Chen Yun froze and turned toward the gate.

“Little Yun-ge, are you home?” a bright, lively voice called from outside.

It was Lin Wanwan.

He glanced down at his hands, stained with cement and mortar, inhaled, and walked to the gate. Opening it, he found the girl standing there cheerfully.

Today she wore a pale-green sleeveless top and light-blue knee-length shorts; her hair was tied in a low ponytail. Tiny beads of sweat clung to her temple, and her cheeks were slightly sun-reddened. She carried a small bamboo basket filled with glossy cucumbers, blushing tomatoes, and other fresh produce.

“Good morning, Little Yun-ge!” she said, smiling, and held out the basket. “I figured you’d just come back and probably don’t have fresh vegetables, so I brought some from my yard.”

Chen Yun hesitated a moment, then took the basket. “Thanks.”

“No need to be polite!” Lin Wanwan waved her hand but her eyes wandered past Chen Yun to the cement, sand, and red bricks stacked in the yard. “Hey? Little Yun-ge, what are you doing? Building a house?”

Chen Yun felt a brief jolt in his chest. He turned slightly to block her view and answered without missing a beat, “Yeah, the old house is falling apart. I’m planning to stay for a while and do some repairs.”

“Renovating?” Her face brightened and she perked up. “This is hard work. Want me to help? I’m at home with nothing to do anyway.”

“No!” Chen Yun blurted, then realized he’d overreacted and softened his tone. “It’s dirty and heavy work—not really for a girl. I can handle it.”

“Hey, don’t underestimate me!” She pouted in mock indignation. “I’ve carried water, chopped wood, carried bricks, plastered walls — I can do it all!”

“I’m not underestimating you,” he said calmly. “Really, I can manage alone.”

“All right, all right. But if you need help, tell me.” Seeing he was resolute, she relented. Then an idea struck her and she brightened: “It’s only June. If you’re going to stay, you could plant some fast-growing leafy vegetables in the yard — bok choy, lettuce, spinach. They mature quickly — you could eat them in about a month.”

“You need fresh produce,” she continued warmly. “Your garden’s empty anyway.”

Chen Yun’s mind turned. His space held vast stores: rice, flour, oil, canned meat — but not much fresh produce. Because his system space did not perfectly suspend time, hot food and perishables cool and degrade slowly inside; vegetables and fruit, with short shelf life, would still eventually go bad. He had planned to rely on vitamin tablets to substitute for fresh produce, but Lin Wanwan was right—fresh vegetables and fruit were important.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

“Good!” she beamed. “When you plant, you must call me. I’m an agricultural major — seedlings, fertilizing, pest control, I’ll teach you everything. I guarantee big, sweet produce.”

“Okay,” he replied.

She glanced again at the bricks stacked in his yard. “Really sure you don’t want me to help carry bricks or plaster?”

“Really sure.” He shook his head. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“All right…” She finally gave up, waved, and began to turn away. Suddenly she stopped and looked back. “Come to my place for lunch—”

“No, thanks.” He cut in and declined politely but firmly.

“Fine. If you need anything, call me.” She waved and left, her steps light and quick.

He watched her go. “Still as warm and lively as my memory,” he murmured, then shut the gate.

He carried the basket into the main room and stared at the bright, tender vegetables. He couldn’t help thinking his stores had one blind spot: vitamin tablets weren’t a true substitute for fresh produce.

“Planting…” he muttered. If the cellar expansion succeeded and there was enough underground space he could try hydroponics or a small greenhouse, but those would need high energy to run. He had a generator and fuel, but sustaining a greenhouse long-term would drain resources fast.

“Tomorrow I’ll go to the county and buy lots of seed,” he decided with a wry smile. “Maybe my generator will upgrade itself into a nuclear power plant.”

He set to work without delay, returning to the stack of materials and resuming mixing mortar, laying bricks, building hollow cubes. One by one the cubic hollow bricks took shape. Sun slid westward; he did not rest.

When night fell he left the yard lights on and kept working until deep into the night. Finally he put down the trowel and straightened, rubbing his aching, stiff back. Twenty hollow cubic blocks were lined up neatly before him: nineteen one-cubic-meter units and one two-cubic-meter rectangular block. Satisfied, he tested the system at each block to avoid wasting material — checking whether the discounting cap on consumables had been reached.

The targeted expansion panel displayed: required points 470.

“Nineteen 1 m³ cubes and one 2 m³ block,” he murmured, placing his hand over the cellar hatch. “Now it needs 470 points. I wonder if materials will still keep discounting further.”

Ding— The system chimed.

[Daily points settlement commencing.]

[Settling…]

[Base points today: 24.]

[Survival assessment — base initial construction (survival prep): 120.]

[Settlement complete. Current survival points: 1,158.]

“The base initial construction score rose by twenty points today,” Chen Yun mused. “Is the scoring per-day based on that day’s work, or on total progress? I’ll see what tomorrow’s settlement shows.”

He exhaled, stretched, and decided to stop for the night. After a quick wash he lay down and fell asleep.