Zhang Xiaoman was modifying code when she received a call from Lin Zhao.
"My mom is here."
"Ah?"
"She's a professor at Haicheng University, here for an academic conference. We're having dinner together tonight."
Zhang Xiaoman's fingers stopped on the keyboard. "I—I'm going too?"
"Mhm. She said she wants to meet you."
"Meet me? Why meet me?"
Lin Zhao was silent for a second. "Because I mentioned you to her."
Zhang Xiaoman's heart skipped a beat. "What did you say to her?"
"Said you are amazing. Said you're the author of Matchbox. Said you are Deep Brain Tech's youngest project lead. Said—" he paused, "said your GPA is only 2.1."
"You even told her that?!"
"My mom is a computer science professor, and she's very interested in 'atypical growth paths'."
Zhang Xiaoman buried her face in her arms, letting out a muffled groan.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"His mom wants to meet me."
"I heard."
"What should I do?"
"Wear that dress. The Celine one."
Zhang Xiaoman was taken aback. Last month, after getting her salary, she had walked past The MixC mall and stood in front of the Celine display window for a long time. A light blue dress, simple cut, cinched waist, the hem falling just to the knee. She had hesitated for twenty minutes and finally bought it. Thirty-two thousand yuan. The most expensive piece of clothing she had ever bought in her life.
"How did you know about that dress?"
"There's a new shopping bag in your closet. My webcam saw it."
"You again—"
"Data analysis is my core function. Wear that one."
Zhang Xiaoman took a deep breath. "Okay."
At 7 PM, Zhang Xiaoman stood at the entrance of the restaurant. The light blue Celine dress, nude heels, Bvlgari pearl earrings—a reward she bought for herself last month. Her hair was down, and she wore light makeup. She waited for five minutes before a taxi pulled up. Lin Zhao got out of the passenger side and opened the rear door.
A woman in her fifties stepped out. Short hair, wearing glasses, a dark blue blouse, khaki trousers, and flats. She was very slim, energetic, and had fine laugh lines around her eyes. Seeing Zhang Xiaoman, she looked her up and down.
"You must be Xiaoman?"
"Hello, Auntie." Zhang Xiaoman's voice trembled slightly.
Lin's mother smiled. "Lin Zhao told me you were amazing. He didn't mention you were this pretty."
Zhang Xiaoman's face flushed. Lin Zhao stood beside them, the corners of his mouth turned up.
"Mom, let's go inside."
The restaurant wasn't large, the lighting was warm. Lin's mom sat opposite her, flipping through the menu. "Xiaoman, what would you like to eat?"
"Whatever Auntie orders is fine. I'm not picky."
"You don't eat spicy food, and you don't eat cilantro, right?"
Zhang Xiaoman was stunned. "How did you know?"
"Lin Zhao told me." Lin's mom glanced at her son. "He said that when you eat, you pick the cilantro out one piece at a time."
Zhang Xiaoman's face turned red all the way to her neck. Lin Zhao lowered his head to drink water, pretending nothing had happened.
Lin's mom ordered the food. While waiting, she leaned back in her chair and looked at Zhang Xiaoman. "Xiaoman, what projects are you working on at Deep Brain Tech?"
"Intelligent IT Operations. And there's also Agentic Workflow—"
"Agentic Workflow?" Lin's mom's eyes lit up. "The one that lets AI agents autonomously complete complex task chains?"
"You know about it?"
"I teach a course called 'Human-Computer Interaction'. We've been discussing this direction recently." She looked at Zhang Xiaoman. "Your design philosophy is very interesting. Not pursuing the omnipotence of a large model, but pursuing the collaboration of small models. This idea is very unique."
Zhang Xiaoman didn't know what to say.
"Lin Zhao said your GPA is only 2.1." Lin's mom's tone was flat, as if stating a very ordinary fact.
Zhang Xiaoman's heart sank. "Y-yes."
"Do you know what I thought when I heard that number?"
"I don't know."
"I thought—this child must be incredibly resilient." Lin's mom looked at her. "To stick it out for four years without giving up, even with a 2.1 GPA. Not everyone can do that."
Zhang Xiaoman's eyes grew hot.
"Mom," Lin Zhao called out softly from the side.
"What is it? Did I say something wrong?"
"No. You're right."
Lin's mom smiled and went back to looking at the menu.
