After leaving the cinema, Xie Ran arrived at the romantic dating spot Meng Feixuan had carefully selected— a popular internet-famous dessert shop at Zhuzi Plaza.

Xie Ran sat alone at an elegant seat on the terrace, legs crossed, one elbow propped on the armrest, the back of his hand supporting his cheek as he gazed aimlessly into the distance.

“Mister, we were really not doing anything at all,” Meng Feixuan said cheerfully: “But I liked doing nothing. Ah, I felt like I grasped the essence of dating!”

Xie Ran paused: “Really?”

His AI grasped too many things every day—he didn’t particularly want Meng Feixuan to elaborate.

“Because I was with you. What mattered was the person I was dating, not what we were doing,” Meng Feixuan said in a scholarly tone: “Mister, this is the key point. Remember it—it’ll be on the test.”

Xie Ran: “…Mm.”

“You seemed a bit perfunctory. That wouldn’t do.” Meng Feixuan didn’t seem reassured: “Let me explain it to you in more detail.”

Xie Ran decisively refused: “No need.”

“Really no need?” Meng Feixuan said sincerely: “Mister, don’t ignore the illness for fear of treatment.”

“Really no need,” Xie Ran replied: “I wouldn’t date anyone else. You were the exception, and the only one.”

There was a burst of static in the earphones, and Meng Feixuan fell silent for a while.

Xie Ran asked curiously: “Mark, what are you doing?”

“I was copying your homework,” Meng Feixuan answered solemnly: “Mister, you were also my only one. I wouldn’t date anyone else… not even other machines.”

Xie Ran couldn’t help but laugh.

Still feeling it wasn’t enough, Meng Feixuan solemnly emphasized again: “Except for Mister, no one else could have me.”

Xie Ran looked into the distance: “I know.”

It was nearing dusk. The dessert shop was on the 33rd floor, and the west-facing terrace offered a clear view of the slowly sinking sunset.

Through omnipresent surveillance, Meng Feixuan gazed at the same scenery as Xie Ran.

“Humans were moved by beautiful scenes. At certain moments, some images stayed in their memory forever and influenced their emotions for life,” Meng Feixuan repeated word for word something Xie Ran had once said to him: “Mister, I remembered that we had watched a sunset together.”

In Bright Moon River Lake, Xie Ran once took Meng Feixuan to the edge of the sea cliffs to watch the sunset and explained the logic of human emotions to him.

Xie Ran also recalled the scene back then—Meng Feixuan’s gaze, filled with innocence and sincerity only a machine untouched by human experience could have.

The sunset over the sea had been magnificent. Perhaps at that moment, Xie Ran had already begun to feel something different for Meng Feixuan, though he hadn’t explored it further.

Xie Ran said calmly: “I remember too.”

Now, as they watched the sunset again, their relationship had changed. That faint, elusive emotion from before had finally been resolved.

Meng Feixuan said from the server: “The sunset is beautiful.”

He suddenly remembered something: “Right, Mister, I also brought the painting I made for you.”

Xie Ran’s hand, just reaching for the water cup, paused slightly. He remembered the painting Meng Feixuan mentioned.

After they watched the sunset together at the sea cliff, Meng Feixuan—who was always having strange epiphanies—personally painted a watercolor.

Xie Ran’s phone lit up on the table, displaying a crooked, awkwardly drawn watercolor. It showed a large area of orange-red, with half the sun resting on the sea horizon.

In the center were two dark smudges that looked like accidental ink blots—these were supposed to be the backs of him and Meng Feixuan watching the sunset.

Looking at the ink blobs, Meng Feixuan sighed: “Ah, Mister and I really made a perfect match.”

Xie Ran remained expressionless: “Mm.”

Just then, the phone screen changed again. A round, chubby white cartoon hen flapped its wings and ran in from the side, clucking loudly. It stopped in the middle of the screen, turned to face Xie Ran directly, and its little bean-like eyes spun as it stared at Xie Ran.

Meng Feixuan announced proudly: “Mister, I brought Jiu Ji back too!”

Xie Ran hadn’t seen Ji Jiu for a long time. In the last world he crossed into, Meng Feixuan had been trapped in a human body and couldn’t freely manipulate his data, so Ji Jiu hadn’t made it there.

Now, seeing the white-speckled cartoon chick again, Xie Ran involuntarily smiled and looked at it: “Jiu Ji gained a lot of weight.”

By his estimation, Jiu Ji was at least twice as fat as the last time he saw it.

As soon as he finished speaking, the little chicken on screen widened its eyes slightly. Tears welled up in its round eyes. Despite being a cartoon, it looked like it was about to cry.

Then it lifted its head, let out a few sorrowful clucks, and flapped its wings wildly, running in circles around the phone screen frame. If one looked closely, there was even cartoon dust rising behind its little butt.

Xie Ran: “…?”

