Master Cheng said:

I think artificial intelligence is an artificial thing.

The cherry blossoms, the alternating seasons, the waves and the tides pushed us westward, with the swallows.

Now the same forces are pushing us east.

We have to go back to Chang’an.

You have to write a melody.

I already did, Master, I already did – I answered.

He fell asleep happily on the goat’s artificial skin.