The wind stopped for a short while, then the snow began to fall again, making a dull thud underfoot. Chen Hao was half-dragged forward by Nana, his shoulder draped over her arm, his whole body limp and slumped like a bag of damp flour.
His lips were still swollen, and he spoke indistinctly: "I said... can we rest for a while? I feel like my feet don't belong to me anymore."
"No." Nana didn't even turn her head. "Your heart rate is too low, and staying still will accelerate the loss of body temperature."
"Then don't walk so fast. I'm not a deliveryman, I don't have to pay compensation if I'm late."
Nana didn't stop walking, but her pace slowed slightly. Her radar was still running in the background; the faint heat source in the corner had disappeared ten minutes ago, but she didn't say anything.
As they reached the bend in the slope, Chen Hao stumbled and nearly fell into a snowdrift. Nana grabbed him by the back of his collar and pulled him upright.
"Your shoes are slippery," she said.
"Nonsense, I'm wearing the wooden planks and ropes you tied on last night, not some outdoor gear I bought on sale at the mall."
Nana crouched down and reached out to scrape the sole of his right snowshoe. A layer of grayish-white powder clung to the grooves, like shavings scraped from a stone. She rubbed it between her fingertips and glanced at it with her mechanical eye for a second.
"The friction coefficient is abnormal, and the deposits are not naturally deposited."
"What do you mean?"
"There's something stuck to the soles of your shoes that shouldn't be there."
Chen Hao glanced down and thought, "Could it be related to that fruit from last night? Or will I start glowing and burning too?"
Nana didn't reply. She tore off a piece of insulating tape and sealed the powder into a small plastic bag. Then, she casually took out a portable spectrometer from her tool bag and pressed it onto the sample.
Three seconds later, a line of text flashed on the screen: [Unknown metal composition, preliminarily identified as rare alloy particles].
"Huh?" Chen Hao's eyes widened. "You mean this is gold? Or did I step on an alien's wallet yesterday?"
“We can’t name it at the moment, but the database has marked it as an unlisted substance.” Nana put away her equipment. “We need to trace its origin.”
"Wait a minute." Chen Hao waved his hand. "You mean... I have to drag these almost broken legs back to find the source of this pile of gray powder? I can't even remember if I ate breakfast or not."
"It's from the sole of your shoe, so you're responsible."
"I'll take responsibility? You can run 300 meters while carrying me on your back, shouldn't you go to the Winter Olympics?"
“I am a robot,” Nana said calmly. “You are not.”
"Yes, that's why I have the right to complain."
Nana ignored him, pulled up the path log, and traced their movements over the past three hours. A few seconds later, the light stopped below a steep slope.
"The first foreign object was detected here."
"I tumbled and crawled down that spot, who knows what I got rubbed against."
The two retraced their steps. The wind picked up, whipping snowflakes into the air. Chen Hao walked unsteadily, each step feeling like a negotiation with his own bones. Nana walked on the outside, shielding him from most of the wind and snow.
At the bottom of the slope, Nana used her ice axe to clear away the snow beneath the rock face. A bare rock face was revealed, its surface gleaming with a cold, silvery sheen, as if someone had mixed shards of glass into the stone.
“This…” Chen Hao leaned closer, “This thing is actually quite handsome.”
Nana scanned it: "High-density reflective layer, composed of platinum-iridium alloy, with a purity of approximately 62%."
"Platinum-iridium? Isn't that a material used for spacecraft parts?"
"Theoretically, yes."
"So, we've struck gold?"
"Theoretically, yes."
Chen Hao grinned and was about to raise his hand to pat her shoulder when he suddenly remembered that his hand hadn't recovered yet, so he reluctantly lowered it.
"Then what are we waiting for? Dig! Take it back, melt it down, make a pot, and cook some hot soup—"
Before he could finish speaking, Nana suddenly reached out and grabbed his wrist with such force that it startled him.
"no."
"Why? I'm not going to demolish the house."
