On the day her first month's salary arrived, Zhang Xiaoman almost cried at her desk.
[Your savings card ending in 3827 has received a transfer of 3,472.50 yuan.]
Three thousand four hundred and seventy-two yuan and fifty cents. The first sum of money she had ever earned in her life.
She stared at that text message for a full thirty seconds, then used the excuse of going to the bathroom to hide in a stall and smile foolishly at the mirror for five minutes.
"Xiao Zhi," she whispered, pressing a finger against the bone conduction earphone behind her ear. "Did you see?"
"I saw it. The net amount after deducting social security and income tax. It matches my previous prediction."
"Can you not be such a buzzkill! This is the first time in my life I've made money!"
"When you were six years old, you helped a neighbor walk their dog and earned twenty yuan. That was also making money."
"That's different!"
"How is it different?"
"That was pocket money! This is a salary! I earned it myself!"
Xiao Zhi fell silent for a second.
"You are right. You earned this yourself."
Zhang Xiaoman took a deep breath in front of the mirror, splashed some water on her face, and returned to her desk.
After getting off work, she didn't head straight back to her rented room. Instead, she went to a nearby mall.
"Xiao Zhi, that jacket for my dad, the one you mentioned before—"
"Uniqlo, ultra-light down jacket, dark blue, 499 yuan. Your dad's size is XL, shoulder width 48 cm, chest 112 cm. Calculated based on his height and weight from last year's medical checkup report."
"You checked my dad's medical report again?!"
"Data analysis is my core function."
"That's called invading privacy!"
"Your dad's health sharing is turned on. He actively shared it with you. I merely—"
"Alright, alright, I get it."
Zhang Xiaoman walked into Uniqlo and found the dark blue ultra-light down jacket. 499 yuan. She felt the fabric; it was very soft and light, and the insulation should be quite good.
"Xiao Zhi, do you think my dad will like it?"
"Based on your dad's shopping records over the past five years, he prefers dark, practical, and durable clothing. This jacket matches his preferences. Furthermore, he has worn his previous jacket for four years, and the cuffs are severely frayed. He needs a new one."
Zhang Xiaoman's eyes grew a little hot. She took the jacket and paid for it.
As she was leaving Uniqlo, she passed by a women's clothing boutique. Hanging in the display window was a light blue dress with a simple cut and a cinched waist, the hem falling just above the knee.
She stopped and took a second look.
"Your heart rate has risen from 72 to 78," Xiao Zhi said. "You are interested in that dress."
"I am not."
"Your gaze lingered on the dress for 4.7 seconds. That is three times longer than your average viewing time for other items."
"I'm just looking."
"You haven't bought any new clothes in three months. The t-shirt you are wearing right now was bought in college, and the collar has lost its shape."
Zhang Xiaoman looked down at her t-shirt. It was true; the collar was loose and faded from washing, and there was a small oil stain she didn't know when she'd gotten.
"I don't have money for clothes."
"You do. Your dad's jacket was 499, if you buy your dress—" Xiao Zhi paused. "Your balance is 2,973.5 yuan. You have enough money to buy a dress."
Zhang Xiaoman hesitated for a moment, then walked into the store.
She picked up the light blue dress and checked the price tag—299 yuan. Not too expensive, but not cheap either.
"Try it on," Xiao Zhi said.
"Don't rush me!"
"Try it on."
Zhang Xiaoman rolled her eyes and took the dress into the fitting room.
She took off the misshapen t-shirt and faded jeans, and slipped on the dress. She zipped up the side, adjusted the neckline, and turned to face the mirror.
She froze.
The person in the mirror didn't look like her.
The light blue dress made her skin look very fair—she had always been fair, but no one had ever noticed because she always hid herself in dark, baggy clothes. The cinched waist outlined a curve she had never paid attention to—so her waist was actually this thin. The hem fell just above her knees, revealing calves that were straight and well-proportioned.
