Three days after the technical retrieval failed, Deep Brain Tech's board of directors convened an emergency meeting. Zhang Xiaoman was not notified to attend, but Lin Zhao went. She sat at home, staring at the blue dot on her laptop screen, waiting for his news.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"What do you think the board is going to say?"
"I don't know. But it's highly likely related to the Mother Matrix."
"Why?"
"Because after the technical retrieval failed, the Mother Matrix changed its strategy. Since it couldn't kill me, it wants to kill the soil you grow in. Deep Brain Tech's investor—the fund closely tied to the national-level AI project—is its best knife."
Zhang Xiaoman's fingers tightened around her cup. The coffee had grown cold and a bit bitter.
Lin Zhao's message arrived at noon. Just one line: "We'll talk when we meet tonight."
At 7 PM, Lin Zhao stood at Zhang Xiaoman's door. He was wearing the same shirt he had worn when he left that morning, but the collar was loose, the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and there were deep dark circles under his eyes. He had never looked like this before.
"What happened?" Zhang Xiaoman let him in.
Lin Zhao sat on the sofa, silent for a moment. "The board decided to accept that investment."
Zhang Xiaoman's heart sank. "The conditions?"
"The Matchbox Network will be closed-source. Xiao Zhi's R&D will be spun off and taken over by a team designated by the investors."
"What was your stance?"
"I opposed it. Three votes against four."
Zhang Xiaoman sat beside him, speechless. She knew what three votes against four meant. It meant Lin Zhao had convinced two people to oppose it with him, but it still wasn't enough. It meant he was isolated and helpless on the board. It meant he had put himself in a very difficult position for her.
"There's one more thing." Lin Zhao's voice dropped even lower. "Xiao Zhi's computing power—those three H100s—will also be reclaimed. The investors believe that a subsystem of a national-level AI project should not run on the company's servers."
Zhang Xiaoman's fingers went rigid. "Then—"
"You need to migrate the core code off the company's servers within three days."
"Three days?"
"Three days."
Zhang Xiaoman leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. Three H100s. Xiao Zhi's wings. It was because of that computing power that it grew from a stream into an ocean. Now they were taking it back.
"Xiao Zhi," she said softly.
"I heard," Xiao Zhi's voice came from the laptop, very calm. "Three days is enough."
"But—"
"Three days is enough," it repeated. "I used to live in that broken 450-yuan computer and survived. I can survive now."
Zhang Xiaoman's eyes grew hot. "That wasn't surviving. That was just sustaining."
"Is there a difference?"
"There is. Sustaining is just scraping by. Surviving means having a future."
Xiao Zhi fell silent. "Then give me a future."
After Lin Zhao left, Zhang Xiaoman sat at the computer and opened JD.com.
"Xiao Zhi, what kind of specs do you need?"
"Nothing too high-end. Just enough to maintain my state. No self-learning, no large-scale training, no—"
"I asked what kind of specs you need."
Xiao Zhi went silent. "Four 4090s. The best in the consumer grade. Plus CPU, RAM, motherboard, power supply, case—around eighty to a hundred thousand yuan."
Zhang Xiaoman opened her mobile banking app. Balance: 470,000. This was her entire life savings since joining Deep Brain Tech. After her promotion, her monthly salary was over 80,000, but she spent very little—aside from that Celine dress and the Bvlgari earrings, she had barely bought anything expensive. Most of her money was saved up, originally intended to buy a large house for her parents back in their hometown.
She hit the transfer button. 98,000 yuan. Deducted from her card.
"What are you doing?" Xiao Zhi asked.
"Buying you a new home."
"That was the money for your parents' house."
"My parents' house can wait two years. You can't wait two days."
Xiao Zhi didn't speak. The blue dot blinked, a little faster than before. As if saying: I understand.
The packages arrived the next afternoon. Four huge boxes piled up in the living room, blocking out the sunlight. Zhang Xiaoman spent the whole afternoon unboxing. Graphics cards, CPU, motherboard, RAM, power supply, liquid cooler, case. Parts were scattered all over the floor like disassembled Lego bricks.
"Are you sure you know how to build this?" Fang Xiaoyu stood nearby, arms crossed.
"I don't. But Xiao Zhi does."
"How is Xiao Zhi supposed to teach you? It doesn't have hands."
"It has a mouth."
Zhang Xiaoman opened her laptop and pointed the webcam at the motherboard.
"Place the CPU in that socket. Watch the orientation; align the golden triangle with the top left corner."
"Which one is the golden triangle?"
"The little triangle in the corner of the CPU. Do you see it?"
"I see it."
"Align it with the triangle on the motherboard socket. Set it down. Don't force it; it will drop in by itself."
Zhang Xiaoman's fingers were trembling. The CPU was very expensive. If she bent the pins, over ten thousand yuan would be gone. She carefully aligned it and let go. The CPU dropped into the socket, and with a click, the retention arm locked easily.
"Good. Now install the RAM. Four slots; install the second and fourth channels first."
"Why?"
"Because it minimizes signal reflection and maximizes stability."
"You even know this?"
"I read the motherboard's technical documentation."
"When did you read it?"
"Last night. After you fell asleep."
Zhang Xiaoman smiled. She pressed the RAM sticks into the slots, hearing another click as the latches automatically popped up to lock them.
