Chen Hao tossed the last shard of pottery into the recycling bin. The shallow cut on his palm had stopped bleeding, only covered in a layer of dust. He shook his hand, then grabbed the entrenching tool leaning against the wall. The blade was scuffed as if a dog had chewed on it, but it was still usable.
The waterwheel outside was still turning, causing the mill's conveyor belt to creak rhythmically, like someone rocking a chair while dozing off.
"You mean we've been wasting three days just to prove this land isn't good for producing good mud?" he asked, turning around.
Nana was inputting data into the terminal, and the cursor was hovering over the "Suggested Next Steps" column. "Conclusion valid."
"You make it sound like you didn't eat enough breakfast," Chen Hao said, pursing his lips. "But you're right, nobody at the base is urging us to fix the water pipes or turn on the heating, so we're just sitting around doing nothing. We might as well find some soil somewhere else."
“Three sampling sites have been planned: the colluvial zone at the foot of Xishan Mountain, the terraces on the banks of Beigu Creek, and the edge of the Nanlin Depression swamp.” She looked up, “Priority is ranked according to the probability of deposition.”
“It sounds like a place you’re about to sink into.” Chen Hao walked to the table, opened a drawer, and pulled out an old map, stirring up a cloud of dust as he spread it out. He circled a few spots with a pen, then suddenly stopped. “Wait.”
He looked up at Nana and said, "We don't even know what 'good mud' looks like, and we're just rushing out to dig? What if we bring back this kind of trash that cracks as soon as it's burned?"
"Plasticity index greater than 25, uniform particle distribution, organic matter content less than 3%, stable sintering temperature range..." Nana started reciting parameters as soon as she opened her mouth.
"Stop." Chen Hao waved his hand. "These words might get you points on an exam paper, but I wouldn't recognize them on the ground. I mean—has anyone actually done this kind of work, the kind where you can tell by touching it whether it's burnable or not?"
Nana paused for a moment.
"There are no practical experience samples in the knowledge base."
“I knew it.” He sighed. “You robots learn by copying textbooks, but the ancients didn’t have any data sheets. They relied on their hands, noses, and ears to determine whether something was done or not by tapping it and hearing the sound. Your robots definitely don’t have that kind of ability.”
“In theory, there is a database of folk crafts inheritance.” Nana brought up the interface. “The Interstellar Agriculture Support System has registered traditional craft consultants who can request technical support through remote communication.”
"Oh?" Chen Hao perked up. "There's such a service? I thought only selling fertilizers and seeds was regulated."
"This is a non-emergency auxiliary channel, and the response time is uncertain."
"That's still better than me trying things blindly." He rubbed his face. "Hurry up and accept it while I still have confidence."
Nana activated the deep space communication protocol, the screen flickered a few times, and an energy warning popped up.
"The backup power supply needs to be activated manually."
"Not again?" Chen Hao rolled his eyes. "Every time we need to use some advanced features, we have to climb onto the roof. Did you design this base as if everyone wanted to be a cell tower cleaner?"
He used a shovel as a crutch, muttering to himself as he climbed up the platform. The antenna cover was covered with a thick layer of red ash. He patted it a few times with the back of the shovel, and the dust fell down in a flurry, making him cough three times.
"Even the wind isn't clean here," he cursed as he wiped his lens. "Who set the standard? Only places where the wind doesn't blow are considered safe zones?"
While adjusting the angle, my hand slipped, and the tip of the shovel scraped against the metal cover, making a hissing sound.
"Oh my god!" He pulled his hand back. "If I make two more cuts, I'll have to go weld iron sheets."
After twenty minutes of fiddling, the signal finally stabilized. After sending the connection request, I waited a full five minutes before the screen flickered and a blurry avatar frame appeared, with the words: 【陶工乙-7｜Connecting】 below it.
Then a slow, leisurely voice came: "Who is it?"
"Uh, hello!" Chen Hao leaned closer to the camera. "I'm Chen Hao, and I'm currently at the G13 Wilderness Farm... We've tried making pottery jars three times, and they've all cracked. I'd like to ask you how to choose suitable clay?"
The other party remained silent for two seconds.
"Are you using live soil?"
"ah?"
“I said, did you use soil that was just dug up and was still damp? That kind of soil is called ‘live soil,’ and it will definitely crack when you burn it.”
“We…it seems so.” Chen Hao looked at Nana, who nodded in confirmation. “We just dried them directly after collecting them and used them.”
