The wind was still blowing, and the metal frame trembled slightly.
Chen Hao stared at the three new scratches, about to speak, when Nana's blue eyes suddenly turned red.
"Warning: Initial signs of displacement on the western slope, soil moisture content increased by 19%, and the inclination angle changed by 0.7 degrees." Her voice was as cold as ice. "It is determined to be a potential landslide risk, with a 98.6% probability of structural damage."
Chen Hao was taken aback and turned to look at the high slope. Several pebbles were rolling down the rock crevices, not fast, but with an unreasonable momentum. He opened his mouth: "Wait, we've only built half of the framework, are we moving it now?"
“If the current situation remains, a medium-sized landslide is expected to occur within 12 to 18 hours.” Nana raised her hand, and a topographic map appeared in the air, with red patches slowly spreading. “The impact range covers the entire current area, including the wreckage of the life pod, piles of building materials, and the existing framework.”
"So," Chen Hao chuckled dryly, "we worked so hard for two days moving sheet metal, and in the end, there wasn't even a crumb left?"
“The logic holds true.” After she finished speaking, the image remained hanging in mid-air, its red color glaringly bright.
Chen Hao crouched down, his fingers picking at the weld seam of the frame base. He had painstakingly patched up that weld yesterday with simple tools, it was crooked but sturdy. He remembered Nana saying at the time, "The workmanship is rough, but it has basic shear resistance."
Now, things have gotten even worse; before even 24 hours have passed, they have to dismantle the whole thing themselves.
"I'm speechless," he muttered. "After all that work, it turns out the foundation was rented."
Nana didn't respond; the camera just kept scanning the slope data stream, occasionally flashing a few lines of small text. She didn't explain, just let the information run on its own.
Chen Hao looked up at her: "Are you sure? I mean... what if you miscalculated? We'll have made a wasted trip and won't get anything done before dark."
“I don’t have the subjective concept of ‘certainty’,” she said. “It’s all about whether the data supports it or not. Currently, all the parameters point to the same conclusion—this place is not a safe place to stay.”
"But we're already here." He gave a wry smile. "We're here, we've expended our energy, we've even started dreaming. You think you can just leave like that?"
"Does your dream include the part about being buried alive?" she suddenly asked.
Chen Hao was taken aback.
“You said you wanted to install windows and draw the curtains so you wouldn’t be stared at by the stars at night,” she said calmly. “But if the house collapses, not even the roof will be left.”
He moved his throat, but no sound came out.
Another fist-sized boulder rolled down from a distance, crashing onto a beam with a clang. It wasn't high, but it was enough to give one's heart a jolt.
Chen Hao slowly stood up and brushed the dust off his pants. His movements were a little slow, as if he was afraid of disturbing something, or as if he was giving himself time to process this decision.
"So...you're serious? You really want to start all over again?"
“No need to demolish it.” Nana brought up a new projection. “Just move it as a whole. The existing components are 100% intact and can be reused directly.”
"That sounds easy," he sighed. "But who can tell me the new place won't collapse? We've just moved, and now you're saying 'earthquake precursors have been detected'?"
“The bedrock exposure rate in this area is 63%, there are no fault records, and the drainage is good.” She pointed and a green box lit up on the gentle slope on the east side. “It is 47 meters away from the raw material storage area, which is the lowest transportation cost.”
Chen Hao walked over, stepped on the ground, and stomped twice. The soil was hard; he couldn't leave a dent, nor did it show any signs of loosening.
"Hmm...looks reliable." He nodded, then glanced back at the old frame. "Well then...goodbye."
His tone was bitter, but his steps did not falter.
Nana followed up: "I suggest activating the evacuation plan immediately. Reduced visibility at night makes it difficult to move large components."
"Wait." Chen Hao raised his hand. "Let me take another look."
He stood there, gazing at the crooked yet upright rectangular structure. The sun had long since set, leaving only a dark purple hue on the horizon, making the metal edges appear dull. It stood like a stubborn junkyard sign, its head tilted, perched on this barren land.
He knew that after this first glance, he would have to start dismantling it.
"How long do you think it can last?" he asked in a low voice.
"Based on the current rate of slope creep, the longest it could take is no more than seventeen hours," Nana replied. "The shortest it could be instability is within six hours."
"That means we're lucky and we can see it a little longer."
"This is not a matter of luck."
“I know it’s not,” he interrupted her. “I just want to find a reason to stay for one more minute.”
Nana was silent for a few seconds, and the optical lens tilted slightly, as if she was reassessing his condition.
