Chapter 8: Expression
No miracle appeared. My sudden plea was like trying to scoop the moon from the water—utterly futile. No matter how much I racked my brain with wild hopes, it would always remain a beautiful mute.
A toy—could it really grow a brain someday?
Reality isn’t a fairy tale.
Reality is far darker than any fairy tale.
After adding Liang Zhiting on WeChat only to be blocked, all the good feelings I had built up vanished. The emotional rollercoaster nearly gave me heart palpitations.
I finished showering. After the doll brought me my clothes, it stood quietly by the entrance.
I remembered that this was normally the time we’d go out for our walk. But today I had no mood for it; I tossed out “Not going out today” and collapsed on the bed, wrapped in blankets, drifting into a heavy sleep.
In the middle of the night, I awoke thirsty and groggy. The bed beside me was empty.
The doll wasn’t next to me.
Sleep fled instantly. Barefoot, I stepped out of the bedroom, which gave a clear view of the entrance. My first glance caught that tall, dark shadow standing there by the door.
The lights were off, night deep and silent. At such an hour, having that thing standing right there without warning would scare anyone brave enough.
But I was no warrior.
Startled, I took a deep breath and barely held back a scream. My throat was too tight, and a strangled grunt escaped, loud and clear in the quiet night.
In that instant, my mind flashed countless crime reports—victims subjected to brutal murders with all manner of cruel methods. I wasn’t afraid to die, but I didn’t want to die in vain. I calculated my odds in a struggle, and if none, how I could drag this thing down with me, dragging it to hell together.
Such chaotic thoughts lasted barely a second. Suddenly, I noticed something subtle.
That shadow didn’t move.
It wasn’t a thief. Instead... its stature was familiar.
I stepped forward a couple of steps, drew closer, and under the moonlight filtering in, I recognized the figure at the door—it was my beautiful but foolish doll.
Furious, I rushed over and kicked it. “What are you doing standing here in the middle of the night?!”
I nearly scared myself into a frenzy!
It remained blank and silent. The kick to its calf made it stagger back a half step, then stand firm.
My chest heaved in anger. I ignored it, went to the kitchen, gulped down two glasses of water, soothing my parched throat. Setting the glasses down, I headed back to the bedroom.
After a few steps, I realized something was wrong—I hadn’t heard footsteps behind me.
Turning around, sure enough, it hadn’t followed but was still standing at the entrance, motionless.
I lost it. My furrowed brows could have squashed flies. I snapped, “What the hell are you doing standing out here?! Are you crazy?!”
“Come here!”
No response.
Even the command that usually worked now failed. Panic rose—I feared it might be malfunctioning.
Patiently, I checked its body for damage but saw none. Just then, its hand slowly reached out and grasped mine.
Its grip was tight, joints stiff and cold.
My patience snapped. Annoyed, I hissed, “What?”
Hand in hand, it slowly took a step toward the door, then another.
The entrance was small; two steps took it right behind the door. Its palm pressed against the door panel, tugging my hand.
“…”
I understood its meaning.
It had been waiting here, wanting me to take it out for our walk. If it could open doors, it probably would have gone out on its own.
What a freak.
“Who wants to go out on a walk in the middle of the night?! I want to sleep!”
I yanked my hand free and strode back to bed. Before entering, I glanced back—it still stood by the door, stubborn as ever.
Who cares?
Just a broken doll acting like it mattered.
I tossed and turned for over half an hour but couldn’t sleep.
I glanced at the clock—it was 3 a.m.
Was it still waiting by the door?
A mindless, stupid thing—where did such stubbornness come from?
Commercially available robots follow commands obediently because their makers program them specifically. Their actions are rigid, logical, sometimes clumsy, caring little about how they do things as long as the goal is achieved.
Was the doll like this?
Did this walk become a program in its system—an unfinished task it wouldn’t abandon?
Did it really plan to wait here all night?
…
I covered my head with blankets and feigned sleep.
Whatever! If it wants to stand there, let it stand!
……
After a long time, I resigned myself and got out of bed.
Damn! I really bought a master!
In the dead quiet of 3 a.m., yawning endlessly and foggy-headed, I had to hold its hand as we strolled through the pitch-dark neighborhood.
Smack!
I smashed at the mosquito that’d been biting my neck—the countless ones leaving itchy welts. I glanced sideways at that thing, sighed deeply.
Every night I walked it to show off to annoying neighbors. But now nobody was around. What was the point?
Showing off to mosquitoes?
I was about to head back when I stopped at a corner. The community gate was wide open, streetlights casting a dim, slanting orange glow, carpeting the ground.
The carpet stretched beneath my feet. I stepped on the edge and almost tripped.
Hand in hand with the doll, a line of light fell exactly on our joined hands—me bathed in light, it shrouded in darkness.
The doorman was asleep in the booth. Outside, the streets were empty.
I thought of a bold idea.
A rare chance.
The doll bore Liang Zhiting’s face, meaning it must never see the light of day. I knew better than anyone the treasure it was, but it must never be seen by others, and no one must find out.
My boldest decision was to take it for a walk at night in this old neighborhood, satisfying a small vanity. The shabby neighbors here were mostly elderly with poor eyesight—they wouldn’t recognize Liang Zhiting and cause trouble.
Old neighbors were one thing; outside would be another.
What if someone knowingly spotted and recognized it? I didn’t want that mess.
But now—
It was 3 a.m. Everyone was home asleep. The neighborhood was empty; surely the streets outside were too.
