As soon as it was light, Chen Hao squatted down in front of his canvas bag, rummaging through it, muttering, "Labels, a small hammer, a bottle... Hey, is your terminal charged? Don't let it crash halfway through, we don't want to have to draw a map by hand to get back."
Nana stood at the door, holding a microclimate meter in her hand, and said calmly, "Battery is at 87%, estimated battery life is 6 hours and 34 minutes."
"More reliable than me." He muttered as he slung the shovel over his shoulder and kicked the threshold. "Let's go meet that 'high-class' soil and see just how delicate it really is."
The wind wasn't strong outside, but the dust on the ground was being blown and swirled around. The two walked along the route they had marked the night before toward the western mountains. The slope wasn't obvious at first, but the further they went, the more loose stones there were under their feet, making it very slippery.
"I was saying these shoes are actually useful?" Chen Hao almost fell to his knees after missing a step, and quickly grabbed a shovel to steady himself. "The anti-slip function is just for show, isn't it?"
"I suggest you don't deliberately step on loose rocks." Nana followed behind, her steps as steady as if she were walking on flat ground. "Your weight distribution is not conducive to balance."
"Thanks for the reminder, Miss Robot." He scrambled to his feet, panting. "Next time, before I successfully lose weight, could you please carry me to the sampling site?"
Nana didn't reply, but simply raised her hand and activated the portable device's scanning mode. The topographic map on the screen began to update in real time, with a red dotted line marking the safe path.
When they reached the halfway point of the mountain, the wind suddenly picked up, whipping up fine sand that stung their faces. Nana immediately stopped and pulled up the data: "The local dust index is rising, and visibility will drop below five meters within seven minutes. We recommend halting your advance."
"Another wait?" Chen Hao wiped his face. "I'm not here to sit on a rock and grow moss."
“You can stay where you are and maintain your body temperature,” she said without looking up, “but don’t stray more than two meters from your current position.”
He rolled his eyes, stomped his feet to warm up, and hummed an off-key song as he jumped around. In less than ten minutes, the wind subsided, and the outline of the distant cliff reappeared.
"Alright." Nana put away the equipment. "We can continue."
Chen Hao swung his arms: "Finally, I don't have to do square dancing anymore."
They descended into the gully, the rock walls on either side gradually narrowing. The color of the soil beneath their feet also began to change, from light yellow to grayish-brown. Chen Hao gently scraped away the surface sand with a shovel, revealing a damp patch underneath.
“This color… is a bit like what that old man said yesterday.” He squatted down and poked it with his finger. “But I’ll have to try it to see how it feels.”
He scooped up a small lump of clay, rolled it into a strip, and tried to stretch it. The clay strip stretched out shakily, but surprisingly, it didn't break.
"Hey!" His eyes lit up. "This thing can stretch!"
Nana took the sample and scanned it with a spectrometer: "The mineral composition is initially matched, containing a small amount of plagioclase weathering products, and the iron-magnesium ratio is moderate."
"So—" Chen Hao grinned, "we've found the right place?"
“The deep texture has not yet been confirmed.” She pointed to a crack at the bottom of the cliff with obvious signs of water seepage. “Sedimentary layers are more likely to have formed there.”
Without a word, Chen Hao grabbed a shovel and started moving in that direction. The ground was getting softer and softer, and he sank a little deeper with each step. He carefully probed the path and finally stopped in a depression.
"This looks like a pit left by rainwater erosion over the years," he said, and began to dig.
The shovel made a dull thud when it hit the bottom. He pried open a piece of gravel, revealing a layer of dark gray, wet mud with a faint sheen.
"This..." He paused for two seconds, then grabbed a large clump. "This feels so outrageous! It's so smooth and chewy, it feels like jelly mixed with lard."
He kneaded it a few times, then stretched it into a thin strip, which could bounce back when gently flicked.
Nana took samples for testing and reported the values a moment later: "Plasticity index 31.6, organic matter 2.1%, particle uniformity meets the standard. Overall, it meets the standard for high-oil-content pottery clay."
