The flashlight beam shone on the muddy water. Chen Hao looked down at the tiny, reflective specks at his feet, like silver dust seeping from the ground. He didn't stop, stepping into a puddle. Mud splashed onto his trousers, making him shiver from the cold.
The pump room door was ajar, rust spreading from the latch to the edge of the door frame. He pushed it, and the hinges creaked dryly. Inside, the deep well pump sat askew in the corner, its inlet pipe tangled with a clump of dark, fibrous material that felt slippery to the touch and had a metallic smell.
"It's clogged as expected." He muttered, squatting down to remove the outer casing. "I just changed the filter yesterday, and it's already ruined today. This water is even muddier than swill."
Nana's voice came through the earpiece: "Silver complex and humic acid polymers were detected in the suspended particles. We recommend wearing protective gloves during operation."
"Why wear something? My hands are already marinated in salt." He said while tightening screws. "Besides, didn't you say I have thick skin and that heavy metals wouldn't bother to poison me?"
"That's an estimate based on a liver and kidney metabolism model, not an encouragement for active intake."
"Okay, okay, you're talking like a doctor." He threw the last nut into the toolbox, picked up the water pump rotor, and said, "When I really get bedridden one day, remember to bury me somewhere far away, so as not to pollute your future ecological park's vegetable garden."
He looked up as he finished speaking. The rain started again, light but continuous, flowing down the hillside. Streams of water carved grooves into the slope, washing away the topsoil. Several cabbage seedlings that were growing well yesterday had been washed to the bottom of the gullies, their leaves soaking in the mud.
He stared at the washed-out ridges of land and suddenly stopped moving.
"What?" Nana asked.
“We always plant on flat land, and it’s all ruined when the water comes.” He slowly stood up and wiped the rain from his face. “Water flows downhill, but we insist on planting in low-lying areas. Aren’t we going against the will of God?”
“The logic is sound,” Nana responded. “However, the existing planting areas are all on gentle slopes. If we want to change the layout, we need to redesign the load-bearing structure and irrigation routes.”
"We have to change this now." He wiped his dirty hands on his pants. "We need to move upmarket—build a scaffold, one layer isn't enough, so we'll have two, two layers aren't enough, so we'll have three! Let the vegetables climb higher and avoid the water!"
When he returned to the control room, his shoes left a trail of mud. Nana had already pulled up the topographic map; the 3D projection floated in the air, the mountain outlines colored in different shades to represent soil stability levels.
“If a tiered cantilever structure is used, anchored by the rock strata on the north side, it can support a planting platform with a maximum span of five meters.” She traced the projection with her fingertips. “Each layer is spaced 1.2 meters apart, with space reserved at the top for lighting.”
"It sounds like building blocks." He leaned closer to look. "Where are the materials? The alloy frame is too heavy, and the wood can't withstand a downpour."
“It can be reassembled by cutting and reworking discarded metal pipes.” Nana switched the screen to show a grid frame welded from old ventilation pipes, “filled with lightweight ceramsite matrix, which has drainage and ventilation functions.”
"Wow, turning trash into treasure, huh?" He grinned. "Then hurry up and draw up the blueprints, I'll go rummage through the warehouse."
Three hours later, the automated machinery team appeared on the hillside, dragging a pile of cut steel pipes. Welding sparks flashed incessantly under the dark clouds, each spark falling into the damp soil and extinguishing with a hiss. Chen Hao, wearing a raincoat, stood under the scaffold and directed: "Lift it another ten centimeters to the left! Yes, right there! Don't let the rainwater get stuck in the middle!"
When the first three-tiered frame was erected, it looked like a crooked iron tower. The bottom layer was covered with water-resistant water spinach and taro, the middle layer was tied with bean vines, and the top layer was left open, waiting for the installation of photovoltaic panels later.
"Is the irrigation system connected?" he asked.
