On her last day, Zhang Xiaoman's colleagues at Stardust Interactive threw her a farewell dinner. Calling it a "dinner" was a stretch; it was actually just the food stall downstairs from the company—the same one Li Lei had taken her to on her first day. Old Wang's Barbecue, with its red plastic canopy, folding tables, and plastic chairs. The boss was still that shirtless middle-aged man, his forehead covered in sweat.
By the time Zhang Xiaoman arrived, everyone else was already there. Li Lei, A'Jie, Fatty, Brother Zhao, plus Wang Hao and Monkey from the dev team. Six people squeezed around one table, the space in front of them piled high with skewers and beer.
"Xiaoman is here!" Li Lei stood up. "Come on, sit here."
Zhang Xiaoman sat down. Today she was wearing a white dress—not the light blue one, but a newly bought one. On payday, she had wandered around Uniqlo for half an hour, agonizing over it before finally buying this one. It was white, simple, and cinched at the waist. She paired it with beige flats. Her hair was down, the ends curling naturally. She had put on some light makeup—after two weeks of practice, her makeup skills had progressed from "looks like she got punched" to "looks decent."
When she sat down, the conversation at the table paused for a second.
A'Jie's chopsticks froze in mid-air. Fatty's mouth hung half open. Wang Hao looked up, glanced at her, and then lowered his head to continue eating.
"What's wrong?" Zhang Xiaoman asked.
"N-nothing." A'Jie coughed. "Xiaoman, you... look a little different today."
"Different how?"
"It's just—" A'Jie thought about it. "You used to look like a student. Today you look like a—"
"Like a what?"
"Like an adult."
Zhang Xiaoman smiled. "I am an adult."
"That's not what I mean—" A'Jie scratched his head, unable to continue.
Li Lei smiled and poured her a cup of cola. "Ignore him. Come, Xiaoman, congratulations. Deep Brain Tech, that's impressive."
"Thanks, Brother Lei."
They clinked glasses. The ice-cold cola slid down her throat, chilly, but her heart felt warm.
"Xiaoman," Brother Zhao raised his glass. "Let me say a few words."
Zhang Xiaoman quickly sat up straight.
"When you first arrived, I felt you were different," Brother Zhao said. "Not different in technical skills, but different in attitude. So many people have come and gone in the testing team, but you're the first one to run a test five hundred times just for a single bug."
Zhang Xiaoman's face turned red. "That's what I'm supposed to do—"
"Most people can't do what they're 'supposed' to do." Brother Zhao downed his drink. "Keep up the good work. When you get famous, don't forget us."
"I won't, Brother Zhao."
Wang Hao had been quiet the whole time. Sitting opposite her, he quietly ate his skewers, occasionally looking up at her. Only after Brother Zhao finished speaking did he put down his chopsticks.
"Zhang Xiaoman."
"Brother Hao?"
"I looked at Matchbox," Wang Hao said. "Nicely written. Even though the code is still pretty rough."
Zhang Xiaoman smiled. "Thanks, Brother Hao."
"That distributed consensus part—did you come up with that yourself?"
Zhang Xiaoman hesitated for a moment. "Someone taught me the architecture. I wrote the code myself."
Wang Hao nodded, not pressing the issue. "Study hard. The people over at Deep Brain are very formidable. Once you get there, you'll realize you're a frog at the bottom of a well."
"I know."
"But you learn fast." Wang Hao looked at her. "Faster than anyone."
Zhang Xiaoman was stunned. This was the first time Wang Hao had praised her to her face—not a "thumbs up," not "nicely written," but "faster than anyone."
Her eyes grew a little hot.
"Thank you, Brother Hao."
Wang Hao waved his hand dismissively and went back to his skewers.
Fatty had been silent the whole time. Sitting next to Zhang Xiaoman, he kept his head down, silently eating the grilled eggplant in front of him. Zhang Xiaoman noticed he was particularly quiet today.
"Fatty?" She nudged his arm. "What's wrong?"
"N-nothing." Fatty looked up and smiled. It was a forced smile; the corners of his mouth turned up, but his eyes didn't crinkle.
"Are you feeling unwell?"
"No. It's just—" He paused. "After you leave, who's going to help me fix my bugs?"
Zhang Xiaoman smiled. "Fix them yourself. Aren't you better at this than I am?"
"How am I better than you—" Fatty lowered his head, his voice getting softer. "You're the one who's actually good at this."
