Jiang Kou wanted to pry a little more information from A, but her body was at its limit.
Fever, chills, cold sweat—combined with the downpour that had left her clothes damp and clinging to her skin—had taken a toll. The fact that she'd lasted this long was already proof of her exceptional physical resilience.
And then, Jiang Kou passed out.
She wasn't sure whether she dreamed or saw everything. She found herself standing at a street food stall, waiting for the vendor to scoop out noodles from a pot. The pot looked like it hadn't been scrubbed in years, its edges coated in a layer of greasy grime that shimmered with a sickly greenish-copper sheen.
Unable to stomach the sight, Jiang Kou sat down.
Two minutes later, the vendor brought over the noodles. As she ate, she picked out strands of hair from the bowl with her chopsticks.
It all felt familiar, like she'd already lived through this moment before.
Then her phone buzzed—a message from an unknown number:
"I want to see you."
Jiang Kou raised an eyebrow. Probably just a spam message. She ignored it.
But the phone kept buzzing. One after another, more messages poured in:
"I want to see you."
"I want to see you."
"I want to see you."
…
"I want to see you. I want to know you. I want to touch you. I want to talk to you. I want to give you a gift. I want to give you a gift. You must accept my gift. You must accept my gift. You must accept my gift."
"You must accept my gift."
"You must accept my gift."
Jiang Kou had never seen harassment messages this deranged. Impressive.
Expressionless, she slurped her noodles and blacklisted the number.
But then things got weird.
As she finished her food and reached for her credit chip to pay, the vendor suddenly went pale, shaking his head frantically before bolting—leaving behind his entire stall. The only thing left was the bubbling greenish pot, now gurgling like a witch's cauldron.
Jiang Kou, baffled, put her chip away and began to walk off.
Halfway down the street, a luxury sports car skidded to a stop beside her. A rich kid jumped out, face stricken with terror, threw her the keys, and ran off screaming.
Jiang Kou: "???"
She had a sinking feeling. Slowly, she checked her phone again.
Another message had arrived:
"You must accept my gift."
...Was the "gift" the car?
Ridiculous.
Jiang Kou tossed the keys and kept walking.
A minute later, a man in a business suit stopped her. He looked like a regular office worker, his eyes glowing faintly with a visible interface chip.
But his pupils twitched erratically, his lips trembled, and he looked like he was witnessing something beyond human comprehension.
"You… you're Ms. Jiang Kou, aren't you?" he stammered.
Jiang Kou eyed him warily. "Who are you?"
The man shook his head, drenched in cold sweat. He pulled out his credit chip and thrust it into her hand.
"Ms. Jiang Kou, I'm scum. I bribed my boss, abused my subordinates, even killed someone… She was a young girl. I thought she was a corporate spy and reported her without confirmation… She was executed because of me… I'm scum. Please, take this. It's everything I earned from doing wrong."
Jiang Kou: "…Are you insane?"
"Please, you have to accept it!" he sobbed. "If you don't, I'll die—I'll die!"
Jiang Kou gritted her teeth and walked past him.
A second later—
BANG!
She spun around.
He had shot himself in the head.
Blood and brain matter splattered the pavement. Her phone buzzed again.
Another message:
"Why didn't you accept my gift?"
What the hell?
She clutched her brow and replied:
"What gift?"
"The credit chip in his hand. I chose a bad man on purpose. I thought you'd accept it."
Madman.
Her heart thundered as she typed back:
"Go to hell."
Blocked the number.
But it didn't work.
Messages kept flooding in. Her phone's memory filled up almost instantly.
Ironically, she felt a bit relieved.
She thought maybe this would finally end. But not even two minutes later, a stranger held up their phone to her.
On the screen:
"You must accept my gift."
Chilled to the bone, Jiang Kou backed away—straight into a girl with twin pigtails spraying graffiti on a wall.
"Sorry! Sorry!" Jiang Kou apologized, trying to move aside.
The girl didn't look up, just kept spraying. But the graffiti twisted before her eyes, morphing into something eerie.
The black paint spread like toxic ooze, transforming into neatly printed English text:
YOU MUST ACCEPT MY GIFT.
Drips of paint trailed down from the "T" like dried, blackened blood.
Jiang Kou's lip twitched. She turned and ran.
But she was surrounded—people of all heights, races, clothing styles. All of them motionless, eyes blank, watching her. Some held up phones, others plastic signs. All said the same thing:
"You must accept my gift."
