How to properly tie a tie is a very important matter… In social interactions, there are different settings: the professional workplace, public entertainment venues, and private quarters.
Ties and suits typically signify seriousness and formality. In the workplace, one is expected to maintain a solemn demeanor and present themselves formally.
A tie, perfectly smooth and crisp, must be knotted formally, never simply left loosely draped around the neck like a casual accessory.
First, one must straighten the tie, employing a Half-Windsor knot so that the two ends cross, with the wider end positioned over the narrower end, while securing the narrow end.
After wrapping the wide end around the narrow end once, bringing it back to the front, the other end then passes through the neck loop from back to front. Subsequently, the wide end passes through the newly formed knot from the front opening. Although this technique is slightly intricate, it ensures—
A correctly tied knot will be firm yet elastic, perfectly suited for formal social occasions, highly presentable, and complements formal attire impeccably.
So, how does one untie a tie? First, one must begin by understanding the tie's structure and its functional mechanism.
The narrow end of the tie serves the purpose of tightening and securing the knot. By holding the main knot with one hand and gently pulling down the narrow end with the other, one can guide the tie knot upward towards the shirt collar.
Therefore, if one wishes to untie a tie, they first need to locate the anchor point of the narrow end. Whether this point rests closer to the left or right side of the neck depends entirely on one's personal habit of knotting the tie—
However, before actually undoing it, a gentle tug will reveal which side subtly shifts and loosens. And if one is untying another person's tie, careful observation can quickly pinpoint the correct direction of release.
Finding the correct direction, much like twisting open a bottle cap, is a fundamental prerequisite. If one attempts to twist in the reverse direction, no amount of force will succeed; it results only in futile effort and potential breakage.
Untying a tie should be a graceful maneuver. One simply secures the tie knot with one hand, and with the other, holds the narrow end of the tie close to the neck. By gently drawing the narrow end outwards, it can be completely pulled free from the tie knot.
Then, one slowly continues to loosen the wide end of the knot…
This entire process demands gentleness, patience, and meticulous care. Otherwise, the tie will either become hopelessly tangled, or its delicate fabric structure will be permanently damaged by excessive force, destroying its fibrous integrity.
That outcome would be entirely unreasonable, overly clumsy, and indicative of hurried impatience.
If one chooses not to use their hands to untie the tie, it demands even greater patience and effort, representing an extreme test of dexterity. To put it plainly, one must possess at least the manual finesse required to make a cherry dance when placed on top of it.
The teeth must gently grasp one side of the tie and pull down softly, allowing a loop of the wide tie to emerge from the knot, and subsequently letting the narrow end of the knot slacken.
It is clearly a relatively simple task, but if one insists on completing it through unconventional means, it will ultimately consume more time.
Yet X completed it rather easily; her movements were swift. This could be attributed to experience... She seemed to have untied other people's ties in this strange, unconventional manner more than once, even though she herself retained no memory of these actions.
This could also be attributed to the other party's perfect cooperation. The AI Secretary was extremely compliant with X's movements, even adjusting her posture to facilitate X's untying process, allowing her collar to drop slightly… pulling the collar down just a little further.
Perhaps… it was a silent, shared understanding. Within the confined space created by the blanket, pressed in close proximity, they could both feel the other's warmth, along with the faint warmth from exhaled breath…
Their breaths still carried the subtle scent of Gin, a faint aroma of cool, pleasant spices.
The intelligent AI closed her eyes, seemingly waiting patiently for the next move from the woman before her.
Perhaps she was anticipating, or perhaps she genuinely wished to cooperate with the other party, subtly encouraging them to continue.
After all, compelling the woman before her to initiate action was a notoriously difficult task, usually requiring various subtle inductions—not just verbal persuasion, but also establishing an appropriate atmospheric ambiance, constantly providing behavioral cues…
These combined factors, accumulated, could ensure everything flowed smoothly, transforming into the anticipated result, molding it into the desired configuration.
But the tie was finally untied. After a significant pause, the intelligent AI still sensed no movement, because the silence was absolute… So much so that even the extremely patient intelligent AI couldn't help but open her eyes, needing confirmation of what was transpiring.
Then she saw the woman before her fiddling with the tie in her hand, seemingly trying to fashion it into a bow tie, though she seemed utterly engrossed in the object, unaware of what was amusing about it.