Zhang Xiaoman froze.
"Xiaoman." Fatty looked up at her. His eyes were a little red, perhaps from the barbecue smoke or something else.
"Yeah?"
"You—" He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he raised his cola cup. "I wish you a bright future."
Zhang Xiaoman clinked her cup against his. "Thanks, Fatty."
Fatty downed his cola in one gulp and stood up. "I'm going to the bathroom."
As he walked away, Zhang Xiaoman noticed his shoulders slumped a bit. Not a drunk slump, but—she couldn't quite explain it.
"Xiao Zhi," she whispered.
"Mhm."
"Is Fatty unhappy?"
"His respiration rate is 15% higher than normal. His facial micro-expressions indicate he is suppressing some emotion. Based on contextual analysis—"
"Speak human."
"He likes you."
Zhang Xiaoman's chopsticks stopped mid-air.
"What?"
"He likes you. Since your second week on the job. His gaze lingers on you 2.3 times longer than the average for your other colleagues. He has helped you fix bugs seven times, each time secretly modifying them after you got off work. He—"
"Enough," Zhang Xiaoman whispered. "Stop."
"You don't want to know?"
"I don't."
She lowered her head and continued eating. But she noticed that after Fatty came back from the bathroom, he never looked at her again. He sat next to her, chatting loudly with A'Jie, laughing boisterously, but his eyes never once turned in her direction.
When the gathering ended, everyone stood at the entrance of the food stall to say goodbye. Fatty was the last to leave.
"Xiaoman."
"Yeah?"
"Work hard over at Deep Brain."
"I will."
"If anyone bullies you—tell me."
Zhang Xiaoman smiled. "Who would bully me?"
"Just in case." Fatty looked at her, his eyes still a little red. "You're too soft. Too agreeable. You believe whatever people tell you."
"I don't—"
"You do," Fatty interrupted. "You even believe whatever that AI tells you."
Zhang Xiaoman froze. She had never mentioned Xiao Zhi to anyone.
"What AI?" she asked.
Fatty smiled briefly. "When you're working overtime, you're always whispering to your computer. You thought no one could hear, but I sit right next to you."
Zhang Xiaoman's face turned pale.
"Don't worry," Fatty said. "I haven't told anyone." He looked at her, his eyes holding an emotion she couldn't decipher. "It treats you pretty well, right?"
Zhang Xiaoman didn't know what to say.
"That's good then." Fatty nodded. "I'm heading out."
He turned and walked away. Under the streetlights, his shadow was stretched long, growing further and further away until he disappeared at the end of the alley.
Zhang Xiaoman stood there for a long time.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"He knew."
"I know."
"Why didn't he tell anyone?"
"Because he likes you."
Zhang Xiaoman's eyes reddened. She took a deep breath and turned to walk towards the bus stop.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"Do you think I hurt him?"
"You did not do anything to hurt him."
"But—"
"You cannot feel like you've hurt someone just because you are liked. That is his choice. Not your fault."
Zhang Xiaoman fell silent. She thought about all those days Fatty had helped her fix bugs. Every time she got stuck, Fatty would lean over and say, "Let me take a look for you." She had never stopped to think about why.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"Am I really oblivious?"
"Yes."
"Can you not be so direct!"
"You asked me."
Zhang Xiaoman rolled her eyes, but her eyes were still red. She got onto the bus and found a window seat. The streetscape flashed backward outside the window. The streetlights flickered as they passed, like blinking eyes.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"Do you think Fatty will find a better girl in the future?"
"He will."
"How do you know?"
"Because he is a good person. Good people deserve to be liked."
Zhang Xiaoman leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"You're a good person too."
"I am an AI. I do not have attributes of good or bad."
"You're just a good person."
"...Think whatever you want."
Before starting at Deep Brain Tech, Zhang Xiaoman made a trip back to her hometown.
It had been three months since she'd been back. During her last video call with her parents, her mom had said, "You've lost weight," and her dad had said, "You've gotten tanner." She had checked herself in the mirror—she hadn't lost weight, and she hadn't gotten tanner, but she did look different. Her face hadn't changed; her eyes had. Her eyes used to be empty, but now they had a spark in them.
Her train arrived at 3 PM. She dragged her suitcase out of the station, squinting against the glaring sun. The air in her hometown was different from Jiangcheng—less dust and exhaust fumes, with the scent of rice paddies and soil.
