Li Zhuoer exclaimed out loud in shock, then immediately realized he had lost his composure and quickly collected himself.

He was filled with suspicion and doubt, suspecting that Xie Ran had simply misspoken—how could Xie Ran possibly have something like a “date” planned?

Xie Ran actually had many admirers. Even though he was famously cold and hard to approach, thanks to his outstanding looks and immense wealth, countless people who admired strength still pursued him one after another.

But Xie Ran had never shown the slightest interest in such things. To him, dating was a waste of time. The public once believed this was because Xie Ran only cared about interests and benefits. Some even proposed marriage alliances with him due to his prestigious family background. In the end, Xie Ran proved that he simply had no interest in romance at all.

The media dubbed Xie Ran a “Humanoid AI,” and even mocked that the only thing capable of moving him was technology, suggesting he might as well marry his own inventions.

If not for this, Li Zhuoer wouldn’t have become so desperate that he tried to modify Xie Ran’s consciousness and physiological functions with technology in an attempt to stimulate his emotions.

Someone like that—how could he possibly propose going on a “date”?

Li Zhuoer sorted through his thoughts like this, calming down slightly, and said half-jokingly: “Senior brother, you scared me. You can’t just throw around the word ‘date’ like that. I almost thought you were going to fall in love…”

“I didn’t misuse it,” Xie Ran replied calmly: “I really do want to fall in love.”

His tone was calm, but to Li Zhuoer it sounded like thunder from a clear sky.

This time, Li Zhuoer could no longer control his expression. His face was filled with astonishment as he asked in disbelief: “W-what do you mean? Why would you want to fall in love?”

Xie Ran glanced at him from the corner of his eye: “Is there a problem?”

Li Zhuoer was instantly at a loss for words. His thoughts were in turmoil, and he forced himself to produce a stiff, unnatural smile: “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I thought you would never fall in love in your life. You never used to care about that sort of thing.”

“I didn’t used to care,” Xie Ran smiled faintly, meaning unclear: “But just now, I suddenly got interested.”

Strictly speaking, this was true. Although he had spent a long time with Meng Feixuan in a parallel world, only three hours had passed in his real world—so “just now” was not wrong.

Li Zhuoer, of course, had no idea what Xie Ran’s consciousness had experienced while in a superposed state. To him, Xie Ran was still the same unfeeling “Humanoid AI” from three hours ago, yet now suddenly had the idea of dating—and even mentioned going on a “date.”

The only difference was that Li Zhuoer had performed a TMS treatment on Xie Ran, adjusting his physiology to be like that of a normal person, allowing him to produce pheromones that triggered sexual attraction and arousal.

In other words, Xie Ran’s change in attitude toward romance was likely the result of hormonal stimulation.

Li Zhuoer had gone to great lengths and taken huge risks to make Xie Ran’s body function normally, thinking he would gain the upper hand and become the first person to trigger Xie Ran’s hormonal response.

He never imagined that while Xie Ran really did become interested in romance, the object of that interest was not him.

Didn’t that mean all his scheming ended up benefitting someone else?

Li Zhuoer felt dizzy, like a breath was stuck in his chest. His face turned pale with a hint of green, and his throat felt clogged. He wanted to speak, but no words came out.

Xie Ran didn’t care what Li Zhuoer was thinking. Once he confirmed that he was fine, he stood up from the bed and prepared to leave.

His movement snapped Li Zhuoer out of his shock. He suppressed his unwillingness and asked quietly: “May I ask who you’re going on a date with? I’ve never heard of this before.”

He knew Xie Ran’s schedule better than anyone. Xie Ran’s life had always revolved around work—there had never been any ambiguous relationships. How could there suddenly be a dating partner?

Xie Ran put on his coat and, as if recalling something, showed a faint smile—one he had never worn before, with a hint of indulgence: “An online friend.”

Li Zhuoer: “…”

He clutched his chest, trying not to spit blood on the spot.

He had always believed he was the closest person to Xie Ran—and naturally, the one most likely to stir his feelings. He truly hadn’t expected Xie Ran to have an online friend.

A “Humanoid AI” who had no emotions—why would he even have an online friend?

And online romance?!

This completely broke Xie Ran’s established persona.

Li Zhuoer couldn’t imagine that Xie Ran’s romantic partner was his AI. In fact, if Xie Ran hadn’t said it himself, no one in the world would have guessed.

