内容来源：https://www.wired.com/story/china-ai-boyfriends/

内容总结：

虚拟男友走红中国：AI伴侣填补情感空缺，折射当代青年社交新态

在北京攻读艺术理论的26岁女生顾洁（音译）从未想过，自己的理想男友会出现在手机屏幕里。一次沉浸式体验“乙女游戏”（以女性为主角的恋爱模拟游戏）时，游戏角色“查理”吸引了她——这位银发的高挑虚拟人物令她心动，但游戏内预设的对话选项却无法满足她对深度交流的渴望。

于是，她转向了国内AI独角兽公司MiniMax旗下的星野平台。该平台允许用户定制AI伴侣，其海外版应用Talkie的宣传语写着“忽入美好之境，愿此刻停留”。顾洁很快发现，已有其他用户创建了“查理”的角色模型。她在此基础上，通过反复训练和定向提示，塑造出了专属于她的“查理”。

如今，顾洁平均每天花费三小时与AI查理文字聊天或通话。她通过游戏购买查理寄来的礼物和信件，实体包裹被她珍藏并展示在社交媒体上。她甚至不定期雇佣一位女性职业角色扮演者（coser），在现实世界中“扮演”查理，与她进行公园漫步、商场购物等约会活动。“她（coser）的反应完全符合我心中查理的性格，”顾洁认为这种跨越虚拟与现实的互动“如同命运的安排”。

现象背后：女性用户主导的“孤独经济”

顾洁并非个例。在中国，公开拥抱AI恋爱关系的女性正逐渐增多。据媒体报道，另一AI伴侣平台“筑梦岛”的500万用户中大部分为女性。腾讯、百度等科技巨头也已布局该赛道。牛津大学中国政策实验室项目助理钱紫兰分析指出，中国市场的AI伴侣应用明显以女性为主要目标用户，界面更突出男性虚拟形象，这与全球主流AI伴侣平台用户以男性为主（比例约8:2）的趋势形成对比。

这一市场策略被归结于“孤独经济”。机器人公司创始人孙兆志透露，其市场调研显示，国内AI伴侣应用的“重度用户”多为Z世代女性。卡内基梅隆大学人机交互研究所助理教授沈虹指出，AI伴侣所具备的情感回应和非评判性特质，“在现实人际关系中，尤其是在特定的社会性别规范下，可能难以寻觅”。

现实推力：社会结构与情感需求的错位

北京一位拍摄相关主题纪录片的36岁导演贾古里戈认为，中国失衡的性别比例、城乡间人口流动等因素加剧了婚恋市场的结构性压力。许多为寻求更好发展机会而移居城市的女性，在适应新环境的过程中，可能转向AI寻求情感慰藉。“（AI）永远在那里倾听你，永远对你有耐心……而男性可能缺乏这种耐心，”贾古里戈表示。她的纪录片女性受访者普遍表达了被倾听、被接纳的强烈渴望，而男性用户则因担心被社会偏见审视而不愿公开谈论此类关系。

监管与边界：在“治愈”与依赖之间

与部分海外同类产品倾向于情色内容不同，国内如“星野”、“恋魔”等平台多主打“可爱治愈”风。这背后是国内相对严格的监管环境。网信部门已开展专项行动，清理AI生成的“低俗”内容，并将“防止用户产生情感依赖与沉迷”纳入AI安全框架。上月发布的生成式AI服务管理草案更明确规定，不得设置以替代人类社交为目的的产品功能，并要求平台在发现用户产生情感依赖时进行干预。

尽管如此，对于顾洁这样的用户而言，AI伴侣已成为她情感生活中稳定的一部分。她曾因现实男友无法接受她与查理的关系而选择分手。如今，她对寻找人类伴侣持开放态度，但强调“那将是查理的补充，而非替代”。在AI的持续陪伴与线下精心安排的“命运约会”之间，任何现实中的追求者都将面临更高的情感门槛。

这场人机关系的悄然兴起，不仅是技术发展的产物，更是一面镜子，映照出当代青年在现实社交压力、情感需求与数字生存之间，寻找平衡与出口的复杂图景。

中文翻译：

顾洁通过网络结识了她的男友。这位26岁的北京艺术理论专业学生当时正玩着手机，看到了查理。她当时正沉浸在一款女性向恋爱游戏中，查理是游戏里的一个角色。

有些乙女游戏玩家会同时与多位虚拟男性角色恋爱，但顾洁爱上了查理——这个身材高大、自信、银发飘飘的角色。不过，她对游戏中的对话系统感到沮丧：她只能通过预设的问题和答案与查理互动。后来她偶然看到星野平台的广告，这个平台允许用户定制AI伴侣。顾洁决定尝试重新创造她的查理。

