Chen Hao felt as if he had stepped on ten nails; every movement sent shivers down his spine. He slumped in his chair, his eyelids too heavy to lift, but Nana's voice rang out at that very moment: "The soil moisture is suitable; the optimal fermentation window is forty-seven minutes remaining."
He didn't answer, but just pressed his head down on his arm, as if that would suffocate the string of numbers in the air.
“You promised to cooperate with the experiment,” she said again, her tone as calm as if she were reading a recipe.
"I only agreed because I was stunned by the beating," he muttered. "Can a promise made when someone is about to die be kept?"
Nana ignored his words, simply raising her hand. A slight click sounded from her metal knuckles as a miniature panel slid from her wrist, displaying a temperature curve and a countdown timer. Sunlight slanted across the panel, the reflection momentarily blinding Chen Hao.
He cursed, turned over and sat up. His shoe slipped, and the blister on his left foot rubbed against the ground, causing him to almost jump up in pain.
"Fine, fine, I'll do it! I'll do it, okay?" He gritted his teeth and dragged himself to the corner, pulling out a few earthenware jars. He had made those jars a couple of days ago with wet clay, and had rushed to use them after they were half-dry. The surfaces were still covered with fingerprints, crooked and twisted, looking like they had been scratched by a cat.
Nana walked over and squatted down to inspect. "Incomplete sintering, insufficient structural density, and poor thermal shock resistance." After reading it aloud, she looked up at him, "I suggest reducing the heating intensity."
"Then tell me how to make the fire obey you?" Chen Hao had already lit the small pile of firewood, but the flames were barely visible before being blown about by the wind. "If it wants to dance, can I stop it?"
Nana paused for two seconds, then turned around and moved a few flat stones, piling them into a semi-circular barrier around the pottery jar. The fire indeed became more stable.
The two poured the mashed fruit pulp and fish paste into a jar, which gurgled as they mixed, releasing a pungent, sweet and sour smell. Chen Hao frowned: "Is this stuff really drinkable? It doesn't look like the recipe for poison?"
“The microbial transformation process is controllable,” she said, “as long as the temperature is maintained between 28 and 32 degrees Celsius.”
"You make it sound as simple as boiling an egg," Chen Hao muttered while fanning himself. "But we don't even have a thermometer here, we're relying entirely on touch?"
As soon as she finished speaking, the sun shifted its position, and a beam of strong light shone through the awning that had been providing shade, landing directly on the side of one of the ceramic pots. Nana's optical eyes instantly caught the sharp rise in the temperature curve.
"Warning: Local temperatures have reached 35 degrees Celsius and are continuing to rise."
"Where? Where?" Chen Hao rushed over in a panic, poking at the fire with a branch. But his elbow bumped into the supporting wooden pole, and the entire sunshade collapsed. Sparks flew onto the dry grass, and the flames shot up with a "whoosh".
"Oh no, oh no!" He frantically tried to extinguish the fire, but his heel stepped into the ash, causing him to stumble and almost fall into the flames.
In that instant, the earthenware jar, which had been exposed to direct sunlight, suddenly "poofed" and sprayed out a large plume of colorful foam, a mixture of purplish-red and milky-white, like a champagne bottle that had been shaken during a festival, which directly covered Chen Hao's face.
He froze, reached up to wipe his eyes, and then subconsciously licked his fingers.
"...Sweet?" He paused for two seconds, then suddenly grinned. "It's got some kick! Is this really alcohol?"
Nana quickly scanned the foam's composition, data scrolling through her eyes. "Alcohol concentration 18.7%, sugar conversion complete, protein breakdown sufficient—fermentation successful."
"Ha!" Chen Hao slapped his thigh and stood up, forgetting the fire beneath his feet. He missed a step and his knee hit the ground, but he didn't care. "I actually made it? I thought it would at most turn into a pot of rotten soup!"
He grabbed the earthenware jar to celebrate, but as soon as he shook it, the jar made a faint "click" sound.
crack.
A thin line spread up from the bottom, and then purple liquid slowly seeped out along the crack, dripping onto the sand and disappearing in the blink of an eye.
"No!" Chen Hao quickly held it up, but another crack appeared on the other side, and the wine dripped down the side of the jar, like tears.
He frantically tried to plug the crack, but the moment his finger touched it, the crack widened, and the entire jar of wine was about to be ruined.
Nana crouched down, dipped her fingertip in the seeping liquid, and fed it into the built-in analysis module. "The container material's compressive strength is insufficient, and thermal expansion and contraction have caused structural failure." She paused, "I suggest replacing the storage medium or finding a constant-temperature environment."
