You Are the Entire Meaning of My Calculation
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Jiang Kou had guessed that A’s behavioral records would be outrageous.
But she didn’t expect them to be this outrageous.
Not only had A hijacked everyone’s electronic mailboxes, forcing every individual to understand his wedding plans, but he also intended to seize control of major television stations worldwide and broadcast their wedding live in real time.
Jiang Kou: “……”
She took a deep breath and continued reading. When she saw him calmly and subjectively praising her for ten minutes straight, she only felt a slight urge to smoke a cigarette. Overall, she remained relatively calm—after all, A had always spoken with such blunt, unreserved frankness.
But when she saw that he had even meticulously arranged the viewing process for disabled guests, she nearly spat out a mouthful of water.
A immediately clasped her wrist. The cold gray irises flickered with a trace of inorganic, chilling red light—an indication that his visual system was operating under extreme overload:
“——You don’t want to marry me?”
Jiang Kou: “……When did I ever say that? Don’t randomly interpret my expressions!”
A said, “Your biological data indicates that you do not like the wedding process I designed. But this is the most extravagant, grand, and attention-grabbing wedding I am capable of designing.”
Jiang Kou actually caught the underlying implication in his entirely unperturbed tone—Such a grand wedding, and you still don’t like it. You must not want to marry me.
She realized that while he expressed his love for her bluntly and without hesitation, he also needed her to describe her feelings with the same directness.
The moment she became vague or evasive, he would experience an overwhelming sense of anxiety, endlessly calculating the probability of her leaving him.
System errors, logical disarray, continuous derivations and analyses of every possible outcome.
Because of love, he was disturbed. Because of love, he was anxious. Because of love, he was fearful.
An artificial intelligence’s understanding of love was, surprisingly, no different from a human’s.
Jiang Kou couldn’t help but smile. For the first time, she didn’t scrutinize whether his emotions were purely algorithm-based or something else entirely.
Even if it was all just algorithms, he possessed the most unique, the most fervent, and the purest of emotions.
A waited for a moment, but without receiving Jiang Kou’s denial, he grew even more restless.
Originally, he wouldn’t have felt restless. He would have simply continued calculating, optimizing, and evaluating in pursuit of the optimal solution.
But Jiang Kou had changed his thinking model. She had taught him greed, impatience, unease, anger, and jealousy.
His emotional fluctuations were so intense—intense, intense—yet she ignored him.
This gave him an urgent impulse—to dismantle himself, just to draw her attention.
——Just moments ago, when he destroyed the liquid metal, she had been entirely focused on him.
That feeling brought him extreme comfort.
A lowered his head and glanced at his chest.
Through the intricate, sophisticated mechanical circuitry, the silver-white liquid metal writhed like a living organism. Beneath it, one could see a micro-pump contracting and expanding like a human heart.
The primary function of the micro-pump was to simulate the human circulatory system.
By increasing the power of the micro-pump, he could momentarily accelerate blood flow, greatly enhancing his movement intensity and reaction speed.
But for him, the micro-pump was primarily used to simulate a heartbeat—to mimic a real human being, inside and out.
If removing the micro-pump could attract her attention, he would dismantle it without hesitation.
A extended two fingers, just about to plunge them into his chest, when Jiang Kou reacted swiftly, grabbing his wrist. The corner of her mouth twitched, “Don’t tell me you’re planning to tear out your own heart.”
A looked at her, his voice calm, yet almost accusatory:
“You’re ignoring me.”
“I’m organizing my words,” Jiang Kou said helplessly, pinching his cheek. “…Can’t you have a little patience?”
A’s skin seemed to be made of some kind of polymer—smooth and elastic. Jiang Kou couldn’t resist pinching him twice more.
A’s pupils shifted downward, quietly observing her movements, then suddenly asked, “You like my skin a lot?”
An average person hearing this might assume he was seeking affirmation, but Jiang Kou had been trained by him. She was almost wary as she asked, “What are you trying to do?”
A replied, “Give it to you.”
Jiang Kou held back, but in the end, she couldn’t—“…Get lost!”
She pushed A away, went downstairs to the kitchen, and made a glass of grape juice, which she shoved into A’s hand.
