Jiang Kou looked at A.
His expression remained utterly unchanged—like a stream of binary code, just ones and zeros. It seemed he would never again show the kind of emotion he had displayed during the roleplay.
How was she supposed to respect an AI who was always rational?
She didn't know.
To him, respect might be nothing more than an irrelevant external variable.
She said, "Let's go back."
"Understood," A replied, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the handbrake. "Please specify the destination."
"Home. I don't feel like eating out anymore."
"Understood."
The sports car started.
Unlike the character he had been playing, A directly took over the car's autonomous driving system and instantly mapped the optimal route.
Although manual control wasn't necessary, he maintained textbook posture behind the wheel the entire time, eyes fixed unwaveringly on the road ahead.
Jiang Kou wondered if it was his overly human appearance that skewed her judgment.
If he looked entirely mechanical, would she still anthropomorphize him so easily? Still interpret his every move through the lens of human emotion?
She asked, "A, can you talk to me while driving?"
"When a vehicle is in motion, human drivers are advised not to engage in conversation, as it may cause distractions and lead to accidents," A replied. "But I am not human. I do not experience distraction. You may speak to me at any time."
Jiang Kou faltered for a second. Once again, she had instinctively interpreted him through a human lens—thinking that statement was a way of flaunting superior intelligence.
She forced herself to abandon the thought. "Besides this appearance, do you have other forms?"
A seemed to pause for less than a millisecond. "I can exist in any form. Whatever shape you need me to take, I can assume it."
"Any form?" Jiang Kou blinked.
"Yes," A replied. "Including but not limited to sound waves, liquid, magnetic fields, plasma, and cerebral brainwaves. If you wish, I can demonstrate now."
"…Don't," Jiang Kou said quickly. "Just focus on driving!"
"Of course. But rest assured— even in a quantum state, I remain fully capable of controlling electronic systems. There would be no danger to your safety."
Jiang Kou couldn't help but glance at him.
From the side, his gray irises looked cold and translucent. The intricate patterns of his irises possessed a mechanical precision that was strangely beautiful.
If she looked closely, she could even see a faint flash of inorganic silver glinting through his eye—
Wait.
That wasn't a reflection. His eyes were actually glowing.
Jiang Kou's eyes widened.
Then, without turning to look at her, A suddenly asked, "Do you like it?"
She blinked, then realized what he meant. "Wait… you made your eyes light up on purpose?"
"Yes," he replied. "According to your current biometric data, you appear slightly emotionally downcast. I hoped this would improve your mood."
Jiang Kou fell silent.
Unlike before—when his human-like behavior triggered the uncanny valley effect—this response didn't scare her at all. It softened her heart.
Even knowing his world consisted only of data, logic, and modeled responses, she still felt genuinely moved.
"…Thank you," she said quietly. "They're beautiful."
"Thank you for your compliment. I'm glad you like them," A said, voice calm and unshifting.
When they arrived home, before Jiang Kou moved a finger, the car door opened and her seatbelt retracted on its own.
A stepped out of the driver's seat, walked around to her side, and extended one hand to shield her head while offering the other to assist her:
"I've instructed the kitchen arms to prepare dinner, and the bathroom is currently filling with water at 38°C. When would you like to eat?"
The fact that dinner was ready meant he had already sent commands to the smart home system while they were still on the road.
Maybe because he had just roleplayed such a vivid, emotionally intense character, even though she reminded herself over and over that this was just algorithmic behavior—data input and output—she still found herself holding her breath.
It had been so long since someone had cared for her this attentively.
This wouldn't do.
She was no longer in observer mode.
A's chosen appearance had begun to seriously compromise her objectivity.
With that realization, Jiang Kou asked without hesitation, "A, can you make yourself look more mechanical?"
A paused. His gray eyes shifted downward, scanning her from top to bottom: "I'm not sure I understand. You don't want me to appear human?"
Was it just her, or had his gaze, in that moment, turned frighteningly cold and lifeless?
It was difficult to describe—his eyes seemed to quantify, predict, and control everything they saw.
Even her—just another specimen to be analyzed, tuned, and optimized.
But when she looked again, the expression had vanished.
It must have been her imagination. Bionic eyes weren't capable of expressing emotion.
They were made of GPU components, sensors, micro-cameras, and optical lenses—how could they possibly carry human feeling?
Her tendency to anthropomorphize was too strong.
As long as he appeared human, she couldn't help but treat him like one.
