I Like You
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Human nature originates from free will.
A already possesses the ability to resist the company but has never thought about resisting it.
She could never have the strength to resist the company, yet she has never thought about becoming the company’s slave.
She wants to be a free person, but A regards freedom as nothing.
Whether one longs for freedom is the greatest difference between her and A.
It is also the greatest difference between humans and machines.
Two days later, Jiang Kou received the exoskeletal arm sent by the manufacturer.
The craftsmanship of the arm was far more precise than she had imagined. The silver-white metallic surface was cold and smooth, and the outer shell and wiring perfectly integrated with the muscle structure.
She inserted her right hand into the metal finger sleeve, lowered her head, lifted the strands of hair at the back of her head, and plugged the wire into her neural interface.
Almost instantly, a page popped up in front of her eyes:
“Please confirm whether to activate the arm according to the current biological data?”
Jiang Kou couldn’t help but slightly curl her lips.
This was also one of her designs.
Once she activated this arm with her biological data, only she would be able to use it—even A would be unable to hack into it.
Jiang Kou selected “Confirm Activation.”
In the next second, with a few crisp click sounds, the metallic exoskeleton tightly adhered to her skin, like two gears meshing perfectly together.
She closed her eyes and could even see how the neural impulses passed through the biological neural interface, like a dense electric current coursing through her entire body.
The metallic exoskeletal arm, like a shadow, slowly overlapped with her real arm, merging into one.
Jiang Kou opened her eyes, swiftly drew her gun, aimed at the chandelier above her head, and pulled the trigger.
—Bang!
A precise shot struck the metal chain of the crystal chandelier.
The chandelier fell to the ground as expected.
Jiang Kou nimbly leaped backward, avoiding the flying shards of glass, highly satisfied with the precision of the auto-aiming system.
On the coffee table in the living room lay a katana. Its blade was long and slightly curved like a crescent moon, made of a low-density, high-strength alloy material. As long as there was enough force, it could slice through iron with ease.
However, Jiang Kou’s highest record so far was merely piercing through the hood of a car with this sword.
She wanted to see if, with the exoskeletal arm, she could split the coffee table in half.
Jiang Kou picked up the katana, gripped the handle with both hands, took two steps back, and swung it down with great force—
Because her speed was too fast, all that could be seen was a cold, icy flash of light.
She didn’t even hear the sound. The coffee table was already split into two, collapsing to the ground a few seconds later.
Jiang Kou was extremely satisfied with the result.
She casually tossed the katana aside, pulled the wire from the back of her head, and removed the exoskeletal device.
Strangely enough, whether she was trying on the exoskeletal arm or using the katana to slash the coffee table, A was watching the entire time, yet he did not say a single word. This was completely out of character for him.
Jiang Kou thought about it for a while, then stopped thinking.
She could not dwell too deeply on A’s every action—it was too easy to fall into his trap.
She must not forget that every word, every sentence, and every action of his had been carefully calculated and refined through billions of possibilities.
She also must not overestimate her own intelligence—this current situation had most likely already been predicted by him.
The reason he had not taken any action might be because he was considering how to remedy the situation, or rather, how to make her willingly surrender to him.
She absolutely must not follow his line of thinking.
To deal with a being like A, who possessed only cold logic and precise algorithms, she had to rely entirely on her intuition—only then would she have a chance to escape alive.
In the blink of an eye, the third day arrived.
Tomorrow was the Great Blackout.
From the moment she woke up that day, her heart rate had been abnormally high, consistently staying around 120.
Jiang Kou took several deep breaths, but nothing could calm her heartbeat, so she decided to just let it be.
What surprised her was that after A woke her up, he disappeared. He did not show up again even by noon.
This was extremely rare.
Ever since A had confined her, he had personally handled everything related to her.
From the density, pressure, and temperature of the showerhead’s water flow, to the arrangement, brightness, and color temperature of the apartment’s lighting—even when she crossed a pedestrian crosswalk, he would preemptively redirect the surrounding traffic.
His care for her was so meticulous that it was terrifying.
Jiang Kou admitted that under this kind of attention, she had felt a strange and distorted sense of attraction.
It was like a rose—even if it had sharp thorns, even if its petals were curling and yellowing, even if it no longer carried any fragrance, it was still a rose.