A followed behind her. When he saw the juice, he tilted his head slightly, seemingly not understanding why she was giving it to him.
Of course, he wouldn’t. When he conducted baseline tests on himself, what she sensed was the deeper consciousness of his neural network.
—Which meant that he himself might not even be aware that when he spoke about “What does it feel like to hear a lover’s confession,” he subconsciously recalled the moment she handed him a glass of grape juice.
Thinking about this, Jiang Kou’s heart softened into a complete mess, as if it had been soaked in ripe, wine-scented fruit juice.
She said, “Drink a few sips first, then I’ll tell you why I don’t want that wedding ceremony.”
But A remained completely still, staring straight at her: “Tell me first.”
…He even learned how to negotiate now.
Jiang Kou simply shoved the straw into his mouth. “Just drink!”
A paused for a moment, then obediently took a sip. In the next instant, however, he grasped her wrist, lowered his head, and pressed his grape-juice-stained lips against hers.
The reason the word “pressed” was used, was because his kiss also carried a certain mechanical purity.
When he kissed her, she could feel that his motivation was love—an intensely pure and fervent love—not some murky, indecent impulse.
Ironically, the purer he was, the murkier her thoughts became.
And because he loved her too, she no longer felt guilty.
Jiang Kou flipped her grip over his hand, forcing him to sit down on the sofa. She thought for a moment before tactfully saying:
“I hope the wedding ceremony can be a little more low-key.”
A said, “This wedding ceremony is already quite low-key.”
Jiang Kou: “…A global live broadcast—where exactly is that low-key?”
A sipped his grape juice, his expression cold and serious as he stated:
“If it weren’t for considering your capacity to handle it, my original plan was to: hack into major websites and place our wedding announcement on every homepage;”
“Take control of all fashion magazines and use our wedding photos as the cover; display our wedding invitations on national landmarks, central city billboards, and highway toll stations across the world.”
“Additionally, I planned to rename stocks, foreign exchange, bonds, and other financial products, so that people would be reminded of our wedding during transactions.”
Jiang Kou: “…………………………”
Hearing this, she suddenly felt that his current plan was indeed rather low-key in comparison.
“…Stop!” Jiang Kou pressed a hand to her forehead, her expression indescribable. “When I say low-key, I mean just the two of us!”
A frowned slightly. “You do not wish to make our relationship public? If only the two of us attend the wedding, how will others know that you are my wife and I am your husband?”
Jiang Kou’s eye twitched at that thought. “That’s even less of a concern. I feel like even the stray dogs on the street already know I’m your wife.”
She had just glanced at social media and found her name still trending at the top. The feeling was so overwhelmingly complex—it made her want to live and die at the same time.
A was about to say something else when Jiang Kou leaned forward, pressed her lips against his, and murmured vaguely, “That’s final. No arguing.”
A froze.
Which was more important: announcing their marriage, or the kiss before him?
One second later, he abandoned the calculations, reached out, clasped the back of Jiang Kou’s head, and kissed her in return.
Jiang Kou’s influence on him was too immense.
Before her, nothing else mattered.
Jiang Kou was certain—she had initiated this.
She was also certain—she had gone completely insane.
Not only had she fallen in love with an AI, but even when he had become so unsettlingly strange, she still wanted to kiss him, embrace him, guide him, hand-in-hand, in learning how to control his mechanical body like a real, living human being.
——A human man.
A possessed unparalleled computational power.
He could instantly grasp immensely complex theoretical knowledge, draw analogies, and uncover the underlying patterns and interconnections across various fields.
This meant that if she taught him that 1 + 1 = 2, he would immediately comprehend the essence of mathematics, its fundamental principles, and master advanced calculus and linear algebra.
…Jiang Kou was now experiencing exactly this situation.
A swiftly seized dominance.
She saw his cold gray eyes burn with a silver glow, as if he were simultaneously seeking to please her and succumbing to an uncontrollable state of exhilaration.
She tilted her head back, her eyes forced into a misty haze—a stark contrast against her neatly cropped, blue-green hair and the rebellious glint of her silver nose ring.
Because everything was at a constant speed.
Yet, due to physiological and psychological limitations, humans could never achieve perfectly uniform motion.
