As soon as the sack hit the ground, Chen Hao plopped down on a low wooden stool next to the tool rack. He was panting heavily, the fine sweat on his forehead still damp, but his fingers were already eagerly reaching into the sack to pull out a sharp-edged piece of flint.
“Finally, it’s all here.” He examined the stone from all angles, as if he were admiring a family heirloom. “Shellium, hardwood, rattan, wax leaves… we even dug up a piece of underground fiber mesh. This isn’t just for making an axe, it’s like holding a materials expo.”
Nana stood to the side, the optical components rotating slightly, sweeping across the pile of scattered fragments on the ground. "Based on the current assembly scheme, the structural stability of the stone axe is expected to reach 83% of the original tool standard."
“83%? Sounds like the passing grade for an exam.” Chen Hao grinned and casually gestured with the flint against the assembled wooden handle. “The remaining 17% will be made up for by luck.”
He crouched down and carefully wrapped the pre-soaked rattan around the joint, his movements clumsy but earnest. Every few turns, he would stop and tug at it to test its strength. On the third knot, his finger slipped, the rattan sprang open, and he almost hit himself in the eye.
"Ouch!" He ducked, "This thing is even harder to deal with than an exam."
"I suggest using double knot reinforcement." Nana handed over a projection diagram, with a complex binding method displayed on a small screen.
"You even know how to tie knots?" Chen Hao's eyes widened. "Do robots learn life skills too?"
"The database contains 37 practical skill modules, including navigation, mountaineering, and wilderness survival." She paused, "Among them, the 'anti-slip knot' is used in weapon securing 92.6% of the time."
"Fine, you win." He started over from the diagram, muttering as he tied the stick, "Don't call me Chen Hao anymore, call me Chen the man who gets taught by a robot to tie wooden sticks."
Having finally secured the last piece of the stone axe, he lifted it; it was heavy, and his center of gravity shifted slightly forward. He swung it twice, his movements stiff, and the second swing almost hit his foot.
"Hmm...it has a certain presence." He consoled himself, "Although it looks like a neighbor uncle chasing a dog with a kitchen knife, at least it's a proper axe."
He spun around on the spot, mimicking a hunter's pose from a movie, and let out a low growl: "Ah—!"
Before the words had even faded, he burst out laughing.
“Now that we’ve built the tools, shouldn’t we do something big next?” He suddenly stopped and stared at the woods in the distance. “If we just eat wild vegetables and insects, we’ll turn into green, humanoid plants sooner or later.”
Nana looked at him calmly: "Our nutritional intake is indeed too limited. We have a protein deficiency of about 42 grams per day."
“That’s it.” He slapped his thigh. “We need to go hunting.”
He said it so casually, as if it were just a matter of deciding to add a fried egg to dinner. But after the words left his mouth, he paused for a moment, as if startled by his own courage.
"I mean... small animals," he quickly added, "like rabbits. We don't touch tigers or leopards; we don't do extreme challenges."
Nana didn't respond immediately, but instead pulled up a terrain scan map. "The creatures around the base are mainly small rodents and reptiles, with an average weight of 0.3 to 1.2 kilograms. Their running speed ranges from 3.1 to 6.8 meters per second."
"Isn't that perfect?" Chen Hao puffed out his chest. "I may not be able to outrun Bolt, but I can at least catch a little mouse, right?"
“Your maximum instantaneous speed is 5.8 kilometers per hour,” Nana reported, “which is equivalent to 1.6 meters per second.”
The air fell silent for a moment.
Chen Hao's smile slowly froze.
"Wait...you mean, I'm not even as fast as a mouse?"
"correct."
He looked down at the stone axe in his hand, then at his own legs. His chubby calves were encased in worn-out trousers, and when he bent his knees, two folds of flesh would appear.
"So I'm not a hunter, but a mobile bait," he muttered. "Even the hares are happy to see me: today's diet has been upgraded, and I've been given a live meal with my own layer of fat."
Nana neither laughed nor refuted; she simply stood quietly.
Chen Hao sat back down on the wooden stool, placed the stone axe on his knees, and unconsciously rubbed the rough blade with his fingers.
“I always thought that with the right tools, I could go up the mountain and hunt tigers.” He lowered his voice. “But I found that while I had the tools, I was still the same useless person.”
He paused for a few seconds, then chuckled self-deprecatingly: "Back in school, I didn't care about getting zero on tests, I just coasted along. But now in this godforsaken place, if I can't even catch a rabbit, I don't even have the right to coast anymore?"
