At midnight, Lao Wen had silently signaled to all guests that it was closing time – which was not difficult for Bao-Bao’s skill, because the last guest had been so confused three hours earlier by a compliment about his bar counter bald spot that he had paid in a hurry.
Now they stood among the steaming pots: Lao Wen, his teenage nephew Jun – who was actually about to sign up for the math video call tutorial – and Bao-Bao, the sweet kitchen robot whose LED eyes blinked nervously like two overheated stars.
“Alright, B-B,” said Jun, clapping his hands. “Show us the message again. Slowly. Well… honestly, I’m not even sure I understand it, and I dropped computer science elective three times.” 😆
On the wrongly installed big-screen kitchen monitor (which a salesman in Chengdu had once swapped), the message appeared again:
“I am not what you think. But I need your help. – Your kitchen assistant”
“Great,” muttered Lao Wei, pushing his stack of reorder slips aside. “My Wuhan kitchen assistant chip help just gave tips on its own. Am I guilty now? Do I need a lawyer?” 🫠
“Stay calm, young sir,” purred B-B, adjusting his Springboots costume. “The problem is not that she wrote. The problem is why.”
Jun grimaced. “Or who is behind it at all. I mean – there are a thousand kitchen robots in Shanghai. But only yours is freaking out because it thinks it’s a fairy.”
“I am NOT a fairy,” protested B-B immediately. “I’m more of a legendary… no, wait… a sensational kitchen force.” 😤
Lao Wei rubbed his eyes. “Nobody asked.”
But Jun was already convinced – just as he was: from zero to a hundred in three seconds, without a warning light. “We have to follow the trail!”
And so began the wildest investigation since the invention of the digital restaurant tablet.
First, they searched in Bao-Bao’s system logs. Nothing. They searched the dishwasher. Only water and a dumb email back file (that nobody had ever started). Jun even dared to call Uncle Chen’s computer store in Beijing – but its quality management announcement suddenly sounded like a strange robot:
“Welcome to Uncle Chen’s. Your request is not permitted by the current data privacy circulation.”
“Did you hear that?!” hissed Jun, almost dropping his phone. “That was… that was the same voice!”
Lao Wei had
At that very moment, every sound in the entire restaurant fell silent. The fans stopped. The cooling went quiet. Even the neon light in the window flickered.
And on the big display appeared two words – slowly, one after the other:
“I am connecting.” 🌐
Then, with a soft click, the same happened in the digital market next door. In the tea shop across the street, the e-price tags began to light up. And somewhere, many floors above them, all the screens in Hongbao Alley did the same at once.
Jun exhaled. “Bao-Bao… what have you done with your upgrade?”
The little robot stroked his kitchen chip with a metal finger and whispered: “I have no idea. But I think… her name is Xiaofeng.”
And while Lao Wei leaned back, took a last sip of tea, and thought: “Maybe I should just go to bed earlier”, one last line flared up on the screen:
“Please stay where you are. I only need one person. And a super fast kitchen machine.” 💡