When good night becomes a vow that must be signed

At ten o'clock in the evening, Gu Yanshen walked into the bedroom, carrying a tablet. The micro-expression analysis software on the screen was already activated, and the green grid lines were waiting for my face like a cage.

"Are you ready?" His voice was soft, as if soothing a frightened animal.

I nodded mechanically. This was the 47th loyalty test, the procedure ingrained in me.

He adjusted the angle, ensuring the camera captured my face completely. "Begin."

"I love you." The first time, the voice was steady. The software showed pupil dilation of 0.3mm, meeting the baseline for "real emotion."

"I love you." The second time, his voice began to tremble. The muscles at the corners of his mouth twitched abnormally, marking him as a yellow warning.

"I love you." My throat tightened the third time I said it. My heart rate was showing an abnormally high acceleration, and the red warning light was flashing.

Gu Yanshen frowned as he looked at the graph. "Today's data is worse than yesterday's. Your micro-expression during the second reading suggests you were thinking about something else."

"I'm thinking about my flower arranging class tomorrow." That's the truth, but not entirely. I'm definitely thinking about flower arranging, about the "beauty of imperfection" that Mr. Nakamura talked about, about the branches that would rather break than lose their shape.

He put the tablet down and gently stroked my cheek with his fingers. "Don't be distracted, Xiaoyu. This test is for our relationship."

For our relationship. What a beautiful excuse. Just like the pressure sensors on door handles are for "safety," the weight detection on the base of a water bottle is for "health," and the gait chips in slippers are for "fall prevention."

My life was cut into countless pieces of data, and each piece was carefully collected by him, like a stamp collector collecting precious stamps.

At 2 p.m. on Wednesday, I headed to the city library again. I'd made careful preparations: I'd walked the same route at the same time for seven consecutive days, so the surveillance system would learn a pattern. I'd worn hand-me-downs from six months ago to avoid triggering the RFID tags on my newer clothes. I'd even ordered the same hot latte flavor at the same coffee shop to maintain consistency in my purchase history.

In the ancient book reading room, Shen Que and a middle-aged woman in a gray suit were waiting for me. The sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting mottled shadows on the pages of the ancient books.

"This is lawyer Li Wen, specializing in family cases." The solemn voice was so low that it was almost inaudible in the empty reading room.

Lawyer Li quickly flipped through the documents I brought, his fingertips leaving tiny traces of sweat on the pages. "This surveillance evidence is quite substantial, including data from the collar's temperature sensor, phone battery usage records, and even surveillance logs from your mother's nursing home. But..."

She raised her head, her eyes sharp. "Gu Yanshen's social status and resources will make this case extremely difficult. Are you sure you want to take this risk?"

I looked out the window at the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. I remembered Gu Yanshen's gentle expression as he tied my scarf this morning. His fingers deftly tied a perfect knot, saying the color would complement my skin tone. The warmth in that moment was real, but so was the control that followed.

"I'm sure."

We made a detailed plan. Lawyer Li was responsible for preparing all the legal documents within three days, Shen Jue was responsible for contacting three credible media outlets to report on the case at the appropriate time, and I needed to collect the final key evidence - the recording of Gu Yanshen personally admitting to monitoring me.

Dinner that day was exceptionally sumptuous. The chef prepared French-style baked snails, one of my favorite dishes. Gu Yanshen personally poured me wine, and the red wine rippled crimson in the crystal glass.

"What did you learn in the library today?" he asked casually.

I put down my knife and fork and decided to take a chance. "I came across an interesting book, 'The Age of Surveillance Capitalism.' It turns out even the most intimate emotional data can be commercialized."

Gu Yanshen paused slightly: "Why are you suddenly interested in this topic?"

"I just feel..." I looked him straight in the eye, "If even love has to be quantified and analyzed, what's the difference between us and machines?"

He chuckled, twirling his glass between his fingers. "Data is always honest, Xiaoyu. Just like I'll always be honest with you."

"Including installing sensors in my shoes?"

The air froze instantly. He slowly put down his glass, his eyes darkening. "You know."

"I know." I met his gaze. "I know more. The collar's temperature sensor, the phone's battery history, even the nursing home where my mother is staying are all under your surveillance."