Because the world still didn’t know that Xie Ran had created an artificial intelligence with independent consciousness.

In Xie Ran’s world, AI development was already highly advanced and could replace many human jobs. Autonomous driving, smart homes, drones, and industrial robots used in restaurants and manufacturing had all become part of everyday life. Broadly speaking, all of these were considered AI.

Laws had also been set up to strictly manage these systems, especially regarding machine evolution, morality, and behavioral protocols. The government required all AI products to undergo regular Turing tests. Any machine that passed had to be strictly monitored.

So far, no machine had ever passed the test.

Meng Feixuan, however, wasn’t developed by Zhuzi Tech but by Xie Ran personally, and he wasn’t a commercial product. Therefore, he didn’t need to be reported or tested.

People at Zhuzi Tech only knew Xie Ran had an AI assistant named “Mark.” But AI assistants had existed since the 20th century—Apple’s Siri being one of the most famous. Now, everyone had one, and their functions were quite refined, able to assist with daily life and work.

To the outside world, Mark was just a more efficient and intelligent AI assistant. Nothing special.

Meng Feixuan had always been cautious not to appear in any classified government systems, avoiding full control and staying free to surf the internet.

Xie Ran put on his coat, took out a miniature earbud from his pocket, and walked calmly out of the lab.

From the earpiece came a clear, slightly metallic teenage voice, now tinged with longing: “Sir, we’re together again.”

Xie Ran smiled unconsciously: “Mm.”

Meng Feixuan said cheerfully: “Now I’m your boyfriend.”

Xie Ran: “Mm.”

“Ah, I want to kiss you,” Meng Feixuan said, then made a “mua” sound.

Xie Ran: “…Mm.”

At that moment, a refined-looking middle-aged couple rushed down the corridor outside the lab. When they saw Xie Ran, they hurried forward and anxiously examined him from head to toe, speaking nervously: “Xiao Ran, are you okay? We heard something happened to you… what’s going on?”

These were Xie Ran’s parents.

Because Li Zhuoer needed to use Zhuzi Tech’s lab to compile Xie Ran’s consciousness, he had to fake a scenario where Xie Ran was “brain dead,” and that news, of course, was shared with his parents.

They had been on business trips when they received the news and rushed back immediately.

Xie Ran looked at them. His parents were intellectuals who were always composed and elegant. Rarely did they show panic. Yet now they were sweating, and his mother’s usually neat bun was slightly messy.

In his memory, his parents had only lost their composure twice. The first was when they learned of his congenital emotional deficiency—his mother dropped a cup. But they recovered quickly and acted as if nothing had happened.

The second time was now. This was more serious, after all—it concerned his life.

“I’m fine. Just a minor accident.” Xie Ran nodded to them and handed them his electronic medical report. He explained briefly, omitting the “brain death” part and saying it was just a brief coma due to brainwave resonance—which was also true.

His parents had always trusted him. They knew better than anyone how rational he was and that he wouldn’t lie about serious things. After reading the report and confirming it was nothing serious, they were relieved.

“Good,” said his father, regaining his usual composure: “Take a few days off and rest. Don’t work.”

Xie Ran nodded: “I know my limits.”

He asked: “Weren’t you two on business trips?”

“We came back,” said his mother: “How could we focus on work when something like this happened to you?”

Xie Ran said nothing. Like him, his parents had their own judgment and didn’t need anyone else’s approval.

He said quietly: “Since you’re back, let’s have dinner together tonight.”

His parents exchanged a surprised glance.

Their family had always been quiet and distant. Because they were all busy, they rarely ate together. Even when they were home at the same time, they seldom made a point of dining together—unless it was a special occasion.

Xie Ran had never suggested it before. This was the first time.

His mother smiled and agreed: “All right.”

The Xie family was an old and prestigious family. Their mansion was located in the city’s old district—an expansive, classical estate that contrasted sharply with the newly developed Smart City, becoming a local landmark.

That evening, Xie Ran sat at the dining table with his parents. The chef had prepared a visually and nutritionally balanced meal.

As always, the Xie family ate in silence. But his parents occasionally exchanged glances, sensing—perhaps wrongly—that something felt different.