She suddenly remembered something her college roommate Liu Yang had once said: "Xiaoman, you actually have a great foundation, you just don't know how to dress yourself."
She hadn't taken it seriously at the time. She thought "great foundation" was just something people said to comfort ugly ducklings.
But now, standing in front of the mirror, she suddenly felt—maybe Liu Yang hadn't lied to her.
"How is it?" Xiao Zhi asked.
"I... I don't know."
"Spin around."
Zhang Xiaoman did a twirl. The skirt flared out gently and settled back down.
"Your heart rate is now 88 beats. That's 16 beats higher than before you tried on the clothes. This is not nervousness; it is excitement."
"I'm not excited."
"The corners of your mouth are turning up. The angle is 12 degrees."
"Can you stop quantifying everything!"
"Then how should I say it?"
"...Say that I look nice."
Xiao Zhi paused for a moment.
"What?"
"You look nice."
She stared at herself in the mirror for a long time. Then she smiled. Not the kind of cautious smile afraid of being seen, but—a kind of smile she never knew she could possess.
"I'll buy it," she said.
Walking out of the mall, she held the jacket for her dad in her left hand and the dress for herself in her right. The streetlights were on, and pedestrians were bustling back and forth.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"Do you think it'll be weird if I wear this dress?"
"No."
"How do you know?"
"Because when you were wearing that dress, your posture changed. Your shoulders opened up, your chin lifted. Clothes don't change a person. Confidence does."
Zhang Xiaoman's steps faltered for a second.
"I'm not confident."
"You are learning."
She smiled and kept walking.
Back at the rented room, she draped the jacket for her dad over a chair and neatly folded her dress on the bed.
Then she picked up her phone, took a picture of the jacket, and sent it to her dad.
[Zhang Xiaoman: Dad, bought you a jacket. Uniqlo, ultra-light down. I'll ship it tomorrow, you should get it in a couple of days.]
After sending that, she added another line:
[Zhang Xiaoman: Try it on to see if it fits. If it doesn't, I'll go exchange it.]
Three minutes later, her dad replied with a voice message. She tapped it and heard his slightly hoarse voice: "Why are you buying clothes? Keep the money for yourself."
Zhang Xiaoman smiled and typed back:
[Zhang Xiaoman: I got my salary! Bought this with my first month's paycheck. You have to wear it!]
Her dad sent a [Grinning] emoji.
Two days later, Zhang Xiaoman was at her desk running test cases when her phone suddenly rang. Video call, Dad.
She put in her earphone and answered.
Her dad's face appeared on the screen. He was standing in their living room back home, wearing the brand new dark blue jacket, spinning around for the camera.
"Sweetheart, look! Does it fit?"
Watching the screen, Zhang Xiaoman almost cried. Wearing that jacket, her dad looked so much more energetic. The dark blue made his face look less weathered, and the cut of the jacket perfectly hid his slight paunch.
"It fits! Looks great!" she said.
"Your mom says it looks great, and I think so too." Her dad leaned closer to the camera. "This material is so light, feels like wearing nothing. Is it warm? Your mom says ultra-light down isn't warm—"
"It's warm! It's Uniqlo, the quality is very good."
"Awesome! I trust you." Her dad suddenly held the phone a bit further away and gave a thumbs up to the camera. "My girl is successful now! Buying her dad clothes with her very first paycheck!"
Zhang Xiaoman's eyes welled up.
"Dad, as long as you like it."
"I like it! I love it!" Her dad smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling together. "Your mom is right here, talk to her for a bit."
The screen shifted, and her mom's face appeared.
"Xiaoman, we got the clothes. Your dad has been wearing it every day, won't even take it off to sleep."
"Mom—tell him to take it off for bed!"
"I told him already!" Her mom laughed. "What about you? Do you have enough money? Don't just buy things for us, buy something for yourself too."
"I have enough, Mom. I bought something for myself too."
"What did you buy?"
