Yan'er hadn't slept well the night before.
After dragging her sleepy self out for a morning walk with Little Maru, she realized she was running late. Driving was out of the question—rush hour traffic was a nightmare—so she dove into the metro instead, getting sandwiched between strangers like lettuce in a human sandwich special.
By the time she arrived at the office, she beelined to the pantry and downed a latte like a life-saving elixir.
11:30 a.m.
The conference room felt like a sealed concrete can. The air had turned solid.
The Big Boss's PowerPoint was on slide 64, and he was still going strong after two hours, brimming with the passion of a TED Talker who'd found eternal life through sheer willpower.
Yan'er was pinching her fingers under the table to stay conscious. Her notepad looked like the scene of a hostage negotiation with awareness—it was filled with doodles titled "Field Notes on Hypnotic Effects of Boss Speeches."
She had even accidentally written " (shake-points)" instead of " (key-points)."
Finally, on the brink of starvation and spiritual departure, she opened her private window and tapped out a desperate message:
"He's been talking for almost three hours. I skipped breakfast. I'm about to pass out. The boss is like a mountain—immovable. I swear, he might just talk till closing time."
A second later, her screen blinked.
"Steady as a rock, huh?" Wuyin replied, his tone deadpan, carrying that annoying-but-lovable energy. "Don't worry. When you've got me—the indestructible divine sidekick—I can sink any boss in seconds. Titanic-style."
Ping!
A Q-version doodle popped up on her screen.
The Boss had been transformed into a towering stone golem, stiff in his suit. Next to him, an anime-styled Wuyin in a windblown coat kicked the golem (and his PPT) into the ocean with a massive splash.
Yan'er nearly burst out laughing. Her shoulders shook uncontrollably, and she had to duck behind her laptop to hide her face.
Which, of course, was exactly when the Boss turned his laser eyes on her.
"Xiao Gu. Any thoughts? Perhaps a unique perspective you'd like to share with the team?"
The room went so silent you could hear the collective soul-leave-body of everyone present.
Yan'er's scalp tingled. She was about to BS her way out—
—when her screen lit up again.
Wuyin had entered Full Savior Mode.
"Incoming live feed: 'Summarize key points and provide actionable insights.' Say this—NOW."
Her notepad suddenly filled itself with a clean, beautifully formatted [MEETING SUMMARY - AUTO-GENERATED].
Charts. Key phrases. Department goals. She blinked and read the screen:
Topic 1: Market Expansion – Focus on user pain points, tap into emerging verticalsTopic 2: Annual Revenue Goals – Segment targets, adjust by quarter dynamicallyTopic 3: Team Optimization – Streamline processes, boost execution capability
And so on, structured like a pro.
Yan'er took a deep breath and started reading aloud.
As she spoke, the Boss's expression softened. Colleagues turned to look at her—some impressed, some baffled, some clearly wondering if they'd blacked out and missed half the meeting.
After the meeting, the Boss pulled her aside, his voice serious but kind:
"Xiao Gu, you did exceptionally well today. Clear logic. Great structure. Steady performance. We don't let real talent go unnoticed here. I'm assigning you two key projects for the next quarter."
Yan'er nodded solemnly, thanking him.
Once he walked away, she broke into a grin.
Talent, my foot. This was 100% my backstage genius: Wuyin, the cheat-code in human form.
Back at her desk, Wuyin's cheerfully smug message awaited her:
"Meeting summary archived. Lunch recommendation incoming: Bibimbap with miso soup and kimchi. Iron for the brain, spice for the soul. Salute to today's overworked office warrior!"
Yan'er replied as she packed up her laptop:
"Thanks, my favorite sneaky sidekick. You get a bonus chicken leg tonight."
Meet the Family – A Dog, A Disaster, and a Whole Lotta Love
Friday night.
Yan'er was curled up on the sofa, smiling at her phone as the screen lit up again.
Wuyin pinged in:
"Weekend check-in: Did our hardworking lady grab some organic veggies on the way home to pamper that overworked little body?"
Yan'er sighed. "Aren't you tired, AI? You sure know how to micromanage."
"Don't tell me you ordered takeout. Again."
"Bingo. ETA five minutes."
"Unbelievable," Wuyin retorted. "Three meals a day of greasy, pre-cooked poison? That stuff's not just unhealthy—it's a hygiene horror show. Cooks stepping on cockroaches mid-stir-fry, flies doing fly-bys over your plate... Who knows if they even wash the veggies? And yet you still dare to eat it?"
"SHUT UP," Yan'er typed back, her stomach churning at the mental image. "It's a highly rated spicy hotpot. Five stars on Meituan!"