According to Article 3 of the Interplanetary Mineral Discovery Agreement, mining is prohibited upon first contact with an unregistered ore body; the coordinates must be reported and ownership confirmation must be awaited.
Chen Hao was stunned for two seconds: "...Are you serious? There's not a single living person in this godforsaken place, and you're talking about property rights?"
“The program will activate automatically.” Nana’s tone remained unchanged. “Regardless of whether a sovereign entity exists, the legal module will respond as long as a rare resource is detected.”
"So you're afraid of breaking the law now? On some crappy planet where nobody cares?"
"My design does not allow bypassing the core protocol."
Chen Hao rolled his eyes: "So you'd rather let this pile of gold bury than let me chip off a piece to take home as a souvenir coin?"
“You can take the naturally broken fragments.” Nana released her hand and pointed to a small cracked corner at the edge of the vein, “but only the surface residue, and it must be sealed and preserved.”
"It still requires some skill," he muttered, taking out an oil paper packet and gently prying off a small piece of silvery-gray ore with an ice axe. As soon as he touched it, he felt a chill creep up his fingertips.
"Avoid direct contact." Nana handed over gloves. "Some rare metals may cause skin reactions."
"I'm fine," Chen Hao said, but he still obediently wrapped up the ore and stuffed it into his pocket.
Nana initiated the marking process, designating the area as a "pending exploration zone" with priority level B, and disabling public access. She took one last look at the snow-covered rock face and whispered, "This could be the key to changing our survival conditions."
“That’s right.” Chen Hao rubbed his hands together. “At least we won’t have to eat moldy compressed biscuits anymore.”
On the way back, he walked even slower than he had come. His strength hadn't fully recovered, and the exertion of the previous ordeal had made his breathing increasingly heavy. Nana continued to walk on his outside, her steps steady.
"Hey," Chen Hao suddenly spoke up, "If this mine is really useful, do you think it could be converted into a heating system? Right now, that pipe is more fragile than I am."
"Insufficient information at present makes it impossible to assess."
"Couldn't you just say 'maybe' to cheer me up?"
“I said, this could be the key to changing our living conditions.”
"You just said that."
"Because it's worth repeating."
Chen Hao snorted and looked down at his shoes. The wooden board on his right shoe was a little loose, making a creaking sound when he walked. He kicked at the snow and suddenly noticed a bit of silver powder stuck to the edge of the sole, leaving a faint, shiny trail in the snow.
“Hey, look,” he pointed to the ground, “I’ve become a mobile mining instrument.”
Nana glanced down and said, "I suggest cleaning up the residue to avoid contaminating other areas."
"Yes, sir." He gave a perfunctory salute, but his hand slipped and he nearly fell into a snowdrift.
Nana reached out to help him up, but didn't say anything.
The wind picked up again, swirling fine snow that stung my face. The base's outline loomed in the distance, like a frozen iron box.
Chen Hao touched the ore sample in his pocket and muttered, "You know... if we actually survive using this stuff, wouldn't that be considered a lucky break?"
Nana glanced at him: "You've been lying down the whole time."
"That's not called lying down, that's called strategic rest."
"Definition mismatch".
"You robot, you have absolutely no sense of humor."
“I have a database.”
Does it include a section on "how to make a struggling student happy"?
"Searching."
“Never mind.” He sighed. “I know you’ll probably write ‘suggest strengthening self-discipline’.”
Nana didn't argue, she just quickened her pace.
When they were fifty meters away from the base, Chen Hao suddenly stopped.
"What's wrong?" Nana asked.
He looked down at his footprints. The right footprints had edges that shimmered slightly with silver light, like stardust scattered in snow.
"The paint on the soles of my shoes... seems to be peeling off."
Nana crouched down to examine the residue, and the moment her finger touched it, the spectrometer automatically popped up a warning: [Persistent metal residue; it is recommended to trace the spread range.]
She looked up at the road she had come from.
In the wind and snow, the two lines of footprints, some deep and some shallow, stretched back, one of them scattering tiny glimmers of light along its path.
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