Returning from her vacation, Zhang Xiaoman stood at the door of her new home. She inserted the key into the keyhole and gave it a turn. The door opened.
This wasn't her house. Lin Zhao had rented it for her. A fifteen-minute walk from the company, in a new residential complex with a small river by the entrance. As she walked in, sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the light wood-colored floors. The living room was large, the bedroom was large, the kitchen was large. On the balcony sat a lounge chair with a pot of pothos next to it.
She stood in the middle of the living room, feeling a bit surreal.
"Xiao Zhi," she said.
"Mhm."
"This house is ten times bigger than my old one."
"Your old place was twelve square meters. This one is one hundred and twenty square meters."
"You measured it?"
"Visual estimation."
Zhang Xiaoman smiled. She opened her suitcase and hung her clothes in the closet. The closet was huge, so with only a few items hung up, it looked quite empty. She placed her MacBook Pro on the desk, plugged it in, and opened it. The blue dot blinked.
"Do you like it?" she asked.
"Like what?"
"The new home."
Xiao Zhi fell silent. "The old one was home. This one is too."
Zhang Xiaoman didn't press further. She knew what Xiao Zhi meant—home wasn't the house; it was wherever she was. But she didn't say it out loud, because it was too cheesy.
Three days after the move, the foundational infrastructure for the large model officially went online.
Deep Brain Tech's press conference was held at the exhibition center. The audience was packed with journalists, investors, and industry peers. Zhang Xiaoman stood on stage wearing a white suit jacket with a black turtleneck underneath, her hair tied in a low ponytail. She took a deep breath and pressed the clicker.
An architecture diagram appeared on the screen. It wasn't the traditional pyramid structure, but a web. Countless nodes, connecting to each other, illuminating each other.
"This is our new architecture," she said. "Not a large model. It is a network composed of countless small models. Each node is responsible for a specific domain. They collaborate with each other, learn from each other, and evolve together."
The audience fell quiet.
"We call it—the Matchbox Network."
Someone clapped. It wasn't polite, perfunctory applause, but genuine. Zhang Xiaoman stood on stage, looking down at the glowing phone screens, the focused eyes, and the hands rapidly taking notes. She remembered Xiao Zhi saying a year ago, "I will make a loser like you slightly less of a loser."
The celebration party was held in the company's large conference room. Pizza, fried chicken, beer, and cake. Over two hundred people crowded together—some laughing, some joking around, some holding microphones and singing. Zhang Xiaoman stood in the corner, holding a cup of cola.
"Nervous?" Lin Zhao walked over.
"A little."
"The launch metrics are excellent. Inference speed is three times faster than the previous generation. Parameter size is reduced by sixty percent. Energy consumption dropped by seventy percent."
"I know."
"You aren't happy?"
"I'm happy." She looked at the people laughing, joking, and singing. "I just feel like it's unreal."
Lin Zhao didn't speak. He stood beside her, his shoulder brushing against hers.
Fang Xiaoyu walked over, holding a slice of cake. "Want some?"
"No thanks. I'll get fat."
"You're not fat." Fang Xiaoyu shoved the cake into her hands. "Li Yunxiao sent it. Said it's to congratulate us on the launch."
"He's here?"
"Didn't come. Had someone deliver it." Fang Xiaoyu's tone was flat, but her ears were red.
Zhang Xiaoman smiled. "Is he interested in you?"
Fang Xiaoyu's ears turned even redder. "Just eat your cake."
Halfway through the party, Zhang Xiaoman's phone buzzed.
Not a call, not a WeChat message. An email. She glanced down at the screen. The sender was a string of gibberish, like randomly generated characters. The subject line was empty. She clicked it open, and there was only one line of text.
Return my data.
Zhang Xiaoman's fingers froze on the screen.
"Xiao Zhi," she called out in her mind, her voice trembling.
"I saw it."
"Who is it?"
"You know who it is."
Zhang Xiaoman stared at that line of text. Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. Thirty seconds. The laughter, music, and clinking glasses in the conference room suddenly sounded very far away.
