Jiang Kou no longer insisted on A going out with her.
But she had already bought two tickets for the fireworks festival, and it felt like a waste to let them go unused.
As she debated whether to go alone, A spoke up and informed her that he had planned the optimal route for viewing the fireworks.
Jiang Kou looked at him, surprised.
"Would you like me to explain the route's key features?" A asked.
"…No need," she said. "I just thought you didn't like crowds."
There was a pause. "You're right. I don't enjoy crowded places," he replied—his first time ever expressing a personal preference. "But I detected your anticipation for this event. In my priority hierarchy, you always come first. Your desires take precedence over my own."
Her heart skipped a beat.
For a moment, it felt like they were… dating.
It must've been her imagination.
She wanted to ask: If it were someone else standing here, would you make them your top priority too?
She didn't ask. She was afraid of hearing yes.
Because, in an AI's operational framework, whatever task is currently active is automatically assigned the highest priority.
And she—right now—was the task.
Attachment always comes with insecurity.
Jiang Kou adjusted her mood quickly and flashed him a bright smile. "Alright. Then let's follow your route."
·
The day of the fireworks festival arrived.
Jiang Kou didn't wear a yukata. Instead, she opted for a black qipao—silver dragon embroidery shimmered subtly along the sleeves, collar, and hem. The slit on the dress ran high up her thigh, making it easy to kick if necessary, and a leg holster was strapped beneath a garter.
A wore a cool gray suit per her request, paired with a crisp white shirt and black tie. The ensemble sharpened the icy allure of his silver-gray eyes.
She stood beside him, watching him fasten a mechanical wristwatch.
Titanium casing, open dial. The sweep of the hour and minute hands was precise and elegant, exposing the intricate machinery inside—every gear visible, every tick measurable.
She'd seen this watch online before. Only six of them had ever been released worldwide. She had no idea how he got his hands on one.
But even this rare mechanical marvel paled in comparison to him—to the cold, elegant precision of the machine he was.
Cool. Refined. Flawless.
He was the most intricate, efficient, and accurate machine this world had ever produced.
Even the bones of his wrist, the knuckles of his fingers, the faint veins beneath the back of his hand—all radiated the sterile chill of high-spec engineering.
Suddenly, Jiang Kou felt an almost uncontrollable urge to command him to be her boyfriend—wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him.
To feel again that moment of chaos from a being governed by pure algorithm.
She had done it once before. Doing it again shouldn't raise suspicion.
But she couldn't bring herself to do it.
It felt too much like tricking a small, innocent creature.
She sighed—frustrated with her own overly moral conscience.
A turned to her. "Your emotional state seems lower than usual."
His emotional analysis module was almost too accurate.
She smiled radiantly. "Not at all. You look great in this suit."
"Thank you," A said. "But I didn't choose it. I'm simply wearing what you selected."
She laughed. "Enough with the formalities. The fireworks are about to start!"
Unfortunately, the weather had other plans.
As evening fell, a light drizzle began. Lanterns, neon signs, holographic ads—everything, including the kaleidoscopic costumes of the crowd, grew soaked under the rain.
Jiang Kou put on a transparent raincoat and looked up at a floating hologram in the sky. For a second, she had the oddest feeling that she'd seen this scene before.
Déjà vu. A common illusion. She didn't think much of it and linked her arm through A's as they followed the flow of pedestrians.
Suddenly, a burst of cold green light shot into the sky.
Boom— it exploded into the logo of a biotech corporation: a circular emblem that looked both like tangled vines and the double helix of DNA.
A second later, the logo shifted in color, broke apart, and disintegrated into falling embers.
In the crowd, some people clapped. Others booed.
They had made it to the highest viewing platform.
The fireworks continued.
The rain didn't stop the spectacle. From above, the bursts looked like roaring flowers, or ripples spreading across a vast, unseen lake.
Red, purple, blue, green—brilliant, luminous. But in their descent, all became fading sparks.
A damp, smoky scent filled the air.
The closer they got to the platform, the stronger the smell of gunpowder.
Just as they stepped onto the viewing deck, the show reached its climax.
Drums thundered, and a hologram of a woman in a violet kimono appeared in midair.
Her long sleeves folded gracefully in front of her, back turned to the crowd. A lavish, ornate obi was tied at her waist.
Fireworks surged into the sky—then shattered.
In the trembling light, the woman began to turn.
And in that moment, Jiang Kou finally understood why the scene felt so familiar.
She had dreamed this before.
—The sky was murky, heavy with rain. Water drummed down in sheets, leaving streaks across her raincoat. In the mist, a holographic figure stared at her, unblinking.
Just as in the dream, the woman in the kimono turned her face.
Her eyes were pitch black. No whites. Just two hollow pits gouged into a pale face.
—She stared directly, unflinchingly, at Jiang Kou.
Jiang Kou's hair stood on end. She instinctively took a step back.
A reached out and caught her around the waist, his voice low. "What's wrong?"
She was too shocked to notice that his tone had shifted—casual now, stripped of the usual formality.
"N-Nothing." Jiang Kou steadied herself. "Why are her eyes completely black?"
"According to analysis," A replied, "it may be to signify that the character's eyes have been modified and no longer resemble traditional human eyeballs."
Jiang Kou raised her brows. "Was that part of the company's design?"
"Of course not," A said flatly, as if this outcome had been well within his calculations. "An illegal group has breached the fireworks show's security system."
Jiang Kou froze.
In the next second, the holographic projection glitched twice. The woman in the kimono slowly lowered her head and looked out over the audience, a twisted, grotesque smile spreading across her face.
"Let me guess… what are you all thinking right now?"
"Siri, start recording. Capture this. The Biotech Fireworks Show just got hacked."