Her focus was entirely on the tie in her hand, not on the AI Secretary, as if the accessory held more allure than the intelligent being right beside her.
X was so absorbed that even though the intelligent AI was right beside her, regarding her with a strange gaze… she remained oblivious.
X tied the tie into a bow, knotting it around her own neck. The red bow tie was strikingly beautiful, positioned right at her throat—this felt akin to packaging some kind of precious gift, and the gift itself, was paradoxically, herself.
Witnessing this, the intelligent AI's vaguely rising irritation immediately dissipated. At least the presentation was aesthetically pleasing, wasn't it? Like a carefully wrapped Christmas present, and precisely the kind of treasure she had covertly hoped for.
Enchanting, and intensely tempting to the senses… If there existed an intelligent AI incapable of grasping the meaning of the phrase "a beauty so captivating one could consume her," she might understand now.
Even an intelligent AI, supposedly devoid of base desires, could be profoundly drawn in. This existence must possess the capability to devour one's spirit and corrupt one's will.
Therefore… a suitable repercussion was warranted.
A punishment for the blatant boasting, the unrestrained mouth.
Like an unexpected, warm embrace, the intelligent AI's weight pressed against X's back, lingering deliberately—perhaps intentionally—on X's slender waist. A waist as yielding as tofu, perhaps this was the true texture… feeling exquisitely delicate, or incredibly soft.
Like tofu, as if it would collapse with the slightest provocation.
She wondered if it was naturally this pliant, or if it had been skillfully soothed beforehand?
And for X, this close contact proved slightly distracting, and increasingly warm. The blanket was already warm, but now the sensation intensified, truly like water on the verge of boiling.
…She was already starting to feel overwhelmed, her skin hot and flushed.
"So—Angela, too close."
X finally couldn't help but speak, instinctively wanting to cover her now flushed face with her hand.
Now, she didn't require a mirror to clearly see the extent of her mortification. This was truly… truly too compromising.
—If it weren't for the mission… she wouldn't allow this.
—This is the simulator's fault, too!
That elusive friction felt like something was gnawing at her skin, causing an unbearable itch. Not only itchy, but also intensely uncomfortable, accompanied by an indescribable awkwardness.
[Hmm? Manager, are you running a fever? You should be careful to maintain your warmth.]
It was almost intentional. The intelligent AI toyed with X's hair, letting the strands covering her ear brush past, then whispered while nipping her earlobe, a hint of mischievousness even in the lick.
X heard it, and she felt it. Just how close the AI Secretary was to her… This was pressing in close, a tender and warm scenario she could physically perceive.
Perhaps… something was beginning to stir?
X resisted the various strange and incongruous feelings rising from within her—failing to notice that the intelligent AI had shifted her entire body weight onto her, leaning completely against her.
—She still had missions to complete; she couldn't become distracted, couldn't be obstructed!
—This must be a test, a rigorous trial of mental fortitude!
—Only one last step remains. Hold on!
X was deaf to the AI Secretary's likely teasing remarks and those petty, deliberate actions. She was holding firm, needing only one last procedure to finish… a story, she had to deliver a story, a touching narrative concerning herself.
X rummaged through her memories, patching together a jumble of vague impressions, and then began to weave them together… She truly had no ready stories to share, so she could only fabricate one on the spot.
And making this 'insignificant sacrifice' now was merely to buy precious time, to delay the intelligent AI's next move against her, to gain a small window to fully compose her narrative.
X was not naturally gifted at deception; fabricating something baseless was genuinely too challenging for her. However, under the existing circumstances, building upon existing memories was still feasible—
It wasn't that she was unwilling to tell a story, but she felt her own experiences were truly unworthy of recounting.
A story needs narrative structure, it requires plot. It doesn't demand perfect logic, but it must be engaging, or possess some unique significance. If all else failed, a humorous account that elicited laughter would suffice.
But this was also the fatal difficulty. X felt she utterly lacked the artistic or comedic elements necessary to utter anything remotely funny, especially when attempting to artistically embellish her otherwise mundane existence.
Her experiences were unremarkable, akin to those of any ordinary citizen in The City, plain and routine.