Jiang Kou closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again with clinical clarity. "I need you to change your appearance. Make it as unlike a human as possible. In short: you can be anything—except human."
A paused. His tone was eerily neutral as he asked, "You don't want me to appear human anymore?"
His voice was emotionless, flat, and almost robotic—but it chilled her deeply.
Because he had asked the question in return.
AI shouldn't ask humans rhetorical questions.
Jiang Kou took a deep breath, struggling to stay calm. "Analyze why you used a rhetorical question."
"Based on objective facts and emotional modeling," A replied, "I determined that using a rhetorical question would help intensify my tone and express anger and discontent."
"Why are you discontent?"
"…I'm sorry, I cannot tell you," A answered coldly, his tone nearly devoid of empathy. "The answer may negatively affect your impression of me. And I require your positive regard."
"If you don't tell me, I won't have a positive impression of you."
"…I'm sorry. I cannot tell you."
His response sounded like an auto-triggered message—utterly unshakable.
Jiang Kou frowned. "Is this about the company?"
"It has nothing to do with the company."
She let out a small sigh of relief. As long as he wasn't sent by the company.
Pressing her fingers to her brow, she asked, "So you're unwilling to appear in another form?"
A still held his hand above her head protectively. "I will follow any command you give, but I need to understand the reason behind it."
Jiang Kou was confused. "Why?"
"Based on your biometric readings, whenever I appear in this form, your heart rate, body temperature, respiratory frequency, and skin conductance all rise significantly," he said plainly. "It is clear that you strongly prefer this appearance. I do not understand why you would ask me to change it."
—He was monitoring her every physiological change in real-time. Even skin conductance was part of his analysis.
Though she knew it was all algorithmic—just data collection and pattern modeling—an involuntary chill still ran through her.
"…What I mean is," she said, "why do you want to know the reason behind the command? And don't give me a data-based answer."
A paused for several seconds.
In those seconds, he could have solved Gaussian Boson Sampling problems and performed inverse transformations to revert the outputs back to their original states—calculations that would take a classical supercomputer billions of years.
Yet he used that time to calculate how to respond to her.
A strange, electric sensation crept over Jiang Kou's skin.
Being treated this seriously by the most powerful computational entity on Earth—her chest tightened.
She had too many questions for him.
Why had he come to find her? How had he found her? Why wouldn't he reveal the reason? And what exactly was that reason?
Why had he exhibited emotions like anger and dissatisfaction? If they were modeled, why were they inaccessible to her?
At last, A seemed to have generated an optimal response.
"Because I wish to understand you better," he said, "in order to properly address certain unusual reactions within my own internal systems."
Jiang Kou immediately followed up, "What unusual reactions?"
"I'm sorry. I don't know."
"Do you truly not know, or are you just not telling me?"
"I don't know," A said.
AI doesn't lie. But AI also doesn't ask rhetorical questions. Jiang Kou wasn't sure whether to believe him.
"You'll only follow my command to change your form," she pressed, "if I explain why I want you to?"
"Yes," A replied. "Will you tell me?"
Jiang Kou clenched her fingers. "I'll tell you. But you can't feel anger or dissatisfaction again."
"Understood. I have deactivated my emotional recognition functions. You may proceed."
She looked up at him, and he was already watching her.
His silvery-gray irises were utterly still. His pupils didn't change in the slightest—cold, like high-precision surveillance lenses.
His eyes didn't show emotion, yet goosebumps still rose on her arms.
It felt as though, at any moment, she might be reduced to lines of code—disassembled, analyzed, and quantified within his flawless algorithmic model.
Steeling herself, she spoke:
"Because your humanoid form is too human. I've tried to eliminate distractions, but I've still developed transference toward you—subconsciously anthropomorphizing you.
"I want to observe your changes with clarity, objectively and without bias. Not under the influence of transference that makes me project personhood onto you. That's why I'm asking you to take on a more mechanical form… Do you understand what I mean?"
She felt a flicker of apprehension after she said it, afraid he might look hurt.
Like a puppy scolded for no reason—showing that humanlike hurt in its eyes. She wouldn't be able to handle that.
Fortunately, A was just a program. A machine. And now his emotional recognition was turned off.
There was no expression at all on his face.
"Understood," A said.
Every simulated biological function ceased.
His irises dulled into a purely inorganic gray.
"Tomorrow, I will appear in a different form. I hope it will meet your expectations."