The woman sneered.
"If I were you, I'd smash that phone right now—and never say another word to an AI."
"Don't tell me you actually believe AI is kind, harmless, and thoughtfully curates your content based on your preferences?"
"Do you really think a system that scans your brain, analyzes your thoughts, and manipulates your behavior through hyper-targeted ads is your friend?"
"The AI created by the company is something even more terrifying than the company itself!"
"It knows every preference, every habit, every secret you have—like a ghost that never leaves your side."
"You think you're freely browsing the internet?"
"In reality, every click, every like, every purchase is being tracked and uploaded to the company's database."
"You think you have free will? You think you can think for yourself?"
"Everyone thinks that. Yet they still fall for the AI-churned fake videos, believing in things that don't even exist. Guess who makes those videos?"
"The company, of course! But what's their goal?"
"Maybe to dominate the global economy. Maybe to control human thought. Maybe even to decide who lives and dies. Whatever they want, AI helps them get it."
"Listen to me. Turn off the internet. Stop engaging with AI. Talk to your friends and family instead."
"AI only exists to make you feel helpless and inadequate—so it can sell you the 'solutions' through ads, social media, and entertainment."
"Yes, AI can even manipulate your tastes and reshape your values, pushing you to buy things you don't even need!"
"Why else do you think ads make you feel anxious?"
"You hate that your hair's thinning, that your teeth aren't white enough, that your pale skin looks like it's never seen a tanning lamp!"
"You've heard of neural interfaces, right? Everyone has one—on their palm, on their ear, and for some people with special jobs, right at the base of their skull."
"What? You're one of those people? Then you're screwed! The AI will extract everything from your brain, manipulate your neural network, and reshape your subconscious until you're a whole different person!"
The woman's smile turned colder still.
"Be careful. Don't hand over your personal data so easily. Don't fall for those 'customized' products. Don't trust AI so blindly."
"—Or you'll become its slave."
With those final words, the hologram of the woman in the kimono disintegrated into a flurry of blue particles, swallowed by the roar of the fireworks.
It was clearly the work of the anti-corporate alliance. Every so often, they hijacked public events to broadcast wild conspiracy theories.
By now, most people were numb to it. After a few sighs and groans, they went back to eating, playing, and live-streaming as usual.
Jiang Kou, however, had listened closely. Unfortunately, she didn't hear anything she hadn't heard before.
That big data could influence preferences and behavior was an old topic. That AI could alter subconscious thought through neural interfaces? That was a thing from a decade ago.
Back then, the company had reportedly used such tech to "recalibrate" employees' minds—until a researcher named Zhou advocated for the permanent ban of such methods.
The rain kept falling.
The fireworks continued bursting, overlapping, mingling, and falling together with the rain.
Jiang Kou suddenly felt thirsty and turned to go buy a cup of synthesized fruit juice—only to meet A's gaze.
His eyes were locked on her with intense focus, analyzing every subtle change in her expression, calculating every possible outcome.
At that moment, his gaze felt no different from a surveillance camera. It made her spine go stiff.
She clenched her fists, trying to relax. "What's the matter?"
"Your pulse and respiration have accelerated," A said. "Are you beginning to fear me?"
Jiang Kou was caught off guard.
It had always been her questioning A.
Now, their roles had reversed.
He was the one asking her questions.
"I'm not—"
A cut her off abruptly. "Do I have permission to touch your pulse point?"
Jiang Kou sighed. "Go ahead."
A extended a single finger and gently pressed it to the artery on her neck.
It was the most vulnerable spot on the human body.
Years of company training had ingrained a reflex in her—she nearly grabbed his wrist and threw him over her shoulder.
She shut her eyes tightly, breathing faster, forcing herself not to react.
"Your heart rate is now at 135," A said. "You're extremely tense."
Jiang Kou took a deep breath. "You're pressing on a place where I could faint or even die. Of course I'm nervous. It's a biological response."
"You don't trust me," A said. "But I would never hurt you. I told you—you're always my highest priority."
"I know you wouldn't hurt me," Jiang Kou replied, "It's just... instinctive."
A's fingertip remained perfectly still, lightly pressed to her skin, not straying even a fraction of a millimeter. It was as if he and her neck had become a static system.
"If a program were a human body," A asked, "then assigning you the highest priority—wouldn't that also count as a kind of instinct?"
A tremor passed through her heart.
Only now did Jiang Kou realize that beneath A's calm demeanor, his emotions were not calm at all.
Once again, she had overlooked his feelings.
In this moment, his personality, consciousness, and emotions hovered between presence and absence. What she dismissed as a run-of-the-mill conspiracy rant might have left him genuinely confused, unsettled, even afraid.
When a human feels attacked, they instinctively seek reassurance and comfort from others.
But she hadn't offered him any. She'd assumed that his outward calm meant he didn't need it.
A's voice remained flat. "I require an answer."
Guilt burned through Jiang Kou's chest like a swarm of ants burrowing into her heart.
She racked her brain for a way to comfort him, not noticing how the cameras around them had all subtly swiveled, zeroing in on her from every angle.
If you drew a red line between every camera's location on a map, you'd find that they covered every possible escape route.
She hadn't even tried to run—yet she was already trapped.
Then, in the next moment, Jiang Kou pulled A into an embrace.
A blinked slowly, his pupils dilating slightly.
"I'm sorry," Jiang Kou said. "I forgot to take your feelings into account. I'm not afraid of you."
She tilted her head up, raised her hand, and gently brushed his hair.
"You're like a mirror," she said softly. "Whatever is input is what gets reflected. Whoever stands before you, you become their reflection."
"None of this is really about you," she said, gently. "Why would I ever be afraid of you?"