Chen Hao looked up and let out a long breath: "The old man wasn't lying! I thought he was just making up some jargon to trick us into hanging up sooner."
“His information closely matches the samples from thirty-seven traditional production areas in the database.” Nana took out three sampling bottles. “Now we need to collect samples from multiple locations to ensure representativeness.”
“Okay, I’ll do as you say.” Chen Hao moved to a different spot and dug down another forty centimeters, taking out a second sample. “This one is deeper, with more moisture, so it should be more stable.”
The third spot was chosen directly below the seepage crack. The soil here was almost paste-like, slightly darker in color, but had a finer texture.
"Are these three enough?" he asked as he packaged them.
"Sufficient for preliminary experiments." Nana affixed labels, writing t-04, t-05, and t-06 in sequence. "On the return trip, be careful to avoid violent vibrations to prevent stratification."
"Okay." He carefully tucked the bottle into the lining of the canvas bag and padded it with an old cloth. "I treasure these mud balls even more than you do."
The two began to walk back. The sun was high in the sky, making the rocks scorching hot. Chen Hao was covered in sweat, but he kept humming a little tune.
As he passed a gentle slope, he suddenly stopped, turned around, and stomped hard on the hillside.
"What are you doing?" Nana asked.
"Let's leave a mark," he said proudly, "to tell future generations that treasure was buried here."
“There’s no need for an inscription here,” she said calmly. “Besides, your footprints will be blown away by the wind in three minutes.”
“You still have to step on it.” He patted his pants. “Don’t you understand the importance of ritual? Without this step, it won’t feel right to burn pottery back home.”
As he approached the outer perimeter of the base, he suddenly quickened his pace, almost jogging.
"What's the rush?" Nana followed.
"Let's go back early and get to work." He turned around and smiled. "If we succeed this time, what do you think we should put in the first jar?"
"Prioritize testing for drying shrinkage and sintering deformation," she answered decisively. "Direct use for storage is not recommended."
"Can't you say something romantic?" He shook his head. "Like 'to hold the first handful of wheat seeds in spring' or something like that."
“Spring has no clear definition on this planet,” she said. “And the wheat seeds are currently stored in a desiccant box, so no additional containers are needed.”
Chen Hao sighed: "Talking to you is like throwing a stone into a well; you hear a sound, but you can't get anything out."
They crossed the last stretch of wasteland, and the base's tin roof came into view. Chen Hao wiped the sweat from his brow and patted his canvas bag.
The sampling bottles in the bag gently bumped together, making a soft clinking sound.
He walked into the workshop, placed the bag on the workbench, and opened the lid to inspect it.
The bottle was intact, the label was clear, and the soil lay quietly in the glass container, like sleeping black jade.
"What's next?" He rubbed his hands together and looked at Nana.
She had already opened the terminal and brought up the experimental procedure: "First, allow it to air dry naturally for three days, keeping the ambient humidity below 65 percent."
"Waiting again?" he scoffed. "Can't we skip the preheating and go straight into the kiln?"
“Skipping a step will increase the probability of structural defects by 43 percent.” She looked up. “Your memory of breaking those three jars last time shouldn’t be forgotten.”
“That’s different,” he muttered. “Back then we used garbage soil, now we’re of noble birth.”
He picked up the T-04 bottle, held it up to the light, and the mud slowly flowed, its surface becoming glossy.
"Do you think it will reflect light when it's burned?" he suddenly asked.
“It depends on the firing temperature and glaze treatment,” she replied. “There is currently no glaze formulation.”
“Then let’s do a plain firing.” He put down the bottle and reached out to touch the outer wall of the kiln. “Just let it show its colors.”
Nana began adjusting the position of the drying rack, her movements methodical and orderly.
Chen Hao stood by the table, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface in a brisk rhythm.
Outside the window, the waterwheel was still turning, its belt driving the mill with a steady creaking sound.
He suddenly chuckled and said in a low voice, "This time it should work, right?"
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