Jian sat cross-legged in the middle of his room, incense burning softly from a tiny ceramic holder shaped like a turtle. The lights were dim, his phone set to Do Not Disturb, and Elder Sheng Tai's ghostly form hovered beside him, arms folded.
"Begin your breath," Sheng Tai instructed. "Slow. Deep. Pull in the energy of the heavens. Circulate from dantian to meridians, and—"
Buzz.
Jian cracked one eye open. His phone vibrated violently against the desk, screen lighting up with a cascade of notifications: cat videos, meme group chat pings, and one urgent message from Wei Liang labeled:
"EMERGENCY: NEW HOT TEACHER?"
"Focus, disciple," Sheng Tai snapped. "Do not be seduced by mortal trivialities."
"I'm not! I'm… just checking if it's school-related." Jian sighed, swiped the screen, and forced himself to close his eyes again.
"Inhale the silence," Sheng Tai said again, floating in a lotus position. "Feel your breath become Qi. Let distractions fall away—"
Ping.
A Douyi preview flashed across the phone: a golden retriever doing tai chi.
"…Okay, that one's funny," Jian muttered.
"You dare interrupt cultivation for dog choreography?"
"I think it's spiritual." Jian retorted
"I will smite this 'Tok of Tiks' if it continues." Sheng Tian loudly complained
Then they tried again. Jian repositioned his spine, breathing slower, more intentionally. A few wisps of energy gathered near his chest, warm and faint like the scent of fresh tea.
But then…
Ping. Buzz. Buzz.
"WHY are all my apps louder during meditation?" Jian growled.
"Because a modern man has forged an endless notification tribulation," Sheng Tai said solemnly. "And you must now overcome and transcend through it."
"…Is that a real cultivation level?"
"Not yet but I may start documenting it."
Jian tossed his phone across the bed — gently, but with conviction.
"I need a digital detox."
"You need an enchanted barrier that blocks distraction," Sheng Tai offered. "Or a formation that silences pings."
"That… actually sounds awesome. Can we do that?"
"I require chalk. Salt. Possibly a screenshot of your app usage history."
They stared at each other.
"…You just want to shame me, don't you?" Jian said flatly.
"Only a little."
Eventually, they settled on a compromise: Sheng Tai helped Jian create a paper talisman labeled 'Focus Mode', which they taped over the phone's back camera.
"I have inscribed it with passive calming Qi," Sheng Tai said. "The spiritual equivalent of airplane mode."
"Great. Now I can meditate without being pinged into madness."
Jian tried again. This time, he managed to enter a mild trance — not deep cultivation, but something like it. The incense helped. The talisman gave the phone a faint blue glow, like it had finally learned manners. Then came the unexpected test. A notification popped up:
"LIVE: Swordsman Dog Practices Eight-Style Sword."
Jian twitched. His eyes fluttered open. He stared at the phone. It didn't buzz neither did it ping. It simply waited, the glow from the Focus Mode charm faintly pulsing, almost like it was breathing with him.
Sheng Tai nodded. "You resisted."
"I want points for this."
"You have earned 1 Spirit Token of Restraint."
"…Seriously?"
"No but I am proud that you managed this far."
Jian smiled. "Okay. Maybe I can balance cultivation and cat videos."
"To a degree. But remember — the Dao is not found through endless scrolling."
Jian looked thoughtful. "Unless the scroll has actual scripture on it."
Sheng Tai paused. "…Touché."
Later that evening, Jian sat at his desk, notebook open, drawing a diagram titled:
"Qi Flow vs Doomscroll Curve."
He traced a curve that looked suspiciously like a rollercoaster — calm rising… then crashing after too many meme reels.
"I propose a sacred agreement," he said aloud.
Sheng Tai looked up from the phone screen, where he had been inspecting a QR code like it was a suspicious talisman.
"Speak, Disciple."
"A new balance technique. Ten minutes of screen time, followed by one full hour of uninterrupted cultivation."
Sheng Tai stroked his beard.
"The Pact of Moderation?"
"Exactly. You said the Dao is about harmony. So if I can harmonize TikTok with tea breathing, then maybe—"
"Then maybe you'll ascend as the world's first Scroll Sage."
"I'd put that on a T-shirt."
They sealed the pact with a dumpling — specifically, Jian's new "Focus Dumpling," which had calming herbs and a mild Qi infusion that made you forget about social media for just long enough to meditate without guilt.
"Rules?" Jian asked.
• "No violent videos during scroll time."
• "No rant threads either."
• "And if you encounter dancing swordfish or illusion cats—"
"You save them for me."
"Deal."
They shook hands — well, sort of. Sheng Tai poked the phone screen, and Jian tapped it with his pinky.
That night, Jian did exactly ten minutes of scroll time, laughed at a raccoon doing tai chi, and then slipped into the calmest meditative trance he'd ever managed. No buzzing. No pings. Just breath, Qi, and a phone glowing peacefully under a sticky note labeled:
"Tao of Douyi: Balanced."
Around midnight, just as Jian hovered between meditation and sleep, a strange ripple passed through the room.
His phone vibrated once — not with a message, but with a soft glow that pulsed like a heartbeat. From the screen shimmered a vague shape. Furry. Whiskered. Glowing faintly blue and lavender.
"…Is that a spirit beast?" Jian whispered.
Sheng Tai narrowed his eyes. "It appears… your algorithm has gained spiritual awareness."
The creature stretched, tail flicking. It resembled a fox crossed with a cat crossed with a stream of binary code. It blinked at Jian, then flicked through his app history with a paw.
"I think it's sorting my memes."
"It is filtering your spiritual inputs," Sheng Tai said. "Your digital aura has formed a low-level Algorithm Spirit Beast."
"…Cool?"
"Extremely dangerous. But manageable if tamed."
The beast turned its head, looked Jian straight in the eye, and — with great solemnity — showed him a TikTok of a hedgehog doing calligraphy.
Jian stared.
Sheng Tai stared.
"…That's actually kind of profound," Jian muttered.
Sheng Tai sighed. "Very well. We shall allow it to remain — but under supervision."
"I'll name him Algo."
"Do not bond with the spirit algorithm."
Too late. Jian had already tapped "Follow."
The Algorithm Beast curled into a glowing orb and vanished back into the phone, now blessed with a calmer algorithm and an unusually wise For You Page.
Jian settled under the covers.
"Grandpa… I think I just cultivated my content feed."
Sheng Tai snorted.
"May your notifications bring harmony. And may your screen time never exceed your cultivation time."
Jian grinned, drifting off to sleep as the faint hum of algorithmic Qi floated from his charging cable.
"In a world of scrolls and screens, Jian had finally found a middle path — somewhere between cat memes… and cosmic cultivation."