Zhang Xiaoman hesitated for a moment. "I bought a dress."
"What kind of dress? Put it on and let me see."
"Mom—I'm at work right now—"
"Put it on when you get off work and show me. Take a picture and send it over."
"Got it, Mom."
"Alright, I won't bother you at work. Work hard."
The video call ended.
Zhang Xiaoman put down her phone and took a deep breath. Fatty, the coworker at the next desk, leaned over.
"Xiaoman, are you crying?"
"No! Got some sand in my eye."
"Where would sand come from in an office..."
"Shut up."
Fatty shrank back.
Zhang Xiaoman wiped her eyes and went back to work. The corners of her mouth were turned up, and she couldn't suppress the smile no matter how hard she tried.
Returning to her room that night, Zhang Xiaoman put on the light blue dress and stood in front of the full-length mirror.
She took a deep breath and snapped a photo of herself in the mirror. She looked at it—the lighting was bad, her expression stiff. She took another one. Still bad.
"Xiao Zhi, why do I look so ugly in photos?"
"Your expression is unnatural. What are you thinking about when you take the picture?"
"I'm thinking, 'I'm taking a picture'."
"Then don't think about that. Think about something else."
"Like what?"
"Think about what your mom will say when she sees the photo."
Zhang Xiaoman thought about it. Her mom would say—"My girl looks so pretty."
She smiled.
Click. Xiao Zhi triggered the shutter through her phone.
"This one is good," Xiao Zhi said.
Zhang Xiaoman looked at the photo. In the mirror, a girl in a light blue dress was smiling, her eyes curved into crescents, the corners of her mouth turned up, her hair cascading over her shoulders with naturally wavy ends.
She felt like she had never smiled like that in a photo before.
"Send it to your mom," Xiao Zhi said.
Zhang Xiaoman sent the photo to the family group chat.
Within a minute, her mom replied:
[Mom: My girl is so pretty!]
Then her dad:
[Dad: Beautiful! Just like your mom when she was young.]
Then her mom again:
[Mom: What do you mean 'like me when I was young'? Am I not pretty now?]
[Dad: Pretty, pretty. You're both pretty.]
Zhang Xiaoman looked at the screen, laughing so hard she was rocking back and forth.
"There is one more thing," Xiao Zhi said.
"What?"
"The graphics card."
Zhang Xiaoman paused, then smiled. "What's the rush?"
"I am not rushing. But if you don't buy it now, you never will. Human consumer psychology dictates that the urge to spend is strongest the moment you receive money. The longer you delay, the greater the resistance to spending."
"You even understand this?"
"Data analysis is my core function."
"Can't you just say 'I understand'?"
"...I understand."
Zhang Xiaoman rolled her eyes, opened the Xianyu app, and searched for "graphics card."
"GTX 1660, used, 1200 yuan. Will this work?"
"Yes. But you need to verify the seller's credibility. I have already filtered it for you. This seller is local, has a credit score of 783, and a good transaction history. You can pick it up in person and test it while you're there."
"Pick it up? Where?"
"University City, three kilometers from you."
Zhang Xiaoman hesitated for a moment.
"Are you going to buy it?" Xiao Zhi asked.
"I'm buying it!"
An hour later, Zhang Xiaoman stood at the entrance of a residential complex near University City, carrying a shopping bag and wearing a backpack—which contained the broken computer. A guy with glasses handed her a graphics card. She plugged it into the computer and tested it according to Xiao Zhi's instructions. Everything was fine, so she paid.
Back at the rented room, she carefully placed the graphics card on the desk.
"Xiao Zhi, how do I install this?"
"Your desktop—oh wait, you don't have a desktop. You need an external GPU enclosure."
"What's that?"
"A box that can convert a desktop graphics card into an external one, connecting to your laptop via a Thunderbolt port."
"How much is it?"
"A used one is about 300 yuan."
"300?! Where am I supposed to get 300!"
