Chen Hao was about to stand up when his knees buckled and he almost fell to the ground. Nana reached out and supported his arm, her grip just enough to keep him steady.
He took a breath, but his eyes never left the ore. The flash of green light he'd just seen was too clear; it wasn't an illusion. He slowly sat back down in his chair, his hands trembling as he clamped the ore back into the vise, his voice a little hoarse: "Let me take another look."
Nana didn't speak. The optical lens swept across the surface of the ore, and the monitoring system activated instantly. Infrared thermal imaging unfolded in the air, the spectrometer began recording, and the energy fluctuation tracking module loaded simultaneously.
“Continuous monitoring has been initiated,” she said. “The current ore temperature is 22 degrees Celsius, and there is no obvious heat source in contact with the surface.”
Chen Hao stared at the screen, his eyelids twitching. A minute passed, and nothing happened. He waited another two minutes, just as he was about to ask if he was seeing things, when the right eye socket of the mineral suddenly lit up.
It was very short, just a moment, like blinking.
"Here we go again!" He lunged forward. "You saw it, didn't you? You saw it this time too!"
“A faint light signal was detected.” Nana pulled up the data stream. “It lasted for 0.3 seconds, with a wavelength of 520 nanometers, which is within the visible green light range. It is consistent with the frequency of the previous flash.”
Chen Hao swallowed hard, his mind still reeling. He reached out and touched the ore; it was cold, just like before.
"Why is it flashing?" he asked. "Is it because my carving is too ugly and it's angry?"
“Emotional feedback mechanisms do not apply to inorganic matter,” Nana said. “But data shows that the surface temperature of the ore rises by 0.7 degrees Celsius before the flash.”
"Temperature?" Chen Hao was taken aback. "You mean... it lights up when it gets hot?"
"A single fluctuation is not enough to draw conclusions," she said. "We need to repeat the experiment to verify the relationship between the variables."
Chen Hao looked down at his hand, which was wrapped in bandages; blood was already seeping out. He ignored it and directly took out a heating pad and a thermometer from the tool shelf.
“Then let’s try it,” he said. “I can’t sleep anyway.”
Nana glanced at him, and the robotic arm automatically accessed the interface of the base's temperature control system. She removed a small heating element, fixed it to a metal plate, and took out a cooling gel pack, preparing to conduct a hot-cold alternation test.
Chen Hao built a simple stand using discarded circuit boards, placed the ore on it, and surrounded it with a metal baffle, making it look like a mini oven.
“Five temperature gradients,” he said. “Fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five. Let’s go through them one by one.”
Round 1, 15 degrees Celsius. The fan was blowing cold air, but the ore lay still, showing no reaction whatsoever.
The second time, 20 degrees Celsius. The heating element worked for ten minutes, and the temperature of the ore rose to 20.3 degrees Celsius. Still no light.
The third round, 25 degrees. Chen Hao lay on the edge of the platform, his eyes almost touching the ore. After waiting for nearly twenty minutes, the ore's left eye suddenly flashed.
"It moved!" He slammed his hand on the table. "It reacted when the temperature rose!"
Nana recorded the data: "The light intensity increased by 12 percent, lasted for one second, and then went out."
The fourth round, 30 degrees Celsius. The heating element's power increased, and the surface temperature of the ore slowly rose. When the number jumped to 28 degrees Celsius, the green light suddenly shone steadily, like a small light bulb being turned on.
Chen Hao's eyes widened: "It's lit up! It's really lit up!"
“Continuous luminescence has been confirmed,” Nana said. “The current brightness is about 40 percent higher than at room temperature.”
They repeated the experiment three times, and the results were the same each time—28 degrees Celsius was the critical point. Below this temperature, the ore either did not light up or flashed briefly and then went out; above this temperature, it could emit light stably.
Chen Hao grinned: "This thing is quite particular; it won't start working until it's warm."
“It’s similar to a biological hibernation mechanism,” Nana explained. “When the external environment reaches the activation threshold, the internal energy release channels open.”
"I don't understand." Chen Hao waved his hand. "I knew it was afraid of the cold."
He suddenly remembered something and looked up sharply: "The lights in our restaurant have been so dim, it's like we're about to die. Is it because it's too cold?"
"The average nighttime temperature in the warehouse is 19 degrees Celsius," Nana responded. "This does not meet the activation threshold."
"Then let's make a light that can change brightness!" Chen Hao slapped his thigh. "It'll stay still during the day when the temperature is low; when it gets dark and we turn on the light, we can heat it up and it'll light up, right?"
“It’s technically feasible.” Nana pulled up the circuit diagram. “We can use recycled heating wires to connect a temperature control switch in series and embed it into the lamp base.”
"That's right!" Chen Hao exclaimed excitedly, ignoring the pain in his hand, and immediately grabbed a pen and paper to sketch out a plan. "The heating element is attached to the back of the ore, and an external temperature control knob is connected. You can adjust the brightness as high as you want! It also saves electricity, so you don't have to keep heating it up."