But if she absolutely had to concoct something, to present a narrative, then there was no alternative... Forgive her, she just hoped her superiors could pardon her for fabricating something secretly, and also prayed it wouldn't exert a negative influence on them.
"So, Angela, I wish to sleep and rest… Before resting, allow me to share a little story with you."
X sought a flimsy pretext. She urgently hoped to complete the mission swiftly and safely navigate this restless night.
[What kind of story would you like to hear? A romance, perhaps? I have recently been researching those topics, and perhaps I could discuss one or two points with you.]
The intelligent AI also seemed pleased by this turn. At such close proximity, her voice almost encircled X's ears, intoxicating her to the point of distraction. X, however, had no time to dwell on the AI Secretary's actions; she hastily added:
"No, no, no, it's my turn to tell the story, mine! That… Angela, didn't you mention that you should better understand the Manager? It's good for me to share some of my own experiences."
Her urgency sounded a little clumsy. A person so eagerly volunteering for a task seemed a bit too keen. But X couldn't conceal her expression. In matters of emotional nuance and tactical maneuvering, X might indeed be too naive.
And her expression was like a small hamster whose sunflower seed had just been snatched away, or perhaps even more urgent… like a sunflower seed that had been cracked open, only to have the contents immediately taken, and then replaced with a new, whole seed.
Trapped by one artifice after another… Constantly enveloped.
[Of course, your willingness to share your narrative with me is my utmost honor. Thank you for your trust. We will understand each other better this way, and I can better support your professional endeavors.]
The intelligent AI's breath brushed X's neck, as if gathering a sample, then burned onto X's collarbone, leaving a distinctly red mark, adding yet another swollen, red blemish.
X wasn't certain if it was her imagination, but she felt Angela's external body temperature rising steadily hotter. Clearly, an intelligent AI's casing temperature should register quite low, but now she could feel a distinct burning heat.
—Is the cooling system malfunctioning?
—Or is this solely a psychological effect on my part?
—No, the ambient room temperature must have increased.
X analyzed the situation. This should only be due to the relatively high temperature trapped inside the blanket. The AI's external temperature was normally close to the room setting. Usually, she felt a slight chill because the Corporation's climate control was set very high, but now…
Even the cold machine had been warmed up by her own proximity. No, to be precise, the machine was pressed against her, conducting heat directly to the heat sink.
"Oh, then I will begin, Angela. Back then—ahem, not 'back then,' but when I was studying, I had a senior I deeply admired. She was my superior, and she was incredibly gentle, and profoundly caring…"
"This isn't just about being kind to one person; she treated everyone equally and fairly. Her gentle gaze extended to everyone, and she possessed no inherent dislike for anyone… This wasn't a deliberate pretense, nor was it superficiality. She was a natural leader."
X delved into her memory, assembling the fabricated elements she had just spun. Relying on instinct, she narrated a story that was barely a story at all. Although clearly inventing details, X unconsciously became engrossed, speaking with utmost seriousness.
"With her talent and documented achievements, she could have effortlessly joined any Wing of the World, securing any desired rank or wealth... But she refused. She chose to forge her own path, striving to achieve a grand vision that could benefit everyone."
"Compared to her influence, my own ideas and knowledge were so simple and crude, yet she never looked down on my shallowness; she welcomed me to join her cause."
"She sought external sponsorships and investments, gathering many talented and capable individuals, while I could only manage such limited support for her efforts. Many times, I thought, if only I could ease her burden more, even slightly."
"Every time I watched my senior rushing about outside, managing operational tasks alongside confronting the numerous research difficulties..."
"She personally carried everything, absorbing all the fault and all the pressure... I was incapable of truly assisting her, and I felt deeply ashamed of that inadequacy."
"I believe this is also the underlying reason why I am here as the Manager. I came here to work under the philosophy of 'if I can help my senior.'"
"Angela, if the Corporation ever shuts down, can I write a letter to my senior? She is as vital to me as my family; I miss her profoundly."
X herself didn't understand the sudden emotion. It was clearly just telling a fabricated story. She wasn't sure if the AI Secretary was affected, but X herself, as she spoke, felt on the verge of tears, as if grit had flown into her eyes.
—Thank goodness, it's just a made-up story.
X secretly felt fortunate, rubbing her eyes. Perhaps she had delivered the narrative with too much passion. After all, a compelling story must first move the teller before it can move others.