After that soft sound overhead, nothing else happened.
Chen Hao held his breath and waited for ten seconds. Nana's blue light swept across the top of the rock, and the rubble quietly piled up in the corner. She looked away, and the mechanical neck made a slight clicking sound. "Judging from a local loosening, there is no risk of continued falling."
“Okay,” Chen Hao slowly slid down against the rock wall, “Even the rocks here have learned to scare people.”
The rain was still pattering outside the cave entrance, the sound a little quieter than before, as if someone had turned down the volume. He glanced down at his right leg—the propulsion suit looked like a piece of scrap metal water pipe, the joints cracked, the threads dangling, and he could hear the internal parts clattering against each other after taking a few steps.
"We have to go back," he said.
“Yes.” Nana stood beside him, the blue light reflecting off the wet rock surface. “The main cabin system has been without power for an extended period, and the life support module may have malfunctioned.”
"So, I'm either going to be struck by lightning or suffocated?"
"In terms of probability, the latter is more controllable."
"You're really good at comforting people." He stood up, bracing himself against the rock wall, but his hand slipped in the mud, and he almost sat back down. Nana reached out and supported his arm; the mechanical arm was as steady as a steel bar.
By the time the two reached the cave entrance, the rain had stopped.
The wind was still blowing, the treetops were swaying like they were having cramps, and the ground was full of puddles and fallen vines. Chen Hao stepped into the mud and couldn't pull his shoe out. He struggled for a while before finally managing to free himself, but then he lost his balance and fell forward. Nana grabbed him by the back of his collar and pulled him straight.
"This road is quite uniquely built," he said, panting. "It's a cure for fat people's lack of balance."
"The terrain slope is thirteen degrees, and the average water depth is seventeen centimeters," Nana calmly reported. "I suggest you move your tool bag to your chest to reduce forward inertia."
"You're talking like a GPS navigator. Couldn't you just say 'be careful'?"
Be careful.
Chen Hao rolled his eyes and dragged his bad leg forward. Every step felt like pulling up a radish, splashing water under his feet. Nana walked ahead, the blue light illuminating the ground, occasionally stopping to wait for him to catch up.
"Did you say we closed the cabin door properly?" he suddenly asked.
"The automatic locking procedure was executed when I left last time."
"But what if a tree branch falls on it during the rain and damages the power lines?"
"The possibility exists."
"See, you knew something bad might happen!"
“All systems have a failure rate,” she said, “including the way you walk right now.”
"I am advancing at a strategic, slow pace."
More than half an hour later, the escape pod came into view.
The outer shell was covered in mud, and several water streaks ran down the top from the side, as if it had been wiped with a dirty rag. Chen Hao leaned against the hatch, panting like a leaky bellows. Nana scanned the door lock, and with a click, the hatch slid open to the side.
It was dark inside.
The control panel was off, all the lights were out, and only a faint hum came from the vents—the backup battery was barely hanging on.
"No way..." Chen Hao leaned against the door frame and peered inside. "I just survived a lightning tribulation, and you're giving me a power outage?"
Nana stepped inside, her blue eyes scanning the distribution box. "The main circuit is short-circuited. Rainwater seeped in through the top drainage channel, triggering the protection mechanism, and the power was automatically cut off."
"So now we can't even turn on the lights?"
"To be precise, if you don't turn on the light, I can't have it lit."
"I'm not an electrician! When you were building the cabin, didn't you think about what would happen if a mediocre student got trapped?"
"Passenger education level was not listed as a safety variable in the design documents."
"You're quite meticulous." He sighed, walked to the chair in the dark, and sat down. The moment his bottom touched the seat cushion, he heard a "smack" and the chair back collapsed halfway.
“Fine,” he said, looking up at the ceiling, “I don’t even have a place to sit now.”
Nana had already opened the distribution box cover, and the blue light focused on the charred terminal block. "The C-7 line is melted and needs to be manually switched to the backup circuit. I cannot monitor the current status and operate the switch at the same time, so you must complete the wiring."
"Wait—you want me to touch electricity?"
"You will die from a high-voltage electric shock in a damp environment, not from being scared to death by me."
"Your method of threatening is quite civilized."
"I'm just stating the facts."
She handed him a pair of insulated gloves, black and a little muddy, but still usable. Chen Hao's hand trembled slightly as he took them. "The last time I touched an electrical wire was in high school physics lab. I blew the fuse, and the teacher said I was born with a knack for electricity."
"There is no fuse this time."
"Wouldn't that be even more dangerous?"
