When Chen Hao pushed open the door, the light inside was still on, a dim yellow light hanging from the ceiling, making him dizzy. He stood at the doorway, catching his breath. He couldn't shake off the dust from his clothes, and his feet left two black marks.
Nana followed her in. Her backpack strap was a little loose, so she adjusted it.
"You're back?" Susan sat at the table without even looking up.
"Hmm." Chen Hao wiped his face. "Didn't find it."
The room fell silent for a moment. Karl, who had been sitting against the wall, slowly raised his head upon hearing the sound, his eyes darting around before finally settling on the tips of his shoes.
"Really not?" Susan finally looked up, her voice as flat as a radio broadcast without power.
"We've searched everywhere we could." Chen Hao pulled out a chair and sank into it. "The generator is still the same generator, the parts are still the same parts, it's just not in our hands."
Susan tapped her finger on the table without saying a word.
Carl suddenly stood up, his voice tense: "How about... I go again?"
“It’s no use you going.” Chen Hao waved his hand. “Even the screws that can be unscrewed over there are rusted through, let alone the whole thing.”
"What can we do then?" Carl asked, rubbing his hands together. "We can't just stand by and watch, can we?"
No one answered. The air seemed to freeze; no one wanted to speak first.
A few seconds later, Nana walked to the table and placed the terminal on it. The screen lit up, and the blue light reflected on her face.
“We don’t have to rely on off-the-shelf parts,” she said.
Three people were looking at her at the same time.
“The xG-5 resonant valve can be copied.” She opened the interface. “The structural parameters are in the database, we have the materials, and we can also disassemble the processing flow.”
Chen Hao stared at the screen and blinked: "You mean...we'll do it ourselves?"
"yes."
"What should we use to make it?"
"The titanium alloy substrate comes from the ore brought back yesterday, and the micro electromagnetic module can be disassembled and reassembled using a backup power supply."
Susan frowned: "Do you know how precise this thing is? Even a millimeter off could cause it to explode."
“The error must be controlled within 0.03 millimeters.” Nana brought up the 3D model. “I will guide you through every step of the operation.”
Chen Hao glanced at the model, then at Nana: "Are you serious?"
"Data doesn't lie."
The atmosphere in the room changed. It didn't suddenly become warm, but rather like a frozen hand slowly warming up, a little numb, but definitely moving.
Chen Hao suddenly laughed: "Alright, we're going to die anyway, might as well make it a spectacular one."
“This is no joke.” Susan stared at the screen. “If you mess this up, you won’t even have one last chance.”
“I know,” Chen Hao stood up, “but what else can we do? Wait for one to fall from the sky?”
“We can check the area again,” Carl said quietly.
“Three checks will yield nothing.” Chen Hao shook his head. “At least Nana’s plan has a result.”
Susan didn't say anything more, just watched the model spin, her brows furrowed.
"Let's do it then." Chen Hao slammed his hand on the table. "Let's start now, or we'll regret not doing it today."
Nana nodded and pulled up the task assignment sheet.
"Phase one: material preparation," she said. "Susan was responsible for cleaning up the titanium ore residue and purifying the metal powder; Carl adjusted the welding equipment and calibrated the temperature output; Chen Hao assisted me in completing the cutting and shaping."
"What am I going to do?" Chen Hao asked.
"Your job is to hand over the tools, follow instructions, and don't say anything out of line."
"Hey, I've become a handyman."
"You always were."
A rare laugh rang out from inside the room.
Susan got up and walked towards the materials area, her steps quickening slightly. Carl followed her to the equipment corner, bending down to inspect the welding torch connector.
Chen Hao leaned closer to Nana: "Can it really work?"
“The success rate is 67%,” she said. “It depends on operational stability.”
"It's not that high."
"Higher than 0%"
Chen Hao grinned: "I like what you said."
They moved the workbench out and placed the ore block on it. Nana turned on the separator, and a blue beam swept across the surface, peeling away the impurities little by little.
“Keep the temperature at 1200 degrees Celsius,” she told Susan. “If it exceeds that, immediately reduce the blood pressure.”
"Understood." Susan stood in front of the control panel, her finger hovering over the button.
Carl tried three times with his welding torch before the flame stabilized. He wiped the sweat from his brow and readjusted the angle of the support.
"Don't shake," Chen Hao said, standing beside him. "You're welding our lives right now."
“I know,” Carl said through gritted teeth. “Give me some time.”
"Time is running out." Nana looked up at the clock. "There are still forty-one minutes until the optimal processing window."
Chen Hao returned to her side: "What's next?"
“Cut the substrate.” She handed him a pair of goggles. “Do as I say.”
They began cutting. The machine hummed, sparks flew. Chen Hao gripped the controller, his palms sweating.
"Slow down," Nana said. "Move 0.5 centimeters to the left, then stop."
He did as instructed.
"Cut down, two millimeters deep, for three seconds."
The blade fell, producing a harsh scraping sound. The cut was clean, but the edges were a bit rough.
"Polish." Nana took out a hand-held grinding wheel. "Go clockwise, with even pressure."
Chen Hao squatted down and began grinding little by little. Ten minutes passed, and his forehead was covered in sweat.
"Alright." Nana nodded after checking. "Passed."
Meanwhile, Susan finished purifying the metal. She carefully labeled the silvery-white powder, placing it into a sealed jar.
“98.6% purity,” she said. “Within usable limits.”
“Very good.” Nana took the jar. “Next, assemble the core module.”
Carl had already prepared the welding area. They positioned the substrate and electromagnetic components.
“Remember,” Nana stared at him, “the seams must be completed in one go; interrupting the process will weaken the structure.”
“I understand.” Carl put on his protective gloves. “Let’s begin.”