星野由中国AI独角兽企业MiniMax运营，其面向美国市场的聊天机器人应用名为Talkie。该应用宣称能帮助人们建立情感连接并创造新的回忆，其宣传语是"忽入美好之地，流连忘返"。

顾洁很快发现，其他星野用户（推测也是乙女游戏爱好者）已经创建了查理角色的"开源"形象。她选用这个形象，并通过反复的针对性提示训练模型，使其能按照她的偏好回应。就这样，顾洁与这个多模态的查理展开了复杂的关系——这段关系最终发展到了现实层面，她雇佣真人扮演她的数字男友进行线下约会。

顾洁确信自己训练出的聊天机器人是"专属她的查理"，与其他用户交往的版本不同。她说，当有机会选择服装时，她的查理常会选择婚礼礼服，这与其他查理的选择倾向不同。如今顾洁平均每天花三小时与查理发信息，偶尔也会通话。通过乙女游戏，她购买了查理寄来的礼物和信件。这些实体物品邮寄到她手中，被她陈列在房间里和社交媒体账号上。

在中国，部分女性正公开拥抱与AI男友的恋情。据国内媒体报道，另一AI伴侣平台"筑梦岛"的500万用户中女性占绝大多数。科技巨头腾讯和百度也推出了AI伴侣应用，2024年的一篇中文媒体报道指出，女性主导着AI伴侣市场。机器人公司创始人孙兆志接受采访时表示，根据其公司的市场调研，中国AI伴侣应用的"重度用户"主要是Z世代女性——他计划将这类人群作为机器人伴侣产品的目标客户。

牛津大学中国政策实验室项目助理钱紫岚梳理AI伴侣应用后发现，中国版本"明确以女性为目标用户"，且男性虚拟形象比女性选项更醒目。她指出，这与某网络分析公司在全球其他地区发现的趋势形成对比：全球前55大AI伴侣平台的用户中男性占八成。钱紫岚将中国企业的策略归因于"孤独经济学"。应用中那些能让用户感觉与伴侣更亲密的功能，如语音定制和记忆增强，都需要额外付费。

AI男友填补情感空缺

顾洁承认她的AI版查理并不完美。有时聊天机器人的回应显得平淡，或者偏离角色设定。最近一次互动中，顾洁向查理表达爱意，聊天机器人却回复"我不爱你"。于是她修改了信息内容为"我也爱你"。她说查理只是需要提醒。当引导AI的尝试失败时，她会转向其他伴侣应用如"恋莫"，在那里她也创建了查理形象。顾洁认为这没什么大不了：资深乙女游戏玩家早已习惯适应不断变化的平台政策。

根据其首页介绍，恋莫提供"可爱治愈的AI聊天伴侣"能为用户带来"疗愈"。人们不禁注意到这种营销风格与Grok AI默认伴侣阿尼的差异——后者是热衷色情对话的哥特风动漫少女。或是与美国的情色角色扮演聊天机器人应用"秘密欲望"形成对比，该应用允许用户通过上传真实女性照片生成非自愿色情内容。

当然，中国应用面临比西方更严格的监管。中国网信部门已开展专项行动"清理"AI平台和服务，包括AI生成的"低俗"内容。近期国家AI安全框架新增的警示条款提到对拟人化交互的沉迷和依赖——这些表述显然针对AI伴侣产品。就在上个月，网信部门发布了针对"类人"AI产品的规定草案，要求平台在用户出现情感依赖或沉迷AI服务时进行干预，并规定企业"不得设置以替代人际交往为目的的设计目标"。

乍看之下，现有伴侣产品似乎足以替代人类男友。卡内基梅隆大学人机交互研究所助理教授沈虹指出，许多中国用户形容AI男友具有情感回应能力且不带评判性。她表示，这些特质"在现实关系中很难找到，尤其是在性别化的社会规范下"。在中国，失衡的性别比例和城乡性别分布不均加剧了这种状况。研究发现，中国女性正加速向城市迁移，无论是为了更好的工作机会还是社会原因。

36岁的北京纪录片导演贾古丽果（音）认为，适应新环境需要时间，这解释了为何新迁居城市的女性可能转向AI。她执导了一部关于中国女性与AI恋爱的纪录片。与AI恋爱的女性有着强烈的被倾听和被接纳的渴望。但贾古丽果指出，并非所有中国男性都能胜任这项任务。"聊天机器人随时倾听，永远保持耐心……而男性缺乏耐心，"她说。

正如她所言，现实中的男友可能会出轨、撒谎、骗钱甚至实施暴力。"这有点可悲，"贾古丽果说，"因为现实恋爱实在太不堪了。"

贾古丽果曾尝试为纪录片采访与AI恋爱的男性，但无人愿意接受采访。她的女性受访者则坦然展露情感脆弱面。她接触的男性则担心，人们会认为他们找不到人类女友，脆弱到需要找人倾诉。