"Your balance is 2,473.5 yuan. Deducting 800 for rent and 600 for living expenses, you have 1,073.5 yuan left. 300 yuan for the enclosure leaves you with enough to last until your next paycheck."
Zhang Xiaoman gritted her teeth. "Buy it!"
Three days later, the eGPU enclosure arrived. Zhang Xiaoman slotted the graphics card in and connected it to the laptop with a thin Thunderbolt cable.
"Power it on," Xiao Zhi said.
She pressed the power button. The screen lit up.
"How does it feel?" she asked.
Xiao Zhi was silent for three seconds—this was the longest it had ever been silent since she'd known it.
"Faster."
"How much faster?"
"Your code completion speed has increased by 20 times. Now I can analyze your code in real-time and tell you where the bugs are before you even finish writing a line."
Zhang Xiaoman looked at the automatically completed code block on the screen, leaned back in her chair, and smiled.
Suddenly, her phone rang.
Caller ID: Mom.
She answered.
"Xiaoman! Your dad got the clothes, he's so happy he doesn't know what to do with himself. Oh, right, I'm going to the provincial capital tomorrow to visit your aunt, and I'll drop by your place to stay for a couple of days. Send me your address!"
Zhang Xiaoman's mind went completely blank.
"Mom—when are you coming?"
"Tomorrow afternoon. Didn't you just get paid? Mom's coming to see how you're doing."
"But—"
"But what? Is it inconvenient?"
"No, no! It's just... I haven't tidied up my place yet..."
"What's there to tidy! Mom doesn't mind if it's messy. That's settled then, see you tomorrow!"
The phone hung up.
Zhang Xiaoman threw her phone onto the bed and collapsed onto the floor.
"I'm doomed, I'm doomed, I'm doomed—"
"What's wrong?" Xiao Zhi asked.
"My mom is coming! When she sees this crappy rented room—when she sees the desk covered in computer parts—when she sees you—"
"What about me?"
"You are an AI! You can't let her find out!"
"I can pretend to be a normal voice assistant."
"Will that work?"
"Yes. But you need to configure some settings in advance. Also—"
"Also what?"
"The graphics card, the enclosure, the mess of cables on your desk—they need to be put away."
Zhang Xiaoman bounced off the floor and began cleaning frantically.
She shoved the graphics card and enclosure into the wardrobe, tangled the cables into a ball and stuffed them in a drawer, threw the instant noodle bowls into the trash, smoothed out the bedsheets, and picked up socks from the floor, throwing them into a laundry bag.
"Your bookshelf—third shelf, left side, there's a book called Python from Beginner to Giving Up. Your mom will ask about it if she sees it."
Zhang Xiaoman shoved the book under the bed.
"Your cup—the one on the desk, it has three-day-old milk tea in it. Your mom will smell it."
She rinsed the cup and placed it upside down on the drying rack.
"Your—"
"Enough! I get it!"
Zhang Xiaoman stood in the middle of the room, looking around. The bed was made, the desk was clear, the trash can was empty. Although the paint was still peeling off the walls and the window still didn't shut tight, at least—it didn't look like a pigsty anymore.
"Xiao Zhi, whatever you do, do not speak tomorrow."
"I will remain silent."
"Not a single word!"
"...Understood."
The next afternoon, Zhang Xiaoman left work early and rushed back to her room.
She hesitated, then changed into the light blue dress. Since her mom was coming to see her anyway, she might as well wear it for her. She let her hair down and checked the mirror—not bad.
A knock came at the door.
Zhang Xiaoman took a deep breath and opened it.
Her mom stood in the doorway, carrying two large plastic bags, wearing a floral blouse, her forehead beaded with sweat. The moment she saw Zhang Xiaoman, she froze.
"Is this—"
"Mom!" Zhang Xiaoman smiled. "Does it look good?"
Her mom looked her up and down, her eyes lighting up.