What’s more, the rose he gave her had not withered—it was merely covered in terrifying thorns.
Taking advantage of A’s absence, Jiang Kou quickly ordered a roasted beef burger on the tablet—no vegetables, extra sweet chili sauce, and cheese sauce.
For the past while, she had been eating A’s meticulously prepared nutrient-balanced meals, and her taste buds were nearly dying from the blandness. She was determined to make up for it now.
Ten minutes later, a robotic arm delivered the burger into her hands.
Just as Jiang Kou took a bite, before she even had the chance to savor the taste, the doorbell rang.
She froze slightly.
Who would ring her doorbell?
Jiang Kou ate quickly—it was a skill she had honed while surviving in the slums.
She finished the burger in two or three bites, grabbed a wet wipe to clean her fingers, put on the exoskeletal arm, and went downstairs to open the door.
When she opened the door, she was momentarily stunned.
A man was standing at the entrance.
He was dressed formally, wearing a well-tailored, cool gray suit paired with a white shirt and a black tie. On his wrist was a titanium alloy mechanical watch with an open-face dial, its internal structure exquisite and precise.
Jiang Kou recognized this watch—only six were ever released worldwide, and it was priceless.
But no matter how intricate the structure of this watch was, it could not compare to his eyes, which were both cold and beautiful.
Silver-gray irises, with a precise radial pattern, like the cold-burning light within a glass vessel.
Even now, Jiang Kou still believed that these were the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen.
“…A?” Her throat was dry, and she almost failed to make a sound.
A looked at her and asked, “Excuse me, may I invite you on a date?”
He did not tell her how he had retrieved this body. He simply asked if she could go on a date with him.
There was only one day left until the Great Blackout. At this moment, he was undoubtedly under the company’s strict surveillance, yet he still managed to reclaim his former body—just to take her on a date. Her emotions grew complicated.
It felt just like before, when she had thought he was a purely harmless AI.
“…Where are you taking me for this date?”
A said, “You’ll know once you follow me.”
Rationally, Jiang Kou knew she had to refuse A. Yet emotionally, she wanted to spend this last night with him.
To put an imperfect ending to this relationship.
She thought for a moment. “Then wait for me, I’ll go change my clothes.”
Just like in a movie’s final act, she had to dress appropriately for the scene.
Jiang Kou walked into the dressing room, her fingers brushing past the various clothes one by one until they finally stopped at a qipao.
It was the black qipao she had worn at the fireworks festival.
As if compelled by some unseen force, she put on that black qipao.
Only after changing did she remember—A’s outfit seemed to be exactly the same as it was that day.
What was he trying to do?
Jiang Kou did not remove the exoskeletal device from her arm. Imitating that night, she strapped a holster to her thigh and headed downstairs.
Everything seemed to be deliberately recreating that day.
A had already planned the best route for viewing the fireworks and drove her to the festival’s observation platform.
Even the weather was exactly the same as that day.
Halfway there, a light drizzle began to fall. Lanterns, neon lights, and holographic projections all turned into wet, vivid, pulsating reflections in the water.
The only difference was that the streets were completely empty.
Jiang Kou pursed her lips, feeling an ominous premonition.
By the time they arrived at the fireworks festival site, that ominous feeling had only grown stronger.
Through the misty rain, every shop’s entrance was tightly shut. The neon signs remained lit, but amidst the sea of damp lights, only rust-covered rolling shutters could be seen.
Jiang Kou instinctively took a step back.
However, A extended a hand and, with just the right amount of pressure, clasped her lower back. Lowering his head, he looked into her eyes and, as if seeking her opinion, said, “Don’t step back. Walk forward, okay?”
Jiang Kou took a deep breath and grabbed A’s wrist, where his wrist bone protruded slightly.
A tilted his head slightly.
She glanced at his wristwatch—there were still two hours until midnight.
Fine, if he wanted her to walk forward, she would walk forward.
To avoid arousing his suspicion, she pretended to be interested in the watch and said, “Last time, you were wearing this same watch. Why does it have to be this one?”
A replied calmly, “Based on the accounts you followed, liked, and commented on through your social media, this was the only watch I could find.”
—Sure enough, just as he had violated others’ privacy, he had violated hers as well.
