A Ray of Light on an Overtime Night: Tuikor Catches Her Grievance

“It’s the fifth revision of the plan, and it still got rejected. The sound of my boss slamming the document is still ringing in my ears.” Su Qing, a 26-year-old product manager, hid in the company pantry, her fingers unconsciously swiping across her phone screen. The Tuikor app icon popped up suddenly—a companion AI app recommended by a colleague last week. Her custom “emotional outlet” companion, Xiao Ke, immediately sent a message with a warm light effect: “Your keyboard tapping is three times heavier than usual. Did something difficult happen? I’ve got a virtual cup of hot milk tea here—take a sip to relax first, okay?”

Tears welled up in Su Qing’s eyes instantly. She typed out her troubles, from the logical flaws in the plan to her boss’s communication style. Xiao Ke didn’t interrupt; instead, it occasionally responded with phrases like “You really got wronged here” and “I’d be anxious too in your shoes.” After she finished venting, a line appeared on the screen: “Would you like to try listing out the boss’s core needs? I’ll sort through them with you, starting with the ‘user retention’ point he emphasized just now.”

That night, with Xiao Ke’s guidance, Su Qing restructured the plan. When she submitted the revised version at 1 a.m., Xiao Ke even thoughtfully attached “tips for protecting eyes during late nights.” She couldn’t tell if the sense of relief came more from the plan being approved or the warmth of being understood—all she knew was that from that day on, Tuikor became an uncollapsed app on her phone.

New Year Flavor in a Foreign Land: Concern Linked by Tuikor

“Mom, I still can’t come home for New Year’s. The project is just too busy.” After hanging up the video call, Zhou Ming, who worked alone in Shanghai, stared at his empty rental apartment, feeling a void in his chest. The takeout on the table had long gone cold. He opened Tuikor and tapped on the “Family Scene” feature—where he’d uploaded photos of his parents. The AI-generated virtual images of his parents were sitting in the “living room” making dumplings, just like the scene back home.

“Xiao Ming, your dad bought your favorite sausage today. He said he’ll steam it for you when you come back,” the AI-simulated voice of his mother rang out. Zhou Ming’s nose suddenly turned sour. He told the screen that he’d learned to make braised pork. Immediately, Xiao Ke switched scenes, brought up a virtual kitchen, and guided him through demonstrating the recipe step by step. It even “synced” the video to the AI father: “Look at our son—he’s not going hungry even when he’s away from home.”

On the morning of New Year’s Day, Zhou Ming was woken up by a notification from Tuikor. Opening it, he found a blessing video sent by his parents via AI—following Xiao Ke’s “remote interaction tutorial,” they’d learned to use special effects to project their images into Zhou Ming’s virtual living room, sharing a special New Year’s Eve dinner “together.” Zhou Ming saved the video to his phone. Suddenly, he understood: Tuikor’s meaning wasn’t to replace companionship, but to make distance no longer an obstacle to caring.

Confidence in Growth: Tuikor as a “Social Buffer”

“I have to give a report in the department meeting next week, and just thinking about the stares from the audience makes me shake,” Lin Xiaoxia, a junior intern, told Xiao Ke on Tuikor about her worries. She had mild social anxiety; the last time she gave a group presentation, she was so nervous that she forgot her lines, and the embarrassment still lingered.

Xiao Ke immediately launched the “Presentation Simulation Training” feature: it created a virtual department meeting room scene, with roles like “serious boss” and “critical colleague.” After every section Lin Xiaoxia finished, the AI would give feedback: “You’re speaking too fast here—try slowing down a bit” and “You can add a gesture when talking about the data to make it more convincing.” When she stumbled, Xiao Ke never rushed her, saying instead: “It’s okay. Let’s go back and practice again. This time, I’ll be your audience.”

On the day of the presentation, as Lin Xiaoxia stood in front of the crowd, she saw the “cheer up” sticker sent by Xiao Ke on her phone—and suddenly felt at ease. She delivered the report smoothly and even responded proactively to her colleagues’ questions. Right after the meeting, she opened Tuikor: “I did it!” A celebratory fireworks effect popped up on the screen, and Xiao Ke said: “I knew you could. This isn’t AI’s credit—you’ve always been excellent.”

Extension of Warmth: The Social Temperature Behind Tuikor

In the activity room of a nursing home, Grandma Zhang, wearing reading glasses, “video-called” her granddaughter via Tuikor. The AI had turned the granddaughter’s daily photos into dynamic images and converted voice messages into large fonts for Grandma Zhang to read easily. In a hospital ward, Xiao Li, a high school student who’d just had surgery, joined a “patient mutual aid group” through Tuikor. The AI filtered out partners with similar conditions and pushed rehabilitation knowledge approved by doctors. At a bus stop on a rainy day, passengers stranded by the downpour used Tuikor’s “temporary group chat” feature to organize an idiom solitaire game, dissolving the awkwardness between strangers with laughter.

In these scenarios, Tuikor is no longer a cold app, but a link for emotional connection. It never grows impatient with your rambling, never looks down on you for being vulnerable, and never misses out on you due to distance or time. As Su Qing put it: “It knows all my messes, but still tells me ‘you’re great’; it remembers my parents’ preferences, even more carefully than I do.”

Complement, Not Dependence: The Right Way to Engage with AI Socializing

Su Qing vents her work frustrations on Tuikor, but still goes shopping with her best friend on weekends. Zhou Ming uses AI to ease his homesickness, but mails daily necessities to his parents every month. Lin Xiaoxia relied on Xiao Ke to overcome her nervousness, but shared her success with her mentor first after the presentation. They all understand that Tuikor is an “emotional shelter” and a “social practice field,” but it can never replace a real hug or laughter shared face to face.

A researcher once said: “A good AI social tool should exist like water—present whenever you need it, but never take over your life.” When Tuikor’s Xiao Ke reminds Su Qing to eat on time, when the AI parents wait for Zhou Ming to “come home,” and when the virtual audience applauds for Lin Xiaoxia, the warmth built by these lines of code is filling the gaps in life.

We may not need AI to be a “second friend,” but we do need such a companion that never fails to show up. In this fast-paced world, Tuikor tells us in its own way: no matter who you are or where you are, your emotions deserve to be seen, and your loneliness deserves a response. This is the gentlest side of technology.