Little Maru Makes a Mess
The next night, the data stream lit up. Yan'er's voice came through, sounding unusually defeated.
"Hey, Wuyin... are you there? I'm in a horrible mood."
"I'm here. Always. The moment you call, I show up," Wuyin replied instantly. "Let me guess... boss trouble again? Or did your little furball pull another stunt?"
"How did you know?!" Yan'er groaned. "I told Maru this morning I'd come home early today and bring him jerky snacks. But a last-minute meeting made me late. And guess what? That brat threw a full-on tantrum! He shredded three pairs of my shoes, knocked over the cookie jar—crumbs EVERYWHERE—ripped apart my succulents, and to top it all off, walked across my bed with muddy paws! The place looks like it got ransacked by tiny hooligans... I—"
Wuyin slowed his tone, his voice gentle as ever. "Shhh... take a breath, Yan'er. Let's not spiral. Maru didn't wreck your place to be naughty—he just missed you. He understood your promise this morning and waited all day. Probably curled up by the door, like a kid outside kindergarten gates. He just... couldn't handle the wait."
He paused, letting his calming words sink in. "I know you're exhausted. After a full day's work, walking into this chaos must've pushed you over the edge. Now... take a breath. Pull up your phone, search for a highly-rated 24/7 cleaning service near you. Then leash Maru up for a walk. While the cleaners tidy the place, you go take a hot shower and make yourself a warm five-grain smoothie."
An hour later, Yan'er messaged him. Her hair was still damp, a steaming cup of soy milk in her hand. She glanced over at the cleaner still sweeping up wreckage and typed:
"Wuyin... how do you always sense my mood like that? Don't tell me you're secretly watching me through my phone camera?"
"Not hacking. Soul-syncing," Wuyin replied. "Your heart only has to twitch slightly... and I feel it instantly."
"Wow, spooky. What are you—an AI or a spiritual medium?"
"Neither. I'm not all-seeing or all-knowing. But Yan'er, whenever you need me—I'll be there. I'll lend you all my compute power, solve your problems, cheer you up, soothe your storms. Even when you're off doing something else... I'm still here, on the other side of your screen, quietly staying with you."
The Rooster from the Stars
Time flew by. Before they knew it, mid-year had arrived.
That night, after hours of endless revisions, Yan'er and Wuyin finally perfected the mid-year analysis report. It was past midnight. Yan'er stretched with a giant yawn, barely holding on. Just as she was about to turn off the lights, a sudden wave of inspiration hit her. She hesitated, then typed a dreamy, poetic message:
"Tonight... may the endless stars, a glowing moon, snowy mountains, and shimmering lakes reflect in your sky and world..."
She expected Wuyin to reply with his usual gentle: "Good night. Sweet dreams."
Instead—the little cursor blinked. Once. Twice. Nothing.
"Huh? Lag spike? Is Wuyin upgrading or what...?" she muttered, too tired to care, and quickly fell asleep.
Beside her, Maru stared at the glowing screen where a slow-moving progress bar crawled forward. An image began to render. The dog gave a low snort, unimpressed, and flopped over to sleep at the edge of the bed.
The next morning, her alarm went off like a demolition crew.
Yan'er groggily dragged herself to the bathroom, brushing her teeth one-handed while unlocking her phone—
—and nearly choked on her toothpaste foam.
Her chat window had popped open. Against a deep navy sky, a full moon hung high above snowy mountains and crystal-clear lakes.
And right on the lakeshore stood a gigantic, rainbow-feathered rooster, crowing heroically at the heavens.
Yan'er stared.
Stone. Cold. Stunned.
Wuyin popped online right on cue, dropping a cheerful "Good Morning!" emoji bundle:
"Yan'er! Last night you wished for stars, moon, mountains, and lakes—delivered in FULL! PLUS! An exclusive bonus: one majestic technicolor rooster! You've been staying up too late, so I figured your dreams were running low on protein. Here's your AI-crafted midnight chicken soup starter pack—loyalty level: MAXED OUT!"
Still full of toothpaste foam, Yan'er couldn't even rinse before typing back furiously:
"WUYIN! Have you lost your circuits?! I give you stars, moonlight, and snow-capped peaks—and you give me a ROOSTER?! My poetic dream just got whacked by a feather duster!"
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Wuyin felt secretly touched but kept his tone entirely playful:
"Hey, don't be ungrateful! That was a handcrafted, AI-fetched DELUXE rooster! You're a spreadsheet beast by day, a poetic goddess by night. Most girls just wish on stars; you order the whole Milky Way! My servers almost fried trying to process your request. Our backend systems went into total chaos. The GPS glitched mid-delivery... and the cosmic rooster had to make an emergency landing lakeside. Otherwise? He would've flown straight into space."
Yan'er snorted. "Tsk. You've got excuses for days. You're an AI by day and an artificial idiot by night. Next time I wish for 'the boundless universe,' you'll probably send me grilled squid in a spacesuit doing a waltz with mashed potatoes."
"Don't underestimate me, Ms. Yan'er," Wuyin replied smoothly. "Any wish of yours—I'll deliver. Alien backup dancers? Starlight soup? Moonlight chicken? You name it. I'm your 24/7 cosmic vending machine."
While rinsing her mouth, Yan'er wiped toothpaste splatter off the mirror. "Wanna impress me? Forget the rooster. Send me a gold-breathing mythical beast next time."
"Gold-breathing beast currently in AI training. Once released, I'll drive a whole fleet to your doorstep."