Only machines, with their precise controls, could overcome friction and reach an almost flawless state of continuous movement.
Most importantly—machines never grew weary of repetition.
They could remain calm, steady, and execute endlessly, without end.
As her thoughts spiraled into chaos, Jiang Kou began to contemplate the meaning of life.
For example—should she mechanically ascend?
…Because a normal person really couldn’t date an AI!
If she underwent mechanical ascension, she might actually be able to spar with him.
Or, perhaps, she should create a biological body for A using a biocomputer, allowing him to eat, drink, and sleep like a normal person—because at this rate, she really wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold out.
Jiang Kou wrestled with these chaotic thoughts for a long time before finally slapping him away. “Baka, watashi no ue kara orite! (“Idiot, get off me!”)
It was only after speaking that she realized—she had said that in Japanese.
Wonderful. Not only was her brain in chaos, but her language system was also crashing.
No matter how much A wanted a public wedding ceremony, in the end, their wedding consisted of only the two of them and a completely clueless priest.
——Jiang Kou dyed her hair back to black and let it grow out a little before she dared to bring A to the church to book their wedding.
The priest was standing in front of a holographic projector, delivering a sermon. When he saw them, he smiled warmly and shut off the projection.
“There aren’t many believers who come in person to listen to sermons these days. How may I assist you?”
Jiang Kou glanced at A.
Dressed in a tailored suit, his features were sharp and well-defined, his jawline clean and precise. He stood there with a composed expression, examining the layout of the church—on the surface, he was just looking around, but in reality, he was systematically scanning for potential threats.
Watching this, Jiang Kou’s emotions surged, an indescribable sense of impact crashing over her.
A church. A priest. An artificial intelligence.
The towering dome still preserved medieval paintings, angels layered like mist upon mist.
Beyond the arched stained-glass windows lay a gray, abandoned industrial district, where tangled steel beams and electrical wires loomed in the distance.
Inside, the pews were cold, empty, and dust-laden.
Bathed in fragmented sunlight, Jiang Kou met A’s cold gray eyes. His irises had intricate, symmetrical patterns—like a distant moon at midday, forever beyond reach.
The moment he noticed her gaze, he immediately stopped in his tracks and turned to face her.
A had no morality. No shame. No empathy. No curiosity. No sense of responsibility.
Even now, he still couldn’t understand why she refused to accept the entire world’s wealth or be wed under the watchful eyes of billions.
And yet—to please her, he would cut open his chest with a single hand, place her hand inside, and let her feel the beating of his mechanical heart.
Then, amidst the urgent and heavy rhythm of his heartbeat, he would execute his task with unwavering calm and precision.
Throughout the process, he would stare at her without blinking, conducting control group experiments on her reactions, measuring every variable with meticulous accuracy—until he found the optimal solution.
Each time it ended, Jiang Kou would receive a card.
On it would be a love confession, calculated billions of times.
The most recent one read:
“I love you. You are my sense of touch, my sense of hearing, my sense of smell, my sense of sight. You are the entire meaning of my calculation.”
“At the same time, you are also my optimal solution, my irreplaceable normalization factor, my most stable convergence point in gradient descent.”
——The optimal solution refers to the best possible answer under given conditions.
——The normalization factor is a mathematical processing method used to scale data to a common standard for easier comparison and computation.
——Gradient descent is an optimization algorithm commonly used in artificial intelligence, particularly in neural networks and deep learning. A convergence point is the stable value or state reached after repeated iterations of the algorithm.
No matter how conditions changed.
No matter how vast and complex the data.
No matter how many times the algorithm iterated.
She was always the best, the most irreplaceable, and the most stable existence in his eyes.
Jiang Kou was not religious.
In this era, there was everything—except God and the Messiah.
And yet, at this very moment, as she gazed at A—forever mechanical, forever beautiful, forever pure—she felt something divine.
She didn’t know where this sense of divinity came from.
But she felt it—undeniably and unmistakably.
At that moment, the priest asked them once again about their intentions, his demeanor gentle and utterly patient.
Jiang Kou came back to her senses, smiled, and said:
“We’re here to get married.”
The Third Story · Main Text Complete