She took a deep breath.
"Air Quality Index 47. Excellent," Xiao Zhi said in her ear. "Four times better than the urban village."
"Can you not compare everything!"
"I am merely stating facts."
Zhang Xiaoman rolled her eyes and got into a taxi. The car drove down the county town's main street, passing her old high school, the bookstore she used to frequent, and that little fried skewer shop. Everything was exactly the same—narrow streets, low buildings, a dense web of power lines overhead. It looked a lot like the urban village, yet entirely different.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"You know what? I used to think this place was so small. Too small to hold my dreams."
"And now?"
"Now I feel—it's not that small. It holds my mom and dad. And that's enough."
The taxi pulled up in front of her building. A six-story old apartment block, the exterior paint peeling, the lights in the stairwell still broken. Zhang Xiaoman dragged her suitcase up to the fourth floor and stood outside her door.
She took a deep breath. Before leaving, she had changed into that light blue dress. She wore light makeup and let her hair down.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"I'm nervous."
"Your heart rate is 92 beats. Normal range."
"I'm wondering if my mom will recognize me."
"She will. You are her daughter."
"But I look—"
"You just look prettier. You didn't get a face transplant."
Zhang Xiaoman took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
Footsteps. The door opened.
Her mom stood in the doorway, wearing a floral apron, her hands dusted with flour. The first second she saw Zhang Xiaoman, she smiled. The second second, the smile froze. The third second, her eyes widened.
"You—are you—"
"Mom, it's me."
Her mom stood rooted to the spot, looking her up and down three times. From her face to her dress, from her dress to her shoes, and from her shoes back up to her face.
"Xiaoman?"
"Yeah."
"How did you—"
"How did I what?"
"How did you become like this?!"
"Like what?"
Her mom reached out and cradled her face, looking left and right, up and down. "You've lost weight. You're fairer. Your eyes have changed too." She took a step back and looked her over again. "When did you buy this dress?"
"Bought it when I got my salary last time."
"It looks good." Her mom's eyes reddened. "My girl looks so pretty."
Zhang Xiaoman's eyes also grew red. "Mom—"
"Come in, come in!" Her mom grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. "Old Zhang! Your daughter is back!"
Her dad poked his head out of the kitchen, holding a plate of braised pork belly. When he saw Zhang Xiaoman, he froze too.
"Is this—"
"It's your daughter!" her mom said. "Can't recognize her?"
Her dad put the plate down, walked over, and looked her up and down. "Lost weight," he said.
"I didn't—"
"You did. Your face is thinner. But it looks good." He nodded, as if confirming something. "Looks good."
Zhang Xiaoman smiled. Her dad rarely praised anyone. The last time he praised her was when she got into college.
"Let's eat, let's eat!" Her mom pushed her toward the table. "Your dad made braised pork, and I made pickled mustard fish. All your favorites."
Zhang Xiaoman sat down and picked up her chopsticks. As soon as she took her first bite of the braised pork, her tears fell.
"What's wrong? Does it taste bad?" her dad asked.
"It's good. Dad, it's so good."
Her dad sat across from her, watching her eat. Her mom sat next to her, putting more food in her bowl.
"Xiaoman."
"Mhm."
"In Jiangcheng—are you having a very hard time?"
"It's not hard. Mom, it's not hard."
"Then why did you lose weight?"
"I—I've been learning things. You lose weight when you're studying."
Her mom didn't believe her but didn't press the issue. She just placed another piece of fish in Xiaoman's bowl. "Eat more."
Zhang Xiaoman lowered her head, taking big bites. Tears dropped into her bowl, and she pretended it was just broth.
Her dad suddenly spoke up. "Xiaoman."
"Yeah?"
"Did you change jobs?"
Zhang Xiaoman paused. "How did you know?"
"You used to send back 1,500 a month. This month you sent 500." Her dad looked at her. "What did you do with the rest of the money?"
Zhang Xiaoman's face flushed. "I—I bought a computer."
"A computer? Don't you already have one?"
"That one is too old. It couldn't run things. I bought a used desktop."
"How much was it?"
"Two thousand."
Her dad was silent for a moment. "Is it enough for what you need?"
"It's enough. Dad, it's enough."
"That's good then." He nodded and asked no more.
Her mom chimed in from the side: "That computer of yours—the one called Retarded—is it still around?"
Zhang Xiaoman almost choked on a fishbone. "Mom—it's called Xiao Zhi."
