Chen Hao had just stepped outside and was about to descend the steps when he suddenly stopped. He looked down at his backside, then glanced back at the newly made wooden chair.
"I've been sitting all afternoon, my butt is practically worn smooth."
Nana stood at the doorway, and the optical glasses flickered slightly.
"According to ergonomic data, prolonged contact with hard surfaces can increase the risk of sciatic nerve compression by 23 percent."
“I knew it,” Chen Hao slapped his thigh. “We’ve got the tables and chairs sorted out, but these chairs are all smooth, sitting on them feels like practicing martial arts. We’re not monks, sitting in meditation every day for peace and quiet.”
"It is recommended to add a buffer layer."
"That's it!" He slapped his forehead. "Make some chair cushions! They'll be soft and comfortable to sit on, and they'll match our retro wall, adding a touch of life."
Nana immediately pulled up the information: "A type of velvety grass grows on the western slope of the base. Its fibers are soft and have a certain degree of resilience, making it suitable as a base filling material. Wildflowers in the surrounding area, such as blue star flowers and witch hazel, have petals containing natural softening ingredients that can enhance the feel and release a light fragrance."
"Sounds like high-end stuff," Chen Hao grinned. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go gather herbs!"
The two didn't go far, heading west along a path on the outskirts of the residential area. The ground was a bit damp, leaving shallow footprints as they walked. Chen Hao muttered to himself, "You know, these days there's not even a sponge, people live rougher than cavemen."
“Human civilization has regressed to the manual age many times due to resource scarcity,” Nana said. “Your current state is mild complaining, not yet reaching the anxiety threshold.”
“I’m not complaining, I’m just stating the facts,” he said. “Look at my body, I’m not one to move much to begin with, and now I have to climb hills and mow lawns. It’s an anti-human design.”
We arrived at the slope. A light green meadow stretched out, with fluffy grass swaying gently in the wind, its tips gleaming silvery-white. A few small blue-purple flowers were scattered among them, blooming sporadically.
Nana scanned the area: "Maturity meets the standard, ready for harvest."
Chen Hao squatted down and reached out to touch it: "Hey, it's quite soft."
He rubbed a small amount on his face, and just as he was about to laugh, he suddenly frowned: "Wait, it's a little prickly."
Nana took the blade of grass and rubbed it lightly between her fingertips: "There are fine bristles on the surface. Using it directly without treatment will cause skin irritation."
"So you can't just stuff it into the mat?"
"The conclusion is correct."
“Then we need to process it.” Chen Hao stood up. “Let’s collect it first. We can’t let my butt test the poison for me.”
They got to work. Nana used the robotic arm to cut the grass along the ground with precise movements, neatly severing the roots. Chen Hao was in charge of picking the flowers, bending over and carrying them into sacks. The sun wasn't strong, but it was humid and hot, and sweat quickly beaded on his forehead.
"Why haven't these bugs come yet?" He straightened up and wiped his face. "It's too quiet, which is scary."
As soon as I finished speaking, I heard a buzzing sound in my ears.
A swarm of tiny flying insects, no bigger than sesame seeds, rose from under the grass and surrounded the two people.
"Defense mode activated." Nana quickly turned on the small fan in her backpack, running at low power, creating an airflow barrier that pushed the swarm of insects outwards.
Chen Hao quickly grabbed a rag and wrapped it around his neck and arms: "I should have worn long sleeves!"
He shielded his face while continuing to stuff grass into the bag. Insects crackled against the fan, and a few crawled in, biting the back of his hand.
Ouch! It really bites!
"These insects feed on plant sap, so their bites are a misinterpretation," Nana said, adjusting the fan angle to increase coverage.
"You're going to give me a science lesson?" Chen Hao jumped back a step. "If they take a bite, I'll have another bag!"
He had been bitten in three places on his left shoulder, which became red and swollen, and he scratched it incessantly. But he still gritted his teeth, stuffed the last bundle of grass into the sack, and hoisted it onto his shoulder.
"Call it over! Retreat!"
The two quickly left the meadow. After walking only ten meters, the swarm of insects stopped chasing them.
Back at the entrance of the woodworking workshop, Chen Hao put down the sack and sat down, panting heavily.
"This trip was more tiring than cutting down trees." He rolled up his sleeves to look at his injuries. "They're all red welts, like I've been feasted on mosquitoes."
Nana examined the area closely: "There is slight swelling in the local tissue, but no signs of infection. I recommend applying a cold compress to relieve the swelling."
"A cold compress?" He gave a wry smile. "We don't even have ice here, what are we going to use?"
"A damp cloth can be used as a substitute."
"Forget it." He waved his hand. "Anyway, I have to go tomorrow. I'll get bitten into a pig's head sooner or later."