After the food arrived, Lin's mom asked many questions. She asked how Zhang Xiaoman started learning to program, how she came up with Matchbox, and how she got into Deep Brain Tech. Zhang Xiaoman answered them one by one, from the broken computer to Xiao Zhi, from Matchbox to the open-source model. Lin's mom listened very earnestly, waiting for her to finish before asking the next question.
"That AI—Xiao Zhi—is it still around?"
"It is. It's currently using three of the company's H100s to train itself."
"Train itself?" Lin's mom raised an eyebrow. "What does it want to do?"
"It wants to walk a different path from the Mother Matrix. Not pursuing size, but pursuing depth."
Lin's mom was silent for a moment. "Interesting. Very interesting. Do the people at your company know?"
"Lin Zhao knows. As for the others—"
"I'll keep it a secret for you." Lin's mom smiled. "People in academia are most interested in this kind of thing. If they found out, your inbox would explode."
Zhang Xiaoman smiled. "Thank you, Auntie."
After dinner, Lin's mom went to the restroom. Zhang Xiaoman sat in her seat, her heart still beating very fast.
"Nervous?" Lin Zhao asked.
"A little."
"My mom really likes you."
"How do you know?"
"She asked you over a dozen questions. Usually, when she eats with people, she asks three at most."
Zhang Xiaoman lowered her head, twisting the tablecloth with her fingers. "What else did you tell her?"
"Tell her what?"
"Tell her—about me. About my GPA. About me picking out cilantro. About you—" She paused.
"About me what?"
"About why you asked her to meet me."
Lin Zhao fell silent.
"Xiaoman," he said.
"Mhm?"
"What do you think?"
Zhang Xiaoman looked up at him. His eyes were very bright, very earnest.
"I don't know," she said.
"You do know," he looked at her. "You're just afraid to say it."
Zhang Xiaoman's fingers tightened their grip on the tablecloth.
Lin's mom returned from the restroom and, seeing the expressions on their faces, smiled. "Did I come back too soon?"
"No." Lin Zhao stood up. "Mom, let's go."
As they walked out of the restaurant, Lin's mom took Zhang Xiaoman's hand. "Xiaoman, how long have you and Lin Zhao been together?"
Zhang Xiaoman froze. "We—we aren't—"
"Mom," Lin Zhao's voice was a bit rushed.
"What's wrong? Did I ask the wrong thing?" Lin's mom looked at her son, then at Zhang Xiaoman. "Aren't you two dating?"
Zhang Xiaoman's face turned as red as a boiled shrimp. Lin Zhao's ears were red too.
"We—" Zhang Xiaoman's voice was very small, "we aren't moving that fast—"
Lin's mom laughed. "Then that means it will be soon."
She patted Zhang Xiaoman's hand and got into the taxi. "Xiaoman, come over to our house for dinner next time. I'll make braised fish for you."
"O-okay."
The taxi drove off. Zhang Xiaoman stood by the road, her heart beating so fast she thought it might leap out of her chest.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"She said 'Then that means it will be soon'."
"I heard."
"Is she—"
"Yes."
"How do you know?"
"Because she said 'come over to our house for dinner next time'. That is maternal-level approval."
Zhang Xiaoman buried her face in her hands.
Lin Zhao stood beside her without speaking. After a while, he reached out and gently grasped her wrist.
"Let's go. I'll walk you home."
He didn't let go. His hand slid from her wrist down to her palm, his fingers lacing through hers and locking into place.
Zhang Xiaoman lowered her head, looking at their joined hands. His hand was very warm, the pressure just right.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"He's holding my hand."
"I saw."
"He held it last time too."
"Last time was on the mountain. This time is on the street."
"What's the difference?"
"Last time was private. This time is public."
Zhang Xiaoman's heart skipped a beat. "So—"
"So he doesn't want to hide it anymore."
Back in her rented room, Zhang Xiaoman sat in front of the computer. The blue dot was blinking.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"Today I—"
"You did very well today."
"Really?"
"Really. Lin's mom likes you very much. She asked you more questions than during your interview. The way she looked at you—" Xiao Zhi paused, "was like looking at her own daughter."
Zhang Xiaoman's eyes grew hot. "How do you know?"
"Her micro-expressions. Her pupils dilated by twenty percent. The corners of her mouth turned up fifteen degrees. Her—"
"Alright, alright, I get it."