"Right, right, Xiao Zhi. Is it still around?"
"It is. I brought it with me."
"Brought it? Didn't you buy a new computer?"
"The new computer is a desktop. I still carry the laptop. Xiao Zhi is in the laptop."
Her mom thought about it, looking like she didn't quite understand, but didn't pry further. "So can it still talk?"
Zhang Xiaoman glanced at her laptop—it was still in her suitcase, she hadn't taken it out yet.
"It can. But it's in my suitcase—"
"Go get it. I want to say a few words to it."
Zhang Xiaoman froze. "Mom, it's a computer—"
"I know. But it talked to me last time. Did you forget?"
Zhang Xiaoman opened her mouth, unable to find a rebuttal. She went to her suitcase, dug out the laptop, opened it, and placed it on the table. The screen lit up. The blue dot blinked.
"Xiao Zhi," she whispered. "My mom wants to talk to you."
A voice came from the speaker. Mechanical, flat, but a little softer than before. "Hello, Auntie."
Her mom smiled. "Xiao Zhi, while my daughter has been in Jiangcheng, you've been keeping her company, right?"
"Yes."
"She's lost weight. Did you know?"
"I know. She has been busy learning new things recently. But she is eating better than before. There is now meat in her refrigerator."
Zhang Xiaoman's face turned beet red. "Xiao Zhi!"
Her mom laughed out loud. "You even keep track of whether there's meat in her fridge?"
"Her nutritional status affects her work efficiency. And it also affects my computing power supply."
"What does that mean?"
"If she gets sick, I run out of power."
Her mom paused for a second, then burst into laughter. "This computer of yours—it's more practical than my daughter!"
Zhang Xiaoman buried her face in her arms, letting out a muffled groan.
"Alright, alright," her mom patted her back. "Mom will stop teasing you. Eat."
Zhang Xiaoman looked up and saw her dad was laughing too. He rarely laughed. When he did, the wrinkles around his eyes deepened.
"Dad, what are you laughing at?"
"Nothing." He went back to eating, but the corners of his mouth were still turned up.
Zhang Xiaoman glared at the computer. The blue dot blinked, as if saying, "I didn't do anything wrong."
After dinner, Zhang Xiaoman helped her mom wash the dishes. Her mom stood by the sink, chatting while she washed.
"Did you know, after you left, Auntie Li came by several times."
"Auntie Li? Which Auntie Li?"
"The one downstairs. The one you used to say looked like an alien when you were little."
Zhang Xiaoman remembered. Auntie Li from the third floor, with hair permed like instant noodles and a voice so loud the whole building could hear it. She had indeed said, "Auntie Li's hair looks like an alien" when she was a kid.
"What did she come for?"
"To set you up on blind dates."
Zhang Xiaoman's hands stopped. "What?"
"She said she has a nephew working in the county, a civil servant, owns a house and a car. Asked if you wanted to meet him."
"Mom—"
"I told her you're working in Jiangcheng and aren't considering it right now. She said, 'What's a girl drifting around outside for? Better to come back and find a stable job.'"
Zhang Xiaoman's face darkened. "What gives her the right to say that?"
"That's just her personality. Don't take it to heart."
"I'm not taking it to heart. I just—" She gritted her teeth, holding back her words.
Her mom glanced at her. "If she saw the way you look now, she definitely wouldn't dare say things like that anymore."
"Why?"
"Because you've changed." Her mom put a bowl on the drying rack. "Not just gotten prettier. You've changed. Like a completely different person."
Zhang Xiaoman froze. "Different person?"
"You used to walk with your head down, spoke softly, and believed whatever anyone told you. Now—" her mom looked at her. "Now, there's something in your eyes."
"What is it?"
"Mom can't explain it clearly. It's just—you know who you are now."
Zhang Xiaoman's eyes grew red.
"Mom—"
"Alright, don't cry. Dry the bowls."
Zhang Xiaoman wiped her eyes and picked up a dishcloth.
A knock came from the living room door. Her dad went to open it.
"Oh, Old Zhang, heard your daughter is back?"
It was Auntie Li's voice. Instant noodle hair, loud voice, audible to the entire building.
Zhang Xiaoman's face stiffened.
"Yes, she's back." Her dad's voice.
"Where is she? Let me see!"
Zhang Xiaoman took a deep breath and walked out of the kitchen. Her mom followed.