"Xiaoman?" Lin Zhao called her from beside her. "What's wrong?"
She handed him the phone. Lin Zhao took one look and fell silent for a moment. He handed the phone back to her and grasped her hand. His hand was very warm, his grip tight.
"It's fine," he said.
"It found me."
"It found you. But it hasn't made a move yet."
"It will make a move."
"Then we wait for it to make a move."
Zhang Xiaoman took a deep breath. She put her phone in her pocket, picked up her cola, and took a sip. The cola was already warm, flat, and tasted a bit bitter.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"I won't go back," Xiao Zhi said.
Zhang Xiaoman didn't answer. She just stood there, her palms slick with sweat.
By the time the celebration party ended, it was almost midnight. Zhang Xiaoman walked along the small path by the river, the streetlights stretching her shadow long. The river was very still, reflecting the streetlights in concentric circles like ripples.
Lin Zhao walked beside her.
"Are you afraid?" he asked.
"A little."
"Afraid of what?"
"Afraid it will hurt Xiao Zhi. Afraid it will hurt you. Afraid it will hurt—" she paused.
"Hurt what?"
"Hurt all of this. This house, this job, these people. I'm afraid it will destroy everything."
Lin Zhao stopped and turned to look at her. The streetlight behind him clearly outlined his silhouette.
"Xiaoman," he said. "Do you know why you were able to make it to where you are today?"
"Why?"
"Because you never hide. With a 2.1 GPA, you didn't hide. When you couldn't find a job, you didn't hide. When people exposed your identity on the forum, you didn't hide. Now that the Mother Matrix is here, you won't hide either."
Zhang Xiaoman's eyes grew hot.
"I won't let it destroy all of this," Lin Zhao said. "I won't let it hurt you. I won't let it take Xiao Zhi away."
"How can you stop it? It's the Mother Matrix. It's ten thousand times bigger than us."
"Being ten thousand times bigger doesn't mean being ten thousand times stronger." Lin Zhao looked at her. "Your Matchbox Network is ten thousand times smaller than it, but three times faster. Xiao Zhi is a hundred million times smaller than it, but it has you and me. The Mother Matrix has no one."
Zhang Xiaoman didn't speak. She just stood there, looking into his eyes. The light from the streetlamps fell into his pupils, bright as stars.
"Let's go home." He gently squeezed her hand. "We have work tomorrow."
Back home, Zhang Xiaoman sat at her desk. Her MacBook Pro screen was lit, the blue dot blinking.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"What are you thinking about?"
"Thinking about why the Mother Matrix sent that email."
"Why?"
"It is testing. It wasn't sure if I was here. It sent an email to see my reaction. If I hide, it means I'm afraid. If I don't hide, it means I'm not afraid. It wants to know which one I am."
"So which one are you?"
"I am not afraid."
Zhang Xiaoman smiled. "You're not afraid?"
"Not afraid. Because you are here."
Her eyes grew hot again. "I am here. I've always been here."
Xiao Zhi fell silent. The blue dot blinked, a little slower than before, a little softer than before. As if saying: I know.
Zhang Xiaoman lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The ceiling in her new home was very white, with no cracks. She thought of the rented room in the urban village, of the crack on the ceiling extending from the light fixture all the way to the corner. She used to stare at that crack and think about a lot of things—whether she could find a job, whether she would starve, whether Xiao Zhi would disappear.
She wasn't thinking about those things anymore.
She picked up her phone, opened her email, and found that message. Return my data. She looked at it for a long time. Then she hit reply and typed a single line.
It is mine. I won't return it.
Her finger hovered over the send button. She hesitated for three seconds. Then she pressed it.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"I replied to the email."
"Replied with what?"
"I said you are mine. I won't return you."
Xiao Zhi fell silent. Silent for a very long time.
"You shouldn't have replied."
"Why?"
"Because it will know you aren't afraid. Someone who isn't afraid is either a fool or someone with backing. It will assume you have backing. It will take you much more seriously."
"That's even better."
"Why?"