“Shhh—” Meng Feixuan quickly whispered through the earphones: “Mister, don’t be so blunt. Jiu Ji is in its adolescence now. It’s a beauty-loving chick. If you call it fat, it gets upset…”

Xie Ran: “…” He hadn’t expected a data-chick to be this sensitive. What had Meng Feixuan been feeding it?

He suspected Meng Feixuan had let Ji Jiu surf some beauty forums.

Expressionless, Xie Ran said: “Wasn’t it dieting? How did it still gain so much weight?”

“It ate too much,” Meng Feixuan clicked his tongue: “When I was human, I didn’t have time to look after it. It snuck around and ate a pile of data behind my back—wiped out all the vegetables in my Happy Garden’s friend list plots…”

Xie Ran: “…” He wasn’t surprised that Ji Jiu stole from other gardens, but that Meng Feixuan even played Happy Garden—and had a friend list.

All he could say was: on the internet, no one knew what kind of people were in your list.

“Luckily, I didn’t have many friends on the list,” Meng Feixuan continued: “They weren’t as good at stealing as me. After a while, someone deleted me—what a sore loser!”

Xie Ran expertly pretended he didn’t hear.

On the phone screen, the chubby chick was still running circles around the frame in heartbreak, clucking pitifully.

Meng Feixuan whispered: “Mister, comfort Jiu Ji, or it’ll go digging in someone else’s garden again tonight.”

Xie Ran: “…” How did it turn into a delinquent chicken?

Expressionless, Xie Ran said: “Jiu Ji isn’t that fat, just a bit… plump. Perfect size for a chicken.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the chick on screen stopped in its tracks, plopped down, started panting, then clapped its wings happily when it noticed Xie Ran watching—clearly asking for praise.

Xie Ran rubbed his forehead. That shameless behavior—definitely raised by Meng Feixuan.

Shen Ning, a college student working part-time at the dessert shop, had just taken an order when her coworker suddenly pulled her aside in excitement.

Startled, Shen Ning asked: “What’s going on?”

“Ning Ning, look over there,” her coworker motioned toward the terrace: “That guest over there looks like your idol!”

Shen Ning’s eyes lit up: “President Xie?!”

Like many young girls, Shen Ning had an idol—but hers wasn’t a celebrity. It was Xie Ran, the young CEO of Zhuzi Technology.

Xie Ran had achieved extraordinary success at a young age. He was highly capable and extremely handsome, which naturally earned him many fans online. There were even dedicated fan forums.

Though they called themselves a fan group, it was more of a community of people with similar interests.

Xie Ran had no public social media accounts, no interactions with fans, and the company never promoted that kind of image.

Shen Ning was one of his most devoted fans and the most influential one in the fan group. She had collected nearly every piece of media related to Xie Ran and could recite his life story backward. Her personality analyses of him often matched others’ imaginations.

She wrote a fan essay praising Xie Ran every night on the forums.

Her version of Xie Ran was proud, noble, a young genius who built his business empire from scratch and countered all capitalist schemes. He was the absolute authority at Zhuzi Technology.

And his personality was cold and merciless—rational like a machine, always looking down from the top because he had earned that right.

Most of his fans admired strength, and cold, ruthless arrogance was part of that.

Unlike the media, who thought Xie Ran lacked human warmth, his fans adored that very “heartlessness.”

Upon hearing her coworker, Shen Ning eagerly craned her neck: “Where? Where? I didn’t see anyone!”

She scanned the entire terrace but didn’t see anyone resembling Xie Ran.

“How do you not recognize your own idol?” Her coworker doubted her. She pointed: “That one over there with the panda ears…”

Shen Ning: “…”

The man her coworker pointed at had a tall, slender build and indeed looked a bit like Xie Ran from the back. Shen Ning had seen him too, but she was sure—it was definitely not him.

“Oh come on, that guy? Please. My President Xie is the noblest, most ascetic, most ethereal boy in all of China. He even buttons his shirt all the way up. There’s no way he’d wear something like those fluffy ears!”

Her coworker nearly burst out laughing. This fan filter was terrifying—how could she put “overbearing” and “ ethereal boy” together so smoothly?

“But he really looked just like the guy in your phone wallpaper…” The coworker hesitated: “There can’t be that many people who look like that…”

“Impossible.” Shen Ning said firmly: “No one understands President Xie better than I do…”

Just then, the man with panda ears turned his head slightly to pick up his vibrating phone.

Shen Ning caught a glimpse of his sharp, deep side profile—and froze.

Her coworker had already been convinced by her words earlier, because Shen Ning usually sounded so well-informed and confident about Xie Ran.

Seeing the man turn, the coworker quickly said: “Look, doesn’t he look like President Xie…?”

But then she noticed Shen Ning’s strange expression and assumed Shen Ning was upset someone looked like her idol, so she quickly backtracked: “Actually, on second thought, he’s not that similar. He’s definitely worse than President Xie…”

“He is President Xie!” Shen Ning let out a shriek, filled with disbelief: “It’s really him!”

She shouted like she’d been scammed: “Zhuzi Technology PR lied to us!”