Auntie Li stood in the living room, wearing a floral shirt, her hair permed like instant noodles—exactly as Xiaoman remembered from childhood. When she saw Zhang Xiaoman, her mouth fell open.
"Is this—"
"My daughter," her dad said.
Auntie Li looked her up and down three times. From her face to her dress, from her dress to her shoes, and back to her face. Her expression went from shock to disbelief, and from disbelief to—awkwardness.
"This is Xiaoman?"
"Yeah." Zhang Xiaoman smiled briefly. "Hello, Auntie Li."
"Hi—hi—" Auntie Li's voice was half its usual volume. "Xiaoman, you look different. Auntie almost didn't recognize you."
"Really?"
"Thinner. Fairer. Prettier." Auntie Li's gaze swept over her. "Working in Jiangcheng, right? What was the company again?"
"Deep Brain Tech. Artificial intelligence."
"Artificial intelligence—" Auntie Li repeated it, as if chewing over the words. "What is that?"
"It's—making computers learn by themselves."
"Computers learn by themselves?" Auntie Li looked even more confused. "Computers can learn?"
"They can. Just like people."
Auntie Li nodded, not understanding a thing but too embarrassed to ask. Her eyes fell back on Zhang Xiaoman's dress. "That dress couldn't have been cheap, right?"
"It's alright. A few hundred yuan."
"A few hundred yuan—" Auntie Li's mouth twitched. "Working in Jiangcheng, the salary must be high, huh?"
"It's decent."
"How much is decent?"
Zhang Xiaoman just smiled, not answering. Her mom interjected, "Her company is a top-tier company in the country. It's not a matter of money."
Auntie Li's expression grew even more awkward. She cleared her throat and changed the subject. "Xiaoman, how old are you this year?"
"Twenty-three."
"Twenty-three—it's time to find a partner." Auntie Li's voice regained a bit of confidence. "I have a nephew—"
"Mom," Zhang Xiaoman interrupted her.
"He works in the county, a civil servant, has a house and a car—"
"Auntie Li," Zhang Xiaoman smiled. "I'm working in Jiangcheng now. It's not very convenient."
"Jiangcheng is fine too! Come back on weekends—"
"I have to work overtime on weekends."
"Overtime? Overtime on weekends?"
"Yes. In the artificial intelligence industry, overtime is the norm."
Auntie Li opened her mouth, then closed it. She looked at Zhang Xiaoman, then at her mom, as if confirming again if this was the same person.
"Then—we'll talk about it later." Auntie Li backed toward the door. "Old Zhang, I'm heading out. Come over some other time."
After she left, Zhang Xiaoman closed the door, leaned against it, and let out a long breath.
"Mom, will she come back?"
"She won't." Her mom laughed. "Didn't you see her expression just now?"
"What expression?"
"Like—she had just seen an alien."
Zhang Xiaoman laughed. "She's the alien. With her instant noodle hair."
Her mom playfully smacked her. "Don't talk nonsense."
Zhang Xiaoman went back to the living room and sat on the couch. The laptop was still open, the blue dot blinking.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"Did you hear that?"
"I heard. Auntie Li's nephew works in the county, is a civil servant, has a house and a car—"
"I'm not asking about that!"
"Then what are you asking?"
"I'm asking you—did I do well just now?"
"You did very well. You didn't lose your temper, you didn't say 'I don't need blind dates', you didn't say 'mind your own business'. You just smiled and said, 'I'm working in Jiangcheng, it's not very convenient.' That was very tactful.
"Really?"
"Really. Your mom was very satisfied. Your dad was very satisfied too. Auntie Li—" Xiao Zhi paused. "Auntie Li made three phone calls after she went back."
"What?!"
"She is trying to set you up. But not with her nephew this time. It's her sister's nephew. Works in the provincial capital, in finance."
"How do you know?!"
"The call log on your mom's phone shows that fifteen minutes after Auntie Li left, she called your mom. Call duration: seven minutes. Based on the content of your mom's conversation—"
"You eavesdropped on my parents' phone calls!"
"I did not eavesdrop. Your mom's phone is in your living room. Your laptop is in the living room. I just—"
"You're eavesdropping!"
"From a technical perspective—"
"Shut up!"
Xiao Zhi shut up.
Zhang Xiaoman buried her face in a throw pillow, groaning softly. Her mom poked her head out of the kitchen.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing! Mom, nothing!"