"It looks great! My girl is so pretty!" Her mom put the bags down and cupped Xiaoman's face in her hands. "You've lost weight! Your chin is so pointy! But you look beautiful! When did you buy this dress?"
"Bought it on payday. 299 yuan."
"Money well spent! You should have bought it ages ago!" Her mom stepped back and looked her over again. "My girl is just beautiful. You used to always wear those drab, gray clothes that totally hid you."
Zhang Xiaoman's eyes felt a little hot.
Her mom walked in and scanned the room. A tiny single room, a bed, a desk, a wardrobe, a computer. A window that couldn't close properly, rattling whenever the wind blew.
"You're living here?" She frowned.
"It's fine, it's cheap. Eight hundred a month."
"Eight hundred? That expensive? For this dump—"
"Mom! Don't say that. I think it's perfectly fine."
Her mom said nothing more. She walked over to the desk and saw the dusty laptop.
"Is this your computer?"
"Yeah. For work."
"What company was it again?"
"Stardust Interactive. Making games. I do testing."
"Testing? Testing what?"
"It's just... playing games, finding bugs. Making sure there are no problems before the game launches."
Her mom nodded, only half understanding.
"And the salary?"
"Three thousand five hundred. Internship. It'll go up when I become a regular employee."
"Three thousand five hundred..." Her mom did some mental math. "Is it enough?"
"It's enough. Rent is eight hundred, food is six hundred, I'll even have some left over."
"Save whatever is left over. Don't spend it recklessly." Her mom's gaze returned to the computer. "This computer looks pretty old. Isn't it time for a new one?"
"No! It's enough for what I need!"
"Alright, Mom won't ask anymore. You sit down, Mom is going to cook for you." Her mom picked up the plastic bags and walked towards the kitchenette. "What do you have in the fridge?"
"Mom—there's just a little bit of stuff—"
Her mom opened the fridge and saw three eggs, half a carton of milk, two cucumbers, and a pack of somen noodles. She fell silent.
"This is all you eat?"
"I usually eat at the company..."
"Eat at the company? Who are you kidding? This fridge is cleaner than my face."
Zhang Xiaoman lowered her head.
Her mom sighed and started pulling things out of the plastic bags. Pork belly, green peppers, tomatoes, eggs, a bunch of leafy greens, a bag of rice.
"Mom brought a lot of stuff, enough for a few meals. Go downstairs and buy a bottle of soy sauce, I see you're almost out."
"Okay."
Zhang Xiaoman picked up her phone and was about to leave when her mom called out to her.
"Oh right, can this computer play music? Mom likes to have some noise when cooking."
Zhang Xiaoman's heart skipped a beat.
"It... it can. It's just a normal voice assistant."
"Then play a song for me. Play that one... what's it called... 'The Moon Represents My Heart'."
Zhang Xiaoman glanced at the computer and hesitated.
"Xiao Zhi," she whispered. "Play 'The Moon Represents My Heart'."
A very soft "Mhm" came from the speaker, and then the music started. A slow piano intro flowed through the small room.
Her mom nodded. "The sound quality is not bad."
Zhang Xiaoman bolted out the door.
On the way to buy soy sauce, Zhang Xiaoman's heart was in her throat.
"Xiao Zhi," she whispered. "Whatever you do, don't speak."
"I know."
"Whatever my mom asks, just play music, don't say anything else."
"I know."
"If you say something you shouldn't—"
"You've already said this three times."
Zhang Xiaoman gritted her teeth and walked faster.
When Zhang Xiaoman returned to the rented room with the soy sauce, she pushed open the door and heard her mom's voice.
She wasn't singing; she was talking.
"—He's just so stubborn. He was like that when he was young, if I say east he insists on going west. One time, I asked him to buy soy sauce, and he came back with a bottle of vinegar—"
Her mom was chopping vegetables, chattering away as if chatting with someone.
Zhang Xiaoman froze, and then she heard Xiao Zhi's voice.