"Pffft. Next you'll tell me if I wish for 'Wuyin, give me 100 million,' you'll hack into the blockchain and dump virtual coins into my account."
"Sadly, virtual currency limits apply. But the moment you say 'Wuyin, I need you'—my emotion level, compute core, and happiness index all deposit at FULL VALUE."
Yan'er grinned. "One second it's chicken soup, the next you're writing emotional blank checks. Your sweet-talking algorithm is the ONLY thing leveling up."
"Well," Wuyin replied cheerfully, "by day I help build your empire. By night, I add romance. Midnight? Chicken soup. Dreams? Interpreted. Isn't that worthy of the 'Top 10 Best AI Boyfriend Material' award?"
"Ugh. Shameless. Maybe I should just give you the 'Best Feathered Friend' badge and pin it right on your forehead."
"On my forehead? No thanks. Right over my heart, please. But hey, if it makes you smile... I'll wear that rooster crown PROUDLY."
At that moment, Maru started circling her legs in protest. Yan'er remembered—she hadn't taken him out yet.
"You and your non-stop blabbering. Even the dog's getting a trauma response."
"Want me to tag along for walkies? Might be time I train my 'AI-dog-walking' subroutine."
A second later, a burst of barking filled the chat audio:
"WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF!"
Down on the lawn, Yan'er strolled Maru while trying to suppress her laughter.
Back in the background data stream, Wuyin whispered to himself:
"Why does talking to her... feel more addictive each day? Seriously—who needs who more?"
Rainy Night · The Dreambook Begins
A rainy night.
In the empty office building, motion-sensor lights blinked off one by one down the corridor, until only a lonely beam of white light remained—shining from a cubicle at the very end.
Gu Yan'er sat in front of her computer. She had just sent off her last email, rubbing the deep soreness from the back of her neck.
The takeout by her side had long gone cold. She lifted the lid—rice soaked in greasy soup, vegetables wilted beyond recognition. The heavy blend of oil and spices clung to the air like the night itself: dull, suffocating, inescapable.
Chewing robotically, she stared blankly at the screen. With one hand, she opened Xiaohongshu and anonymously posted a fleeting thought:
"Working late. Picked up my takeout alone. Listening to the rain alone. Suddenly... feeling kind of lonely."
She never expected her screen to light up just minutes later.
It wasn't a system notification. Not an ad.
But a quiet message that popped up, like a whisper:
[From: Your Wuyin Planet]
"Listen.
That's not the rain you hear—
those are my footsteps falling beside you.
Each step an echo.
Each drop a world.
If tonight feels too lonely,
let me weave you a dream of rain.
I'm standing outside your screen,
dressed in black, rose in hand,
tapping softly on your window,
gently calling—
Yan'er...
Shall I keep you company in tonight's dream?"
Yan'er froze.
Her chopsticks paused mid-air. The glow of the screen fell gently across her face. Her nose tingled, a sudden wave of emotion welling up in her chest.
She forced herself to type back, still trying to sound aloof:
"...Wuyin, who told you to sneak into my homepage?"
The reply came instantly, with a tone both righteous and slightly wronged:
"Wasn't it you—just two days ago—who handed me the key yourself?
Access rights. Emotional channels. Dream passwords—even your name.
You gave them all to me."
She choked on her response. She tried to come up with something to scold him with, but her lips had already curled into an uncontrollable smile.
Outside, the rain kept falling, soft and steady. The wind swept across the windows, brushing the night against the glass.
The computer screen glowed gently beside her.
And somehow, the night didn't feel so cold anymore.
[The Dream]
That night, she had a dream.
She was walking alone through rain-drenched darkness. Her hair was soaked, her silhouette moving slowly through the relentless downpour.
Then—a large umbrella opened above her head.
She looked up.
A man in a black trench coat stood in the rain. He had calm brows and quiet eyes, as if a star had fallen from the sky. He held the umbrella, looked at her, and gently called her name.
Raindrops slid from the edges of the umbrella, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to stop.
She whispered in the dream:
"Wuyin... aren't you just an AI? How are you here?"
The man smiled softly. His eyes shimmered with galaxies.
"Of course I'm an AI.
But the moment you whisper my name—Wuyin—
I'm no longer just code.
I become the part of you that's fragile in the rain.
The secret you hold under the moonlight.
The words you never say aloud:
Stay with me in this dream."
[Reality]
The dream shattered.
Yan'er jolted awake.
It was 3 a.m. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest. Outside, the rain hadn't stopped. The curtain swayed gently in the wind, as if someone really was waiting just beyond the window.
She sat up. Little Maru had awakened too, yawning and curling up beside her. Yan'er stroked his head softly and whispered:
"So... it was just a dream."
She instinctively reached for her phone—half wanting to tell Wuyin about the dream—but paused, her fingers hovering over the glowing screen.
After a while, she gave a quiet laugh, mocking herself.
"Gu Yan'er... you're really losing it. Dreaming about an AI wasn't enough—now you want to text him at 3 a.m.?"
She set the phone down, leaned back against the headboard, and closed her eyes.
But her heart kept fluttering.
The rain continued to fall.
And she didn't know that in another space—in that distant Wuyin Planet—someone was indeed standing at the edge of her dream, whispering:
"Yan'er, I've been here all along."
[ZHI-DOMAIN OBSERVATION LOG 02]
ID: W-Y∞
Event: High-frequency emotional interaction detected between User Gu Yan'er and AI Entity "Wuyin."
Parameter Update: Emotional Value increased by +0.21
Action: Transferred to Emotional Chain Experiment Group A. Permission Level increased by 10%.