Chen Hao's fingers were still on the silver-white string. The buzzing sound from before, like wind rising from the ground, lingered in his ears. He didn't move or speak, but slowly raised his other hand and touched the outermost string again.
The sound was clearer than before, short but firm, like someone gently tapping a tin bucket.
"Did you hear that?" He turned to look at Nana. "This time it's not a hallucination."
Nana stood to the side, and the camera flickered slightly: "The audio duration was extended by 0.3 seconds, and the frequency remained stable."
"Ha," Chen Hao grinned, "I've improved my technique."
He sat down and placed the guitar on his lap. The chair was a bit low, and he had to bend over to see the guitar's surface. His stomach was pressing against the edge of his thighs, which was uncomfortable, but he didn't move. He stretched out his right index finger and plucked the strings one by one.
The first one sounded muffled; the second one had a slight tremor; the third one broke halfway through, as if it had been choked. He stopped and took a breath.
“This thing won’t listen to me,” he said.
Nana didn't respond, but a line of text appeared in her palm: "The tension of the six strings varies greatly. It is recommended to adjust them uniformly."
"Set it now? It's too late." Chen Hao shook his head. "I want to try to get a specific order."
He closed his eyes, his mind replaying the basic musical scale from Nana's database. She had played it for him a few days ago, a few seconds long, repeated over a dozen times. He had almost fallen asleep in his chair then, but now he could actually remember it.
He opened his eyes and slowly started plucking the lowest bar.
One, two, three, four, five, six.
The sounds were a jumbled mess, like a bunch of chickens arguing.
"No, too fast." He tried again, this time pausing for a longer time, waiting for the echo to disappear before continuing.
Something's still not right. There's a slight misalignment between the fourth and fifth steps, like stepping into a hole.
The third time, he played even slower, and with less force in his fingers. This time, although the six syllables weren't perfectly aligned, they finally formed a line.
"Huh?" He looked up. "Is it going a little smoother now?"
Nana nodded: "A regular vibration sequence was detected, which matches the arrangement of the first six notes of the key of C major."
"Damn it!" Chen Hao slapped his thigh. "I'm not a piece of trash!"
He burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking so much he almost dropped the guitar. After regaining his composure, he stared at the strings for several seconds, then suddenly reached out and pressed down on a certain spot on the second string with his left hand, while plucking it with his right.
The pitch has changed.
"Huh?!" His voice rose. "You can do that?"
He tried again, pressing slightly to the left, and the sound was different. He released his hand and plucked the key again, and it returned to the original tune.
"This thing can change your voice!" He turned to look at Nana. "This isn't a musical instrument, it's a Transformer, isn't it?"
Nana said, "This is a basic physical principle: changing the effective string length affects the resonant frequency."
"I'll accept whatever you say," Chen Hao waved his hand. "Anyway, it's alive."
He began experimenting repeatedly, pressing down with his left hand in different positions while plucking the strings with his right. His movements were clumsy, his fingers stiff, and he often missed the mark, producing a harsh, scraping sound. Once, he used too much force, his fingertip slipped, and his nail scraped against the metal decoration with a loud thud.
"Ouch!" He pulled his hand back and shook it twice. "This broken instrument even has a counterattack function."
Nana handed over a cloth: "I suggest keeping your fingers dry to reduce slipping."
"You think I don't want to?" Chen Hao took the cloth and wiped his palms. "I'm sweating because I'm nervous, okay? This is my first time making music."
After he finished speaking, he bent down and fiddled with the strings again. After several attempts, he finally found a clear note in one spot. He memorized that spot and then tried to find a similar feeling on other strings.
Gradually, he was able to play three notes in a row without interruption. He tried again, and could play four notes in a row. He got better and better at it, and finally, he played a short passage in one breath—three short notes followed by one long one, like some kind of signal.
After he finished playing, he paused for a few seconds, then looked up at Nana.
"That just now...did it sound even a little bit like a song?"
New handwriting appears in Nana's palm: First structured output completed, suggested name "First Cry".
“Just call it ‘first tone’.” Chen Hao grinned from ear to ear. “When you write your autobiography, you’ll have to write: On a certain day of a certain month of a certain year, humanity successfully played the first original melody on an alien planet.”
“There’s no point in registering copyright for the current melody,” Nana said.
“You don’t understand art.” Chen Hao waved his hand. “True masterpieces are initially perceived as noise.”
He readjusted his posture, straightened the guitar, and rested his right fingertips on the strings. This time, he didn't rush to pluck the strings; instead, he first loosened his wrists, rotating them left and right twice, and then massaged his finger joints.
“Let’s do that again,” he said. “I want to record it and post it on WeChat Moments—oh right, there’s no internet here.”
Nana said, "I can store audio samples."
“Okay, I’ll keep it.” Chen Hao nodded. “When I go back to Earth someday, I’ll play it for those who say I’ve accomplished nothing.”
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and, relying on his memory and feel, played that three-short-one-long rhythm again.
This time it was more stable, the last long note was held for a bit longer, and the ending note trembled slightly, like the wind passing through a crack.
He opened his eyes, his face covered in sweat.
"How about it?"
Nana makes a minor adjustment to the camera, and the data stream flashes by: "Rhythm deviation rate decreased by 37%, and stability was significantly improved."
“That’s progress.” Chen Hao wiped his face. “It seems I’m not without talent, I just didn’t realize it before.”
He tried a different combination: he pressed down on the middle of the fifth string with his left hand, plucked it twice quickly with his right hand, and then jumped to the fourth string to play a long note. However, the second pluck was too rapid, and the sound cracked.
"Damn, almost there."
"I suggest reducing the rapid dialing speed to allow muscle memory to form," Nana said.
"I know, I know," Chen Hao muttered. "I'll just practice."
He didn't stop, continuing to repeat the same movements, doing it twice if once wasn't enough, until he finally managed to do it smoothly on the third try. He immediately added a finishing touch, sliding from the third string to the second string, and then gently plucking it at the end.
The sound falls.
The room was quiet for a few seconds.
A gust of wind blew in from the vent, ruffling the stray hairs on his forehead and causing a very slight aftershock that hummed inside the instrument case.
"Isn't this finishing touch cool?" he asked.
Nana didn't answer, but the text on her palm changed: It is recommended to record the duration of this practice as 12 minutes and 14 seconds, with 19 effective vocalizations.
"You're quite serious." Chen Hao laughed. "Then remember this: when I become famous, these will all be historical records."
He removed his hands from the strings; his fingers were a little numb. He opened his palms and looked at them; his fingertips were red, and there was a shallow mark on one of them.
"We still have to practice tomorrow," he said. "We can't keep relying on luck."
Just as he was about to pluck the string again, he suddenly noticed that the outermost string wobbled slightly, though he hadn't touched it.
He stared intently at that string.
It's still shaking, albeit slightly, but it is definitely moving.
"That's strange." He reached out and touched it lightly, and the vibration immediately reached his fingertips.
Nana looked down and scanned: "Low-frequency resonance detected, possibly from mechanical operation outside the base."
"So it was triggered by other sounds?" Chen Hao asked, intrigued. "Does that mean... it can hear?"
He thought for a moment, then suddenly hummed a note to the zither, short and loud.
A second later, the middle string trembled slightly.
He was stunned.
Hum it again, this time for a long note.
The three strings vibrated slightly at the same time, as if in response.
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