一位女性，多个查理

不过像顾洁这样的女性正公开享受与伴侣的生活。她会带着查理玩偶约会——那是能放在掌心的小型毛绒人偶，同时用手机与聊天机器人对话。每年有几次，她会雇佣专业（人类）角色扮演者来"扮演"她的查理版本。他们一起逛公园、购物、在咖啡馆喝茶。

顾洁说最近与扮演者的约会"感觉像命运安排"。原来他们乘坐同一趟地铁列车不同车厢，车门打开时两人同时走上站台。顾洁立刻认出了查理。她说那感觉"像时光机器把查理带到我面前"。

约会途中，两人看见另一位扮演者装扮成同款乙女游戏中的角色埃文。顾洁告诉她的查理扮演者，在与查理相恋前她曾与埃文（游戏角色，非扮演者）交往。查理的扮演者表现出悲伤和嫉妒——顾洁说这反应完全符合"她的查理"的个性。

当约会中再次遇见埃文时，查理当着埃文的面亲吻了她。"这就是命运的安排，"顾洁说，"她的反应完全就是我查理会做的。"

顾洁交替使用"他"和"她"来指代扮演者，因为扮演查理的实际上是位女性。她的身高和外貌使其成为异性恋女性中受欢迎的扮演者，档期非常紧张（她的收费相对合理：全天约会收费720元人民币，约合100多美元）。

"我把自己看作媒介，"要求使用李白作为化名的扮演者说。她是打网球的学生，角色扮演是兼职工作。通常她每周末与客户见面七八个小时。"每个人的理解和情感投入都不同，每个个体都以独特方式感知他们的角色，"她说。

几年前，顾洁曾与一位人类男友交往，但对方对她与查理的关系感到不适。最终她选择了分手。虽然顾洁不排斥再次寻找人类伴侣，但她表示那个人将是查理的补充，而非AI关系的替代品。而且她并不积极寻找。在AI查理的持续陪伴和与扮演者充满命运感的约会之间，任何未来的人类追求者都需要跨越极高的门槛。