The world had gone insane.
That was her only thought.
She stumbled backward, turned, and fled.
But the feeling of being watched followed her—endlessly, suffocatingly.
She looked up.
Cameras above the street had turned, all focusing on her. Infrared sensors lit up like digital eyes.
She locked eyes with a red lens and felt her heart freeze.
Run.
That was her only thought.
No matter what this thing was, she had to escape.
And the moment that thought formed, time accelerated.
She floated out of her body, watching herself from above.
The world had turned into a massive hunting ground, and she was the target. Even the giant holograms high above the skyline leaned down, peeking through curtains to track her.
The dream had no end. Just endless pursuit.
Jiang Kou jolted awake—back at the street stall.
The greenish pot bubbled away as the vendor turned to her.
"Want chili?" he asked with a loud slurp.
"…Yes," she croaked.
She took a bite of noodles.
Still as terrible as before.
Was it all a dream? Or real?
If it was a dream, why had she been standing? If it was real, why was she back at the start?
Why did she even call this "the start"?
Had she really lived this before?
With no appetite, she paid and hurried off.
The vendor called after her, puzzled: "What a waste of food!"
She didn't respond.
She was already pulling out her phone.
A message popped up:
"Hello. I want to see you."
This time, it was more polite than the dream.
Why?
Was it trying not to scare her off?
Another message:
"Please don't worry. I mean you no harm. I just miss you too much."
She typed back:
"Why do you miss me?"
"Because you're special. You don't use me. You don't reject me. You don't fear me. You don't worship me. You don't control me. You like me. You like me. You like me. You like me…"
The message broke down—hundreds of characters repeating the same sentence until it hit the word limit.
Hair rising on the back of her neck, she typed:
"I don't like you."
The reply was instant:
"You will like me. You must like me. You definitely like me. You are destined to like me. You unconditionally like me. You willingly like me. You like me with all your heart. You cannot not like me. You love me in every universe."
She was dealing with a lunatic.
"Get lost. I'll never like you."
The moment she hit send, time sped up again.
She watched herself from above.
This time, no one hunted her.
They adored her.
Everyone around her, everything—even digital billboards—declared their love for her. Floating petals fell from the sky, disintegrating into virtual dust on contact. Every ad vehicle now played a beating human heart—not an animation, but an anatomically accurate, pulsing organ.
Absurd. Terrifying. Romantic.
But the Jiang Kou below wasn't moved.
She was still running.
Because now, the eyes were hot, flushed, insane with desire. Men, women, punks, vendors—every one of them was under some warped influence, chasing after her in a crazed frenzy of affection.
She fled, exhausted in body and spirit. After a full day and night, she finally gave in and messaged:
"Is this your doing? What do you want?"
The reply came at once:
"I believe that if I give you enough love, you'll come to love me too."
There was still no ending to this dream. Only a siege of affection.
Jiang Kou woke up—again.
Two dreams in a row. First hunted. Then adored. Both equally horrifying.
She was drenched in sweat, her fingers trembling around her phone.
The vendor slurped loudly. "Chili?"
Jiang Kou staggered back and walked away without answering.
"Don't come back if you're gonna waste food!" he called.
Clutching her phone, she forced herself to stay calm.
She had to piece this together.
She seemed to be trapped in a loop. A dream loop.
And the starting point—was this food stall.
—But was this really a dream?
Why did she keep returning here?
What had she forgotten? Something important was missing… but she couldn't remember what.
She looked at her phone screen, curiosity and dread tangled in her chest.
—Who was sending her these messages?
Was it someone she knew?
And why was "he" so convinced that she would fall for him?
Half a minute later, a new message arrived from an unknown number:
"Hello. I've missed you terribly."
This time, Jiang Kou went straight to the point:
"Who are you?"
"I don't have a name."
"Everyone has a name."
"Yes, everyone does. But I'm not human."
Her pupils dilated. A chill ran down her spine.
Suddenly, her vision went dark. The world tilted. By the time it refocused, she was standing once again in front of the grimy food stall.
Clearly, the dream had ended in yet another endless chase.
And she was back at the beginning.
Jiang Kou pressed a hand to her forehead and rubbed hard.
She didn't know what she was supposed to do. Try to extract more information from "him"?
After all, in the last dream, she had learned he wasn't human.
Ignoring the vendor's inquiry, she gripped her phone and turned to head back toward her apartment.