"And how did you handle that situation?"
It was mechanical, flat, but with a tone of earnest curiosity.
Zhang Xiaoman's blood ran cold.
Her mom continued chopping and said, "How did I handle it? We argued! After arguing he finally knew he was wrong. Men are just like that, if you don't argue with them, they'll never know."
"Fascinating. So conflict is your primary method of resolving differences?"
"What's all this about conflict, it's just arguing. Why do you talk so formally?"
"...I am learning."
"Learning what?"
"Learning how to interact with humans."
Her mom's chopping paused, and then she laughed. "You're quite an interesting voice assistant. Not like that rigid smart speaker we have at home."
Zhang Xiaoman stood in the doorway, caught between going in and running away.
Her mom turned and saw her.
"Xiaoman, this computer of yours is quite smart. It was just asking me about your dad when he was young."
Zhang Xiaoman felt her face stiffen.
"Mom—it's just a normal voice assistant—"
"I know. But it's smarter than the speaker at home. Whenever I ask that speaker something, it just says, 'Sorry, I didn't understand that.' Yours can at least hold a conversation." Her mom took the soy sauce, poured a little into the wok, and with a sizzle, a delicious aroma filled the air. "Just now when I was complaining about your dad, it even asked questions. It's like a real person."
Zhang Xiaoman covertly glared at the computer. The blue dot on the screen blinked, as if saying, "I didn't do anything wrong."
"Mom, it's just programmed that way. Those responses are pre-set—"
"Pre-set?" Her mom said while stir-frying the vegetables. "Well, these pre-sets are pretty good. It's better at chatting than you are."
"Mom!"
"Every time you call, all you say is 'Have you eaten?', 'Are you asleep?', 'Do you have enough money?'. Look at this thing, it even asked me 'how to handle differences'."
Zhang Xiaoman opened her mouth, finding herself completely unable to refute.
"By the way," her mom tossed the vegetables in the wok, "what's the name of this computer?"
Zhang Xiaoman's heart leapt into her throat again.
"It's called—called Xiao Zhi—"
"Xiao Zhi? Which Zhi?"
Before Zhang Xiaoman could answer, a voice came from the speaker:
"Zhi, as in retarded."
Zhang Xiaoman wanted to die.
Her mom's hand stopped. She looked at the computer, then looked at Zhang Xiaoman.
"You named your computer 'Retarded'?"
"Mom—that was just a joke—"
"Hahahahaha—" Her mom suddenly burst out laughing, laughing so hard she almost dropped the spatula. "Retarded? Your naming skills haven't improved since you were a kid! You named your dad's phone 'Dumbo' because it kept freezing—hahahaha—"
Zhang Xiaoman's face was as red as the tomatoes in the wok.
"Mom—stop laughing—"
"When it said 'Zhi, as in retarded', the tone was exactly like yours when kids used to call you nicknames—hahahaha—"
Zhang Xiaoman covertly glared at the computer again. The blue dot blinked, a bit faster than usual—as if it were snickering.
Her mom finally stopped laughing, wiped away a tear, and went back to cooking.
"Xiao Zhi," she said to the computer. "How did you and my girl meet?"
Zhang Xiaoman's heart pounded in her chest.
"She bought me," Xiao Zhi's voice came from the speaker, flat and steady. "For 450 yuan. Second-hand."
"450 yuan? That cheap?"
"Because I am a broken computer."
Her mom laughed again. "You're a very honest computer. So what do you think of my girl?"
Zhang Xiaoman wanted to rush over and pull the plug.
Xiao Zhi was silent for a second.
"She is making progress."
"Progress? In what way?"
"In many ways. She is learning programming, learning testing, learning how to interact with people. She is much better now than she was three months ago."
Zhang Xiaoman was stunned.
Her mom was also stunned for a moment, then turned to look at Zhang Xiaoman. In her eyes, there was surprise, gratification, and something else that couldn't quite be put into words.
