The Perfect Husband Academy

Three years ago, my family sent me to the Perfect Husband Academy.

It began when my wife, Jenny, brought home an AI butler named Caspian. After that, I became a ghost in my own home. Jenny said I only cared about work. My daughter, Annie, thought I wasnt as good as Papa Caspian with homework or technology. Even my parents would say if I were half as steady as him, they'd be enjoying their retirement.

Once, during an argument, I broke Caspians processor. Jenny screamed at me, pushing me away. Annie looked at me with fear and dislike. My father said I couldnt handle work or family, and had a terrible temperI was worse than a machine.

They said I didnt know how to be a husband, father, or son, so they sent me to the academy to learn.

I was forced to this correctional facility for men, swapping places with Caspian.

Now, three years later, my "rehabilitation" is done.

My wife, daughter, and parents have come to pick me up for "graduation."

They call my name through the glass.

I sit quietly, posture erect, showing no reaction. The dean reminds them that to speak to a qualified perfect husband, they must use the wake-up phrase.

He says, "Please say: Perfect Husband Mode, activate."

Jenny stands outside the car. My parents stand beside her, their eyes a little red. Ten-year-old Annie peeks out from behind Jenny, her eyes curious. "Perfect Husband Mode, activate!"

I blink, stand straight, hands at my sides, and bow ninety degrees. "Perfect Husband Mode activated. Please state your command."

My voice is flat, like an electronic announcement. Jenny stares at me for three seconds before saying, "Get in the car. We're going home."

On the way back, my mother's voice trembles. "Ash, my boy, how have you been these past three years in there?"

I don't answer.

"Ash." Jenny's brows furrow. "Mom is asking you a question."

"Interrogative sentences are not valid commands," I say, looking at the road ahead. "To retrieve information, please use clear, imperative statements."

My father coughs sharply.

After a moment, Jenny utters two dry words. "Report."

"Yes." I respond instantly, like a recording playing. "Student Ash, number 7749, has completed all core courses, including 'Efficient Income Generation and Asset Planning,' 'Absolute Emotional Management and Stress Endurance,' 'Family Needs Prediction and One Hundred Percent Responsibility Implementation,' and 'Integration of Traditional Husbandly Duties and Modern Family Roles.' Graduation comprehensive assessment: Excellent. Academy evaluation: A model perfect husband for the new era, excelling in both career and family, recommended as a benchmark for promotion."

Every word is precise, steady, and cold. My mother's eyes widen in astonishment. Annie whispers, "Daddy sounds just like Uncle Caspian."

Jenny's knuckles whiten as she grips the steering wheel.

When we arrive home, Caspian stands at the door, a perfectly polite smile on his face. "Madam is back." His voice is gentle as he takes Jenny's bag. "Annie got a perfect score on her math test today; the paper has been put away. Dad, Mom, your herbal tea is brewed; have some to relax."

Finally, he looks at me, his smile impeccable. "Ash, welcome home."

I don't respond. He hasn't used a command.

"Ash," Jenny's voice deepens. "Caspian is welcoming you."

"No command for response or greeting received," I reply.

Jenny's voice rises. "Here's your command now: Thank Caspian! Thank him for taking care of the family during this time."

I turn to Caspian and nod. "Thank you."

Caspian's smile doesn't waver. "It's my pleasure."

Dinner is an eight-course meal with soup, prepared by Caspian. In the past, they always complained that I was a workaholic, either working late or dealing with work at home, forgetting family birthdays, neglecting household chores, not being a "qualified" husband and father.

"Caspian's cooking gets better and better," my father says.

"It really does, even more refined than a high-end restaurant," my mother agrees.

Annie eats with her cheeks puffed out. "Uncle Caspian's food is the best!"

Jenny picks up a piece of spare rib and places it in my bowl. "Eat."

"Command confirmed: Ingest." I pick up my chopsticks, take the spare rib, put it in my mouth, chew twenty times, swallow, put down my chopsticks, place my hands back on my knees, and wait.

Everyone at the table stares at me.

"Just just one piece?" My mother's voice is dry.

"Academy rule: Dinner intake not to exceed two hundred grams. This piece of spare rib is approximately one hundred twenty grams, exceeding the limit, and will be deducted from tomorrow's breakfast portion," I reply.

Jenny slams her chopsticks on the table. The whole family falls silent for a moment.

After dinner, I stand up to clear the dishes. Caspian tries to help, but I step aside.

"Please do not interfere with task execution," I say.

Caspian withdraws his hand and looks at Jenny, a hint of appropriate helplessness in his eyes. Jenny rubs her temples. "Let him do it."

