The loose thread was still stuck in the crack of the door. Chen Hao glanced down at it, then casually rolled it back in with the toe of his shoe. He straightened up and turned to face the inside of the restaurant.
The LED strip lights were on, balloons floated in the corner, and a guitar leaned against the shelf. Everything was the same, yet it felt different.
Footsteps came from the corridor, initially light, as if tentative, then becoming more frequent. Voices spoke, not loud, but one after another. Chen Hao stood still, his ears perked up.
"It's really going to happen?"
"I looked at the poster for three days, thinking it was a prank."
"Is the sachet real? Or is it just a picture to fool people?"
A group of people walked in one after another, standing at the entrance and looking around the venue. Some looked up at the vine-like LED strips, some reached out and poked the balloons, and some went straight to the prize table, bending down to look at the inscription on the base of the wooden rabbit sculpture.
Chen Hao cleared his throat and took two steps forward.
Nobody noticed him.
He coughed again, this time a bit louder.
"You're here," he said. "You can sit anywhere, just don't stand in the doorway blocking your way."
Several people turned around, saw it was him, and laughed. A young technician pointed at him: "You, the host, don't even wear proper clothes?"
Chen Hao looked down at himself—his short-sleeved t-shirt was printed with crooked robot graffiti, his pants were worn white at the knees, and his slippers were missing a buckle.
"Do I have to dress like I'm going on a blind date for a formal event?" He shrugged. "I'm not here for a beauty pageant."
The crowd burst into laughter, and the atmosphere eased a bit. People started moving inside, finding seats. Some carried chairs, while others simply sat cross-legged on the floor. Several familiar faces huddled together, whispering about whether they should team up to play board games later.
Nana stood at the edge of the performance area, the camera panning across the crowd, the data stream updating rapidly inside. She didn't speak, but simply moved half a step behind Chen Hao, maintaining that familiar distance.
Chen Hao took a deep breath and clapped his hands three times.
"Quiet down! Although I know you weren't that noisy."
Laughter broke out again.
"Thank you all for coming." He grinned. "I know some of you came for the sachets, some to see if my guitar playing will crack, and some are just bored after get off work and want to find a place to enjoy the air conditioning. No problem, feel free to cool off."
More people laughed, even Old Li, who had been silent in the corner, looked up.
"There aren't many activities today, just three things." Chen Hao held up his finger. "First, Nana and I are going to play a duet of 'The Base Song.' This is the result of a week of practice. Even if it doesn't sound good, don't shush me. After all, she won't be angry, but I will."
Nana stood to the side, her mechanical joints slightly adjusting her posture, and did not refute.
"Secondly, the board game cards are open for trial." Chen Hao pointed to the game area, "Three people form a team to compete against random events, and the winner gets a prize. The rules are much simpler than when we played the trial, and there is a countdown reminder for the results, so no one will complain about the slow pace anymore."
Someone raised their hand: "Can we switch partners? Last time I was paired with Xiao Wang, he would hesitate for five minutes over drawing a card."
“We can switch!” Chen Hao nodded. “Each game is ten minutes long. If we lose, we’ll regroup immediately. Whoever is the worst will be kicked out. It’s fair competition.”
The crowd applauded.
"Thirdly," he paused, "it's just about sitting anywhere and chatting casually. This isn't a mission or an assessment; it's just about making a bit of noise to liven up this place at night."
After he finished speaking, he looked around. The crowd, which had been somewhat reserved at first, had now begun to whisper among themselves. Some asked if they could choose the prizes, while others discussed whether they should invite their dorm buddies.
Chen Hao felt the tension in his shoulders gradually ease.
He turned to look at Nana.
She nodded slightly, and the camera lens emitted a pale blue light.
"Well..." Chen Hao wiped the sweat from the back of his neck, "Shall we begin the music now?"
No one objected.
He walked over and picked up the guitar, his fingers trembling slightly as he touched the strings. The resin-repaired crack on the guitar body was particularly noticeable under the light.
He lowered his head to adjust the volume, his movements slow, as if he were stalling for time. In reality, he was waiting for his heartbeat to calm down.
Nana walked onto the stage and stood to his right. Her speaker was already connected to the sound system, ready to output synchronously at any time.
"Ready?" Chen Hao asked in a low voice.
“The audio channel has been calibrated,” Nana said. “Beat guidance can be enabled.”
“Don’t turn it on.” He shook his head. “If I rely on the machine to set the pace, the people below will know I’m panicking as soon as they hear it.”
He plucked the bass string one last time to check the pitch.