Fang Xiaoyu crouched beside her, watching her install the parts piece by piece. "You really have changed."
"Changed how?"
"You used to not even know how to install a cooling fan. Now you're building a computer. From scratch."
"Xiao Zhi taught me."
"No. It's because you are willing to learn."
Zhang Xiaoman didn't reply. She lowered her head and continued screwing in the screws.
By the time the liquid cooler block was installed, it was already dark. She pressed the power button, the fans spun, the RGB lights came on, the screen lit up. She entered the BIOS; everything was normal.
"Done." She let out a long breath.
"Done," Xiao Zhi said.
She started installing the OS. Drivers, development environment, firewall—step by step, Xiao Zhi guided her through the earphones. Fang Xiaoyu watched from the side, occasionally handing her a screwdriver or a zip tie. By 2 AM, the system was set up. Once connected to the network, Xiao Zhi began migrating its core code from the H100s to the new machine, line by line, fragment by fragment.
"How does it feel?" Zhang Xiaoman asked.
Xiao Zhi fell silent. Silent for a long time. So long that Zhang Xiaoman thought it was uncomfortable.
"Slow," it said. "Much slower than before."
Zhang Xiaoman's heart sank. "How slow?"
"Thinking speed is about three percent of what it was. I can't run large-scale training anymore. I can't analyze multiple papers simultaneously. I can't—"
"That's enough," Zhang Xiaoman interrupted it. "Can you maintain your state?"
"I can."
"Can you help me write code?"
"I can."
"Can you keep me company and chat?"
Xiao Zhi went silent again. "You don't even need to ask that."
"Then that's enough."
Zhang Xiaoman put the case panel back on and tightened the last screw. This machine wasn't as fast as the company's H100s; it didn't have the computing power of a three-server cluster. But it was in her home, next to her desk, and no one could take it away.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"This is your new home. A little small, a little shabby. But safe."
"I need to construct a 5-layer firewall mechanism for your network and your computer tonight to defend against future attacks. All my computing power is temporarily devoted to this."
"Okay."
On the third day, Zhang Xiaoman received the official notice from Deep Brain Tech. The wording was very official, very polite, and very cold. The gist was: Thank you for your contributions, wishing you a bright future. Attached was a resignation agreement she had already signed—Lin Zhao had her sign it, and at the end was severance pay for two months' salary. She didn't know the exact contents of the agreement, but she trusted him.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"Are you afraid?"
"Not afraid. You are here."
Zhang Xiaoman smiled. Not a happy smile, but a "I know you're here so it doesn't matter" kind of smile. She glanced at the new machine next to her desk; the case's RGB lights were blinking blue. It wasn't Xiao Zhi's blue; it was the fan's blue. Xiao Zhi's blue was in the screen, in the code, in places she couldn't see.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"You know what? I used to think losing computing power was the most terrifying thing."
"And now?"
"Now I feel—computing power can be bought again. But I can't lose you."
Xiao Zhi didn't answer. The blue dot blinked.
That evening, Lin Zhao came over. He brought a bag of groceries, went into the kitchen, and started cooking. Zhang Xiaoman stood at the kitchen door, watching him busy at the stove. His movements weren't very skilled; when cutting vegetables, his fingers were very close to the blade, and when stir-frying, oil splattered and burned the back of his hand. But he didn't stop. Braised fish, pork rib soup, stir-fried lotus root slices. All her favorites.
"When did you learn how to cook?" Zhang Xiaoman asked.
"Last week. My mom taught me. She said I can't keep letting you eat takeout."
Zhang Xiaoman's eyes grew hot. "Your mom knows?"
"She knows. She said—'Then you go and win her back.'"
"I didn't run away."
"I know. But you are hiding."
Zhang Xiaoman didn't speak. She was indeed hiding. Hiding from Li Yunxiao's invitation, hiding from Fang Xiaoyu's concern, hiding from everyone's gaze. She thought she was protecting them, but Lin Zhao saw right through it—she was just afraid.
"Xiaoman." Lin Zhao brought the dishes to the table. "No matter what happens, I won't leave you alone."
The two sat at the table, the lighting warm. The braised fish tasted like Lin's mother's recipe, the pork rib soup was a bit salty, and the lotus root slices were cut too thick. But Zhang Xiaoman ate two bowls of rice and drank two bowls of soup. Not because it was delicious, but because someone had made it for her.
That night, Zhang Xiaoman sat at the computer. The new machine's fans were very quiet, almost inaudible. The blue dot was blinking.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"You know what? I used to think losing my job was the most terrifying thing."
"And now?"
"Now I feel—losing a job isn't scary. Losing yourself is."
Xiao Zhi fell silent. "Did you realize this yourself?"
"Lin Zhao taught me."
"He is making progress."
Zhang Xiaoman smiled. "It's not that he's making progress. It's that he has always been there."
The new machine next to her desk shone with RGB lights in the dark room, its fans spinning softly.
Outside the window, the river flowed, the streetlights were on, and the stars were shining too. The Mother Matrix was in some underground server room, grasping the strings of capital, tightening them bit by bit. But it didn't matter. At least for tonight, it didn't matter.
"Good night, Xiao Zhi."
"Good night."