I was squatting on my own balcony, staring at the pitiful "Qi Refinement Stage 1 — Progress: 1%" on the system panel, feeling even more hopeless than the day I got laid off. What the hell kind of immortal cultivation was this? This was clearly Heaven's custom-designed mid-life crisis, deluxe edition.
The smell of lamb skewers drifted up from the barbecue stall downstairs and bored straight into my nose. I knew perfectly well those "lamb" skewers were actually duck meat mixed with lamb-flavour powder, but I swallowed anyway. I couldn't even afford fake lamb skewers right now. I started ranting in my head: Other people who cultivate immortality subsist on wind and morning dew. Me? I sit here meditating with nothing in my brain but braised pork belly.
Determined to complete this life-or-death three-day cultivation task, I decided to start from the most basic technique — Drawing Qi Into the Body. Copying what I'd seen in TV dramas, I sat cross-legged on a plastic stool, which was torture enough on its own. I could feel my lumbar discs — loyal servants for over forty years — protesting even louder than usual.
I extended my right hand, spread my five fingers naturally, then pressed my index and middle fingers together and held them straight while bending my ring finger and pinky down against my palm. I locked them in place with my thumb, forming the sword-seal hand sign. My left hand mirrored it with the thumb pressing the base of the ring finger, the remaining fingers curled loosely.
After all that posturing, I felt fairly impressive, I had to admit. I muttered under my breath: "Lord Laozi, swift as the law decrees — spirit energy, spirit energy, come to me!" The result: before three minutes were up, my legs had gone so numb they felt packed with lead. I toppled forward with a thud into the laundry pole, and a freshly washed pair of underpants landed squarely on my head like a crown.
I was still frantically wrestling the underwear off when my wife Lin Yao unleashed her signature battle-cry from inside: "Lu Yuan! Xiao Chuan's school uniform still isn't ironed! What are you doing out on that balcony, playing the mysterious hermit?!"
My hand jerked, and the bronze ring tumbled into the flower pot. I scrambled to cover my tracks: "I… I was looking for cockroaches! Right — pest control is everyone's responsibility!"
Lin Yao rolled her eyes. "You? You run faster than a rabbit the moment you see a cockroach."
I had barely managed to get back into position when, from downstairs, the square-dancing anthem The Most Dazzling National Style blasted to life. Grandma Wang was belting it out at full throttle, and the speakers were rattling the flower pots on my balcony. I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes and tried desperately to focus — only for the system to chime: "Host detected excessive mental interference. Qi absorption efficiency reduced by 50%." That was the last straw. I leaned over the balcony railing and shouted: "Grandma! Are you trying to turn the square into a nightclub?!"
Grandma Wang looked up and gave me the middle finger. The music got louder.
I stamped my foot in fury. At that exact moment the ring went scalding hot. A beam of golden light shot out of it and struck the speakers in the square below with pinpoint precision. The next second, the music cut dead. All that was left was Grandma Wang's awkward a cappella: "You are the most beautiful cloud in my heart…" The surrounding retirees burst into laughter. I yanked my head back in a panic, muttering to myself: This piece-of-junk ring — in a crisis it's even less reliable than my son's toy gun.
I tried every strange position I could think of — I even got down on all fours like a cat and tried to breathe in qi. The progress bar did not budge a single pixel. Scratching my head in desperation, I hollered at the empty air: "Broken system! Give me a damn hint, would you?! Surely you don't expect me to stand here cursing Zhang Feng's name for three days straight just to level up?!"
"Host detected insufficient IQ reserves. Automatically activating Beginner Tutorial Mode." The robotic voice detonated inside my skull without any warning, nearly sending me off the plastic stool. Broken system — your IQ reserves are insufficient. Your whole family's IQ reserves are insufficient.
A semi-transparent hologram materialised in front of me out of thin air: a tiny old man in a Taoist robe, sporting two upward-curling moustaches, looking for all the world like the Grandpa villain straight out of Calabash Brothers. The sight of him made me question reality. Was there any chance I was actually the pangolin from that cartoon…?
"Ahem." The little old man stroked his moustache, nostrils practically aimed at the sky. "Foolish mortal. The art of Qi Refinement demands 'stillness of mind and intent, form guiding the qi.' Did you really think sitting there cross-legged and humming nonsense would get you to the next level? In my estimation, you have less rhythm than those square-dancing grandmas downstairs."
I nearly leapt off my stool. "Old man, get to the point! Don't you dare quote classical texts at me! I'll smash your stupid hologram!"
The little old man blinked, thrown off for a moment. He cleared his throat and pressed on: "Pay attention! First — correct posture: Five Hearts Facing Heaven!" He sat down cross-legged on the spot, formed a hand seal, and a golden halo appeared above his head. "The Five Hearts are the Baihui acupoint at the crown of the head, the Laogong acupoints at the centre of each palm, and the Yongquan acupoints at the centre of each sole — five points simultaneously facing upward, forming a circuit for qi circulation."
I mimicked him. The moment I flipped my feet up, both knees let out a crack-crack that made me wince and bare my teeth. "This position is more painful than bowing and scraping to Zhang Feng at the office."
"Endure it!" The little old man shot me a glare. "Second — learn to sense the qi. Close your eyes. Imagine you are a sponge, the air around you is water, and you are drawing qi into your body. Pay attention: inhale and let your lower abdomen expand; exhale and let it contract. This is abdominal breathing. Do not pant around like an asthmatic."
I closed my eyes and strained to imagine myself as one enormous sponge. What actually filled my mind was Lin Yao nagging me about tuition fees, and Zhang Feng's greasy face.
"Too many distractions!" The little old man's moustache trembled with indignation. "You think cultivating qi is scrolling through short videos? Concentrate! Picture the qi entering through the Baihui point, flowing down your spine to the dantian, then spreading out through your limbs!"
I clenched my jaw and forced my attention back to my breathing. Slowly — it actually worked. In time with my breaths, a faint warmth began to gather in my lower abdomen, like a shot of erguotou burning its way from the back of my throat down into my stomach.