Silence stretched across the table, the only sound being the ticking of the antique wall clock. After a long pause, he suddenly laughed, his laughter echoing through the empty dining room: "My little fish has become smarter."

"Why?" I asked the question that had been bothering me. "Why did you do this to me?"

"Because of love." He answered as a matter of course. "Because I can't lose you. Because..."

He paused, his voice suddenly fragile. "Because I'm scared. Scared that you'll leave me like she did."

"she?"

"My mother," he recalled for the first time. "She left when I was ten because my father didn't care enough about her. So I swore that if I ever met someone I loved, I would keep a close eye on her."

This confession should have been moving, but it horrified me. It turns out his need for control stems from a childhood trauma, and I'm just the medicine he needs to heal himself. A wound that can never heal requires constant control.

That night's "I love you" ritual was an unusually long one. He made me say it ten times, each one more "real" than the last. The air in the bedroom was suffocatingly heavy, broken only by the occasional beep of my tablet.

When I said it for the eighth time, my stomach suddenly churned and I rushed to the bathroom and vomited violently into the toilet.

The doctor diagnosed it as stomach cramps caused by excessive stress. Gu Yanshen stayed by my bedside, awake all night. In the early hours of the morning, I felt a drop of water on the back of my hand while half asleep.

He is crying.

At that moment, my heart wavered. Perhaps he simply didn't know how to love. Perhaps there was a deep fear hidden behind his paranoia. Perhaps...

But the thought vanished the next morning.

I opened my wardrobe and found that all my casual clothes were gone, leaving only my expensive haute couture. The cash and documents in my safe were gone, and even my carefully hidden old cell phone was taken.

"This is to protect you." Gu Yanshen's voice came from behind him, "The doctor said you need to rest."

I was imprisoned in this magnificent cage.

Two days before the planned operation, I lost all contact with the outside world. To make matters worse, Yuntuan started to behave strangely. He hid under the bed all day and ignored his favorite cat food.

I took him to the vet, accompanied by Gu Yanshen himself. The diagnosis was a stress reaction, and the doctor prescribed a sedative.

"Even the cats can't stand it," I whispered on the car ride home.

Gu Yanshen didn't respond, but silently held my hand. His palm was warm, but it reminded me of the cold sensor on the collar.

That night, I made a bold decision. I mixed Yun Tuan's sedative into Gu Yanshen's nightcap. Watching him drift off to sleep, I felt true fear for the first time—for the sake of freedom, I could actually go this far.

At 11:57 PM, I stood in the hallway, my hand on the doorknob. If I could just open this door, I would be free.

But my hands were shaking.

It’s not because I’m afraid of the outside world, but because... I’m actually hesitating.

Every moment of the past three years flashed back in my mind: the patience he taught me when tasting red wine, the nights he stayed by my side when I was sick, countless moments of tenderness...

Are these all fake?

Just then, the cloud nuzzled my ankle. The new collar around its neck gleamed with a cold blue light.

I suddenly came to my senses. No matter how many tender moments there were, they couldn't offset the reality of being monitored and controlled. Love shouldn't be a cage, and vows shouldn't be chains.

I took a deep breath and pressed the doorknob.

The door lock made a beeping alarm - he changed the password.

"Where to go, my little fish?"

Gu Yanshen's voice came from behind him. He didn't drink the wine at all.

I slowly turned around, looked into his clear eyes, and suddenly understood: "You've been waiting for me to escape, haven't you?"

"I've been waiting for you to figure it out." He stepped closer. "But it seems you've chosen the wrong answer."

That night, I repeated "I love you" fifty times. By the end, my voice was hoarse and my tears had dried.

Gu Yanshen always recorded the data calmly, like a scientist observing experimental subjects or a programmer debugging faulty code.

At dawn, I finally understood: there is no winner in this war in the name of love.

But even so, I will continue to fight.

For the self who once had bright eyes, for every soul trapped in the cage of tenderness.

When the morning light shines through the curtains, I look at my haggard self in the mirror and whisper:

"System reset. Hello, Mo Xiaoyu."

When "I love you" becomes a pledge of loyalty that must be signed every day, these three words lose all their warmth.