"To put it bluntly, the jar was just too broken." Chen Hao stared at the dark stain on the sand, then suddenly laughed. "But... at least it proves we were drinking real liquor?"
Without waiting for a response, he leaned close to the jar and tilted his head back to gulp down the remaining liquid.
The next second, he choked and bent over, coughing until his face turned red and tears streamed down his face.
"Spicy! You call this alcohol? This is like pouring fire down your throat!" he coughed and cursed. "Who said 18 degrees is mild? This is liquid chili oil!"
Nana watched him quietly. The robotic arm recorded all the data, and its shell was still covered with unremoved foam, which was purplish in color, as if someone had splashed a strange-tasting drink on her face.
In the distance, the sand dunes at the edge of the camp remained quiet as ever, with the wind swirling a few withered leaves. Around them lay broken pottery jars, an extinguished fire, and scattered wooden sticks, and a slightly intoxicating, sour aroma filled the air.
Chen Hao plopped down on the ground, his pants covered in dust, and he clutched a piece of pottery shard in his hand, the edges of which were a little hot to the touch.
"Don't you think we're incredibly unlucky?" He caught his breath and looked up at the sky. "The thing we worked so hard to create has to be scrapped right after it was completed."
“Failure rate is a normal part of technological iteration,” Nana said.
"Couldn't you just say 'it's really tough'?" He rolled his eyes. "You have to make it sound like you can retake an exam if you fail one."
"My system does not support emotional expression."
"Then you might as well not say anything."
He looked down at the pottery shard in his palm and suddenly noticed a faint luster deep within the cracks, as if a thin film was reflecting light from within. He leaned closer to examine it, then scratched it with his fingernail, and powder fell off in a flurry.
"This mud...is something mixed in?" he muttered. "I remember when I was digging the soil that day, I think I dug up a shiny stone and smashed it and mixed it in."
Nana took the fragment and scanned it for a moment. "Trace amounts of silicate complex were detected, which has certain high-temperature resistance properties." She looked up and said, "I suggest adding this type of mineral in a targeted manner next time the can is made."
"You really plan to do it again?" Chen Hao smiled wryly. "I'm practically a kiln worker now."
"Current food reserves are still insufficient."
"So you have to risk your life to try it?" He pointed to the vanished wine stain on the ground. "Look, it's gone as soon as it was brewed, without even tasting the full flavor."
Nana didn't answer, but simply sealed the collected samples and continued monitoring environmental parameters. Her figure stood beside the embers, her metal joints gleaming slightly, like a machine that refused to stop.
Chen Hao lay back, his head propped up by a tattered cloth bag, staring blankly at the sky. The sun had begun to move westward, its rays no longer scorching, but the air still carried the smell of fermentation, sweet and sour, like some absurd declaration of victory.
He suddenly remembered something and sat up: "Wait, you said this wine increases the nutrient absorption rate by 37%?"
"This is the result of the data model deduction."
"So that means... even a sip is equivalent to two bites of fish paste?"
"Theoretically true."
Chen Hao's eyes lit up: "Then we've made a profit! It leaked, but at least we know how to fix it! Next time, we'll use a sturdier container, find a shady spot, and take our time—"
Before he could finish speaking, he suddenly noticed the area on the sand that had been soaked in the wine. It was a shade darker than the surrounding area, and... it seemed to be seeping downwards.
He reached out and scratched at the surface sand, discovering that the bottom was actually quite soft, as if it had been corroded by liquid, creating shallow pits.
"Huh?"
He dug through more sand, revealing a small patch of smooth, purplish-black rock that reflected a dim light.
“There’s… stone underneath? Something’s not right.” He tapped it, his voice muffled. “Hollow?”
Nana approached, her beam of light sweeping across the ground. "There is a cavity structure underground, about 1.6 meters deep, with an estimated diameter of over 3 meters." She paused, "The material is a natural karst rock layer, with the potential to maintain constant temperature and humidity."
Chen Hao's eyes widened: "You mean... there's a hole under our feet?"
"The probability is extremely high."
"And right here?" He pointed to the spot where the pottery jar had leaked, "where the wine leaked down?"
The probability of a coincidence is 12.3%.
"That's pretty weird." He grinned, all his fatigue gone. "Looks like this broken pot of ours isn't a failure, it's showing us the way!"
He stood up abruptly, brushed the dust off his trousers, bent down to pick up a wooden stick, and forcefully shoved it into the seeping pool.
The stick sank deeper and deeper until it hit the hard object at the bottom, making a dull "thud".
He looked up at Nana, his eyes shining: "You know... if this is a natural wine cellar, should we go down and take a look?"
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