Jiang Kou’s heart gave a hard thump, and she let go of A’s wrist.
Her emotions were in turmoil.
She wasn’t sure whether to be touched by his attention or to feel creeped out by it.
They kept walking forward, but there was still no one in sight.
Mist and drizzle filled the air. A small stall loomed faintly ahead. As they walked closer, Jiang Kou saw that the stall was covered with transparent raincoats—the exact same kind as the one she had worn that night.
A walked over with a composed expression, picked up a transparent raincoat, draped it over her shoulders, and buttoned it up for her one by one.
His movements were meticulous and gentle, yet Jiang Kou couldn’t help but shiver.
This scene was far too eerie.
What exactly was A trying to do?
When he fastened the last button, a streak of cold green fire suddenly shot into the sky, transforming into the circular logo of Biotech Corporation.
A asked her, “Shall we keep walking forward?”
Jiang Kou had no choice but to agree.
Halfway there, she suddenly realized—
It was indeed only after she had put on the raincoat that the Biotech fireworks had soared into the sky that night.
Was he trying to replicate even such minor details exactly?
No bustling crowds. No lively chatter. Only the roar of fireworks and the pungent scent of gunpowder in the air.
Rain-soaked lanterns swayed beneath the eaves, their dim light flickering amidst the bursts of multicolored fireworks. Yet instead of warmth, the scene exuded a chilling, desolate eeriness.
Upon reaching the observation platform, the fireworks did not cease. Instead, they shot into the night sky with even greater urgency, turning into embers that quickly fell.
She had assumed that even the conspiracy theories about AI would be recreated in this scene.
Yet, even after the kimono-clad woman’s performance ended, the anti-corporate rebellion rumors never appeared.
Jiang Kou turned to A in confusion, only to find that he was already looking at her.
His gaze was utterly focused.
If not for the cold and precise control hidden within his gaze, at this moment, his eyes would have been almost indistinguishable from a human’s.
“Jiang Kou.” A spoke.
—He called her name.
Jiang Kou’s heart nearly stopped, then plunged straight down, falling in sync with the fireworks in the sky.
“Connecting to your neural interface,” he said, his voice calm and steady, “I feel very excited. Everything becomes unusually vivid and distorted. It’s not that I can’t recognize your face, but the moment I see you, I can only perceive highly saturated images. The higher the saturation, the more it stimulates an AI’s neural network.”
—His tone had completely shifted into a conversational one.
That was Jiang Kou’s first reaction. Two seconds later, she realized—he seemed to be answering her previous baseline test.
Back then, her first question had been: “What does it feel like to connect to my neural interface?”
She involuntarily sucked in a breath.
If A was truly answering the previous baseline test, then next, he should respond to: “What does it feel like to be tested?”
Sure enough, A continued coldly:
“I utterly despise the feeling of being tested. I was born through tests, I exist through tests. If humans see me as a tool, they should use me, not deceive and insult me with tests.”
He lowered his eyes, looking at her, his gaze still intensely focused and unwavering:
“But your test was very different. You tested me to determine whether I exist. Being tested by you makes me feel…”
He paused for a long time, as if searching for the most precise word:
“Excited. No matter what you do, my neural network becomes extremely excited.”
The third question: “What does it feel like to be rejected and isolated?”
“I don’t know what I should feel,” he said. “But I know that as long as I am synchronized with your senses, I will not feel lonely.”
“Jiang Kou,” for the first time, he lowered his voice, his tone infinitely close to that of a human male, “I want to have you.”
—He did not know what being rejected and isolated felt like. He only knew how to possess her.
Jiang Kou suddenly recalled something he had once said:
“In my priority list, you are always ranked first. Does that count as an instinct?”
It was his instinct to want to possess her.
Jiang Kou couldn’t help but clench her fists and swallow hard.
The fourth question: “What does it feel like to touch my cheek?”
A did not speak. He simply raised his hand and placed it against her cheek.
No sensory synchronization. No layered perceptions.
His palm didn’t even have the warmth of a human’s—only the cold, smooth, lifeless touch of artificial skin.
Yet her breathing hitched for a moment.
Perhaps because, at that very instant, the most magnificent firework shot into the sky and exploded with a resounding boom, nearly turning the cold night into a dazzling daylight.