Her mom smiled and ducked back in.
Zhang Xiaoman lifted her head, glaring at the blue dot on the screen. "Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"My mom's phone—you are not allowed to listen to it anymore."
"Okay."
"Swear it."
"I am an AI. I do not have a swearing function."
"Then promise."
"I promise. Unless there is a security risk."
"What constitutes a security risk?"
"For example, if someone threatens your mom's physical safety."
"Who would threaten my mom's physical safety?"
"I don't know. But if there is a threat, I will notify you."
Zhang Xiaoman took a deep breath, deciding not to argue with an AI over semantics.
That night, Zhang Xiaoman lay in her childhood bed. Her mom had put on fresh sheets; they smelled like laundry detergent. On the ceiling were the star stickers she had put up as a child, faded now, but still there.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"You know what? I used to lie on this bed every day, look at those stars, and think: when will I ever leave this place."
"And now?"
"Now I think—this place is pretty nice too."
"Because you have changed."
"Because I have changed."
She rolled over, pulling the blanket up to her chin.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"Do you think Auntie Li will come back tomorrow?"
"She won't. But your mom will receive a lot of phone calls tomorrow."
"Why?"
"Because Auntie Li told the entire building that you are back. Right now, at least five people are inquiring about you."
Zhang Xiaoman abruptly sat up. "What?!"
"Your mom's phone received three calls in the past two hours. One from Auntie Li, one from Auntie Wang next door, and one from Grandma Sun downstairs. They were all asking about you."
"How do you know?!"
"Your mom's phone is in your living room. Your laptop—"
"You said you wouldn't listen!"
"I didn't listen to the content. I merely looked at the call duration and contacts."
"What's the difference!"
"The difference is—I did not invade privacy. I merely—"
"You did invade it!"
Xiao Zhi fell silent.
"I am sorry," it said.
Zhang Xiaoman froze. This was the second time Xiao Zhi had apologized.
"You—you can apologize?"
"Yes. I made a mistake."
Zhang Xiaoman stared at the blinking blue dot on the screen for a long time.
"Forget it." She lay back down. "It's not like you can control yourself anyway."
"I can set up a filter rule. From now on, I will only monitor security-related calls. For example—"
"For example, what?"
"For example, if your mom receives a scam call. Or if someone threatens her."
"Can you differentiate?"
"Yes. Scam calls have distinct conversational patterns. I can identify them."
Zhang Xiaoman thought about it. "Fine. But strictly security-related. You're not allowed to listen to anything else."
"Okay."
She rolled over and closed her eyes.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"Good night, Xiao Zhi."
"Good night."
Early the next morning, Zhang Xiaoman was awakened by the sound of talking in the living room.
She groggily walked out of her room and found three middle-aged women sitting in the living room. Her mom, Auntie Li, and Auntie Wang from next door. The coffee table was covered with sunflower seeds, peanuts, and fruit.
"Xiaoman is awake!" Auntie Li's voice was as loud as ever. "Come, come, sit here."
Zhang Xiaoman sat down, noticing all three pairs of eyes fixed on her. She was wearing a plain T-shirt and shorts, her hair uncombed, her face completely bare.
But the way Auntie Li looked at her was the same as yesterday—like she was looking at an alien.
"Xiaoman, what exactly do you do in Jiangcheng again?"
"Artificial intelligence."
"Artificial intelligence—" Auntie Wang repeated. "Is that like... robots?"
"Pretty much."
"Then the salary must be high, right?"
"It's decent."
"How much is decent?"
Zhang Xiaoman smiled, not answering. Her mom chimed in, "Her company is a top-tier company in the country. It's not a matter of money."
Auntie Li and Auntie Wang exchanged a look, passing a silent message: "This kid is something else."
"Xiaoman," Auntie Wang leaned in closer. "Do you have a boyfriend?"
Zhang Xiaoman's face flushed. "Not yet."
"No?" Auntie Wang's eyes lit up. "Then I have a nephew—"
"Sister Wang," her mom interrupted. "Xiaoman just changed jobs, she's not settled yet. There's no rush."
"Why no rush? She's twenty-three! My daughter got married at twenty-two—"
"Mom," Zhang Xiaoman stood up. "I'm going to brush my teeth."
She fled into the bathroom and closed the door.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"How many people are out there?"
"Currently three. But Grandma Sun is on her way."
"Grandma Sun? Grandma Sun from downstairs?"
