"Do you think the Chinese Character Programming Language from Marching Ant Company is just a joke?"
"Hard to say. I feel like they've still got something up their sleeve."
"I doubt it. Chinese programming? It sounds flashy, but I don't see it going mainstream."
In the bustling office of a national newspaper, a group of journalists sat around during their quick lunch break, debating the latest tech headline. For people who thrived on breaking news, mealtime was a rare luxury.
Just then, a young reporter at his computer called out, "Hot update! Come look!"
"What is it?" They all grabbed their lunchboxes and crowded around his desk.
"The Marching Ant Company just released a full set of textbooks and a compiler for their Chinese programming language. And it's all free."
A ripple of excitement passed through the group. Even the managing editor came running over. "They really followed through? Okay, stop eating—start writing. I want the first draft of the article on my desk in three minutes."
The collective groan was instant. "Can't we eat in peace for once?"
But orders were orders. The room transformed into a newsroom in motion. Fingers hit keyboards, coffee cups were refilled, and the buzz of urgency filled the air.
News of the free release spread like wildfire. In less than an hour, it took over the trending lists across major tech platforms.
Just yesterday, the online world had ridiculed Marching Ant. Experts had dismissed the language as empty hype, and netizens laughed at what looked like a premature announcement of a half-baked idea.
But now?
A comprehensive, fully free suite of educational materials and tools—textbooks, syntax guides, and compilers—was available to the public.
The backlash flipped instantly. The so-called "experts" who had spoken up the day before were suddenly silent. Their blogs and social pages, once filled with smug critiques, were now eerily quiet—if not flooded with mocking comments:
"Hey, here's a joke: Expert opinions! 😂"
"Marching Ants dropped the hammer. I'm here for it."
"Chen Mo: 'Excuse me, expert, may I slap your face real quick?' Expert: 'Wait, I wasn't ready!'"
"He developed a full OS, an AI assistant, and now an entirely new programming language. And you still want to lecture him?"
Even the fiercest keyboard warriors went into hiding.
But soon the attention shifted—from the announcement itself to the man behind it.
Chen Mo.
Creator of the Marching Ant System. Father of the ink-powered AI assistant. Now the architect of a native Chinese programming language.
All eyes were on him.
Outside of China, the reaction was predictably mixed—and sour.
"Second Chinese programming language released?" — Washington Post
"Chinese character programming language has limited utility." — The Guardian
"Why doesn't Japan have its own native programming language?" — Asahi Shimbun
A few outlets praised the boldness of the move, but those voices were quickly drowned out by a wave of condescension and skepticism.
"E-language was just a C/C++ clone. This is probably more of the same."
"There's no place for this language in today's software ecosystem."
"Nobody's going to waste time learning something so unfamiliar."
The usual criticisms.
Yes, the software world was deeply rooted in English-based languages. And yes, introducing a new ecosystem—especially one in a completely different script—was an uphill battle.
But the naysayers missed the point.
Chen Mo never did things halfway.
No one in the Marching Ant Company would waste time on useless endeavors, let alone pour resources into developing an entire language system just for show.
People were beginning to realize that Zhao Min wasn't the only genius guiding the company. If anything, Chen Mo's role was far more profound. In the public eye, his status rose from mysterious tech founder to visionary architect of a digital future.
A few days later.
Inside the Marching Ant lab, Chen Mo stood in front of a gleaming, newly assembled robot. His eyes reflected quiet satisfaction.
With the ink girl coordinating the process, robot assistants were being assembled nonstop. This was the third unit finished so far.
Soon, I won't need to be involved in every little task. Just let the AI handle it.
From seismograph components to hardware prototypes, the robots could execute tasks continuously, precisely, and tirelessly.
Efficiency like that couldn't be matched by human hands.
"Brother Mo, Xiaoyu just entered the office area," Ink Girl's voice chimed.
Chen Mo glanced at the clock.
"Time to clock out. Keep assembling while I'm gone."
He stripped off his lab coat and set his tools aside. As he stepped out of the lab, he saw Xiaoyu approaching with a gentle smile.
"It's time to go home," she said softly.
"Let's go," Chen Mo replied, returning her smile.
As they walked side by side, Xiaoyu brought up something new.
"A few publishers reached out today. They want to print a physical version of your Chinese programming tutorial."
Chen Mo nodded. "That's fine. It's another channel to spread it."
Since he had decided to release the language, mass adoption was the goal. Getting the books into bookstores would help it reach people who wouldn't normally download free PDFs online.
"They said that since the digital version is free, the print edition will be priced lower. They'll cover the printing and promotion costs and split the profit 50/50."
"Sure," Chen Mo said casually. "The royalties don't matter. That's not why I released it."
Publishing the textbooks and compilers online had never been about money. It was about establishing an ecosystem that others could build on.
"Wasn't this the language you were working on when we used to hang out at the school bookstore?" Xiaoyu suddenly asked, nostalgic.
Chen Mo chuckled. "So you remember?"
"Of course! You were so obsessed, and I had no idea what you were doing. I thought you were playing games."
Chen Mo looked at her playfully. "Didn't I make it up to you with a kiss later?"
At that, Xiaoyu's cheeks turned scarlet, and she quickly changed the subject.
"Tomorrow's the weekend. No work. What do you want for dinner tonight? I'm heading to the market."
Chen Mo gave it a moment's serious thought. "You know what? I didn't get to eat fish last time. Let's do fish tonight."
At the mention of "fish," Xiaoyu froze slightly, her blush deepening as the double meaning hit her.
She grabbed his hand quickly and lowered her gaze.
"Then I'll buy it… just for you."