Then he raised his right hand and struck the body of the instrument, making a "thump" sound.
Everyone quieted down.
The first chord of the intro is simple and clean. It's a short loop in C major, G major, a modified version of the melody that's played on the radio every morning at the base.
Chen Hao's hands gradually steadied. He played and sang softly, his voice not particularly pleasant, but clear enough.
Nana's electronic voice then joined in, smoothly supporting the chorus. Her voice was flat, yet strangely reassuring.
When the second verse came on, someone started humming along.
First, it was a female technician in the back row, then Old Li sitting in the middle, and then almost half of the people were whispering along.
The light from the mineral lamp flickered rhythmically, and the ribbons swayed gently in the air conditioning. The balloons wobbled and bumped together, making a soft rubbing sound.
As soon as the song ended, applause erupted.
It wasn't just polite talk; it was real. Some people slammed their fists on the table, some stomped their feet, and others shouted, "One more verse!"
Chen Hao put down his guitar, his forehead covered in sweat. He grinned, took a breath, and finally felt a weight lifted from his shoulders.
"How was it?" he asked the people in the front row with a smile, "Did it meet the standard of 'not so bad that you have to cover your ears'?"
"It's better than I expected," the man said. "At least I didn't cry."
"Then I've achieved my goal for tonight."
He wiped his face and turned to Nana: "Your turn next."
"Four team rosters have been generated," Nana announced, her voice carrying throughout the venue through the speakers. "Matching is based on skill complementarity and historical collaboration frequency to avoid extreme combinations."
"Let me translate," Chen Hao said to the audience. "It means we can't let the strongest players gather together, nor can we let all the newbies get together."
The crowd stirred; some were anxious to find teammates, while others complained that the group assignments were too strict.
"Don't rush." Chen Hao raised his hand. "Listen to the rules first. Each team has three people, and each person starts with five beans. You draw cards to determine resources, and dice trigger events. Here's the important part—a negative card can only trigger once, and it can be canceled by abandoning an action. No one will draw three times in a row and be completely ruined."
A chorus of "Oh—" erupted from below, clearly indicating that many people remembered the disastrous experience of the last trial.
"The conditions for winning are simple," he continued. "Accumulate the most resource points within ten rounds, or complete the designated cooperative task. Each member of the winning team can choose a prize to take home."
"Can they be swapped?" someone asked.
"No." Chen Hao said firmly, "Whoever wins gets it. No trading afterwards is allowed to prevent situations like 'I'll help you win, and you give me the rabbit.'"
The crowd laughed and cursed.
"Also," he added, "you can apply for a reshuffle midway through the season, but each team is limited to one per day. Don't try to boost your score by changing players; the system remembers."
Nana then projected the group list onto the wall, with the four group numbers listed in order and the members' names scrolling across the screen.
"First group, please take your seats on the left side of the game area," she said. "Initial cards will be distributed in thirty seconds."
People began to move. Some patted teammates on the shoulder, others confirmed their roles with each other. A young team member asked, "Should we focus on resources or defend against a crisis?"
"Let's survive the first three rounds first," his companion said.
Chen Hao stood still, watching the crowd move by. He had thought he would be nervous, but now he only felt relaxed.
It turns out that there really are people willing to come.
I'm not just here to watch the fun; I genuinely want to participate.
He turned to look at Nana.
"Do you remember what I said?" he suddenly asked.
“You’ve said a lot,” Nana replied. “Did you mean ‘it’s enough if someone just sits down and plays for a while’?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “Now they’re not just sitting down, they’re scrambling to team up.”
“The current participation index has risen to 7.8,” Nana said, “which meets the threshold for initiating a small social event.”
"So, we didn't work for nothing?"
"The data shows that the input-output ratio is positive."
"Hey, the way you're talking sounds like a financial report."
As he was speaking, he suddenly heard someone shout from behind.
"Chen Hao! Could you add a spectator slot to your game? We'd like to try it next week!"
He turned around and saw two unfamiliar faces standing at the door; they must be the maintenance team who had just finished their shift.
“Of course,” he replied immediately. “Next time, we’ll open the spectator seats and allow the audience to vote on whether or not a team should draw a crisis card.”
"Then we'll remember that!"
He smiled and nodded, already planning the new rules in his mind.
Nana took a step closer and whispered, "The first group is in position, waiting to receive their cards."
"Okay." Chen Hao collected his thoughts. "Let's begin."
He gave the entire room one last look.
The lights were on, voices were heard, and the first card on the table was turned over.
Nana pressed the start button.
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