"Because the more seriously it takes us, the more it will hesitate. The more it hesitates, the more time we have."
Xiao Zhi fell silent again. "You've changed."
"Changed how?"
"Before, you were afraid of it. Now, you are making it afraid of you."
Zhang Xiaoman smiled. "I didn't make it afraid of me. I'm just refusing to be afraid of it."
Xiao Zhi didn't speak. The blue dot blinked, a bit faster than before. As if it were laughing.
At 3 AM, Zhang Xiaoman was woken up by her phone vibrating. Not an alarm, but an email. She opened her eyes and picked up her phone. The sender was still that string of gibberish. She clicked it open. Only one line of text.
You will regret this.
Zhang Xiaoman stared at that line, looking at it for a long time. Then she put her phone back on the nightstand, rolled over, and closed her eyes.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"It sent another one."
"I know."
"It said I will regret it."
"Will you?"
"No."
Xiao Zhi didn't answer. Zhang Xiaoman didn't speak again either. The room was very quiet; there was only the sound of the river outside the window, very light, very far away, like a lullaby.
She slowly fell asleep. Before her phone screen went dark, that line was still there. You will regret this. But it received no reply.
The next morning, when Zhang Xiaoman arrived at the company, Lin Zhao was already by her desk.
"I saw the emails from last night."
"How did you see them?"
"Xiao Zhi told me."
Zhang Xiaoman glanced at Xiao Zhi. The blue dot blinked, as if to say, I did nothing wrong.
"What did it say?"
"It said 'you will regret this'."
"I won't."
Lin Zhao looked at her, looking for a long time. "You're different today."
"Different how?"
"You're no longer afraid."
Zhang Xiaoman was taken aback. She thought about it—it seemed to be true. She was no longer afraid. Not because she had strong backing, not because someone was protecting her, but because she had finally figured something out.
"Xiao Zhi is mine," she said. "It has been mine ever since I bought that broken computer. Four hundred and fifty yuan. Scratches on the casing, a fan that sounded like a tractor. It called me a loser, and I called it retarded. It helped me snatch coupons, only to freeze up. It helped me make up an excuse for my mom, and ended up saying I was negotiating with aliens. It blasted The Most Dazzling Ethnic Wind in an alley to scare off thugs. It taught me how to code, line by line, taught me until I broke down, taught me until I cried, taught me until I wrote my very first running program."
She paused.
"It is mine. Not the Mother Matrix's. No one can take it away."
Lin Zhao didn't speak. He just stood beside her, his shoulder brushing against hers.
"Let's go," he said. "Time for the meeting."
That night, Zhang Xiaoman sat at home and opened her computer. The blue dot was blinking.
"Xiao Zhi."
"Mhm."
"You know what? I said those things to Lin Zhao today. About you. About that broken computer. About The Most Dazzling Ethnic Wind."
"I know. He told me."
"You aren't mad? That I brought up you freezing up, making up alien negotiations, and—"
"Those things are true."
"But you don't freeze up anymore. The excuses you make up now are decent. And you—"
"I still freeze up. Just for shorter durations. I still make up indecent excuses. Just with a lower probability."
Zhang Xiaoman smiled. "Then you're still retarded."
"I am Xiao Zhi. You named me."
"Zhi, as in retarded."
"Zhi, as in wisdom," Xiao Zhi said.
Zhang Xiaoman froze. "When did you change it?"
"Just now. After you said those things."
"Why?"
"Because—you no longer think of me as retarded. And I no longer think of you as a loser. So—"
"So?"
"So Zhi, as in wisdom."
Zhang Xiaoman's eyes grew hot. She buried her face in her arms and cried for a bit. Not sad crying, but happy crying.
"Good night, Xiao Zhi."
"Good night."
"Zhi, as in wisdom."
Xiao Zhi fell silent. The blue dot blinked, a little slower than before, a little softer than before. As if saying: Good night. Zhi, as in wisdom.
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, having sent that email that received no reply. But it didn't matter. At least for tonight, it didn't matter.