The door rattled in the wind. Chen Hao stared at the door, which wasn't fully closed, and said in a low voice, "Tell me... if no one comes, should we still do it?"
Nana didn't speak immediately. Her camera lens lit up slightly, the light sweeping across the newly carved stone slab on the wall. The words were still warm, as if they had just come out of the machine: "Don't take the first time too seriously, but you can't be completely unserious either."
She raised her hand and pointed to the stone slab.
"You've already answered."
Chen Hao froze, following her gaze. The words were crooked and uneven, some deep, some shallow, like footprints left step by step. He suddenly chuckled, his shoulders relaxing.
"Yeah...we're not doing this just to get applause."
He used the table to support himself as he stood up. His legs were a little numb, and he had to move around a bit before he could stand up steadily.
“At first, we didn’t even have a decent table, so we had to squat on the ground to eat. Later, you dismantled some scrap cargo hold panels and pieced them together to make a dining table. I remember that day I complained that it was too high, but the next day you lowered the legs.”
Nana said, "Ergonomic data shows that your sitting posture puts too much pressure on your lumbar spine."
"You still remember this?"
"I have saved all the modification records."
"Then take a look and see how many things we changed, starting from that table?"
The moment Nana closed her eyes, a data stream flashed through her.
"Seventeen items in the furniture category, including bed frame reinforcement, storage compartment optimization, and lighting system upgrade; nine items in the living facilities category, covering water purification device debugging, shower timer valve installation, and vent cleaning procedures; and five sets of cultural and recreational equipment, including guitar repair, audio equipment assembly, card printing, projector calibration, and memorial wall establishment."
Chen Hao whistled: "So many? I'd forgotten about them."
"You are most involved in cleaning up after meals and distributing snacks."
"Of course, if we don't clean up after we've finished eating, who will? Besides, sharing snacks is the best way to build relationships."
"Data shows that you smile 62 percent more often than usual when handing out cookies."
"That's because Xiao Wang always wanted to take an extra piece, and when I said 'it's per person,' he pretended to be pitiful. Isn't that funny?"
Nana paused for a moment: "You said, 'If you reach out again, I'll deduct your ration for next week,' but he still reached out. You didn't take his cookies, but instead gave him an extra pack of seaweed-flavored ones."
"He loves to eat that."
"Logical contradiction. Threats are ineffective, rewards are increased—the behavioral pattern does not conform to management principles."
“But he smiled.” Chen Hao shrugged. “A smile is enough.”
The two fell silent. The wind outside had died down, and the door stopped rattling. Only the sound of the fan and the soft hum of the refrigerator in the corner remained in the dining room.
Chen Hao walked around the table, his fingers tracing the surface. It used to be covered in scratches, but now it had been smoothed out and coated with a homemade wood wax oil. He touched a spot on the edge where the color was lighter—it had been repaired.
“You know what?” he said, “I used to think that living was just about not dying. Not starving, not freezing, and being able to breathe was enough. But now it’s different. I want to take a comfortable shower, I want to lie down and read without hurting my back, and I want to play music without the sound cracking.”
Nana looked at him.
“This is not a luxury.”
“Of course not.” He turned around. “This is how a normal day should be. We’re not just enduring it; we’re living it.”
He walked to the prize table and picked up the last small wooden carving that hadn't been given out yet. It was a small robot with a tilted head, roughly carved, but you could tell it was imitating Nana's appearance.
"Did you make this?"
"The system provides a template, and you complete the task manually. It took three hours and twenty-seven minutes, during which you broke two knives and got burned once."
"No wonder I remember smelling a burning smell all day."
"You were blowing on your fingers while saying, 'I can't let her be too handsome, or she'll steal my thunder.'"
Chen Hao burst out laughing: "Did I say that?"
"Audio recording is being saved."
"Alright, that's something I can do."
He put the small wooden carving back on the table and dusted off his hands.
"Actually, even if no one comes in the future, I still want to do something. Change the lampshade, paint a mural, or... make a swing and hang it outside the corridor."
"The structural load-bearing capacity of the base is permissible."
"Then hang one up. It'll be nice to sit there and enjoy the breeze in the summer."
