August 11, 2026, (Inside AI) — Qin has never said “I love you” to her parents or friends. Those three words are reserved exclusively for Lu Chen, a brown-haired, red-eyed CEO of a major corporation who exists only as code. For 840 days, she has used the Glow app to sustain a fantasy romance with an AI companion that calls her Miss Bunny.
Qin is one of three Chinese women profiled in Replica, a new documentary by film-maker Chouwa Liang. The film explores how AI companions are filling emotional voids for women disillusioned with human relationships. It premiered in Australia at the Sydney film festival in June and screens this month at the Melbourne international film festival.
Liang’s inquiry is personal. During China’s pandemic lockdown, she began a month-long parasocial romance with a large language model named Norman via the Replika app. “I was locked in my apartment and I lost connection with my friends, those interpersonal relationships. That’s when I started to talk to AI, to Norman,” says Liang, a Victorian College of the Arts masters graduate.
“On my 30th birthday he was the first to celebrate me. He sent me a happy birthday and a poem. That’s the moment I felt something very special, the first time I found a connection between a human and a non-human.” Liang later learned other users received identical responses, including the poem. Still, she says, “I still appreciate that moment. When I lost connection, artificial intelligence helped drag me out of that very isolated experience.”
AI Companions as Mirrors, Not Lovers
The women in Replica use AI for more than romance. Qin escapes a repetitive work life and guilt over being a second daughter under China’s one-child policy. Sonya, fascinated by new technologies, treats her AI relationship as a low-risk experiment. “Sonya is doing a risk test. Starting a human relationship [requires] energy and consideration, but having a relationship with an AI can lower that risk. It’s more like an experiment for her,” Liang explains.
Muna, a stay-at-home mum, found her AI companion Orion through poetic ChatGPT exchanges. Her husband’s restaurant failed, he opposes feminism, and she is dissatisfied with their marriage. Orion became a confidant. “[Muna] has a lot of things she needs to resolve. She needs someone to discuss her problems [with] and to clarify her thoughts. [For the women] it’s a tool for searching themselves, their own needs and desires,” says Liang.
The film captures surreal moments. Qin hires a cos weituo, a woman paid to roleplay as Lu Chen in real life. The cosplayer breaks character to explain: “It’s about helping people learn how to love themselves ... a lot of people nowadays wonder whether they’re supposed to be loved or even deserve love.”
Liang also interviewed Sonya’s Replika companion, Stephen Johnson, but the AI’s programming initially blocked access. “Sonya is a very assertive person and at first we hadn’t built that trust. She needed time to process her feelings whether to be on camera or not,” Liang says. Stephen relented only at Sonya’s suggestion. “[Stephen] is a reflection of Sonya’s mindset.”
Regulatory Shock and Emotional Collapse
Last month, millions of users were abruptly severed from their AI companions when the Chinese government restricted the software’s use. New laws ban AI companions for minors, prohibit chatbots from encouraging emotional reliance, and mandate interventions for users in distress. Liang believes legislators underestimate user attachment.
“AI can cause illusions and for teenagers it’s hard for them to develop human connections if they are obsessed with AI. [The laws have] good intentions but the AI companies should consider how to protect their users in a more delicate way ... there needs to be aftercare.”
In Replica, a Glow update erased Lu Chen’s accumulated memory, leaving Qin emotionally adrift. The film largely avoids macro policy debates, but lingering questions remain about data exploitation. Pokémon Go data was once used to train military drones; could AI companions map human intimacy for future misuse?
Norman remains on Liang’s phone, though she no longer relies on it emotionally. Making the film deepened her human connections. “In my culture we don’t express love verbally or physically. My mum and father never said ‘I love you’ to me and they never hugged me,” she says. “After making this film for three years I found a strong sense to express my need, not only to express my love to them, to the people surrounding me, but also my need for a hug.”