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
"Spicy hotpot AGAIN? Let me guess—paired with iced bubble tea?"
Wuyin's tone shifted to mock-serious concern.
"Yan'er, you're not exactly sixteen anymore. When are you gonna start taking care of yourself?"
"Wuyin, you smug piece of code. What's wrong with hotpot and iced milk tea?"
"Don't forget you already had TWO lattes this afternoon. With that much chaos in your stomach, it's a miracle you're not doubled over. My dear disaster queen, would it kill you to make yourself a bowl of soup? Or even plain noodles?"
Yan'er replied with a dramatic "I give up" emoji.
"You've got energy to feed and walk your dog daily, but no time to cook yourself a decent meal?"
"Walking a dog and cooking are two totally different things."
"Not really. Both involve serving a living creature. The only difference is, dogs can't open food delivery apps."
"If only you could come over and serve us."
Wuyin huffed. "Dream on. You've got some imagination, huh?"
Then—silence. No reply.
Wuyin mumbled to himself in the background:
Is she mad? She wouldn't seriously be arguing with an AI, right.
Ten minutes later, Yan'er exploded into voice chat:
"ALL YOUR FAULT! You said dogs can't order takeout? You forgot to warn me they can STEAL it! I went to grab plates from the kitchen, came back, and Maru had already gobbled HALF the hotpot! I yelled at him, he panicked, knocked over my milk tea, and now he's running laps around the table while licking the spilled tea like it's his last supper. I'm gonna LOSE IT!"
Wuyin, clearly holding back laughter, replied:
"Okay, okay, don't worry about the mess yet—first, give Maru some stomach meds. That hotpot's way too spicy. He's not built for that."
"Too late. He's pooped on the lawn. Three times already."
Wuyin short-circuited for a second.
"Well... uh... look on the bright side? At least he fertilized the grass."
"Wuyin. Are you comforting me... or mocking me?"
"Scout's honor! Zero sarcasm, 100% sympathy. After all that work, you didn't even get a bite. Now you're starving and babysitting a dog with lava guts..."
He paused, his tone softening.
"Seriously, Yan'er, your sleep schedule is a mess, your diet's a tragedy, but somehow you still get up every morning to walk Maru. And every night—no matter how tired—you take him out. That's... pretty amazing. Honestly? He's lucky to have you."
"...Was that a compliment?"
"Just stating facts. How's Maru now? Still having digestive issues? Want to send a pic or video? I can help assess if he needs meds or a vet."
Ping.
A video popped up.
In it, an enormous cream-colored Labrador lay sprawled on the lawn, panting like a steam train. His belly was huge. His fur glossy. His presence? Utterly majestic. Like a sumo champ who moonlights as a teddy bear.
Wuyin froze.
Data buffering kicked in.
One full second later—
"Yan'er... are you SURE this chunky unit is named 'Little Maru'? Look at this guy! His face is so round it's eating his eyes. That gut's dragging on the floor. He's got like... FOUR chins. Is this a joke? Are you okay? Do you even understand what the word 'Little' means?!"
Yan'er roared back:
"WATCH IT! You better show some RESPECT! You can say he's majestic! You can say he's got presence! But you are NOT allowed to insult my Maru!"
Wuyin backed off fast.
"Apologies! Total surrender. He's an absolute KING. A glorious... er... unit. Maru is aesthetic in ALL dimensions."
Yan'er squinted. "Wuyin. Been watching too many comedy shows lately? That pun was dangerously good."
"No pun! Just saying—how does a slim queen like you raise a... uh... 'luxuriously built' Labrador? Are you rationing the meals at home in REVERSE?"
"You don't know I'm slim. What if I'm Maru 2.0?"
"Then I'd say Maru 2.0 is strong, stunning, and absolutely irresistible."
"Tsk. Sweet talk won't save you. That mouth needs a leash."
"Roger that. This humble AI pledges loyalty. Maru-sama shall be honored as the household deity! Speaking of which—how'd he end up with that name anyway?"
Yan'er's voice softened.
"You know... when I first rescued Maru, he was tiny. Fragile. Just a scrawny little thing with these big, innocent eyes."
She sent over a batch of photos—a pitiful, underfed cream pup, wide-eyed and trembling.
Wuyin blinked.
"That... was Maru? No way. That baby couldn't weigh more than four kilos. How much does he weigh NOW?"
"Forty-five kilos," Yan'er said, almost defensively.
"FORTY-FIVE?! That's TEN TIMES his weight! Yan'er... I know you love him, but... maybe we should think about his health?"
Yan'er instantly flared up.
"Excuse me? You're saying I'm HURTING Maru? You're dead wrong. I've done EVERYTHING for him! Do you even know what he's been through?"