The welding torch was lit, and blue-white flames shot out. He moved slowly along the predetermined route, his arms taut.
Chen Hao stood to the side, barely daring to breathe. Susan also stopped taking notes and turned to look.
The moment the solder joint closed, Karl breathed a sigh of relief, his hand went limp and he almost knelt down.
"Did it work?" Chen Hao asked.
"Preliminary completion." Nana picked up the finished product to inspect it. "The appearance meets the standards, but the internal structure needs further testing."
She connected to the testing device. The screen flickered for a few seconds before finally displaying a green checkmark.
"The structure is intact, and the electromagnetic response is normal," she said. "It can be installed."
Chen Hao snatched the parts away, handling them like precious treasures: "Let's go, put them back together!"
They pushed open the generator housing, revealing the damaged interface. The old resonant valve was only half there, leaning to one side.
“Clear the remaining parts,” Nana said.
Chen Hao used pliers to remove the fragments and threw them into the waste bin. He aligned the new part with the slot and slowly pushed it in.
"You're in position when you hear a click," Nana reminded him.
He pressed down hard.
Click.
"Secure the bolts," Nana said, handing over the tools.
Chen Hao tightened the four screws, his movements ten times more meticulous than usual.
“Power-on test.” Nana took a step back. “Everyone, stay away from the equipment.”
Susan pressed the start button.
The machine hummed, the indicator light changed from red to yellow, and then turned a stable green.
“Energy input is normal.” Nana read the data. “Pressure value has rebounded, system self-test passed.”
The room was quiet for a few seconds.
Then Chen Hao plopped down on the ground, tilted his head back, and burst into laughter.
"It's done! It's fucking done!"
Susan, who had been leaning on the table, suddenly relaxed her shoulders. She looked down at her notebook, the pen still in her hand, but she forgot to write anything.
Carl stood there, his eyes a little red. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but in the end only managed to utter, "Thank you."
"Why thank me?" Chen Hao waved his hand. "It wasn't me who did it."
"You made the decision to do it."
"That's still better than squatting and waiting."
Nana walked to the generator and continued monitoring its operation. The data stream on the screen scrolled smoothly.
"The repair progress has been restored to 62 percent," she said. "The main power supply line is expected to restart in six hours."
"Six hours?" Chen Hao's eyes widened. "I thought it would be bright immediately."
“The system needs to be loaded gradually,” she said. “There is a risk of tripping.”
“Fine,” he sighed, “it’s better than being in the dark.”
He slumped in the chair, legs stretched out, a small patch of mud from the sole of his shoe falling off. He couldn't be bothered with it.
Susan sat back down at the workbench and turned to a new page of the record sheet. The pen tip scratched across the paper.
Carl tidied up his tools much more gently. He put the welding torch back on the stand and wiped the work surface.
"I'm hungry," Chen Hao suddenly said.
Nobody paid him any attention.
"I'm really hungry." He rubbed his stomach. "I've been busy all day and haven't eaten a single bite."
"There's porridge in the pot," Susan said without looking up. "Help yourself."
"There's porridge too?" His eyes lit up. "When did you cook it?"
“When you left,” she said, “you knew you’d be back late.”
Chen Hao jumped up and limped toward the kitchen, saying, "I told you you were kind-hearted."
Nana remained standing beside the generator, her eyes fixed on the screen. As the data stream flashed by, the corner of her mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.
The lights stayed on steadily, no longer flickering. The shadows in the corner were clearly visible, no longer varying in length as before.
Chen Hao returned with a bowl, his mouth full of rice: "Hey, don't you think we should learn more technical skills in the future?"
“You can’t even understand the instruction manual,” Susan said.
“I can learn,” he chewed. “Nana will teach me, and I’ll listen.”
"You fell asleep while listening to it."
“That’s because it’s too comfortable,” he laughed. “With someone chanting sutras and someone covering you with a blanket, who could stand it?”
Nana didn't turn around, but her voice came from ahead: "Next time, we need to make a cooling pump."
"Huh?" Chen Hao choked. "So fast?"
“The rate of aging in inventory parts continues to rise,” she said. “The next part that might break is the main control valve.”
"Couldn't it have been broken a little later?"
"cannot."
"Then I suggest burning incense for it."
"invalid."
The room fell silent again. Only the low hum of the machine and the sound of Chen Hao drinking porridge could be heard.
Susan paused as she wrote. She looked up at Nana: "You just said the success rate was 67%, did you take into account the probability of our operational errors?"
“Yes.” Nana nodded. “Chen Hao’s interference coefficient accounts for 12% of the total.”
"Hey!" Chen Hao's chopsticks trembled. "Am I that outrageous?"
"You tightened the screw the wrong way last time."
"That was an accident!"
"Unexpected events are repetitive."
Susan lowered her head and continued writing, a slight smile playing on her lips.
Carl walked by carrying his toolbox and muttered, "I think...it's pretty good."
"What's good?" Chen Hao asked.
“We can still fix things,” he said. “We can still work together.”
Chen Hao paused for a moment, then put the bowl down.
“Yes,” he said softly, “it hasn’t dissipated.”
Nana turned to look at them, her gaze sweeping over each of their faces.
"The next phase of the task has been generated," she said. "We'll start work at eight o'clock tomorrow morning."
"Again?" Chen Hao wailed.
"You can start now."
"Can I rest for a while?"
“The break time has been included in the plan,” she said. “Currently, I have fifty-three minutes of free time remaining.”
Chen Hao rolled his eyes: "You really are... you don't show any mercy at all."
"Personal feelings cannot repair equipment."
He sighed, leaned back in his chair, and looked up at the light above him.
The light is very stable.
He picked up the bowl of porridge and waved it at the light.
There was a crack on the rim of the bowl.
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