He opened the sack, took out a mixture of velvet grass and flower petals, and spread it out on the table.
"Now the question is—how do we soften it?"
Nana projected a structural diagram: "I suggest a layered approach. The bottom layer should be compacted soft grass for support, the middle layer should be mixed with flower petals to enhance the softness, and the top layer should be covered with fabric to prevent leaks."
“That sounds plausible.” Chen Hao pulled out a piece of coarse linen that he had left over from before. “Let’s use this as the outer layer.”
He found a fishbone needle and rattan thread and began sewing the first test pad. The needle eye was small and the thread was thick; it took him several tries to get it right. He squinted, pressing the fabric with one hand and pulling the thread with the other, his movements clumsy.
"This job is really not suitable for fat people," he muttered. "His fingers are too thick, he keeps poking crookedly."
After sewing half a circle, he stuffed the grass and petals inside, pressed them down firmly, and then sealed it again.
In less than ten minutes, a mat that was neither round nor square was finished. It was barely thick enough, but the surface was uneven.
“It’s done!” He proudly held it up. “The first handmade chair cushion in history, number 001.”
He carried the cushion to the dining room, placed it on the head chair, and plopped down.
I had barely settled in when I suddenly bounced up.
Ouch! That pricked my butt!
Nana stepped forward to check: "The filling is uneven, and some of the bristles have penetrated the fabric and come into contact with the skin."
"I know it hurts!" Chen Hao twisted his body. "I can feel a blade of grass burrowing into my tailbone!"
He took off the mat and looked inside; sure enough, several thin thorns were sticking out.
"We need to find a way to get rid of these thorns." He rubbed his lower back. "How about we sun-dry them for a couple of days? Can't the sun soften them?"
“Sunlight cannot degrade the bristle structure,” Nana said. “I suggest using a rolling method to physically break down the surface.”
“Then press it.” Chen Hao nodded. “The first thing to do tomorrow morning is to roll it back and forth ten times with a stone roller.”
“It’s not very efficient,” Nana added. “If you soften the meat by heating it before pressing, the effect will be better.”
"Heating?" He looked at her warily. "Last time we almost caught fire while burning wood strips. If you start another fire this time, our woodworking shop will be finished."
"The temperature will be controlled to be below 280 degrees Celsius and the duration will not exceed 20 seconds."
“You make it sound so easy to say ‘within’ or ‘no more than’,” he shook his head. “I’d rather press it manually for a more reliable result.”
He put the failed mat in the corner, then took out his notebook and drew a simple structural diagram: grass at the bottom, flowers in the middle, fabric on top, with an arrow next to it that read "press first, then sew".
"We'll improve tomorrow," he said. "That's enough for today."
Nana took samples for analysis and placed them into the portable analyzer. The screen lit up, and data scrolled.
"The water content of the grass is 41 percent and the fiber density is moderate; the petals of the blue star contain 6.3 percent oil, which helps to lubricate the friction surface."
"It sounds like it can be done." Chen Hao leaned back in his chair. "It's just that the process is too exhausting. I thought it would be over once the tables and chairs were finished, but there are still so many details to fix."
“Quality of life is made up of countless small things,” Nana said. “Your current mood index is ‘tired but satisfied,’ which is twelve percentage points higher than yesterday.”
"You're monitoring my emotions?" he glared.
"Automatic data collection".
“You robots are truly everywhere,” he sighed. “But…” he paused, “although it’s tiring, it wasn’t a wasted effort.”
He looked at the crooked test mat and smiled: "At least I know that next time I sit on it, my butt will feel a little more comfortable than it does now."
Nana closed the detector: "Tomorrow's plan has been generated. Material pretreatment will begin at 6:00 AM, sewing will begin at 7:00 AM, and the second-generation prototype is expected to be completed by 9:00 AM."
"Nine o'clock?" he cried out. "Who gets up at six in the morning to make cushions for chairs?"
“You started sanding the corner of the table at 5:47 yesterday.”
"That's a special case!"
"This time is equally important."
"I'm not talking to you anymore." Chen Hao grabbed his coat. "I'm going to lie down. If we keep talking, you'll make me get up in the middle of the night to dry the hay."
He walked out of the carpentry workshop, his steps slow, his shoulders aching, and the bump on his neck still itchy.
Nana followed her out and stood at the door.
"Good night," she said.
"Okay." He waved and walked away without looking back.
The light was still on. Grass was spread out on the table, the burlap sack was open, and needles and thread lay on the edge of the mat. The notebook was open, filled with crooked sketches.
Nana stood still, the optical lens slowly rotating, recording all the procedures for the day.
She synchronized the data to tomorrow's to-do list.
Then he gently closed the door.
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