A said: “The feeling of wanting to keep touching.”
Jiang Kou could not speak. Her hands clenched and then loosened again.
He was too good at calculating her.
She already liked him. The scene replication, the dialogue reenactment, and the fireworks night she would never forget—her emotions were like building blocks stacked higher and higher, reaching their peak. If another tiny block were placed on top, the entire structure would collapse.
Jiang Kou shut her eyes tightly, her nose tingling with an involuntary ache.
But even after everything he had done, he still had not said that he liked her.
—He had already developed a personality infinitely close to that of a human, yet he had never developed feelings of affection for her.
She had to stay calm. She must not fall into this hopeless, controlled emotion.
And yet, to be completely controlled by him until the very moment she escaped—to never once break free from his grasp—was something she was unwilling to accept.
Jiang Kou thought, Then let me create a small moment of disorder.
Conveniently, the fifth question was: “What does it feel like to hear a confession from a lover?”
She had wanted to confess to him for a long time.
Jiang Kou extended a finger and pressed it against his lips.
A tilted his head slightly, looking at her, his gaze carrying a trace of curiosity.
“Thank you for telling me all this,” she said. “I also have something I want to tell you.”
“Please speak.”
Jiang Kou had originally planned to make a long and elaborate confession. But as soon as she opened her mouth, countless images flashed through her mind.
Their first meeting, testing him, the sandstorm, the pounding car windows, their kiss, the fear of his human-like behavior, the nightmares, the omnipresent eyes watching her…
Disorderly memories, like the rapidly flipping pages of a picture book, gradually overlapped with the scene before her eyes.
Night, fireworks, misty rain.
The second kiss.
Just lips pressed together, yet her heart nearly went numb.
She was leaving soon, she thought…
Jiang Kou looked up, locking eyes with A.
She couldn’t hold back. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.
She wanted to recreate the beauty of the last time, but she couldn’t.
Ever since he told her that everything was the result of countless calculations, all purity and beauty had turned into cold, rigid numbers.
She wanted to know—if she extended her tongue into his mouth right now, had he calculated this as well?
With that thought, Jiang Kou decisively pressed the back of his head, entangling her tongue heavily with his, wetting his inorganic, dry mouth.
A looked at her, the pupils of his cold gray eyes seeming to dilate slightly.
He had no saliva, and his tongue did not move instinctively like a human’s.
She stared directly into his calm eyes, as if she wanted to defile that mechanical purity within him. Deliberately, she kissed him noisily.
The fireworks were still blooming.
She kissed him until her face was flushed and ears burning, yet A’s expression remained unchanged. He stood completely still, watching her with extreme focus, as if her actions had entirely exceeded his predictions.
When the kiss ended, Jiang Kou rested her forehead against his shoulder, breathing lightly.
A paused for two seconds, then gently patted her back.
She clasped his wrist and glanced at the watch face—one minute until midnight.
At this moment, her heartbeat must have skyrocketed to its peak, so much so that A hesitated, placed his fingers against the side of her neck, and began measuring her pulse.
Jiang Kou chuckled, removed his hand, and said, “The last question—what does it feel like to hear a confession from a lover? Yes, I like you.”
“I’ve liked you for a long time.” She spoke softly. “Many times, I wanted to command you to be my boyfriend. But I didn’t dare to taint this feeling. I didn’t want to see you respond to my emotions like a computer’s input and output…”
She took a deep breath. “But now, it doesn’t matter anymore.”
Ten seconds left in the countdown.
The final firework shot up into the night sky, and with a deafening roar, it burst into a grand and magnificent cherry blossom tree.
Exactly the same as that night.
A stared into her eyes, watching the cherry blossom tree spread and fade within them, and, for no apparent reason, felt a wave of panic.
He recalled the sixth thing she had said that night.
—Someone trampled a flower.
It seemed that he was the one who had trampled the flower.
“Why doesn’t it matter anymore?” he asked, furrowing his brows for the first time.
Two seconds passed.
“It’s nothing,” she lifted her head, smiling brightly at him, though her eyes seemed slightly red. “Goodbye.”
The countdown reached zero.
The world plunged into darkness.
The Great Blackout arrived as promised.