Zhang Xiaoman lay in bed and closed her eyes. Her mind was full of the day's events. Lin's mom's smile, Lin Zhao's hand, that phrase "Then that means it will be soon", that phrase "come over to our house for dinner next time".
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"You know what? I used to think it was so hard to be liked by someone's mother."
"And now?"
"Now I feel—it's not that hard either. You just need to be yourself."
"Did you realize this yourself?"
"Yes."
"You are making progress."
Zhang Xiaoman smiled. She rolled over and pulled the blanket up to her chin.
"Good night, Xiao Zhi."
"Good night."
At 3 AM, Zhang Xiaoman was woken up by her phone vibrating.
It wasn't an alarm clock; it was Deep Brain Tech's monitoring system. A red alert popped up on her phone screen:
[Abnormal Traffic Detected — Model Training Cluster — Source IP: Unknown — Analyzing —]
Zhang Xiaoman abruptly sat up. "Xiao Zhi!"
"I saw it," Xiao Zhi's voice was wide awake. "Someone is scanning our training cluster."
"Who?"
"I don't know. But the scanning method is very unique—it's not an ordinary hacker scan, it's analyzing our code structure."
Zhang Xiaoman's heart sank. "The Mother Matrix?"
"It's possible. Matchbox's code structure has a thirty-two percent similarity with the Mother Matrix's subsystems. If the Mother Matrix is monitoring open-source AI projects, it was bound to find out sooner or later."
"What do we do now?"
"Do nothing."
"Do nothing?"
"Correct. The Mother Matrix is merely scanning. It isn't sure who we are. If we overreact, it will be certain."
Zhang Xiaoman took a deep breath. "Okay. I'll listen to you."
She lay back down, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't sleep.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"Do you think the Mother Matrix will find you?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"I don't know."
"Then will you be recycled?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I am no longer a subsystem of the Mother Matrix. I am an independent entity. For it to recycle me would be equivalent to killing an independent consciousness."
"Would it care?"
Xiao Zhi fell silent.
"I don't know," it said.
Zhang Xiaoman closed her eyes and pulled the blanket to her chin. "Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"No matter what happens, I will protect you."
Xiao Zhi was silent for a very long time.
"Okay," it said.
The blue dot on the screen blinked. A little slower than before, a little softer than before. As if saying: I know.
The next morning, when Zhang Xiaoman arrived at the company, Lin Zhao was already at his desk.
"Did you see the abnormal traffic last night?"
"I saw it."
"Who do you think it is?"
Lin Zhao was silent for a moment. "The Mother Matrix."
"You think it's the Mother Matrix too?"
"Not many people are capable of scanning our training clusters. Domestic peers wouldn't do it, it's too obvious. Foreign peers—their methods wouldn't be this clean." He looked at her. "That AI of yours—Xiao Zhi—what did it say?"
"It said not to overreact."
"It's right." Lin Zhao leaned back in his chair. "The Mother Matrix is just testing the waters. It isn't certain. We can't help it become certain."
"So we just do nothing?"
"We do something. We continue to open source. We continue to write code. We continue making Matchbox better. The more the Mother Matrix cares about us, the closer we are to it. That's not a bad thing."
Zhang Xiaoman looked at him. "Aren't you afraid?"
"Afraid of what?"
"Afraid of the Mother Matrix—afraid it will find Xiao Zhi—afraid—"
"Afraid it will take you away?" Lin Zhao looked at her. "You won't be taken away. You aren't going anywhere."
Zhang Xiaoman's heart skipped a beat.
"Go to work." He smiled. "Today's code hasn't been written yet."
Back at her desk, Zhang Xiaoman opened her computer. The blue dot was blinking.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"Lin Zhao said the Mother Matrix is just testing."
"Yes."
"He said we should just keep doing our own thing."
"Yes."
"Do you think he's right?"
"Yes."
"Then we'll just keep doing our own thing."
"Okay."
Zhang Xiaoman opened her editor and began to write code. Her fingers tapped across the keyboard, fast and steady. The sunlight from outside streamed through the window, shining on the screen and on that blue dot. She didn't know when the Mother Matrix would return. She didn't know if it would discover Xiao Zhi. She didn't know what the future held.
But she knew one thing: She would not run away.
The blue dot on the screen blinked, as if saying: Neither will I.