The screw made a crisp sound as it fell to the ground.
Chen Hao was still holding Nana's other hand, and his eyes were open. His gaze was a little unfocused, but this time he didn't immediately faint. He looked at her, his lips moving slightly: "You...you really didn't leave?"
Nana looked down at the hand. It was dirty, trembling slightly, but gripping tightly. She said, "If you keep asking this question, I might consider leaving."
He grinned, as if he were smiling, then closed his eyes again. His hand slowly loosened and slid down.
Nana didn't move, waiting a few seconds before withdrawing her arm. The heatsink was no longer usable, so she squatted down, picked up the piece of metal, and went to the workbench in the corner to begin cleaning. Her movements were slower than before, and the energy indicator jumped to 42%. The system suggested entering power-saving mode, but she didn't.
Susan sat up in her chair and rubbed her face. She hadn't slept long, but at least she was more awake. She went over to look at Chen Hao; his breathing was steady enough, and his forehead was still hot, but not as frightening as before.
“It’s my turn,” she said. “You go charge your phone for a bit.”
Nana didn't turn around: "I can't stop now. My temperature hasn't dropped to a safe level yet."
"So you're planning to burn yourself out?" Susan reached out and handed her the pot. "Drink some water first, or you won't even be able to speak later."
Nana took the kettle, and after the mechanical interface connected, the power supply began. This process took ten minutes, and she stood still.
Susan sat on the edge of the bed and picked up a damp cloth to wipe his face again. Chen Hao frowned and mumbled something. She couldn't hear him, so she leaned closer.
"...Stir-fried cabbage...hot..."
"You're still thinking about eating?" She wrung out the cloth and pressed it against his neck. "We'll talk about it when you can stand up on your own."
“I’m serious…” His eyes were closed, and his voice sounded like it was being squeezed out of his nose, “I want to live… and I want to have a good meal.”
Susan paused for a moment. She didn't say anything, but simply changed the cloth and continued wiping.
Nana finished charging her water bottle and handed it back. She walked back and glanced at the monitor: 39.1 degrees Celsius, heart rate slightly fast but regular.
“The cooling effect is effective,” she said, “but the source of infection is still there, and continued treatment is needed.”
“Then let’s continue.” Susan took the ointment over. “You do your machine, I’ll feed him.”
They didn't discuss it, but the division of labor was naturally decided. Nana was in charge of monitoring and cooling, while Susan was in charge of feeding the medicine and wiping him down. Once, Chen Hao suddenly twitched, raising his arm and waving it wildly. Susan immediately pressed down on his shoulder, her strength unlike that of a thin woman.
“Stop messing around,” she said. “If you move again, I’ll tie you up.”
Chen Hao snorted and didn't move again.
He woke up once just before dawn. This time he was more conscious and could recognize people. He looked at the ceiling and said, "This base of ours... is really dilapidated."
"You think everyone's as lazy as you?" Susan scooped up a spoonful of soup. "Open your mouth."
He obediently opened his mouth, swallowed, and then frowned, saying, "It's bitter."
"You complain about gaining weight if I add sugar, you complain about the saltiness if I add salt, and you complain about the bitterness of medicine." She sneered, "Do you expect me to blow on it to cool it down before feeding you?"
"You can give it a try," he said timidly.
Nana, who was adjusting the cooling parameters nearby, casually added, "I suggest not. When she blows, she might produce saliva droplets that could contaminate the medicine."
Susan glared at her: "Shut up."
Chen Hao laughed out loud, but choked and coughed a few times. The cough aggravated his wound, and his face scrunched up. He wanted to touch it but dared not.
"Does it hurt?" Susan asked.
"Nonsense," he said. "Would I pretend if it didn't hurt?"
"Then you'll have to bear with it." She put down the bowl. "We both stayed up all night, and you're just putting on an act here."
“I’m not acting.” His voice lowered. “I really feel… that you guys didn’t abandon me… that’s great.”
The room was silent for a few seconds.
Susan didn't reply, and instead stirred her soup. Nana stared at the screen, the data stream flashing past her eyes.
“If you die,” Susan suddenly said, “who will fix my water purifier?”
"Don't you know how?"
“I can dismantle, but I can’t assemble.” She looked up. “If you die, all I’ll be left to drink is mud.”
"Then I won't die." He closed his eyes. "I have to stay alive to fix your things."
Nana adjusted the position of the heat dissipation module and applied a new cooling patch. She glanced at the time: 4:17 AM.