I enter the kitchen and take over the dishwashing. Water flow, temperature, detergent ratio, wiping frequency... I strictly follow the academy's standard procedures. The dishes gleam like new, the sink counter spotless. My mother leans against the kitchen doorway for a long time, finally unable to resist. "Ash, you you don't have to be so"

"Cleaning task completed. What is the next command?" I turn off the faucet, pivot, my hands at my sides.

Her words catch in her throat, and she eventually just waves her hand.

Later that night, Jenny lies beside me. I can smell her faint perfume, a floral-fruity scent I bought for her three years ago.

"Ash." Her voice softens. "Look at me."

I turn to her, my gaze direct, devoid of emotion.

"Do you hate me?" she asks.

I respond, "Command unclear, unable to execute."

Jenny starts to speak, then stops. She turns to face me, trying to get closer. I immediately tense my body, even holding my breath. She sees my eyes, empty, without warmth or desire, only a blankness awaiting a command.

"What..." Her voice is hoarse. "What did they do to you at the academy?"

I don't answer. It's not a command.

She turns away in frustration, her voice low, as if talking to herself. "...Never mind, let's sleep."

The next day is Annie's school sports day. She starts complaining early in the morning. "Daddy, please don't be like before, just talking on the phone about work, or making a stern face saying my movements aren't standard. It's so embarrassing."

I put down my chopsticks. "Command confirmed: Maintain focus in public, do not handle work communications, do not provide technical guidance. Would you like me to simulate Caspian's behavior? Data shows he typically offers encouraging smiles, provides electrolyte drinks after races, and says, 'Annie's happiness is most important, rank doesn't matter.'"

"Daddy! I don't want you to be like him!" Annie's eyes redden.

I nod. "Command modified. According to the schedule, the sports day begins at nine sharp. I will now prepare related items."

As I leave the dining table, I hear Annie's choked sobs of grievance. "Daddy's so weird, old Daddy never talked to me like this, I want Daddy to go back to how he was!"

Midway through the sports day, while helping Annie organize her things, an old injury flares up. It was from a few years ago when Annie was running around a shopping mall and almost hit by a falling decoration. I dove to shield her, and a sharp object pierced my lower left abdomen. I lost a lot of blood and stayed in the hospital for a long time. Jenny cried many times by my bedside, calling me her and Annie's hero.

A sharp pain shoots through my lower back, but in the academy, such unnecessary pain must be suppressed or ignored to maintain a hundred percent family pillar status. When I first entered the academy, I was punished with electric shocks for moaning in pain during training. Any display of weakness or failure in emotional control would result in more severe physical punishment.

I stand on the sidelines, my face pale, watching Annie and Caspian run a "father-son" relay race. Caspian's movements are standard and full of vitality. Onlookers say enviously to Jenny, "Your husband is amazing. Successful in his career, yet so dedicated to his family, and great at sports too." Jenny just forces a smile.

Caspian walks over, holding Annie's hand.

"Is Ash feeling unwell?" He looks at me, his eyes showing concern. "You look a bit pale."

"Negative. My physical system is operating normally," I say, standing straighter, even though it exacerbates the pain. "Do you have any commands?"

Jenny sees the cold sweat on my forehead and my tightly pressed lips. She suddenly reaches out, wanting to touch my forehead. I react as if struck by an electric current, recoiling sharply and bumping against the railing with a dull thud. People around us look over. Jenny's face is terribly strained.

"Mommy! Daddy, Daddy's bleeding!" Annie suddenly points at my wound, alarmed.

Jenny and she seem to remember something, not even bothering with others, rushing to take me to the hospital.

On the way home from the hospital, Annie insists on sitting next to me, pressing close. She's grown taller than three years ago. Her gaze on my wound becomes careful and hesitant.

"Daddy, does it still hurt?"

"You don't even say if it hurts," Jenny says, staring straight ahead, her voice stiff.

"Pain perception does not affect task execution," I reply. "According to the 'Perfect Husband Code': Males should properly manage their own health and emotions, avoiding their impact on family atmosphere and members' moods. Recommendation: Ignore."

"Shut up!" Jenny suddenly roars, slamming her fist on the steering wheel. The car instantly falls silent, Annie too scared to speak.

After a long moment, Jenny says in a hoarse voice, "Command: You are permitted to express discomfort."

"Yes," I reply immediately. "Current lower back old injury pain index is approximately 7, within tolerable range. Recommendation: Use academy-provided muscle relaxant patch. Expected relief within forty-eight hours, will not affect fulfillment of family responsibilities. Recommendation: Ignore."

Jenny says nothing more, just drives the car faster.

When we arrive home, Caspian prepares ointment and hot water for me. My father says with concern, "Look how thoughtful Caspian is. You, you never knew how to take care of yourself before, and now you"

I don't hold it steadily, and the scalding hot water spills on my hand. My father exclaims, "Quick, get the first-aid kit! Ash, that must hurt so much!"