"I'm here."
That statement was so calm, it actually made people uneasy. Chen Hao took a deep breath, put on his gloves, and followed her to the electrical distribution box.
The exposed wires lay coiled like two dead snakes beside the terminal, the red one still emitting a faint burnt smell. He stared at it for three seconds, then his stomach began to churn.
"Disconnect the main power first," Nana said. "Turn the black knob on the left all the way counterclockwise."
He did as instructed, but his fingers were a little stiff, and he got stuck halfway through twisting. He pulled hard and heard a "click".
"alright."
"Now remove the old wire from the C-7 terminal, insert the red spare wire, and tighten the screw."
"Could you speak slower? My brain is like a lagging projector right now."
“I have slowed my speech to 1.8 times the human comprehension threshold.”
"You even quantified it?"
He reached out to pull the old wire, but the rubber coating stuck to his hand, and it took him a while to finally pull it off. The red wire end was exposed, and the copper wires were scattered like a tangled mess.
"Tie up the loose threads," Nana reminded.
“I know!” he growled in a low voice. “It’s not like I haven’t seen wires before.”
He carefully twisted the copper wire evenly with the tip of the screwdriver, his palms sweating and the inside of his gloves sticky. When he inserted it into the terminal, it wobbled and almost poked the metal frame next to it.
“Six degrees off-angle,” Nana said. “Realign.”
"Can you pretend you didn't see it?"
"cannot."
He gritted his teeth and reinserted it. His hands trembled so badly when he tightened the screw that it stripped after only two turns.
"The intensity should be controlled at 3.5 Newton-meters."
"Do you take me for a torque wrench?"
"If you were, it would have been fixed by now."
"Are you unusually talkative today?"
"The system has detected an increase in your anxiety level. Moderate conversation can help stabilize your heart rate."
"So you're using me as a blood pressure monitor?"
"The logic holds true."
On the third attempt, the screw finally clicked into the threads. He breathed a sigh of relief and took a half-step back. "What's next?"
"Close the isolation valve, and then start the main control switch."
He did as instructed. He paused as he reached for the switch handle, "What if it explodes again?"
"At most, the backup line will be burned out, but personal safety will not be endangered."
"What you're saying doesn't sound safe at all."
"I am stating the facts."
He closed his eyes for a second, then abruptly pushed the switch down.
drop--
A green light illuminated on the control panel, followed by a second and a third. The main screen flashed, a self-test interface appeared, and the energy meter jumped from 0% to 10%, then remained stable.
"It's working!" He plopped down on the ground. "I actually survived!"
Nana crouched down, and a blue light swept across the system log: "Main power restored, life support restarted, oxygen circulation will return to normal within two minutes."
"So, that means I can keep breathing?"
"yes."
"That's great." He leaned back against the bulkhead, feeling his muscles go limp. "I thought I was going to die from the circuit I fixed."
"The probability of death has never exceeded nine percent."
"You left room for maneuver?"
"Data always retains a margin of error."
The temperature inside the cabin began to rise, and the lights stabilized. Chen Hao lay sprawled on the floor, too lazy to move, his right hand still clutching a screwdriver, his left glove covered in dust and mud, his fingertips trembling slightly.
Nana stood up and walked to the main control panel. "We are conducting a full system diagnostic, which is expected to take eight minutes."
"You go about your business," he said with his eyes closed. "I'm going to lie down for a bit. I avoid electrical outlets even in my dreams."
She didn't respond; only the blue light moved back and forth on the control panel. The sound of the ventilation fan gradually grew louder, and the air began to circulate.
A few minutes later, Chen Hao opened his eyes and looked at the crack in the ceiling—it was caused by the lightning strike earlier, and there was a ring of silver tape around the edge, which he had covered with the last of his emergency supplies.
“Nana,” he suddenly said.
"exist."
"Do you think... what if the circuit we fixed breaks down by itself again someday?"
"Possibly."
"What if no one teaches me how to fix it next time?"
"You can record a tutorial video in advance."
"I don't even know how I guessed right."
"Then record the failure process as a negative example."
"You're quite good at planning." He smiled wryly. "When you're scrapped someday, I'll leave these words as my last words."
Nana turned her head, and the blue light fell on his face.
“I don’t need a will,” she said, “but you can leave yourself a message.”
Chen Hao didn't speak again. The wind outside stopped, and sunlight filtered through the clouds, shining on the edge of the cabin door and reflecting a slanted patch of light that slowly crept up to the tips of his shoes.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com