The pebble landed with a crisp sound.
Chen Hao stared at the darkness from which the faint sound had spread. The ground beneath his feet was firm, not like it would collapse. He rubbed his hands together and exhaled a puff of white breath. "If this place has any more problems, I'll weld the wreckage of the life pod into a coffin and live in it."
Nana stood half a step behind him, her camera slightly lowered, scanning the slope data stream. Her voice was emotionless: "According to the geological model, the stability rate here is 97.4%, and the error range is within acceptable limits."
"Can't you just say something normal?" Chen Hao turned his head. "Like, 'Don't worry, everything's really fine this time'?"
“I won’t lie.” She paused. “And I won’t tamper with data to appease you.”
"Sigh." He sighed. "What am I doing this for? I can't even finish copying the answers during the exam, and now I'm struggling against steel every day."
A gust of wind swept across the rock strata in the distance, stirring up a small cloud of dust that struck the metal plates with a soft clatter. Neither of them moved. The night was still deep, the stars were cold, and the construction site was so quiet it seemed as if the world had forgotten it.
At 4:17 a.m., the ground shook.
It wasn't the up-and-down shaking of an earthquake, but a muffled thud coming from the direction of the high slope, like someone pushing over a row of dominoes deep in the earth. Immediately afterwards, soil and gravel began to slide down, the speed gradually increasing until it turned into a muddy torrent, carrying broken rocks and loose soil, rushing straight down.
The original frame was swallowed up in the blink of an eye.
Chen Hao stood frozen in place, watching helplessly as the structure he had painstakingly pieced together, along with the shallow pits on the ground, the remaining weld marks, and the sweat stains he had splattered on the beams yesterday, were all covered by mud, leaving no trace.
“Just a few steps away…” His lips moved, “just a few steps away, and I would still be inside.”
Nana didn't respond, but simply raised her arm, and a before-and-after topographical comparison map appeared in the air. The red area precisely covered the old site, and its edge almost coincided with the red line she had predicted yesterday, with a deviation of less than one meter.
“Look,” she said calmly, “it’s here, and it’s three minutes earlier than expected.”
Chen Hao's throat bobbed. "So... I'm not being paranoid, nor am I being pretentious, I really was almost buried alive?"
“Yes,” she said. “The reason you can still speak is because you’re standing where you are.”
He looked down at the green-framed projection at his feet, then turned back to look at the buried ruins. The moonlight shone on the pile of mud and rocks, giving it a damp, dark glow, like a newly applied patch.
“Our old framework,” he suddenly laughed, “is completely gone, isn’t it?”
“The integrity rate of the components has reached zero.” Nana brought up the simulation screen. “The impact force reached level seven, and the local pressure exceeded the material yield limit.”
"So, even if I wanted to dig it up and fix it, there's nothing left to fix?"
"correct."
Chen Hao was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly squatted down, grabbed a handful of soil from the new site, and rubbed it in his palm. The soil particles were dry, with a coarse, sandy texture, and not sticky.
“Do you remember what I said yesterday when I dismantled the first pillar?” He looked up. “I said I wanted to prove that I’m not living entirely off you.”
“The memory module records everything completely,” Nana nodded. “The exact words were: ‘I can pry it out myself; I don’t need your help.’”
"And the result?" He shrugged. "The screws were removed, but the house is gone."
“But you’re still alive,” she said. “Independence isn’t about being strong; it’s about knowing when to listen to advice.”
Chen Hao grinned, not refuting. He stood up, patted his pants, and said, "Fine, I admit it this time. You say where to move it, I'll move it there; you say how to do it, I'll do it. But there's one condition—"
"explain."
"Next time there's an early warning, could you please give me half an hour's notice in advance? That way I can at least get some sleep."
“I can’t guarantee that,” she replied. “Geological changes don’t have a fixed rhythm, and early signals are weak. We need to accumulate enough data to confirm the risk level.”
"Well, it's science again." He rolled his eyes. "I thought fleeing a disaster would be a little romantic, but there wasn't even a farewell ceremony."
“What you need is efficiency, not sentimentality.” Nana turned to face the pile of building materials. “Now, restart the construction process.”
As the sky began to lighten and the morning light had not yet spread, only the green guide line she projected flickered on the ground, marking the location of the first pillar.