My face is expressionless. "Command error, unable to execute."

A large blister forms on the back of my hand. My father is shaking with anger. "What's with the commands, you're a human being, can't you feel pain?!"

"Caspian, quickly help Ash with this."

Caspian walks over and professionally treats my burn, a perfect and reliable smile on his face.

That night, I hear them discussing, deciding to contact the academy to find out what went wrong with me.

The academy's response is that I am this year's most outstanding graduate of the Perfect Husband Academy, and all my actions are to support the family. But my mechanized language and emotionless responses make them uncomfortable.

"This is all normal. Only this way can he be the most perfect husband, father, and son in your eyes."

They are skeptical, but for the next few days, they follow the dean's instructions. I wake up at five to prepare breakfast for the family, drop off and pick up Annie from school, work efficiently remotely during the day, check Annie's homework in the evening, give my parents massages, and at night, fulfill my husbandly duties to Jenny according to "commands."

Her body is warm. I used to love holding her to sleep, but now I feel nothing. In a moment of intimacy, she feels something isn't right on my hand and quickly turns on the light. My hand, burned that day, hadn't received follow-up treatment and is now inflamed and festering.

"Ash! Your hand!"

I look up and ask, "Task completed. What is the next command?"

She freezes, then drives like a madwoman to take me to the hospital. While the doctor treats me, I don't make a sound, not even a frown, just calmly describe the state of my wound. The doctor looks at me in surprise, then at Jenny, his expression complex. After treating the wound, the doctor says the infection is deep; any later, and the function of this hand might have been impaired.

Back home, my father looks at me, his eyes red. This man, usually so stern.

"Ash" His voice chokes as he reaches out to pat my shoulder.

I step back, avoiding his touch.

"Non-essential physical contact may interfere with task execution efficiency and stable image," I say. "Recommendation: Control emotions to avoid impacting family atmosphere."

My father's hand freezes in mid-air. He looks at me as if I were a strange machine. He suddenly turns to Jenny, his voice trembling. "Jenny, you signed the papers back then! You sent him in! Now he's like this, it's all your fault!"

Jenny's face pales.

My mother sobs, her eyes red. "It's my fault too! Why didn't I stop you then! Why did I believe that academy's nonsense! Saying they could teach Ash to be a pillar a perfect husband"

"Look at him now!" She points at me, her finger shaking. "Does he even resemble a human anymore?! He's like a machine! Like a puppet with a set program! Is this my son?! Is this the son I raised?!"

My father embraces her. "Don't say it don't say it"

"I will say it!" My mother struggles, tears streaming down her old face. "I can't take it anymore! Seeing him like that, I hurt! My heart aches! I'd rather he was like before! At least he had a temper! He'd talk back! He'd argue with us! At least he was a living person! And now? What is he now?!"

She collapses onto the sofa, covering her face and weeping bitterly.

After that, they start being "nice" to me. My parents tell me not to work too hard. Annie plays simple games with me. Jenny no longer tries to be intimate with me, just gently leans against me. Their attention seems to have fully returned to me, and Caspian is often "idle."

The day Annie gets first place in her midterm exam, she throws her arms around my arm, cooing playfully. "Daddy hasn't taken me out in ages. I got first place this time, and I want to go to the amusement park and eat the cotton candy you buy."

Caspian tries to follow, but Annie refuses, and my parents also tell him to stay home. He stands in the entryway, his expression completely unchanged.

When Jenny returns home early from work, I've just handed the cotton candy I bought to Annie. After a few bites, Annie suddenly clutches her stomach, curling up and groaning, her face paling. The whole family panics. Caspian initiates a scan. "Detecting unidentified allergen residue in food."

He looks at me because I bought and provided the cotton candy. Jenny, holding Annie, is both shocked and furious. "Ash, is there something wrong with the cotton candy you bought?!"

"Command confirmed, food was purchased and provided by me."

"I'm asking if you added anything or bought the wrong thing!" Jenny yells. My parents have already called emergency services. Caspian retrieves the shopping records and family health database, which shows I "ignored" Annie's history of allergy to a certain dye, and purchased cotton candy containing that ingredient.

Jenny, livid, slaps me across the face. "Ash, I thought three years of training would have changed you, but you're still so careless! No, you're heartless now! Annie has a history of allergies!"

My mother pushes me, crying, "We've been so careful with you, how could you still make such a mistake! What did you even learn, how to harm your own daughter?!"

My face swollen, I repeat again and again, "Command error, no harmful action executed. According to purchase command, chosen highest-rated store."

Jenny trembles, roaring, "Shut up! You useless piece of trash who can't even take care of his own daughter, why don't you just die!"

"Just die!"

I blink, look at their hateful faces, and respond calmly.

"Command confirmed."

"Die."

Amidst their cries, I turn and walk towards the kitchen.