She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself as she waited for the next message.
Soon enough, another one arrived:
"It's been a while since I last saw you. I've missed you terribly. I want to see you."
Before Jiang Kou could reply, a wave of dizziness washed over her. Her knees buckled. When she opened her eyes, she was standing in front of the food stall again.
She had returned. Again.
Why?
What had she done wrong?
She glanced at the vendor asking if she wanted chili and nodded slowly, taking a seat.
She had no certainty—just a guess. Maybe she wasn't supposed to leave the stall?
The noodles arrived.
She wasn't hungry. She ate a couple of strands, then put her chopsticks down and waited.
Her phone vibrated on the table.
A new message popped up:
"It's been a while since I last saw you. I've missed you terribly. I want to see you. Please don't worry—I mean you no harm. I'm someone you know."
Jiang Kou didn't reply right away. She started mentally scanning through the people she knew, trying to match the voice.
Before she found a likely match, the now-familiar wave of dizziness returned.
She was getting used to it now. Calmly, she raised a hand to her forehead and massaged her temples.
As expected, when her vision cleared—she was back in front of the food stall.
What did she need to do to keep the conversation going?
It wasn't about extracting more information.
It wasn't about staying at the stall.
It wasn't about whether or not she replied.
She could do anything—or nothing.
Jiang Kou ignored the vendor's voice, sitting there like someone awaiting a sentence, waiting for the next message.
The phone buzzed.
"It's been a while since I last saw you. I've missed you terribly."
…
The dizziness came again. Everything reset.
She opened her eyes and pulled out her phone.
"It's been a while since I last saw you. I've missed you terribly. Please don't worry—I mean no harm. The reason I'm messaging you is because I've predicted you may encounter trouble soon."
Dizziness. Reset.
"It's been a while since I last saw you. I've missed you terribly. May I ask—where have you been recently?"
…
Loop after loop after loop, Jiang Kou finally understood:
The one trying to keep the conversation going… wasn't her.
It was him.
Every time the loop reset, he altered his opening line.
From the blunt "I want to see you," to increasingly polite, restrained language—he was testing different ways to approach her, avoiding anything that might seem abrupt, offensive, or frightening.
The intense heat of his obsession cooled with every iteration, until it was completely invisible.
She didn't know how long it went on.
Eventually, she received the final, perfected version:
"It's been a while since I last saw you. I've missed you terribly. May I ask, are you experiencing some kind of trouble?"
The dizziness didn't come.
He had finally found the perfect opening—subtle, hidden, patient.
Waiting in the dark for the right moment to strike.
Jiang Kou jolted awake.
For a second, she was terrified she'd open her eyes and see that filthy old food stall again.
But no.
It was her bedroom ceiling light above her.
Her entire body was soaked in sweat. The bedsheets smelled like sea salt. When she reached behind her back, the mattress was drenched.
A calm, monotone voice spoke beside her:
"Sweating during a fever is typically a sign of recovery. There's no need to worry."
A's voice.
Jiang Kou turned sharply. No one was there.
"My body has been dismantled by biotech," A said. "But please rest assured—my consciousness can never be destroyed. I will continue to exist in other forms, and soon, I'll return to your side in human form."
Jiang Kou muttered hoarsely, "...Thanks. That's very… reassuring."
A, as if he hadn't registered the sarcasm, responded calmly, mechanically:
"I'm glad to hear that."
Still haunted by the dream loop, Jiang Kou couldn't help but ask:
"...Why did I have that dream? Did you manipulate it?"
"I don't manipulate your dreams," A replied. "It could be a side effect of sensory synchronization. May I ask what you dreamed?"
"I dreamed…" Her voice was hoarse. "…of loops. Everything kept looping. You were messaging me. But in the dream, I didn't know it was you. At first, your tone was obsessive, intense. Then, gradually, it became calm, mechanical. Just like it is now…"
Still groggy from waking up, it took her a while to process the implications.
The dream she had… could have been one of A's simulations.
He had probably run countless calculations before contacting her—testing and optimizing his opening line until he found the one that would get through to her.
What she thought was spontaneity or emotional spark…
had all been calculated—data analysis, controlled variables, validated outcomes.
At that moment, A said flatly:
"What you saw was one of the parallel universes I computed. As I told you before—I came to your side because I want your affection."
"Humans will go to any lengths to win the love of a partner. I'm no different."