After eating a jelly in the kitchen, Chi Xiaoxue happily ran out, picked up the electronic dog, and went to find Max:
“Max, you said you’d help me modify the electronic dog. Let’s start now.”
But Max, shifting from his earlier easygoing demeanor, calmly stared at Chi Xiaoxue. “Moji, it’s time for you to study.”
Study?
Chi Xiaoxue was stunned. Holding the electronic dog’s large ears, she looked from Max to Jiang Yanyi. She had only eaten one jelly inside—how had the sky suddenly changed?
What happened?
Max had already taken out the learning tablet and placed it on the coffee table. He crouched his tall frame on the floor, looking as solid as a small mountain.
The mountain pointed to the floor cushion Chi Xiaoxue usually sat on and looked at her with his clear blue pupils, his affectionate eyes speaking the world’s most heartless words:
“Moji, come here. Show me your current knowledge level.”
Max was an old robot with 87 years of history. Over those 87 years, many robots as tall and bulky as him had gradually been phased out.
But Max was lucky. He served the family of Bai Mingjie, the Minister of Technology, and had access to the most cutting-edge robot modification technology.
Over 87 years, Max had undergone hundreds of major and minor upgrades. While his exterior still maintained its original metallic form, his internal programs were now at the forefront.
Today, Max was not only proficient in basic medical care, cooking, repairs, gardening, childcare, and other household skills, but he also possessed self-learning abilities and relatively rich emotional responses.
When observing Moji alone before, Jiang Yanyi hadn’t felt it as directly. But now, with her sitting next to Max—
Setting aside their vastly different appearances, just in terms of aura, one could tell at a glance that Max was a robot. He carried a cold, tool-like quality.
It was the inhuman trait of being able to execute all of his owner’s commands but lacking his own soul.
This aura made it clear that Max was just a robot, providing a sense of psychological safety and stability.
In comparison, Moji felt much more real and lively.
All Max asked was for her to write a few characters, but she fidgeted endlessly—scratching her head, playing with her hair, looking around, then saying she needed to drink some nutrient solution.
Moji’s very close-to-human yet slightly off feeling unsettled Jiang Yanyi.
Seeing her drink robot nutrient solution in a human form even gave Jiang Yanyi a creeping sense of horror.
Jiang Yanyi’s specialization was robot ethics, so he naturally understood this phenomenon as the “uncanny valley theory.”
In the market, consumers pursued “human-likeness” in robots. Manufacturers capitalized on this psychology, and currently, high-end bionic robots were designed to look infinitely close to humans.
But robot developers also understood the “uncanny valley theory.” They knew that as robots became more human-like, this trait would indeed attract large numbers of consumers.
However, once this resemblance reached a certain critical point, human affinity for humanoid robots would plummet, even causing strong discomfort.
Thus, manufacturers typically kept the robot’s appearance, movements, speech, and other characteristics within an acceptable safety range for the general public.
The causes of the uncanny valley theory were relatively complex, even traceable to human genetic history.
In ancient times, various hominid species competed fiercely. Species that “disguised themselves as humans” once inflicted fatal harm on early humans, so this genetic fear persisted to this day.
Humans couldn’t overcome their genes. So even though Jiang Yanyi, as a scholar, understood the principles deeply, he couldn’t suppress the psychological fear.
Yet his fear was inexplicably mixed with a thrill and faint anticipation.
Jiang Yanyi sat quietly in his wheelchair, holding an open book. His face was clean and scholarly, his demeanor gentle and serene on the surface. But only he knew how wild the thoughts in his heart were at that moment.
He wished Moji would act even more bizarrely—it would be even better if she did something transgressive.
He even hoped she would jump up right then and beat Max up fiercely.
It seemed the more abnormal Moji’s behavior, the less explainable by science, the closer she might be to his wife.
Just like how Bai Yidong had suddenly come back to life after cardiac arrest, her personality completely changed, as if she were a different person. This included her cheerful, optimistic, life-loving self leaving a suicide note and disappearing suddenly three years ago.
All the signs were unusual, and Moji was unusual too. Jiang Yanyi hoped to find clues connecting the two in this strangeness.
But what he hoped for didn’t happen.