Then she said, “You did 23 laps yesterday, carrying an average weight of 58 kilograms. Your heart rate peaked on the 18th lap, and your breathing became irregular for 4 minutes and 7 seconds. You didn’t stop because you felt that with each additional elixir you carried, you were one step closer to safety.”
Chen Hao blinked.
"Is it really that hard to accept moving to a safer location now?"
He grimaced, but didn't actually smile.
"It's not difficult," he said, "it's just a bit frustrating."
“Feeling stifled doesn’t fall under the scope of risk assessment,” she said, turning to face the new location. “But action does.”
Chen Hao took a deep breath; a faint smell of dust filled the air, cool and refreshing as it entered his nostrils. He moved his wrists and shoulders, his joints making a slight clicking sound.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll do as you say. First, dismantle the frame, then move the materials, without missing a single step.”
“The optimal path has been generated.” She flipped her hand, and a pale green light trail extended from the newly selected site, bypassing the soft zone and pointing directly at the pile of building materials. “It is recommended to dismantle the top beam first, lower the center of gravity, and then decompose it step by step.”
"You really do pay attention to every little detail."
"I'm just trying to prevent you from falling on your butt a second time."
"Hey, you slipped that time!"
"Data shows that your left leg exerts 12.3% less force than your right leg, which can easily cause lateral imbalance."
"...Could you please stop bringing up the past?"
"Memory function is normal and cannot be turned off."
Chen Hao rolled his eyes and walked towards the old frame. He reached out and touched the connection point of the first pillar, where there were still traces of sweat and grease from his palm.
He grabbed both ends of the beam and tried to lift it up. Just as he exerted force, Nana reached out and stopped him.
“Don’t force it,” she said. “Activate the magnetic assist mode.”
The next second, the heavy metal beam gently floated up and hovered in mid-air.
"Why didn't you use it sooner if you could have done this earlier?" Chen Hao asked, panting.
"The principle of energy conservation," she said calmly. "High-energy-consuming modules should not be activated unless absolutely necessary."
"So when I was exhausted earlier, you were in power-saving mode?"
"To be precise, it is 'non-emergency energy-saving dispatch'."
"Well, even you robots can speak in official jargon."
The beam was slowly moved above the new location and gently lowered. Nana used the magnetic arm to adjust the angle, ensuring the slots were aligned.
Chen Hao looked at it and suddenly said, "Do you think... those little things knew this place was going to collapse? Is that why they kept making marks?"
“It’s possible.” She scanned her surroundings. “Some lower organisms are sensitive to geological changes, and abnormal behavior is often a warning sign.”
"So they didn't come to steal materials, but to persuade us to move?"
"We cannot rule out information transmission mechanisms at the ecological level."
"Sigh." He shook his head. "I should have erected a monument to them."
The second pillar was dismantled smoothly, but when it came to the third, Chen Hao noticed that the base screws were a bit rusted. He squatted down and tried to tighten them by hand for a long time, but they wouldn't budge.
"Do you need any tools?" Nana asked.
“No need,” he gritted his teeth. “I can pry it out.”
Five minutes later, his fingernails were full of metal shavings, and the screw finally came loose.
"Is it worth it?" Nana asked, watching him wave his hand.
“Of course it’s not worth it,” he grinned. “But I have to prove that I’m not living entirely off you.”
She didn't speak, but just looked at him quietly, the camera flashing slightly.
By the time the fourth frame was dismantled, it was completely dark. Starlight streamed down, illuminating the empty ground where the frame had once stood; only a few shallow pits remained.
Chen Hao stood there for a while, then turned and walked towards the new location.
The green frame is still there, floating quietly in mid-air.
He stepped into the basket and swayed his body from side to side.
"Sturdy," he said. "Hopefully it can last a few more days this time."
Nana walked to his side: "Reconstruction will begin at six o'clock tomorrow. There will be plenty of sunlight and the temperature will be suitable for long-term work."
"Can't it be nine o'clock?"
“Okay.” She nodded. “But that would make you forty minutes late, and the actual start time would still be 8:20.”
Why did you include the time I spent sleeping in in your calculations?
"Based on analysis of historical behavioral data."
"I suspect you secretly kept track of how many times I turned off my alarm."
"A total of seventeen times, with an average delay of thirty-seven minutes in waking up."
"...You really are my nemesis."
He looked up at the starry sky and let out a long breath.
In the distance, the wind swept across the rocks, stirring up a small clump of dust.
The unfinished frame lay there all alone, like an abandoned skeleton.
At the new site, there was only an empty lot and a green light that had not yet been laid to the ground.
Chen Hao bent down, picked up a small pebble, and casually tossed it into the center of the green box.
The pebble landed with a crisp sound.
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