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Finding love is not the mission of robots.

"Looking back..." This was the opening statement of the then 28-year-old Xiaoxing, a Chinese scientist who won the 2208 Nobel Prize in Artificial Intelligence (a new award in 2200), when he delivered his acceptance speech at the splendid concert hall in Stockholm, Sweden. "In my 28 years of life, I have experienced many wonderful things. Riding an arrow It took three days for Yu to arrive at the South Pole from Jiangzhou City in China, sit in the desolate wilderness of Mars and witness the sun slowly sinking into the horizon, and use my Esperanto to make peace between two groups of tens of thousands of army ants preparing to fight to the death in the Amazon tropical jungle. But these wonderful experiences are nothing compared to the adventures I had in the summer when I was 8 years old..."

As usual, Xu Mingcheng experienced numerous late arrivals. Sometimes he is late for other people's love, and sometimes others are late for his love. But no kind of lateness would make him more heartbroken than the lateness of the vague love that he expected Zhang Lanzhi should give. To be precise, this kind of invisible love may have really existed, but it was just a moment of looking back one tender night or one morning. Moreover, this was not called being late, but simply not promising to come. This was what Xu Mingcheng suddenly thought when he woke up inexplicably one morning in early spring. The thing he had been thinking about day and night and looking forward to all the time might not be destined to come.

The wind of green grass suddenly rises, floating from the end of the green grass on the river, carrying the smell of water plants, the dream words of small fish, the fragrance of the women on the cruise ship, and the melancholy in the singing tune. The wind was as cool as water. I touched Yongyu's hand. The delicate and slender hand that once peeled spring onions with ten fingers was gone. The hand that was stained with the smell of fireworks had a rough look. Her graceful figure and plump waist were the smoke of yesterday. I took her hand and said, "Let's go, I'll treat you to roast duck on East Street."

Two months later, during the plum rain season, the rain fell intermittently. Zhang Yuliang looked out the window at Chen Xiangdong's law office, and the slender flowers of the albizia tree became clearer and brighter in the light rain. Every time during the rainy season, he would meet Li Mingru in his dreams. Sometimes she was lively and playful, and sometimes she was inexplicably sad. Her hair was longer than his thoughts and exuded the sweet fragrance of a smile. Her thin shoulders had scattered petals of white orchids. She always came in dreams.