Cold air seeped up from the cracks in the floorboards, chilling Chen Hao's back to the bone. He hadn't slept deeply; his dreams were filled with the sound of flapping wings and the tingling sensation in his hand from swinging the pipe. When he woke up, Nana was still standing by the door, the red light on her suit flashing on and off, as if counting down something.
He moved his fingers and found that his knees hurt as if someone had hit them with a hammer.
"What time is it?" he asked in a hoarse voice.
"Twenty-three minutes have passed since the raptors left." She didn't turn around. "Your actual rest time is eight minutes and fourteen seconds."
“That’s long enough.” He propped himself up and sat up, his bones creaking. “If I lie down any longer, I’m afraid I’ll really turn into a fossil.”
He tried to stand up, but his legs gave way halfway, and he lurched forward, only managing to steady himself by grabbing the wall. The second time, he gritted his teeth and used his core strength to regain his footing, but as soon as he took a step, the propulsion suit suddenly beeped—
[WARNING: User's heart rate is 188, blood oxygen saturation is low, and the leg motor system has been locked. Please stop the activity immediately.]
"Shut up!" he cursed, and took another step.
This time, he knelt down on the ground.
The sand ripped his trouser leg, and his knee burned. He gasped for breath, looking up at Nana: "You tell me... is this thing deliberately trying to mess with me?"
“It’s not that you’re doing anything wrong,” she said. “It’s that the protective mechanism is kicking in. You’re not in a good condition to walk right now.”
"If I don't leave, who will?" He wiped his face, his hands covered in sweat. "I can't expect you to carry me back, can I? With your build, you'd have trouble even carrying a box."
Nana looked down at her arm; her left shoulder joint was indeed crooked, and the outer shell was cracked. But she didn't argue; she simply raised her right arm, and the metal structure on her shoulder slowly unfolded, revealing two slender supports that slid out from the inside, each ending in an arc-shaped bracket.
“This is a walking aid,” she said. “It is designed to assist the injured in moving, not to ‘carry’ them.”
"You were hiding this thing?" He stared at the two gleaming metal rods. "Why didn't you bring it out to help during the fight?"
“The energy consumption is too high, so combat mode takes priority.” She adjusted the angle and placed the support under his armpit. “Now it’s different. The mission objective has become evacuation, so efficiency takes priority.”
He took a half step back: "Wait, are you going to help me up?"
“It’s not about helping,” she said. “It’s about coordinated support. Your center of gravity has shifted to a critical point. If you continue walking alone, you’re expected to completely lose your balance in seven minutes.”
“I can manage.” He shook off his hand. “I’m not a cripple.”
He forced himself to his feet and took three steps forward. As he lifted his leg for the fourth step, his body swayed, his foot slipped, and he fell sideways to the ground, his shoulder hitting a protruding steel plate with a muffled groan.
Nana didn't say anything, she just handed the support back to her.
He lay on the ground catching his breath for a while, then finally reached out and grabbed one of the supports, using it to help him get up. "Fine," he said with a wry smile, "but let me make this clear beforehand—no one can know about this once it leaves this door."
“There’s no need to record it,” she said. “The data will be automatically deleted after the task is completed.”
"That's good." He put his arm in the support. "Otherwise, if word got out that I, a dignified human being, was being helped by a robot, how embarrassing would that be?"
The support system made a slight hydraulic sound when it started, followed by a steady thrust that supported his body weight. He tried to take a step and found it much easier; although he was still tired, at least he wouldn't collapse after just one step.
"This thing of yours is pretty reliable," he muttered. "It's even more stable than when my mom helped me learn to ride a bicycle."
“I only calculated your cadence and center of gravity trajectory,” she said. “The error was kept within 0.3 seconds.”
"Oh, so you're even more professional than my mom." He grinned, then frowned. "But seriously, why did you design this kind of function for a robot? Shouldn't you just be focused on fighting, analyzing, and reporting data?"
“All rescue units are equipped with basic medical support modules,” she said. “These include traction, hemostasis, and temporary immobilization. You are part of the mission objective; ensuring your operational capability ensures the mission's success rate.”
"That sounds so cold." He dragged his feet forward. "Couldn't you at least say something like 'I'm worried about you'? We fought side by side before."
“Worries won’t influence my decision-making,” she said. “But I will make sure you get back to the escape pod alive.”
He smiled and didn't say anything more.
The two slowly emerged from the wreckage. The wind of the wasteland blew against their faces, carrying the rough feel of gravel. The sky was turning white in the distance; the night was receding, but neither of them mentioned time. They would take it one step at a time.