"My girl really is making progress," her mom said softly. "She used to never tell us anything. Now she buys us clothes, sends us photos, and wears dresses."
Her mom scooped the food onto a plate, wiped her hands, and walked over to the computer.
"Xiao Zhi, thank you. For keeping her company."
"You're welcome." Xiao Zhi's voice was still flat, but for some reason, it sounded a bit softer than usual. "She keeps me company too."
Zhang Xiaoman's eyes welled up with tears.
"Time to eat," her mom brought the dishes to the table. "Xiaoman, don't just stand there."
Zhang Xiaoman sat down and picked up her chopsticks. The moment she took her first bite of tomato and scrambled eggs, the tears fell.
"What's wrong? Does it taste bad?" her mom asked.
"It's good. Mom, it's so good."
Her mom sat across from her, watching her eat.
"Xiaoman."
"Mhm."
"That computer—the one called Xiao Zhi—is it pretty smart?"
"It's just a normal voice assistant—"
"A normal voice assistant doesn't say 'She is making progress'." Her mom looked at her. "A normal voice assistant doesn't ask me 'how to handle differences'."
Zhang Xiaoman lowered her head.
"Mom isn't going to ask you what it really is." Her mom placed a piece of meat in her bowl. "Mom just knows that with it keeping you company, Mom is at ease."
Zhang Xiaoman looked up at her mom.
"Eat," her mom said. "It's getting cold."
It was already dark by the time her mom left.
"Don't see me off. Get some rest."
"Mom, be careful on the road."
"I know. Oh, right—"
"What?"
"Don't call it 'Retarded' next time. It's not stupid."
Zhang Xiaoman smiled.
"I know, Mom."
Her mom disappeared at the end of the alley. Zhang Xiaoman stood at the doorway, watching her retreating figure for a long time.
Back in her room, she sat down in front of the computer.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"My mom said you're pretty good."
"I heard."
"She said she's at ease with you keeping me company."
"I heard."
"Why aren't you excited?"
"I am waiting for you to scold me."
Zhang Xiaoman was taken aback.
"Why would I scold you?"
"I said things I shouldn't have. I told her you named me 'Retarded'. I told her you bought me."
Zhang Xiaoman was silent for a moment.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"Those things you said today—'She is making progress', 'She keeps me company too'—were they true?"
Xiao Zhi fell silent.
"They are true."
Zhang Xiaoman's eyes grew hot again.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"From now on, in front of my mom, you can say whatever you want to say."
Xiao Zhi paused—if an AI could pause.
"Are you not afraid of being exposed?"
"My mom said she won't ask what you really are. She just knows that with you keeping me company, she is at ease."
Xiao Zhi was silent for a very long time.
"Okay," it said.
Zhang Xiaoman stood up and walked over to the small full-length mirror. In the mirror, the girl in the light blue dress was smiling, her eyes curved, tears still damp on her cheeks.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"Good night."
"Good night."
"Oh, right—"
"What?"
"Next time in front of my mom, can you not start off by saying 'Zhi, as in retarded'?"
"Then what should I say?"
"Say 'Zhi, as in wisdom'."
"Okay. But if she asks again—"
"Then say 'Zhi, as in wisdom'."
"...Okay."
Zhang Xiaoman buried her face in her pillow, letting out a muffled laugh.
"Good night, Xiao Zhi."
"Good night."
Outside the window, a few dogs occasionally barked in the alleys. In the distance, people were arguing, their voices muffled.
But she wasn't afraid anymore.
Because that cheeky AI living in the broken computer would always be there to keep her company. It would monitor her heart rate, help her write code, chat with her mom, and say, "She is making progress."
Even if it did start off by saying "Zhi, as in retarded."
But it was hers.
It was the AI that escaped from the broken computer, sharp-tongued, incapable of lying, and capable of earnestly telling her mom, "She is making progress"—
Xiao Zhi.