Moji would rather sob over math problems by herself than jump up and attack Max.
·
Chi Xiaoxue was utterly bewildered.
She had struggled with studying before, but it had never been this painful.
Though Jiang Yanyi pressured her to study, he was often not at home, and when she slacked off, he would let it slide appropriately.
Teacher Zhang sometimes nagged her about studying, but it stayed at the level of nagging—she never actually managed her studies.
But Max was different. Max called her to study whenever he saw her idle, and she couldn’t slack off during study sessions. The homework he assigned kept Chi Xiaoxue writing until past 3 a.m. last night.
She wrote until her body ran out of battery, then kept going while plugged into the charger.
Max also plugged in and sat beside her to supervise.
Chi Xiaoxue didn’t understand—how could the same Max change so drastically before and after?
Anyway, Max was no longer her beloved stylist, Tony.
Chi Xiaoxue licked away her tears and moved on to the next math word problem.
“Moji, want to go out for a walk with me?” Jiang Yanyi wheeled past the living room and asked softly.
Chi Xiaoxue immediately sprang up from the floor. “Yes, yes!”
Modern wheelchairs were very smart and didn’t need pushing at all. But to show she still had some use, Chi Xiaoxue held onto the wheelchair handles the entire way.
Stepping outside the villa gate, Chi Xiaoxue had the illusion that the air outside was fresh and sweet.
“Let’s head to the commercial street in the community,” Jiang Yanyi pointed ahead. Chi Xiaoxue immediately pushed the wheelchair in that direction.
As they walked along the shaded path for a while, Chi Xiaoxue watched the dappled sunlight falling on Jiang Yanyi’s dark shirt and casually brought up:
“When is Max leaving?”
“What’s up?” Jiang Yanyi stared ahead without turning around. His voice was as gentle and soft as today’s warm sunlight.
Chi Xiaoxue glanced around. “Nothing, just asking.”
Amusement laced Jiang Yanyi’s voice. “Don’t want to study anymore?”
“What are you talking about?”
Chi Xiaoxue lightly punched his shoulder:
“I just have megalophobia.”
Jiang Yanyi thought of Max’s nearly two-meter height, raised an empty fist to his lips, and chuckled softly.
When they reached the commercial street, Jiang Yanyi mentioned going to a flower shop. Chi Xiaoxue didn’t know where the flower shop was.
But the smart wheelchair had already recognized the keywords in his speech and led them toward the flower shop.
The flower shop was on a side street. Once they arrived, there were few people around—a quiet street with only two shops: a flower shop and a café.
It was early autumn. The leaves on the trees lining the road were beginning to turn red, some in the midst of transitioning from red to yellow. A single leaf displayed mottled, beautiful colors.
A metal humanoid robot wearing rain boots was conditioning flowers outside the shop, placing large bunches into long basins and filling them with water from a hose.
As Jiang Yanyi’s wheelchair approached, the robot looked up, its mouth stretching mechanically to mimic a human smile as it greeted him:
“Good morning, Mr. Jiang.”
“Hello, Xiao Hua.” Jiang Yanyi smiled softly in return.
The robot stared with its large, round eyes, its smile stiff and unwavering. “The usual?”
“Yes, the usual.”
After Jiang Yanyi said this, the robot set down the hose and turned to enter the flower shop.
“What does ‘the usual’ mean?”
Just as Chi Xiaoxue asked, Jiang Yanyi’s phone rang. He made a “wait” gesture to her and answered the call.
“Yes, that’s right, I’m Jiang Yanyi. The second publication of The Perfect Reference System for Robot Relationships…”
Chi Xiaoxue stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets and stood aside, listening to Jiang Yanyi on the phone. Though he was speaking Chinese, she couldn’t quite follow.
After listening for a while and growing bored, Chi Xiaoxue walked away with her hands still in her pockets.
She entered the flower shop and saw the robot named Xiao Hua arranging flowers.
Chi Xiaoxue stopped in front of the floral worktable, hands in her pockets, eyes lowered as she gazed at the bell-shaped flowers.
“Is this the usual order?” she suddenly asked.
Xiao Hua paused in wrapping the flowers, staring at Chi Xiaoxue with large, bulging alien-like eyes.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying. If you need assistance, please provide clear instructions.”