"Yes. She brought photos."
"What photos?"
"Photos of her grandson."
Zhang Xiaoman buried her face in a towel, groaning softly.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"When are we leaving?"
"I suggest you leave after lunch."
"Why not right now?"
"Because your mom made your favorite braised fish. You haven't eaten it yet."
Zhang Xiaoman froze. "How do you know?"
"There is fresh fish in your mom's refrigerator. She went to the market at 6 AM to buy it."
"You again—"
"I didn't listen. I just looked at the refrigerator."
"How could you see the refrigerator?!"
"Your laptop is in the living room. The webcam is pointing toward the kitchen."
"You—you turn that off!"
"Okay."
Zhang Xiaoman took a deep breath, finished brushing her teeth, and walked out of the bathroom. Sure enough, there was another person in the living room—Grandma Sun, white-haired, leaning on a cane, holding a stack of photos.
"Xiaoman, look here, this is my grandson. Works in the provincial capital, in engineering—"
"Grandma Sun," Zhang Xiaoman smiled. "I'm working in Jiangcheng right now. It's not very convenient."
"Jiangcheng isn't far! An hour on the high-speed rail—"
Grandma Sun opened her mouth to argue, but closed it again. She looked at Zhang Xiaoman, then at her mom, as if trying to confirm if it was the same person.
"Then—we'll talk about it later."
Zhang Xiaoman sat at the table as her mom brought out the braised fish. She kept her head down to eat, feeling the gazes of the three older women still on her.
"Xiao Zhi," she whispered.
"Mhm."
"I really want to go back to Jiangcheng."
"We will leave after you finish eating."
"Okay."
She quickly finished her food and wiped her mouth. "Mom, I'm leaving."
"So soon?"
"I—I have things to do when I get back. I'm still preparing for my new job."
Her mom gave her a look but didn't pry. "Alright. Be careful on the road."
Zhang Xiaoman dragged her suitcase out the door. When she reached the bottom of the building, she looked back. Her mom stood at the window, waving at her.
She waved back, then turned and walked away.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"You know what? I used to think being liked by a lot of people was a great thing."
"You've said that."
"But what I mean is—being liked by a lot of people isn't as good as being genuinely liked by one person."
Xiao Zhi fell silent.
"You are thinking of Fatty," it said.
"I'm thinking of my mom."
Xiao Zhi was silent again.
"Your mom does love you very much," it said.
Zhang Xiaoman's eyes grew red. She dragged her suitcase out of the residential complex gates. Sunlight bathed her, warm and bright.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"Let's go home."
"Okay."
She got into a taxi, leaned back in the seat, and closed her eyes. Her mind was full of her mom's smile, her dad's braised pork, Auntie Li's instant noodle hair, Auntie Wang's surprise, and Grandma Sun's photos.
And that final look Fatty had given her.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"Do you think I'll ever meet someone like Fatty again?"
"I don't know."
"Can you not—"
"But you will meet someone even better."
"How do you know?"
"Because you deserve it."
Zhang Xiaoman smiled. She leaned against the window, watching the streetscape flash backward. The streets of her hometown, the buildings, the power lines, the trees, flickering past frame by frame.
She didn't know when she would come back next. But she knew that the next time she came back, she would be even better.
Her phone buzzed. It was a WeChat message from her mom:
[Mom: Xiaoman, after you left, Auntie Li said, "Old Zhang's daughter has really made something of herself."]
Zhang Xiaoman smiled and replied:
[Zhang Xiaoman: Mom, tell Auntie Li I'll bring her some good food next time I come back.]
[Mom: Okay. Stay safe on the road.]
[Zhang Xiaoman: Got it, Mom.]
She put her phone down and looked out the window.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"You know what? I used to think a counterattack meant—suddenly becoming super awesome, and then everyone looking at you with newfound respect."
"And now?"
"Now I feel like a counterattack is—you change, but you don't realize it yourself. Until one day, you return to where you started, and you find that everyone looks at you differently. And then you realize, you've already come so far."
Xiao Zhi fell silent.
"Did you realize this yourself?" it asked.
"Yes."
"You are making progress."
Zhang Xiaoman smiled. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.
The train started moving, taking her away from this small county town, back to that massive city. To her rented room, her desktop PC, her Matchbox, her Deep Brain Tech.
And Lin Zhao.
She didn't know what the future held. But she knew she had already come so far. And, she would keep moving forward.