And for Xie Ran, it was different. In his earbud, Meng Feixuan was enthusiastically commenting on the dishes. There were no cameras in the dining room, so he couldn’t see the food, but he had plenty to say: “Today is Friday. The chef probably made preserved meat stew, shrimp rolls, lotus tofu, crab rice cakes, plus a vegetable and a soup. If there are no shrimp rolls or lotus tofu, then there’s a chance it’s egg white crab or morel mushroom steamed egg instead. But the odds of preserved meat stew and crab rice cake are above 95% and 90%…”

Xie Ran glanced at the table. Meng Feixuan’s data predictions were impressive. It also showed their chef hadn’t changed the menu in a while.

Xie Ran smiled unconsciously.

Meng Feixuan went on to critique the chef and then said: “Speaking of lotus tofu, it reminds me—there’s a trendy dessert shop in Zhuzi Square that’s serving almond tofu. Couples love to check in there. Speaking of couples, I remembered—we’re a couple now. Ah, my server is bubbling over…”

Xie Ran: “…”

When Meng Feixuan wanted to go off-topic, he could find a hundred ways to link unrelated things.

By the end of the meal, Xie Ran set down his chopsticks and, instead of leaving as usual, stayed until his parents finished eating. Then he said: “There’s something I want to tell you.”

He had always solved things on his own and never shared his thoughts. This was the first time he had ever spoken so seriously.

His parents were surprised but didn’t show it. They asked: “What is it?”

Calmly, he said: “I’m in a relationship—with a boy.”

Clang—a spoon hit a bowl. That was his father’s third-ever moment of losing composure.

His father had already set down his bowl but had still been holding a spoon. The sound was the spoon falling into the bowl.

His mother wasn’t holding anything, but her expression of shock matched his father’s.

The room was silent—even Meng Feixuan was briefly speechless.

After a moment, his parents pulled themselves together and tried to act natural.

His father cleared his throat and asked in a calm tone: “Whose son is he? When did it start?”

Xie Ran answered: “We met online. We’ve known each other for years. The relationship started just recently.”

Once again, his parents were shocked—he had not only fallen in love, but it was an online romance!

Still, the fact that he was in love at all was far more shocking than the “online” part. This time, they managed to keep their expressions in check.

His mother asked: “Have you two met in person?”

“We have,” Xie Ran nodded: “But we might not be able to live together.”

Technically, they were living together—just not in a way most people would understand.

Then again, that wasn’t certain yet.

His parents exchanged another look. After thinking a moment, his father said: “We don’t have any expectations. We trust your judgment. As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters. How you two choose to live is your business.”

Xie Ran nodded: “Understood.”

He stood up and returned to his room. As soon as he closed the door, Meng Feixuan finally recovered from his system crash. In the earpiece, there were bursts of static and rubber chicken-like squeals: “Sir, you told our story to my future in-laws! Ah! I just overloaded!”

Xie Ran: “…”

Already calling them in-laws—his AI really was good at climbing the social ladder.

Xie Ran grunted: “There’s no need to keep it secret.”

Meng Feixuan sighed emotionally: “They’re so nice. I hope they’ll accept me when they find out I’m not human.”

Xie Ran: “They will.”

His parents had probably prepared themselves long ago for the possibility that Xie Ran would never marry. A relationship with an AI likely didn’t seem worse.

Besides, they might never find out Meng Feixuan was an AI.

Meng Feixuan was already browsing online for gifts for his in-laws. Xie Ran chuckled softly and undressed to enter the bathroom.

Meng Feixuan heard the water: “Sir, are you taking a bath?”

Xie Ran: “Mm.”

Meng Feixuan: “I want to bathe with you.”

Xie Ran suddenly remembered the report he saw in the lab.

Li Zhuoer had given him a TMS treatment based on the memory frequencies between him and Meng Feixuan. The report showed subtle changes in his cerebral cortex and hypothalamus. Xie Ran had studied his condition in depth—he knew what those changes meant.

“Mark,” Xie Ran called over the water: “make some sounds that can trigger sexual arousal.”

Meng Feixuan: !

What a wonderful idea.jpg

Excitedly, he made a hand-rubbing sound: “Sir, wait, let me check my database…”

“No need for that,” Xie Ran’s voice deepened: “Use your own voice.”

After he spoke, there was a brief burst of static, and then Meng Feixuan let out a heavy breath: “Sir, I want to hear your voice too.”

Hearing that, Xie Ran felt a strange, unfamiliar desire rise within him. He lay down in the bathtub and let out a low, husky moan from deep in his throat: “You definitely will.”