"If the body temperature stabilizes below 38 degrees Celsius in two hours, it can be determined that the high fever has subsided," she said. "But you still need to rest in bed for at least three days."
"Three days?" Chen Hao opened his eyes. "I can't lie here any longer."
"Do you want to think this through?" Susan sneered. "You can't even sit up right now."
"I'll try." He braced himself on the bed and tried to lift himself up, but he groaned as soon as he tried and slid back down.
"Alright," Susan said, pressing him down. "Behave yourself."
The wind outside had died down, and the corrugated iron wall stopped rattling. The light was still on, casting a yellowish glow that made the shadows inside the room distort.
Nana's robotic arm emitted a slight hum as the cooling system activated again. She checked the wiring to confirm there was no risk of overload.
Susan got up and went to the kitchen to boil water again. The bottom of the pot was a little burnt, so she scraped it off and added fresh water and herb slices. The flames licked at the bottom of the pot, crackling and popping.
"Go get some sleep," she said, her back to her. "I'll keep watch."
“You didn’t sleep all night either?” Nana stood by the bed. “Your reaction speed has dropped by 15 percent.”
“I know myself.” Susan stirred the water. “Go charge your battery for a while, otherwise no one will pick up the parts if they fall on the ground.”
Nana didn't move.
“I’m serious.” Susan turned her head. “If you collapse, who will cool him down? You’re not human, but right now you’re more important than anyone else.”
Nana paused for a few seconds, then nodded. She walked to the corner, opened the back panel, and began manually cleaning the ventilation vents. Her movements were more practiced than last night, but still slow.
Susan watched her finish her work and confirmed that the system had restarted normally before returning to the kitchen to continue tending the fire.
Chen Hao rolled over in bed, facing this way. He looked at Susan's back and said softly, "You... you also went through this alone before?"
She didn't turn around: "It started three years ago."
"Nobody's helping you?"
“The people who helped me are all dead,” she said calmly. “So I don’t want to see anyone die anymore.”
"So that's why you stayed?"
"Stop trying to glorify yourself." She picked up the pot. "I just don't want to wash another corpse."
Chen Hao didn't ask any more questions. He closed his eyes, and his breathing gradually calmed down.
As dawn approached, the temperature inside the room suddenly dropped. The insulation system had malfunctioned, and a thin layer of frost had formed in the corners. Chen Hao began to shiver, his teeth chattering.
Nana immediately noticed the problem. She removed part of the outer casing and moved the internal thermostat module to the side of the bed, creating a small warm area. The heat was limited, only covering half the bed.
Susan pulled out a piece of animal hide, skinned from a small animal she had hunted before, which she had never used. She covered Chen Hao with it, pressing down the edges.
“Is that enough?” she asked.
“Local temperatures are rising,” Nana said, “but the overall environment is still deteriorating.”
"That'll have to do." Susan rubbed her hands together. "It's better than freezing to death."
Half-asleep, Chen Hao mumbled, "Don't we look like a family?"
Susan snorted: "A family that's dirt poor."
Nana, however, said, "We are already symbionts."
Morning light streamed through the window cracks, falling on the three people's faces. Chen Hao's breathing finally stabilized, and the thermometer showed 37.8 degrees Celsius, still dropping.
Susan sat down against the wall, still holding a spoon in her hand. Her eyelids were drooping, but she wasn't asleep.
Nana stood by the bed, her eyes shining, continuously monitoring. Her energy had recovered to 51%, and the system was functioning normally.
Chen Hao moved again, reaching out his hand as if searching for something. Nana looked down at him, wondering who he was going to grab this time.
But he simply placed his hand on the animal hide and gently scratched it.
“This skin… is quite soft,” he said.
"Keep it if you like," Susan said, closing her eyes. "I don't need it anyway."
"Thank you then." He said softly, "And thank you... for not leaving."
Susan didn't open her eyes, but her lips twitched slightly.
Nana recorded the latest data and set the alarm threshold. She turned to turn off the light on the workbench and casually put the old heat sink into the drawer.
The water in the pot started bubbling again, and steam rose upwards.
Susan stood up to serve the soup.
Nana walked back to the bedside and found Chen Hao looking at her.
"Do you have any other questions?" she asked.
"Don't you have anything you want to ask me?" his voice was hoarse. "Like... why do I have to live?"
Nana looked at him.
“I don’t want to die,” he said, “but I don’t want to die alone.”
Susan walked over with her bowl and heard the last sentence.
She handed him the bowl: "Drink the soup first, and we'll talk about things after you've figured things out."
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