Chen Hao walked over and stepped on the line. "Can we speed things up this time? I'm afraid I'll hear another 'boom' in the middle of the night."
"If I maintain my current physical condition, I expect to complete the basic framework by noon today." She pulled up the progress simulation, "provided that there is no more wasted work."
"What do you mean by ineffective labor?" He bent down to move a beam. "I actually worked for six hours yesterday."
"This includes three incorrect transport routes, two repeated adjustments to the position, and one brief muscle strain due to improper posture," she said casually. "These are all avoidable time losses."
"Hey, did you memorize every single breath I take?"
"Abnormal fluctuations in respiratory rate have been marked three times. It is recommended to strengthen core muscle training."
"Can we stop focusing on my physical defects?" Chen Hao hoisted the crossbeam, his steps a little unsteady. "Right now, I just want to install this thing; we can talk about the rest later."
Nana didn't say anything more, but instead activated the magnetic assist mode, gently supporting the other end to keep the entire beam balanced.
"Place it securely," she guided. "Move it five centimeters to the left, aligning it with the slot."
Chen Hao gritted his teeth and adjusted the beam, the veins on his forehead throbbing slightly. Just as it was about to be embedded, the edge of the beam slightly warped, clearly deformed by pressure during transport.
"It won't stay in place." He tried several times, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "This thing is crooked."
"Does it need to be calibrated?" Nana asked.
“Correction takes too much time.” He took a breath. “Let’s just use magnetism. I won’t push myself this time; efficiency will come first.”
Nana nodded, and released a stabilizing magnetic field with her arms, gently pulling the deformed part back into place. With a soft "click," the beam was successfully inserted.
"The first connection is complete," she announced. "The structural load-bearing test has passed."
Chen Hao breathed a sigh of relief, plopped down on the ground, and looked up at the pillar that had been re-erected. It wasn't leaning too much, but you could see that the seams were slightly misaligned, like a stubborn, lame soldier, stubbornly refusing to fall.
"How long do you think it can last?" he asked.
"Based on the current site stability calculation, it can withstand wind pressure up to level seven and earthquakes up to level four." She paused, "As long as you don't climb up there in the middle of the night to hang lanterns."
“Hanging lanterns is so tacky,” he chuckled. “If I were really in a good mood, I’d spray paint it and say, ‘This house belongs to Chen Hao. Robots are not allowed to enter.’”
“I control the access control system,” she said. “You can’t get in.”
"Hey, you actually took it?" He tried to stand up, but his arms gave way and he slumped back down. "I'm done for. I feel even more useless than yesterday."
“Your physical strength has decreased by 12%, so I recommend replenishing your fluids and electrolytes.” Nana handed over a water bag. “At the same time, the installation of the next set of columns must be carried out under sufficient sunlight to avoid visual errors.”
"You really treat me like an engineering logbook." He took the water bag and took a sip; the sour taste made him frown. "Was this water squeezed out of the life pod filter again?"
"The water purification rate is 99.3%," she replied. "What you're drinking is safety, not taste."
"It's safe, but after drinking it, my tongue always feels like it's being scraped with sandpaper." He wiped his mouth, struggled to get up, and said, "Okay, I've rested enough. I'll have another one."
He walked toward the second pile of building materials, his steps still somewhat unsteady. Nana followed, and the green projection line extended forward, marking the next landing point.
As dawn finally broke above the horizon, it shone on the unfinished framework, casting a pale golden hue on the metal edges. Chen Hao reached out and touched the second pillar, his fingertips brushing against its cold surface.
“You tell me…” he said in a low voice, “Are we building a house, or are we fighting against this land?”
Nana didn't answer immediately. She just stood there quietly, the camera panning around to confirm that the environmental parameters were normal.
Then she said, "You're building the possibility of survival. Everything else is secondary."
Chen Hao paused for a moment, then laughed, "That sounds quite plausible."
He straightened his back with effort and, together with Nana, lifted the second pillar.
The green guide line extends clearly on the ground, like a narrow road leading to the future.
The pillar slowly rose and aligned with the slot.
Just as it was about to settle, a piece of metal fragment in the distant mud pile was blown over by the morning breeze, turning over to reveal a rusted numbered plaque underneath.
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