Nana's optical lens flickered slightly: "Hunting is not simply about speed or strength. Concealment, anticipation, and environmental utilization account for more than 68%. Just because you don't have relevant experience now doesn't mean you can't learn."
"So you mean I have to start by learning 'how to crouch in the bushes'?"
"It is recommended to prioritize simulation training and assess reaction time and coordination before moving on to the actual combat phase."
Chen Hao looked up at the sky. The sun was already setting, and the light slanted across the open ground, making his sitting shadow look short and stout.
“When I was a kid, I was most afraid of tests in PE class,” he suddenly said. “Every time we ran the 800 meters, I was the last one to enter the classroom. The teacher asked me if I was sick, and I said no, I just didn’t want to run.”
He looked down at the stone axe and tapped the handle lightly: "But things are different now. If I don't eat meat, I'll get fatter. The fatter I get, the slower I can run. The slower I can run, the less I can catch food. It's a vicious cycle."
Nana paused for a moment: "Your current body fat percentage is 31.7%, which is indeed not conducive to high-intensity activities. However, through phased training, you can improve your basic endurance within three weeks."
"Three weeks?" He smiled wryly. "I'm afraid I can't even last three hours."
"The first phase of training can be limited to fifteen minutes per day, and includes initiation reaction, grip strength maintenance, and target tracking."
Chen Hao stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly asked, "Do you think I'm useless? I've gathered all the materials, but I don't even dare to take the first step."
“I don’t have a judgment function,” Nana replied. “But I recorded that you completed the collection of sixteen new materials, the optimization of three tool configurations, and the integration of cross-species resources in the past seventy-two hours. These actions do not meet the definition of ‘waste’.”
Chen Hao paused for a moment, then laughed out loud: "You really know how to comfort people."
"I'm just stating the facts."
He took a deep breath, stood up, and held the stone axe up to his eyes as if making a vow.
“Okay, I won’t chase the rabbit,” he said. “I’ll practice first.”
He walked to the center of the open space and assumed what he considered a professional hunting stance: half-crouched, one hand outstretched, the other holding a stone axe high, his eyes fierce.
“Let’s say there’s a rabbit in front of me,” he whispered. “I sneak up… get closer… and then—pounce!”
He leaped forward suddenly, but the movement was too large, and he lost his footing and fell flat on his side.
"Ouch, my back!" he groaned as he lay on the ground. "This move is called 'Hunter Turns into a Rolling Gourd'."
Nana walked over and used her robotic arm to help him up. "I suggest reducing the range of motion of your jumps to avoid hip sprains."
"I feel like I'm already injured." He rubbed his buttocks. "If I were to write a 'Survival Diary on a Deserted Planet,' what would this chapter be titled? 'How a Fat Man Loses His Dignity'?"
"It can be named: "First Simulated Hunting Attempt, Incomplete".
"Thanks, it's even worse now."
He dusted himself off, stood up straight again, and this time he didn't make any exaggerated movements. Instead, he stood still, gripped the stone axe tightly with both hands, and made a basic chopping posture.
“Come on,” he said, “teach me how to chop without falling.”
Nana nodded, and the optical lens flashed blue light, beginning to generate the training path.
"First item: Break down the axe-swinging motion while stationary. Pay attention to weight transfer and avoid leaning forward excessively."
Chen Hao did as instructed, his movements slow and cautious.
One, two, and by the third, my arms had started to tremble.
"Only three times..." he panted, "Ancient hunters had to chase for more than ten kilometers a day, how did they survive?"
“Throughout human evolution, most hunting has relied on teamwork and persistent tracking,” Nana said. “You don’t need to do all the steps by yourself.”
“But it’s just the two of us here.” He wiped his sweat. “You can’t personally take action, or I’ll have to yell, ‘Help! The robots are rebelling!’”
"I can be legally classified as an assistive device."
"That's alright." He grinned and continued practicing.
As the sun gradually set, the shadows on the open ground grew longer and longer. Chen Hao's movements were still clumsy, but at least he no longer fell.
When he stopped to rest, he looked at the distant woods and said softly, "Do you think... I can really catch something?"
Nana looked at him, the blue light flickering steadily.
“The success rate cannot be calculated precisely at the moment,” she said, “but what is known is that you never truly give up trying.”
Chen Hao smiled but didn't say anything.
He looked down at the stone axe in his hand, his knuckles turning white from holding it for so long. He loosened his grip, then tightened it again, several times, as if confirming its presence.
Then he lifted his foot and took a step forward.
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