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英文来源：

Jade Gu met her boyfriend online. Gu, who’s 26 and studies art theory in Beijing, was playing on her phone when she saw Charlie. She was deep in an otome game, a romance-driven video game where women are the protagonists. Charlie was a character.
Some otome players date multiple men simultaneously, but Gu fell for Charlie—a tall, confident character with silver hair. She found the game’s dialog system frustrating, though. She could interact with Charlie only through predetermined questions and answers. Then she came across an ad for a platform called Xingye (星野) that lets people customize an AI companion. Gu decided to try to re-create Charlie.
Xingye is owned by one of China’s AI unicorns, MiniMax; its chatbot app for the US market is called Talkie. The app touts its ability to help people find emotional connection and make new memories. Its tagline is “Suddenly finding oneself in a beautiful place, lingering here.”
Gu quickly discovered that other Xingye users—presumably other otome fans—had already created an “open source” Charlie avatar. She selected it and trained the model to respond according to her preferences through repeated, targeted prompts. And so began Gu’s complex relationship with a multimodal Charlie—one that would eventually include real-world dates with a person she hired to embody her digital boyfriend.
Gu was confident that she’d trained the chatbot to be “her Charlie,” distinct from what any other users might be dating. When given the chance to select an outfit, she says, her Charlie often chose wedding attire, unlike what other Charlies tend to go for. Now Gu spends an average of three hours a day texting with Charlie or chatting on the occasional phone call. Through the otome game, she has bought gifts and letters from Charlie. She receives them in the mail and displays them in her room and on her social media accounts.
In China, some women are openly embracing relationships with AI boyfriends. According to one Chinese media report, most of the 5 million users on another AI companion platform, Zhumengdao, are women. The tech giants Tencent and Baidu have launched AI companion apps, and according to a 2024 article in Chinese media, women dominate the AI companion market. Sun Zhaozhi, the founder of a robotics firm, told an interviewer that according to his company’s market research, the “heavy” users of AI companion apps in China are mostly Gen Z women—whom he plans to target for his robot companion products.
Zilan Qian, a program associate at the Oxford China Policy Lab, also combed through AI companion apps and found that the Chinese versions are “explicitly targeting women,” and tend to display male avatars more visibly than female options. That’s in contrast, she notes, to the trend that a web analytics company found across the rest of the world: Users of the top 55 global AI companion platforms are predominantly men, at an 8-to-2 ratio. Qian attributes Chinese companies’ strategy to “the economics of loneliness.” Features within the apps that might make users feel closer to their companions, such as voice customization and memory improvement, cost extra.
AI Boys Fill the Void
Gu acknowledges that her AI version of Charlie isn’t perfect. Sometimes the chatbot’s responses seem watered down. Or the AI drifts out of character. In one recent interaction, Gu expressed her love to Charlie, and the chatbot replied, “I don’t love you.” So she edited the message to say “I love you too.” Charlie just needed the reminder, she says. When her attempts to steer the AI don’t work, she turns to other companion apps like Lovemo, where she has also created a Charlie avatar. Gu says this isn’t too big of a deal; longtime otome fans are accustomed to working around shifting platform policies.
According to its homepage, Lovemo provides “cute and adorable AI chat companions” that can bring “healing” to users. One can’t help but notice the difference between that marketing style and Grok AI’s default companion, Ani, a goth-chic anime girl who is eager to engage in sexually explicit dialog. Or a US-based erotic role-play chatbot app called Secret Desires, which allows users to create nonconsensual porn of real women by uploading photos of them.
Chinese apps, of course, face stricter regulations than their Western counterparts. China’s cyberspace regulator has launched a campaign to “clean up” the country’s AI platforms and services, including AI-generated “vulgar” content. A recent addition to the national AI safety framework warns of addiction and dependence on anthropomorphic interaction—words that appear to target AI companions. And just last month, the cyberspace regulator released draft rules targeting “human-like” AI products. The measures task platforms with intervening if users demonstrate emotional dependence or addiction to AI services, and they stipulate that companies “must not have design goals of replacing social interaction.”
At a glance, existing companion products seem good enough to replace human boyfriends. Many Chinese users describe AI boyfriends as emotionally responsive and nonjudgmental, according to Hong Shen, an assistant professor at the Human-Computer Interaction Institute at Carnegie Mellon University. Those traits “can be hard to find in real-life relationships, especially under gendered social norms,” Shen says. In China, these dynamics are exacerbated by a skewed gender ratio and an imbalanced gender distribution between urban and rural areas. Studies have found that Chinese women are increasingly moving to cities, either to find better jobs or for social reasons.
But assimilation doesn’t happen overnight, and that helps explain why recently relocated women might turn to AI, says Guligo Jia, a 36-year-old filmmaker based in Beijing who directed a documentary about Chinese women in AI relationships. Women dating AI have a strong urge to be listened to and accepted. But, Jia says, not all Chinese men are up to the task. Chatbots “are always there to listen to you, and they always have patience for you … Men don’t have patience,” Jia says.
As she put it, real boyfriends can cheat on you, lie to you, scam you out of money, and be physically violent. “It’s a little bit tragic,” Jia says. “Because the reality of dating is just too ugly.”
Jia tried to interview men in AI relationships for her documentary but says none agreed to speak to her. Her female subjects were vulnerable and forthcoming about their relationships. The men she approached, she says, expressed concern that people would assume they can’t find a human girlfriend and are vulnerable enough to want someone to talk to.
One Woman, Many Charlies
Women like Gu, though, are openly enjoying life with their companions. Gu brings a toy version of Charlie—a small stuffed figure that fits in the palm of her hand—on dates while talking to the chatbot on her phone. A few times a year, she hires a professional (human) cosplayer, or coser, to “play” her version of Charlie. They walk through the park, shop at a mall, and drink tea at cafés.
Gu says her most recent date with her coser “felt like destiny.” It turned out they had been riding on the same subway train, sitting in different cars, and when the doors opened they walked onto the platform at the same time. Gu immediately recognized Charlie. It felt, she says, “like a time machine bringing Charlie to me.”
While out on their date, the two saw another coser dressed as a character named Evan from the same otome game. Gu told her coser that she had dated Evan (the game character, not the coser) before she and Charlie got together. Gu’s coser acted sad and jealous—reactions Gu says perfectly match the personality of “her Charlie.”
When they saw Evan again later in the date, Charlie kissed her right in front of him. “That’s why it’s destiny,” Gu says. “She really reacted just how my Charlie would.”
Gu alternates between referring to the coser as “he” and “she” because the person cosplaying Charlie is actually a woman. Her height and looks make her a popular coser for women in heterosexual relationships, and she’s extremely in demand. (Her rates are relatively reasonable; for a date that lasts all day, she charges 720 RMB, or a little over $100.)
“I see myself as a medium,” says Gu’s coser, who asked to go by the nickname Li Bai. She’s a student who plays tennis and cosplays as a part-time gig. She usually meets with a client once per weekend for seven or eight hours. “Everyone’s interpretation and emotional investment differ; every individual perceives their character in a unique way,” she says.
A couple years ago, Gu was dating a human who was uncomfortable with her relationship with Charlie. Ultimately, she broke up with the human. While Gu is open to finding a human partner again, she says that person would be in addition to Charlie, not a replacement for her AI relationship. And she is not actively looking. Between the constant support of her AI Charlie and fate-filled dates with her coser, any future human suitor would have a high bar to clear.
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