completed. The plow stopped at the edge of the field, behind which was a deep ditch more than two hundred meters long, as straight as a foot, the soil thoroughly turned over, even the roots of weeds were completely removed.
Chen Hao squatted beside the No. 1 plow, writing "Vibration needs improvement" on the side of the machine with a marker. He then stood up, brushed the dirt off his trousers, and looked at the workers finishing their shift in the distance—some of them were taking pictures around another new plow. He smiled, turned around, and helped Nana put away the monitoring stake. The setting sun cast long shadows of the two of them onto the freshly turned dark brown earth.
Nana closed the terminal and said softly, "The feedback data has been archived, and the optimization plan can be launched tomorrow."
Chen Hao nodded, took one last look at the straight and deep furrow, and said in a low voice, "This thing can really grow something new."
The two walked side by side toward the warehouse, their steps steady, their figures blending into the fading light of the sky.
A sparrow landed on the tip of the plowshare, shook its wings, and left a tiny seed embedded in the gap between the metal and the soil.
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