“I mean, these flowers—are they the usual order?” Chi Xiaoxue exaggerated her mouth movements, speaking slowly and loudly.
Xiao Hua still didn’t understand, so she stopped trying to communicate and instead stretched her mouth into a smile. “These are Canterbury bells. Their flower language is ‘eternal waiting.’ Would you like a bouquet?”
“No money.”
Chi Xiaoxue replied bluntly, then walked away with her hands in her pockets.
After a moment, she returned, still hands in pockets, and pointed to a square transparent crystal in the distance. “Xiao Hua, what’s that?”
Xiao Hua followed her gaze, then immediately set down the flowers, swaying over on slender mechanical legs.
It was a large, cube-shaped transparent crystal with many small toys and snacks suspended inside.
Xiao Hua pressed her metal fingers against the crystal’s surface and rubbed gently. As she continued rubbing, the crystal beneath her fingers began to melt slowly.
“If you keep melting the ice, you can get the prizes inside. The prizes are free—once melted out, you can take them directly.”
After saying this, Xiao Hua stretched her mouth into a friendly smile, revealing an empty, toothless cavity.
“Is this an ice block?”
Chi Xiaoxue couldn’t feel temperature, so she hadn’t realized it was ice at first. She walked over, imitating Xiao Hua’s actions, and pressed her fingers against the ice, rubbing.
But even though her fingers nearly sparked from the friction, the ice showed no signs of melting.
Xiao Hua took her hand, examining it carefully with large eyes that took up most of her face, then looked up. “Customer, are you a robot?”
“Ah? Yeah.” Chi Xiaoxue scratched her head sheepishly.
Compared to Max, Chi Xiaoxue now felt a bit embarrassed around her robot peers, thinking she let her fellow robots down.
“That’s okay.”
Xiao Hua nodded earnestly and encouraged, “You need to activate the bionic skin temperature control system. That will raise your finger temperature, allowing you to melt the ice.”
“Bionic skin temperature control system?” Chi Xiaoxue scratched her head again. “Sorry, I can’t activate that.”
Xiao Hua seemed to freeze up suddenly, staring at her blankly for a long moment before abruptly saying, “I need to get back to work.”
Then she walked away on slender mechanical legs.
When Xiao Hua walked, her joints made a faint sizzling, electrical sound. Chi Xiaoxue watched her leave, then turned her attention back to the large ice block.
She soon spotted a nutrient lollipop in the lower right corner of the ice. She recognized the brand—it was the same kind sold in supermarkets, the ones with collectible stickers.
Recently, her aunt hadn’t been home, and Chi Xiaoxue felt too embarrassed to borrow money from Xiao Bai again, especially since she still owed from last time.
The dozen or so yuan she had left, Chi Xiaoxue couldn’t bring herself to spend. She always felt insecure in this household, and her own uselessness gave her a constant fear of being kicked out at any moment.
Keeping a little money on hand meant she could handle emergencies if anything unexpected happened.
So far, she had only collected three stickers.
If she could get this free lollipop today, she could both eat it and collect another sticker—how great would that be?
Chi Xiaoxue crouched by the table, blowing on the ice block. But her body structure differed from humans; the air she exhaled was just slightly cooler than room temperature. After blowing futilely for a while, it was no use.
She then tried scratching the ice with her fingernails, thinking if she couldn’t melt it with heat, maybe brute force would work?
But the ice seemed to be made of some unusual material—her nails couldn’t scratch it at all.
Come to think of it, if it were ordinary ice left at room temperature like this, it would have started melting long ago.
Probably some technology she hadn’t seen before.
Just then, a couple entered the flower shop. They discussed what flowers to buy for their wedding anniversary, occasionally glancing over at Chi Xiaoxue.
Feeling too awkward to continue huffing and scratching at the ice, Chi Xiaoxue stood up, casually tucked her hands into her pockets, and walked out.
Outside the flower shop, she saw Jiang Yanyi still on the phone, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the wheelchair armrest as he spoke.
Chi Xiaoxue stood under the tree shade, watching Jiang Yanyi for a moment. Then an idea struck her, and she walked over, took hold of the wheelchair handles from behind, and silently pushed him into the flower shop.