So taking it out for a stroll on the street shouldn’t be a problem.
If someone loomed far off, I’d just detour away with it.
Once that thought took hold, it was impossible to stop.
By the time I realized, we were standing on the street.
Rows of streetlights stretched to the horizon, the world silent and still, not a breath of wind.
As if time itself froze, leaving only us.
My palm grew sweaty; nervously, I chuckled.
Just as I thought.
I took a deep breath and led it down the path.
Five minutes later, sure no one would show, tension drained away, replaced by an exhilarating thrill unlike any other.
This felt different from just showing off in the dark.
More than simple vanity, it brought a deep joy and satisfaction.
I’d dragged a creature meant to live only in darkness into the light, easily breaking rigid rules of the world. What could feel more exciting?
I stopped and looked across the street.
There was the community’s bustling vegetable market—the busiest spot by day, filled with jostling people. Its entrance was dirty with black water and scattered rotten fruits and leaves mixed into countless footprints mired in muddy sludge, foul and disgusting.
The pungent, sickening stench hung in the air. Yet this was the busiest place in daylight.
A sudden impulse overcame me. I cupped its neck and pulled it close, then kissed it.
It didn’t resist, letting me do as I pleased.
The streetlight overhead dazzled me. There was a tree behind us, so I grabbed its collar and slowly slipped it backward until its back rested against the trunk, easing my grip.
The tree’s dense leaves obscured most of the streetlight, casting broken shadows on us. Its eyes seemed brighter and more captivating than usual in this light.
What a captivating monster.
I pressed my hand against the back of its head, deepening the kiss.
Every time I passed here afterward, amidst the bustling crowd, I’d remember this moment, this tree, and what we shared.
This wonderful feeling was truly addictive, wasn’t it?
Suddenly, I heard wheels rattling in the distance. Someone was coming!
Panicked, I looked to see a middle-aged man pushing a cart piled high with vegetables—probably a vendor setting up early.
He walked straight toward the market entrance. I relaxed, thinking he wouldn’t cross the street.
I had to stay still—if I pulled the doll away now, he’d see.
I tugged its arm, urging it close to the tree’s shadow to hide most of us. As long as the man wasn’t paying close attention, he wouldn’t notice.
The cart’s rattling grew louder—annoying.
The man struggled with his heavily loaded cart at the market gate, cursing loudly as he rearranged the stall’s stock slowly.
I waited impatiently, irritated and helpless.
Just then, a cool touch on my lips—it was the doll, leaning in and kissing me precisely.
In that moment, it seemed like it was comforting me.
The thought popped into my head out of nowhere. Surprised and delighted, I ignored the man and kissed the doll again, arms wrapped around its neck.
A rare moment, worth recording.
I took out my phone, opened the camera, and recorded us kissing. Holding the phone up, we kissed for quite some time. I was so absorbed that I didn’t notice footsteps coming toward us.
Suddenly, a harsh curse thundered: “Damn it!”
Startled, I pulled away abruptly. The phone slipped, falling to the ground.
The curse had come from the approaching middle-aged man!
I turned and saw him hurriedly stepping away.
He’d seen!
I froze. Before I could react, the doll kissed me again. Flustered, I didn’t resist, eyes wide, glimpsing the man pushing his cart rapidly retreating.
I’d been careless—he’d clearly come closer, possibly attracted by the noise of our kissing, only to find two same-sex lovers glued together. Given his age, he probably couldn’t accept it and got a fright.
I picked up the phone and saw the recording still running. I stopped it.
This was no place to linger—the market would soon fill with vendors, and we’d be seen.
This had been thrilling enough.
I wiped my mouth, humming softly as I led it back.
After the night’s chaos, I hardly slept and dragged myself through work the next day. Though I disliked coffee, I gulped many cups to stay awake—the bitter taste made my heart ache.
I skipped lunch, hoping to nap on my desk. Coffee helped me sleep lightly at best—waking every twenty minutes.
When the office emptied, I watched last night’s video on my phone.
The screen showed us kissing, faces close. From the phone, the doll looked more like Liang Zhiting than ever.
Watching myself kissing was awkward, but I couldn’t stop.
The doll’s eyes never closed, always wide open, making it seem like it was staring at me intently, observing every expression with sharp focus.
Soon, the video shook—the phone tilted from my immersion.
By chance, the camera caught behind me—the middle-aged man from last night.
He was shuffling boxes, cursing. Hearing a noise, he stood, hesitated, then headed across the street.
On screen, his figure got closer. When he reached the middle of the road, his face turned pale, then greenish-white—like he’d seen a ghost. His feet froze; he cursed loudly, “Damn!”
Suddenly my low shout sounded in the video, followed by a chaotic spin as the phone fell.
I’d been scared by the man’s curse and dropped the phone.
In that brief moment, I thought I’d seen something.
I rewound and replayed the few seconds of the phone dropping repeatedly, stopping at a key moment.
The phone caught the doll’s face just as it kissed me. But its eyes were fixed somewhere else—that direction was only the man.
Had the man cursed because he saw the doll’s appearance?
I touched the doll’s face on the screen.
Its eye orbs were black with deep blue—a beautiful color. But on screen, under the shifting light, its eyes showed a nearly bewitching hue. Though an emotionless object, that chilling, ominous gaze resembled a clear warning.
Its expression felt strange. Was it the lighting?
I furrowed my brow, heart suddenly pounding wildly.
… Is this the expression it normally wears?
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