After walking for about ten minutes, Chen Hao's steps began to falter, and his breathing became increasingly heavy. The brace was still in operation, but he could clearly feel that Nana's movement had slowed down—her left leg joint was damaged in the battle, limiting her stride, and she had to make slight adjustments to her balance with each step.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
“The load on the right propulsion unit has increased by 17 percent,” she said. “The impact is manageable.”
"Don't push yourself too hard," he said. "How about we take a break?"
“Stopping means extending the exposure time,” she said. “There is a heat source fluctuation four kilometers ahead, which poses a potential threat even though we haven’t gotten close.”
"Those birds again?" He glanced back nervously.
“No flight path has been identified at present,” she said. “However, ground infrared signals persist, and we recommend remaining mobile.”
He sighed, "If only you could fly, you could just carry me back and save me from dawdling here."
“I don’t have the flight module,” she said, “but I can continue to provide support.”
“I’m not complaining about you,” he said softly. “I’m just… a little afraid I won’t be able to walk anymore.”
His voice was very soft, as if he were talking to himself.
Nana glanced at him, and the optical lens focused slightly.
Then she suddenly spoke up: "You were sleeping in the wreckage just now, and you said something in your sleep."
"Huh?" He was stunned. "What did I say?"
“You said, ‘Don’t turn it off, or I’ll become takeout if you stop.’”
He paused for a moment, then laughed out loud: "That's something I could actually say."
“I responded,” she said. “I said, ‘I will remain vigilant.’”
"Yes, I remember." He nodded. "You really didn't close it."
“I had no choice,” she said. “The system won’t terminate until the mission is complete.”
He smiled again, but this time he didn't say anything.
The wind picked up, making him squint. He leaned on the support frame and moved forward step by step, his steps heavy, but he didn't stop. Nana walked a little behind him, the metal frame steadily supporting his body, occasionally making a soft adjusting sound.
He nearly tripped once on the way, stepping into a shallow pit and lurching forward. Nana immediately increased her support, anticipating the direction of the fall and pulling him back to his balance.
"Your reaction was incredibly fast," he said, panting. "Even more accurate than when I copied answers on a test."
“You have a 0.6-second warning sign before you lose your balance,” she said. “Ankle internal rotation, shoulder forward tilt, I can model that in advance.”
"So you can even predict when I'm about to fall?"
"It's basically possible."
"Then aren't you even less human than me?"
"I am just executing the program."
“But just now…” he paused, “you voluntarily deployed the support frame, wasn’t that required by procedure? No one ordered you to help me walk.”
“The mission objective is to bring back the core fragment,” she said. “And you are the carrier. If you cannot move, the probability of mission failure rises to 91.3%. Therefore, assisting you in moving is the optimal strategy.”
“You make it sound so real.” He smiled. “But I feel like you’re just trying to help me.”
She didn't answer.
They continued onward, the wasteland stretching out beneath their feet, the wreckage behind them growing smaller and smaller until it was just a blurry outline. On the horizon ahead, the terrain of the area where the escape pod was located gradually became clear.
After walking for a while, Chen Hao's breathing became heavier and his steps became more sluggish. His hands gripped the braces tightly, his knuckles turning white.
"How much further?" he asked.
“Three and a half kilometers remain,” she said. “At the current speed, it is estimated to take fifty-eight minutes.”
"I might not make it to that point," he said weakly. "My legs just won't obey me anymore."
“You can reduce the amount of effort you put in,” she said. “The system will compensate for the lost power.”
“But I don’t want to rely on you entirely,” he gritted his teeth. “I want to get through this on my own.”
"This is not the time to be stubborn."
“I know,” he said, catching his breath, “but I have to try.”
He jerked his arm back, trying to take a step on his own. But as soon as he lifted his foot, his body swayed and he fell forward.
Nana instantly stepped forward, using her intact right arm to block his chest, while her other hand quickly repositioned the brace under his armpit.
He leaned against her, panting heavily.
“You see,” she said, “you can’t let go yet.”
He kept his head down and didn't move for a long time.
Then he said softly, "Thank you."
She didn't respond, but simply adjusted the angle of the support and restarted the support program.
The two continued on their way.
The wind whipped up dust, leaving a long trail behind them. One deep, one shallow; one steady, one swaying—it was like the slow, pieced-together survival marks of two lives on the wasteland.
The sky was getting a little brighter.
Chen Hao's steps slowed down, almost as if he were being dragged along. His head was drooping, his eyelids were heavy, and he mumbled something under his breath.
Nana glanced at him sideways.
His lips moved, but the sound was so soft it was almost inaudible:
"You know... if you break down someday, who will I be able to rely on?"
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