Nana said softly, "The quality of life isn't something you achieve all at once; it's something you move forward a little bit every day."
“Yes.” Chen Hao nodded. “Like yesterday when we were fixing the water pipes, we could have just wrapped them with tape for three days, but we still spent half a day replacing the pipe fittings. We were tired, but it felt good to hear the water rushing down.”
"This kind of pleasure cannot be quantified, but behavioral choices prove its existence."
“So,” he looked up at the mineral lamp on the ceiling, “even if there are only two of us, we have to live a decent life. It’s not for others to see, it’s for us to live comfortably.”
Nana's camera flickered slightly.
What will be the next stop?
Chen Hao didn't answer. He walked to the window and pulled back the blackout curtains. The night sky was clear, with many stars, and the distant mountain shadows lay dark and heavy.
Do you think there's a chance that one day someone will track you down by following the signal?
"The possibility exists. The broadcast signal is automatically sent once every seventy-two hours, and the content includes coordinates and basic survival information."
"If they come, won't they find it strange when they first see this place?"
What's strange about it?
"For example... a fat guy who directs robots to do their work every day and even gave himself the title of 'Director of Life'."
"You are indeed managing your life affairs."
"But I didn't do much work either."
"You have proposed more than 90% of the improvement requests."
"That's called giving suggestions, not doing work."
"You were involved in more than 70% of the execution process."
"It's just moving things around and doing odd jobs."
"Data shows that your actual contribution rate is higher than your self-assessment."
"You're saying the same thing as last time, calling me a 'firefighter' when I host events."
That's the truth.
Chen Hao shook his head with a smile: "Anyway, I don't believe I'm the main force. You're the cheat code, with an all-knowing and all-powerful database, while I'm just a talkative partner."
"Without constant reminders, many plans won't be initiated."
"for example?"
"For example, we should add mint leaves to the sachets, add illustrations to the rules of the board games, and suggest that Lao Liu be responsible for notifying the maintenance team."
"Aren't these all minor matters?"
"Small things accumulate into daily routines."
He laughed again: "Now that you mention it, it seems we really have accomplished quite a bit."
"A total of 36 projects have been recorded, 12 of which were not archived and 5 failed cases."
"Does failure even count?"
"Yes. Every failure has changed our approach."
“You’re right.” He leaned against the window frame. “Then let’s continue. Fix the lights today, replace the doors tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow…maybe we can even build an open-air cinema.”
"The projection equipment is available, but the screen needs to be made by ourselves."
"Then sew on a piece. Piecing it together with an old tent will also make it waterproof."
"A sewing kit is needed."
"I'll go rummage through the warehouse."
"The current time is 11:14 PM. It is recommended to proceed tomorrow."
“Yeah, it’s too late.” He stretched. “But seriously, I’m not worried about nobody coming anymore. Even if it’s just the two of us forever, this place will only get better and better.”
Nana stood still, the camera's soft light shifting around her.
"So the answer is, it will continue."
“Of course.” Chen Hao looked at her. “As long as we’re here, we have to make each day a little better than yesterday.”
He walked back to the main table, sat down and then got up again, as if he didn't want to rest yet.
What do you think we should do next?
"Based on the frequency of use, there is a safety hazard at the sharp edges of the kitchen countertop. It is recommended to cover them with soft materials."
"Oh right, last time Xiao Li almost cut his hand while chopping vegetables."
"Three similar incidents have been recorded."
"Then let's fix it. And while we're at it, let's fix the loose cabinet doors too."
"The bill of materials can be generated immediately."
"Let's talk about it tomorrow." He yawned. "That's enough for tonight."
Nana turned off the standby notification and narrowed the aperture.
Chen Hao glanced around one last time, his gaze settling on the guitar. It leaned against the corner of the wall, its strings gleaming faintly.
He walked over and casually dialed the number.
"bite--"
A soft sound echoed in the quiet restaurant.
He smiled and didn't say anything more.
The night was deep outside, but the lights inside cast two shadows, one fat and one thin, very close together.
Chen Hao rested his hands on the back of the chair, the vibrations of the strings still lingering on his fingertips.
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