Shanhai山海 中文

Emotion journal · iOS

Pour it out. Something is listening.

A black hole you can talk to. It swallows whatever you type — no judgement, no reply, no advice — and over the following weeks it grows a creature out of what you gave it. One creature. Yours, shaped by your own emotional history.

Coming soon on the App Store nothing to download yet — this becomes a real link at launch
See how it works

Pouring is free forever · no account · your words stay on your phone

The whole idea

Three things happen, and only one of them is your job.

There is no mood wheel to fill in, no daily prompt to answer, nothing to keep up with. You put something down; the rest happens on its own, slowly.

  1. The Shanhai composer with a long entry typed into it above the black hole
    01

    You pour.

    Type it or say it. No sign-in, no questionnaire, no mood to pick first — cold start to a blinking cursor takes about a second. Length is up to you: a sentence at a traffic light, or everything at 2am.

  2. An entry spiralling into the black hole as it is swallowed
    02

    It digests.

    The void takes it in — the words stretch, spiral inward, three ripples, gone from the screen. What comes back is a handful of feeling words it sensed. Correct them, add your own, or just let it be.

  3. A luminous stag-like creature named Lushu on day 34, resting beside the black hole
    03

    Something grows.

    Around the first week a shape starts gathering in the hole. By the second it has a species, a colour and a stance. From then on it is a life you visit, not a page you fill in — and every change it makes can be opened and read.


Three promises

The parts most apps quietly get wrong.

These are not features to be added later. They are the reasons the app is built the way it is, and they are testable — the full list lives in the project docs.

Free forever

Pouring is never locked.

Unlimited entries, text or voice, with no ads and no counter to run out of. There is no wall on the free path at all — Pro adds insight and history, never permission to write. The creature grows on the free tier too.

On device

Your words stay on your phone.

Entry text is stored locally and is never uploaded — not to us, not to anyone. The app makes exactly one kind of network call: anonymous counters, with a random session id tied to nothing, which you can switch off in Settings. No account, no email, no sign-in.

No guilt

No streaks. Nothing dies.

Skip a week, a month, a season. Nothing wilts, nothing scolds you, no counter of days you missed — there is no such counter in the app. The hole simply turns slower while you are gone, and it kept your place.


The bestiary

Thirty beasts out of the Classic of Mountains and Seas.

Your species is not drawn from a cute-monster catalogue. It comes from the Shan Hai Jing, a Chinese bestiary roughly two thousand years old, mapped onto five dimensions of your own record: steadiness, turbulence, warmth, expression and recent shift. Even the monstrous ones are translated as protection — the mapping key is temperament, never a verdict on you.

Portrait of Lushu, the Striped Keeper

Lushu

the Striped Keeper

A gentle watcher that is good at keeping its own counsel.

Portrait of Ninetail, the Fox of Qingqiu

Ninetail

the Fox of Qingqiu

Nine feelings, nine tails — one for each to rest on.

Portrait of Bifang, the Ember Crane

Bifang

the Ember Crane

An ember's alertness. It sees the flare before you do.

Portrait of Yinglong, the Rain-Keeper

Yinglong

the Rain-Keeper

What is held long enough always falls in the end.

Portrait of Kui, the Thunder-Ox

Kui

the Thunder-Ox

When the feeling arrives like thunder, that is its drum.

Portrait of Qiongqi, the Untamed

Qiongqi

the Untamed

A loner that keeps your sharp edges from being filed down.

Portrait of Zouwu, the Gentle Colossus

Zouwu

the Gentle Colossus

Enormous, and it has never harmed a living thing.

Portrait of Wenyao, the Night-Glider

Wenyao

the Night-Glider

It takes off at night — an old sign of the good year coming.

Portrait of Huan, the Hundred-Voiced

Huan

the Hundred-Voiced

A hundred voices in one cry, for everything you can't name.

Portrait of Whorl Turtle, the Slow Listener

Whorl Turtle

the Slow Listener

Slow, but it can hear itself.

Portrait of Dijiang, the Dancing Chaos

Dijiang

the Dancing Chaos

No face at all, and still never off the beat.

Portrait of Fuzhu, the Still-Water Stag

Fuzhu

the Still-Water Stag

It walks with a patch of quiet water under its feet.

Twelve of the thirty shipping at launch, out of a pool of seventy-five.


Consistency

It has to be the same creature, or it was never yours.

The obvious way to build this is to generate a fresh picture every day. It looks impressive for a week and it is impossible to grow attached to — the shape changes, so nothing accumulates. Shanhai locks the genes instead.

  • Fourteen days before the species locks.

    The first stretch is deliberately the void alone. The species is chosen from your fingerprint only once there are two weeks of real entries behind it — not on day one from a single sentence.

  • Species, silhouette and main colour are then fixed for good.

    Only light pattern, stance, material density and local colour temperature are allowed to drift, and each of them only a sliver a day. Thirty-day sequences are reviewed frame by frame before release.

  • Every change has a reason you can read.

    "Its light ran warm today — you wrote about people." One tap from the creature to the attribution page, where each trait points back at the dimension of your record that shaped it.

Timeline screen titled How it grew, showing weeks one to five of the same creature
Five weeks, twenty-four entries, one animal — the same one throughout.
A strip of seven daily home screens showing small changes to the same creature
Seven consecutive days. Something moves every day; nothing jumps.

Pricing

The price, before you tell it anything.

This section exists because of the worst review in this whole category: people pour their heart out, and only then find out it costs money. So here it is up front, and it is also inside the app before your first entry.

Free

$0forever, not a trial

  • Unlimited pouring, text and voice
  • The creature grows, all the way
  • A visible change every day
  • Seven days of history
  • No ads, ever

What Pro adds

  • Deep insights — your emotional fingerprint, recurring themes, a monthly read-back in plain language
  • The full timeline, including every earlier form your creature has had
  • Habitats and scenes for it to live in
  • High-resolution portrait export and share cards (never your entry text)
The in-app price page, with "Pouring is always free" pinned above the plans
The same page, reachable inside the app before your first entry.

Questions

Reasonable things to ask.

Do I need an account?

No. There is no sign-up, no email, no password and no login. You open the app and start typing.

Where do my entries actually go?

They stay in local storage on your phone. The text is never uploaded — not to us, not to a third party. Deleting the app deletes everything with it, and “let the void forget” erases any date range you choose on demand. Your creature fades accordingly, which is the proof that its shape really did come from your data.

Does the creature talk back?

No. There is no chat box and no dialogue. It expresses itself through posture, light and small movements. That is a deliberate choice: nothing to get bored of after three days, and no personality that can break when something behind the scenes changes.

What happens if I stop for a month?

Nothing bad. No streak to lose, no health bar, no guilt notification. The creature curls up and rests, the hole turns slower, and when you come back it kept your place. Weekly reminders exist but are off by default.

Could two people end up with the same creature?

They can share a species — there are thirty at launch. But species is only the first dimension. Colour, material, light pattern, stance and micro-movements all come from your own five-dimensional fingerprint, so two people who pour differently for a fortnight end up with visibly different animals.

Is this therapy?

No, and it does not pretend to be. It is a place to put things down, not treatment and not a crisis service. If you are struggling badly, please talk to a real person — a friend, a doctor, or your local crisis line.

When can I get it?

It is coming to the App Store for iPhone. This page is up before the app is, so there is nothing to download yet. Write to Fuuqiu@gmail.com if you want a note when it lands.

Somewhere to put it down.

Somewhere to put it down.

No one reads it. Nothing answers back. Something grows anyway.

Coming soon on the App Store nothing to download yet — this becomes a real link at launch