At midnight, Lin Chuan shut down his laptop and rubbed his temples. The office was empty, the city’s neon lights flickering beyond the glass windows. He stretched, idly scrolling through his phone when an ad caught his eye—"The Changwang Series Smart Stroker: A Private Experience Like Never Before."  

 

The product in the ad was sleek, black, and artfully lit, resembling a modern sculpture rather than a pleasure device. His finger hovered over the screen. Reason told him to swipe away, but a dormant curiosity made him tap.  

 

*"Medical-grade silicone, intelligent temperature control, seven vibration modes..."* The description was clinical yet suggestive, tightening his throat. What intrigued him most was the "Smart Sync" feature—customizable settings via Bluetooth. *Modern technology has refined even the most primal desires into something elegant*, he mused.  

Three days later, an unmarked package arrived at his apartment. Heart pounding, he whisked it into his bedroom and locked the door before exhaling. Unwrapping the layers, he found the device more compact than expected, its curves smooth and refined. The silicone was impossibly soft, warm to the touch as if alive in his palm.  

 

He downloaded the companion app—minimalist, tasteful, devoid of vulgarity. To his surprise, it featured a "Learning Mode" that adapted to his responses. *This isn’t just a toy; it’s AI*, he thought, amused.  

 

For the first use, his hands trembled. He selected the gentlest setting—*"Spring Rain,"* a slow, teasing rhythm. The moment it activated, his breath hitched. It didn’t feel mechanical. It felt *real*—warm, pulsating, maddeningly tender.  

 

As the intensity deepened, his senses drowned in a symphony of touch. The textures inside were ingeniously crafted, each movement a new discovery. The temperature simulation blurred the line between fantasy and reality.  

 

The app’s real-time data tracked his reactions, the algorithm learning him better than he knew himself. At the peak, his vision swam with phantom lights, release crashing over him in waves. It wasn’t just physical—it was catharsis, a weight lifted.  

 

Afterward, cleaning was effortless; every component was designed for convenience. *This level of thoughtfulness…* He marveled at how far intimate technology had come.  

 

In bed, he checked the app’s insights—personalized tips, even a reminder to hydrate. He laughed. What was once a furtive act had become a ritual of self-care, dignified by innovation.  

 

Outside, the city glittered. Lin Chuan turned off the lamp, savoring the rare calm in his limbs. He finally understood: self-pleasure wasn’t shameful. It could be an artful indulgence, a whispered secret between him and the night.  

On the nightstand, the Lover rested on its charger, its LED light pulsing softly—a promise for another evening.