“The water tank diversion valve is already connected,” Nana replied. “Each floor has an independent drip irrigation loop, which can automatically adjust the water volume according to the humidity.”
"Then let's give it a try."
She pressed the start button, and clean water sprayed down from the top-level CNC sprinkler head, flowing down the guide channel to the lower levels. The crops on each level were evenly wetted, and excess water was quickly drained into the pre-buried spiral trenches and flowed into the underground collection tank.
"The drainage speed is normal," Nana reported. "There is no water accumulation."
"Not bad." He patted the stand. "It's a bit ugly, but it works."
Before he could finish speaking, the weather warning went off.
"Heavy rainfall warning: expected to arrive within two hours and last for no less than six hours."
"Perfect timing." He tugged at his raincoat collar. "The new frame hasn't been tested for water yet, let's put it to the test now."
The rain started pounding down half an hour later, heavy and dense, making the metal racks clang. The wind also began to blow, and the treetops swayed as if they were about to snap. Chen Hao, wearing a raincoat, paced back and forth between the racks, his eyes fixed on the condition of each floor.
The top leaves were washed until they shone, and water dripped down the tips of the leaves in strings; the middle bean vines were firmly wrapped around the crossbar, not a single one loosened; the bottom water spinach was soaked in the moist substrate, with no water entering the roots and no mud splashing on them.
“The structure is stable.” Nana’s voice came through the headphone. “Stress monitoring shows that the maximum offset is less than seven percent of the design threshold.”
"That's good." He stood on the slope, watching the rainwater swirl into the ground along the diversion channel. "At least the work wasn't in vain."
Four hours later, the rain gradually subsided. He turned on his tablet, and the ecological monitoring system displayed a statistical report.
"Yield per unit area increased by 40%." Nana uploaded the data simultaneously. "Water resource recovery rate is 78%, which meets the expected target."
"Hey." He laughed, swiping his finger across the screen. "Turns out, growing vegetables can turn into something amazing."
He turned and walked towards the control room. As he passed the first set of automated shelves, he casually picked a green bean and took a bite. It was sweet with a hint of earthiness and quite crunchy.
“Build several more of these frames in the future,” he said. “Don’t leave that wasteland on Dongpo idle; set it all up.”
“The material inventory can only support the construction of three more sets,” Nana cautioned. “We will need to find alternative structural components later.”
“Let’s look for it.” He chewed on a green bean. “At worst, we can tear down the abandoned chicken coop; the wire mesh can even be used as a trellis.”
As soon as he entered the control room, he took off his raincoat and was about to sit down when a notification suddenly popped up on the screen: the humidity on the second floor of the B-zone 3D shelf was abnormally high.
"What's going on?" He leaned closer.
“A partial blockage has been detected.” Nana pulled up the internal view. “There is plant debris accumulating at the corner of the drainage channel, causing poor drainage.”
"It got clogged after just one use?" He frowned. "Who designed this blind spot?"
“It was my oversight,” she said. “The curvature of that bend should have been increased by fifteen percent.”
"Alright." He grabbed his toolbox. "Anyway, the rain hasn't completely stopped yet, I'll go unclog it."
When he stepped outside, the sky was still overcast, with intermittent drizzle. The iron frame on the hillside stood silently, and the water flowed slowly along the spiral groove, like an invisible river seeping into the ground.
He walked to the shelf in section B, squatted down, and shone his flashlight into the drainage channel. Sure enough, a clump of rotten leaves was stuck at the bend, with half a withered pumpkin leaf still hanging on it.
"That's all..." he muttered, reaching out to pick at it.
The moment my fingertip touched the clump of residue, a slight vibration suddenly came from the wall of the tank.
He paused for a moment.
It was neither wind nor rain.
It was more like... some kind of rhythmic pulse, transmitted up from the metal pipe wall.
He placed his hand on the iron frame support.
The vibration was still there, very slight, but continuous, as if something was moving slowly down the pipe.
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