He drew a little fox on the back of the drawing, labeled it "Turns on when it's warm," and then stuck it next to the control panel.
“I’ve already thought of a name,” he said. “It’ll be called ‘Lazy Person’s Self-Heating Eye-Protecting Lamp,’ emphasizing its intelligent energy-saving features.”
"The naming does not conform to technical specifications," Nana said.
"You don't understand, this is called market positioning." He chuckled. "If every light in the base is modified like this, who will worry about insufficient lighting?"
Nana didn't refute, but instead began to disassemble a spare desk lamp, took out the internal circuit board, and checked whether the wiring ports were compatible with the heating module.
Chen Hao leaned back in his chair and took a breath. Waves of drowsiness washed over him, and his head began to nod. He bit his tongue, clearing his head for a few seconds before continuing to stare at the temperature curve on the screen.
"Why do you think it's exactly twenty-eight degrees?" he asked. "Not twenty-five, not thirty?"
“It may be related to the crystal structure of the material,” Nana replied. “The specific principle needs further analysis.”
"Sounds like an exam question." He yawned. "I'm not taking the exam."
He closed his eyes, wanting to rest for a few seconds, but as soon as he closed his eyelids, his mind was filled with images of flashing green light. He opened his eyes and found that the ore was still glowing, like a little animal that refused to sleep.
"What's the temperature now?" he asked.
"Twenty-nine degrees," Nana said. "The heating element is still working."
“Turn it off,” he said. “Don’t let it get cooked.”
Nana cut off the power, and the fan started to cool the mineral. The temperature of the mineral gradually decreased, and the green light dimmed until it went out completely.
Chen Hao looked at the stone and suddenly felt a little sorry for it: "It doesn't shine when it's cold, and it only moves when it's hot, just like me."
“Your analogy lacks scientific basis,” Nana said.
"You're making baseless accusations," he muttered. "I work all night every day, and I always get motivated when I'm really in the zone."
He reached out and touched the ore; it was cold. He then touched his forehead; it was burning hot.
"I have a fever?" he frowned.
"Your temperature is 38.6 degrees Celsius," Nana said after the scan. "It's a mild fever caused by overwork, dehydration, and a wound infection."
"No wonder my mind is working so fast." He grinned. "I had a fever."
"It is recommended to treat the wound immediately and replenish fluids."
"Wait a minute." He shook his head. "Let's figure this out first."
He propped himself up on the table, rummaged through a pile of discarded parts in the corner, and picked out a few old circuit boards and miniature resistors.
“Let’s make a prototype,” he said. “It doesn’t need to be too complicated; just make sure the light can adjust its brightness by itself.”
Nana took the parts and began soldering the connecting wires. Chen Hao stood by, handing her tools, his hands trembling so badly that he handed her the screwdriver upside down several times.
“Your hands are shaking,” she said.
"It's nothing," he said, shaking his head. "It's just a little numb."
He held onto the edge of the table with his left hand and held the welding torch in his right, trying to connect a thin wire to the heating element. But just as the welding tip touched it, his right arm suddenly jerked, and the welding torch fell onto the table, sending sparks flying.
Nana quickly moved the flammable materials away and turned off the welding torch.
“Nerve conduction is abnormal,” she said. “The muscles are overloaded.”
"We're just missing this one wire." He bent down to pick up the welding torch.
Nana picked it up first and placed it where he couldn't reach it.
“You can’t touch the tools anymore,” she said.
“I’m the lead designer,” he protested.
“You have a high fever now,” she corrected.
Chen Hao opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was indeed unsteady on his feet, his vision was blurring, and his ears were ringing.
He slowly sat back down, leaning against the back of the chair, his breathing heavy.
“Then you do it,” he said. “Connect the wires according to my diagram.”
Nana nodded and restarted the assembly process. Her movements were precise, and each wire was in the correct position.
0.3 seconds later, the control panel lit up with a red light.
"Initial power-on was successful," she said. "The temperature control module is responding normally."
Chen Hao barely managed to lift his head and saw the ore slowly heating up. When the temperature approached 28 degrees Celsius, the green light reappeared, stable and gentle.
He smiled: "It's done."
The light shone on his face, half bright and half shadowed. His fingers, still wrapped in blood-soaked bandages, draped over the edge of the table, trembled slightly.
Nana connected the last wire to the circuit and whispered, "Next step, test the brightness adjustment range."
Chen Hao did not answer.
He closed his eyes, mumbled something, tilted his head to one side, and fell asleep.
Nana stopped what she was doing, and scanned his face with her optical glasses to confirm that his vital signs were stable.
She gently draped a coat over him and then continued adjusting the control panel.
The light from the ore gradually brightened as the temperature rose, illuminating the entire workbench.
She moved the little fox drawing next to the lamp base to make sure the light could reach the words: "It will light up when it's warm."
Chen Hao's right hand hung down by the side of the chair, his fingertips less than ten centimeters from the glowing ore.
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