“Dead soil is more stable,” the old man said calmly. “Soil that has been thoroughly dried and left for more than half a year becomes more settled and shrinks more evenly. What you’re using now is probably just topsoil, right?”
"It was dug by Su Dongpo; it sticks to the soles of your shoes when you step on it."
“Strong stickiness doesn’t mean it can be burned.” The old man snorted. “Don’t just look at how sticky it is, look at how oily it is. If it’s like well-risen dough when you knead it, and the surface is shiny and reflective, then it’s good material. Also, the soil near the weathered zone of volcanic rock is the best, because rainwater has seeped in for many years, and the minerals have settled well.”
Chen Hao blinked repeatedly as he listened: "So...we were basically trying to make Jingdezhen porcelain with mud from the Loess Plateau?"
"Pretty much," the old man chuckled. "Do you have basalt where you live?"
"There's a small mountain to the west, it looks all dark."
"That's it. There might be something under the weathered layer. Don't dig blindly on flat ground, look for the sedimentary layer under the cliff. The silt washed down during the rainy season is piled up there, and that's where you're most likely to find good soil."
The screen suddenly jolted, and the sound became intermittent.
"Remember this—it should be grayish-brown in color, smooth to the touch, and stretchy when wet... If it feels rough and gritty, move to another place immediately..."
Before he could finish speaking, the screen went black.
"Hello? Master? Are you still there?" Chen Hao patted the terminal.
No response.
Nana checked the logs: "Link interruption, presumably caused by ionospheric disturbance leading to signal attenuation."
"It stopped again?" Chen Hao slumped in his chair. "It just cuts off at the most crucial part, as annoying as a TV show getting stuck on commercials."
“But we already have enough information to reconstruct the decision-making model.” Nana pulled up the geological map and zoomed in on the Xishan area. “We detected a plagioclase weathering zone that extends to the bottom of the southern slope cliff, which is consistent with the characteristics of ‘long-term rainwater infiltration and deposition’.”
She marked a red dot on the map.
"This area is most likely to produce high-oil clay."
"Luxury-grade soil?" Chen Hao leaned closer to look. "Birthplace really does matter."
“In the original plan, Beigu and Nanlin still had sampling value, but their priority was downgraded.” She continued, “It is recommended that the first stop be changed to the south slope of Xishan.”
“Okay.” Chen Hao picked up the entrenching tool and tapped it lightly on the ground twice. “Then let’s go check out your area first, lest you dig in and find nothing but rocks that hurt your hands.”
He turned around, opened the cabinet, and pulled out several sampling bottles, checking each one to ensure the caps were tightened. He then dragged out a canvas bag from the corner, shook off the dust, and began stuffing it with labels, a notebook, and a small hammer.
"I need to bring some food," he muttered to himself. "What if I get too hungry to walk halfway through digging? Would I just have to bury myself there as fertilizer?"
Nana synchronized the new route into the navigation module, and the terminal displayed "[Pending Departure | Task Status: Preparing]".
"Do you really think that experienced worker is knowledgeable?" Chen Hao suddenly asked. "What if he was just randomly assigned by the system and is actually a potato grower?"
"Its description matches the soil characteristics of 37 traditional pottery-making regions by 89 percent," Nana said, closing the device. "And it didn't mention any fictitious parameters."
"In other words, it's highly likely they're not a scammer."
"At least not in a data sense."
Chen Hao grinned: "That's fine then. Anyway, we don't have any other options right now. We can't exactly sit here and hold a memorial service in front of broken pottery shards, can we?"
He rolled up the map, tucked it into the side pocket of his canvas bag, and casually picked up the dull-edged shovel, patting it lightly twice in his palm.
"We'll set off early tomorrow morning," he said. "First, we'll go to Xishan and see what that 'luxury-grade' soil looks like."
Nana is putting on new labels for the sampling bottles, her movements never stopping.
"Reminder: The slope of Xishan is quite steep, so it is recommended to wear non-slip boots."
"Got it." He cracked his knuckles. "If all else fails, I'll just roll down; it'll save me the effort."
She glanced at him but didn't say anything.
On the workbench, three old labels lay quietly: t-01, t-02, and t-03, all marked "Unqualified".
Chen Hao walked over, peeled them off, crumpled them into a ball, and threw them into the wastebasket next to him.
Then he sat back in his chair, crossed his legs, rested one hand on the shovel handle, and propped his chin on the other, staring at the new route map projected on the wall.
"Tell me... if we really find good soil, what's the first thing we'll do when we get back?"
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