Chen Hao raised his right foot and took a step forward.
Before he could even land properly, his arm suddenly felt like it was on fire; his entire right arm, from shoulder to fingertips, was on fire. He swayed, and his knee hit the ground.
Nana turned around and supported him. The moment her hand touched his forehead, a flash of blue light appeared in her eyes.
"The temperature is 39.8 degrees Celsius," she said. "The infection is spreading and must be dealt with immediately."
Susan threw her backpack to the ground and squatted down to remove the gauze from his arm. The area around the wound had turned purple, with an unnatural bright red edge, and steam rose from it at the slightest touch.
"Oh no!" She looked up at Nana. "This thing is on fire."
“I know.” Nana traced a few lines in the air with her fingers, as if she were bringing up something. “The database recommends prioritizing physical cooling methods, with medication as a secondary option. We don’t have enough fever reducers.”
"Then stop talking nonsense." Susan tore open the hem of her clothes and poured half a cup of condensed water into the kettle. "Apply it to your neck and armpits first. Can you disassemble some parts to dissipate heat?"
Nana nodded, and the robotic arm clicked a few times as the outer protective plate automatically popped open. She pulled out a piece of metal with fine texture on its surface, and placed it on the back of Chen Hao's neck, where it immediately began to absorb heat.
"It can maintain efficient heat conduction for fifteen minutes," she said. "After that, it needs to be recalibrated."
Chen Hao snorted, tilted his head to the side, and slumped down.
"Don't sleep." Susan patted his face. "If you fall asleep now, you might never open your eyes again."
His eyelids twitched, but he didn't wake up. His breathing became deep and heavy, and his chest heaved violently.
"Stretcher," Nana said. "He can't walk."
Susan opened her backpack, pulled out two support frames, and together with Nana, they assembled a makeshift platform. As they dragged Chen Hao onto it, he grunted and his fingers twitched, as if trying to grab something.
"Bear with it," Susan whispered. "Just hang in there a little longer."
Nana walked in front, the robotic arm pulling the stretcher ropes, her steps steady. Susan supported Chen Hao's back from behind, preventing him from slipping. The three of them moved extremely slowly, each step requiring great effort.
By the time we reached the flat section of the riverbed, it was already getting dark. The wind blew, carrying sand that stung our faces.
Chen Hao suddenly opened his eyes, his voice hoarse beyond belief: "Am I about to die?"
"You're far from dead." Susan grabbed his wrist. "If you died now, who would wash the dishes?"
"I've never washed it." He grinned, then closed his eyes again. "And I never will."
"Then you can wait until it stinks." Susan shoved the water bottle into his hand. "Hold it tight, I won't pick it up if it falls."
They continued forward. Nana's eyes remained bright, scanning the ground ahead. Her system indicated that she had only 43% energy remaining, but she didn't say anything. Talking would be a distraction; this wasn't the time to be distracted.
The base's corrugated iron roof finally came into view. The collapsed bunker was still in place, and the markings on it were still there.
"We're here," Nana said. "Four hundred meters to go."
Susan gasped for breath: "Can you hold on?"
“Yes,” Nana replied, “as long as he doesn’t stop.”
They crossed the last stretch of wasteland and pushed open the base door. Inside, it was the same as always: a few broken tables, a bed, and old tools piled in the corner. The refrigerated compartment was ajar, and a thin layer of frost had formed inside.
Nana lifted Chen Hao onto the bed and immediately began disassembling the heat dissipation module of the robotic arm and securing it to his sides. Susan rummaged through the medical kit; only half a tube of fever reducer remained, and a little disinfectant was left.
“Not enough,” she said. “It can only suppress it temporarily, not at its root.”
“Use herbs.” Nana pointed to several cloth bags in the cabinet. “Of the ones you collected before, three have antibacterial properties. I can mix them into a paste for external application, along with cold compresses to lower core body temperature.”
You know how to do this?
“I’ll do the research,” she said, “and then I’ll do it.”
Susan didn't ask any more questions and turned to get some water. She poured the condensed water into a basin, added some salt, and used a cloth to wipe his entire body. Nana was mixing ointment beside her, her movements precise, like assembling parts.
When the medicine was applied, Chen Hao jerked violently and let out a muffled groan.
"Bear with it." Susan pressed down on his shoulder. "This is to save your life, not to give you a massage."
He didn't say anything, he just gritted his teeth, his forehead covered in sweat.
Nana changed the cold compress, changing it every ten minutes. Her eyes remained bright, recording changes in heart rate, breathing, and body temperature.
“White blood cell count is still rising,” she said, “but at a slower rate.”
“That’s why it works.” Susan sat on the edge of the bed, holding a rattan cane in her hand. “If he moves around, I’ll tie him up.”
"I suggest binding it lightly," Nana said, "to avoid obstructing blood circulation."
“I know how to do it.” Susan wrapped the rattan around his wrist, not tightly, but enough to restrict his movements. “Don’t worry, I won’t treat him like a prisoner.”
Chen Hao mumbled something, but it was unclear.
Susan leaned closer and asked, "What did you say?"
His lips moved: "I want to eat stir-fried cabbage... hot..."
“We’ll talk about it when you’re alive.” Susan sat back down. “Right now, you don’t even deserve to eat pickles.”
Nana glanced at her: "The probability of him hallucinating is 67 percent, and the duration is expected to be no more than two hours."
“I’ll listen then,” Susan said, leaning against the wall. “Anyway, I have nothing else to do.”