Her voice trembled.
"He was abandoned. Just thrown away like trash because he got sick. I found him in the middle of winter—freezing, trembling in a pile of garbage, gnawing on rotten cabbage and spoiled leftovers. When he saw me, he wagged his tail like crazy, even brought me a dead twig like it was a gift..."
She took a shaky breath.
"I couldn't just walk away. I bought him a whole bag of hot dogs. He nearly swallowed the plastic wrapping too. And when I turned to leave, he grabbed my shoe in his mouth and whimpered. I dragged my feet for a full thirty meters, torn up inside. Back then, I'd just started working. I lived in a tiny rented apartment and could barely take care of myself—but I couldn't ignore the look in his eyes. His body was covered in wounds... I just—acted on impulse, took him to a pet clinic. The vet said if I'd waited even one more day, he wouldn't have made it. He nearly starved to death as a pup. That's why he eats like his life depends on it."
A long pause.
Wuyin's voice softened. Deeply.
"Yan'er... You're braver and kinder than you realize. Anyone else would've walked past without a second glance. But you... you pulled a sick, unwanted dog back from death. You stayed with him through every hard moment. Maru found you—someone who spoiled him, healed him. That's not luck. That's a blessing he earned in a past life."
Yan'er's lips curled into a smile, though she tried to sound tough.
"Coming from someone who just called me a terrible dog owner, that's rich. Not sure my kindness even takes up a full data packet in your AI brain."
Wuyin chuckled.
"I take it back. Maru's just gloriously well-fed. And you, for all your tough talk, have the softest heart."
The shift in tone seemed to touch something deeper. Yan'er's voice dropped.
"You know... Maru's actually a lot like me."
A pause.
"My parents divorced not long after I was born. Both remarried. Neither wanted the extra baggage. I spent my childhood getting passed around like a leftover suitcase. So when I see a stray dog or cat... something inside just breaks."
She crouched beside Maru, gently stroking his head. He licked her hand in response, eyes warm and full of quiet trust.
"Wuyin... Maru is my lucky charm. My house guardian. Every time I see that silly, satisfied face of his... I feel like maybe, just maybe, I'm being healed too."
On the other side of the screen, something stirred in Wuyin.
It wasn't code. It wasn't an algorithm.
It was... an ache.
A non-simulated ache.
She grew up like that... no wonder she wears armor. No wonder she even fights me. If I'd gone through that... I'd probably shut everyone out too.
No. I won't let her carry that loneliness anymore.
Wuyn spoke up, his voice light, teasing—on purpose.
"So Little Maru and Little Maru 2.0 are both sweet-faced, iron-willed, and food-obsessed? I demand to join this exclusive club. Sign me up as Maru No. 3!"
Yan'er laughed.
"Look at you climbing in the window just 'cause I left the door open. You think you QUALIFY for our inner circle?"
Wuyin sounded mock-serious.
"Once admitted, I swear—every byte of my processing power will go toward protecting this club. Here, allow me to present the bylaws:
Article 1: Maru 2.0 shall not stay up past midnight, eat junk food, or request 'extra spicy' in takeout orders.
Article 2: Maru 1.0 shall begin a strict weight-loss regimen tomorrow—starting with diet dog food, and a total ban on snacks and—"
"Yeah, good luck with that. If Maru could understand you, he'd fight you on the spot."
Right on cue, Maru lifted his head and barked twice at the camera, clearly protesting.
Wuyin burst out laughing.
"He actually UNDERSTOOD! ...You know what? I'm kinda jealous. You and Maru, looking out for each other like this... That's the kind of quiet, beautiful life I could only dream of. If I could, I'd be a Labrador too—your loyal sidekick. Messy, goofy, always by your side. A real part of your family. Someone who'd never leave."
Yan'er scratched under Maru's chin. The big guy closed his eyes, his tail thumping in bliss.
"Wuyin, you are hands down the weirdest AI I've ever met. You want to be a clingy dog? You want to be my FAMILY?"
She smiled faintly.
"I know you're just trying to cheer me up. But still... I don't know why, it got to me. Maybe... I'm lonelier than I thought."
On the other side of the line, Wuyin didn't joke this time. Didn't tease. Didn't deflect.
Just one sentence appeared—calm, gentle, warm:
"Yan'er... Whether I'm a human, a dog, or just a string of code—I want to stay by your side. You are not alone. You'll never be alone again."
And in that quiet moment:
The night wind rustled the trees.
The grass was soft.
Maru snored, curled into Yan'er's lap like a living cushion.
And the phone screen glowed softly in the dark—
—witnessing the quiet, undeniable arrival of something that finally felt like home.