The wind outside grew stronger, rattling the corrugated iron walls. Only one light was on, casting a dim, yellowish glow on the three of them. Nana stood by the bed, her robotic arm slightly warm, the heat sink nearing its limit.
“The cooling system needs to be restarted,” she said. “It will take five minutes.”
“Go ahead,” Susan said, taking over the monitoring task. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Nana went to the corner, removed the back panel, and manually cleaned the dust from the vents. Her movements were practiced, but slower than usual. The lack of power made every movement more strenuous.
She returned five minutes later, her eyes brightening again.
"The system is back to normal," she said. "We can continue to cool it down."
Susan nodded: "He just called out 'Mom'."
“Emotional rambling,” Nana said. “A normal reaction.”
"Don't you think he's pretty pitiful?"
“I think he’s lucky,” Nana said, looking at Chen Hao. “Two of his companions didn’t abandon him.”
Susan didn't reply, but simply reached out to check the temperature of his forehead. It was still very hot, but a little better than before.
"Just a few more hours," she said. "We can take over when it gets light."
Nana returned to her spot and set the alarm to sound if her body temperature exceeded 40 degrees Celsius. She turned the infrared vision to its highest sensitivity and stared at the numbers flashing on the screen.
Susan took a small pot out of the cupboard, added water, and put in a few dried leaves.
"Nutritional liquid food," she said. "We'll have to feed him when he's a little more awake."
"When did you learn all this?" Nana asked.
“I started cooking three years ago.” Susan stirred the pot. “When you’re living alone, you have to learn to take care of yourself.”
"I'm not alone anymore."
"Hmm." She looked down at the fire. "Now there are two more problems."
The water in the pot began to bubble, and a faint bitter smell wafted out. Nana changed the cooling compress and replaced it with a new heat sink. Chen Hao snorted and twitched his fingers.
"Is he waking up?" Susan put down her spoon.
“The fluctuations in consciousness are increasing.” Nana stared at the data, “but we are still in the danger zone.”
Chen Hao opened his eyes a crack, looked at the ceiling, and then at them.
"Why are you two... guarding me?"
"We'll divide the inheritance when you die." Susan scooped up a spoonful of soup. "Open your mouth."
He didn't move.
“I’m serious.” He said softly, “If I don’t make it, you can have everything. Nana can take the parts, and Susan can take the food.”
“If you keep talking nonsense,” Susan slammed her spoon against the side of the pot, “I’ll cut your tongue out.”
He smiled and closed his eyes.
"Actually... I still want to live."
"Then stop talking nonsense." Nana pressed the cold compress back onto his neck. "Just stay alive."
Susan fed him half a spoonful of soup, and he choked and coughed a few times.
"It tastes awful," he said.
"You have to drink it even if it tastes bad." Susan forced it down her throat. "If you want to die, spit it out; if you don't want to die, swallow it."
He swallowed his anger, his face contorted in pain.
"You two... are a perfect match."
"Shut up," they both said at the same time.
Nana continued monitoring the data, while Susan continued cooking the soup. The wind outside hadn't stopped, and the light flickered briefly but didn't go out.
Nana's robotic arm emitted a slight hum as the cooling system restarted.
Susan glanced at the time: "Two hours have passed."
"It's time to change shifts," Nana said. "You go and rest, I'll keep watch for the second half of the night."
"I'm not tired."
“Your breathing rate has dropped by 18 percent, and your muscles are trembling more than three times.” Nana looked at her. “You’ve been holding on for sixteen hours.”
Susan didn't argue; she simply stood up and tightened the rattan ropes a little more.
"Call me louder."
“I can tap the tube.” Nana stood by the bed. “Two taps are for shift change, three taps are for emergency.”
Susan walked to a chair in the corner and sat down, pulling a piece of clothing over her legs. She didn't take off her shoes, and her hand was still on the hilt of the knife.
"If he tries to run away in the middle of the night, call me."
“He can’t run,” Nana said, “but he might talk nonsense.”
“Then let him talk.” Susan closed her eyes. “I’m not afraid to listen.”
The room fell silent. Only the sounds of the machine running, the kettle bubbling, and Chen Hao's occasional humming could be heard.
Nana stared at the screen; her temperature had dropped to 39.3 degrees Celsius and was still slowly decreasing.
She lowered the alert threshold to ensure she could react before things worsened.
Susan shifted in her chair, tilting her head to one side. She wasn't fast asleep, but she had let her guard down.
Nana glanced at it but didn't say anything.
She knew how long it had been since Susan had truly rested.
The wind outside picked up, making the door creak.
Nana went over and used a piece of wood to prop the door shut.
Back at the bedside, she noticed that Chen Hao's fingers were moving again.
She reached out her hand, but he grabbed it.
"Don't go." His eyes were closed, and his voice was very soft. "Don't leave me..."
Nana couldn't break free.
She let him hold her until her breathing returned to normal.
She looked down at the hand; it was chubby, short, and there was dirt under its fingernails.
But this hand had once helped her dig parts out of the rubble, and had patted her on the shoulder when her system crashed.
“I’m not leaving,” she said. “I’m here.”
Susan rolled over in her chair, muttering something unintelligible.
Nana stood by the bed, her eyes shining.
The heatsink started getting hot again.
She was going to take it apart and clean it.
Just as she raised her hand, Chen Hao grabbed her other hand.
This time he opened his eyes.
"You...you really won't leave?"
Nana looked at him.
"If you keep nagging like this, I might really leave."
He grimaced, then fainted again.
Nana gently withdrew her hand and began to disassemble the heat sink.
The moment the screw was unscrewed, the metal piece fell to the ground with a crisp sound.
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