Rethinking Belief and Tradition: How Young People Construct Individual Meaning in the Internet Era

Abstract

During China’s social transformation, the spiritual life of young people exhibits a dual tendency toward secularisation and consumerization. While traditional institutional religion continues to wane, a consumption-based religiosity has surfaced, marking a shift from collective, class-based subcultural expressions to post-subcultural practices centred on individual affect, meaning bricolage, and fluid identities. Through a comparative analysis of historical Real Person Fiction and Yonghe Temple bracelets, this study reveals how contemporary youth transform historical memory and religious symbols into flexible cultural resources. Crucially, this transformation is not a wholesale rupture with tradition but rather a selective appropriation and recontextualization of religious concepts inherited through family upbringing and folk customs. Their practices thus embody a dialectic of discontinuity and continuity: what is discontinued is institutional allegiance to prescribed rituals; what continues is the deep-seated impulse to seek meaning through symbolic practices. The research finds that young people construct temporary scene-based tribes through emotional identification and symbolic consumption, using fluidity and multiplicity to counter anxieties in daily life. Compared to traditional communities, such tribes offer individuals meanings that are more personalised and immediate, reflecting the lifestyles individuals wish to cultivate. Within a context of high uncertainty, they convey fragmented responses to the predicaments of modernity through the reinterpretation and re-narration of historical and sacred symbols.

1. Introduction

On 21 March 2023, The Beijing News published an article titled “‘No Class, No Ambition, Only Incense’ Struggle Remains the Essence of Youth”, criticizing young people for placing their hopes in divine intervention. The piece quickly sparked widespread public debate. In direct response, Beijing Daily subsequently published an article online titled “Worrying About Young People Worshipping, Better to Care About What They Are Seeking.” It argued that visiting temples and burning incense does not necessarily mean “praying for the Bodhisattva to perform miracles”; sometimes, it is merely a form of emotional outlet. These two articles reflect competing discursive frameworks on youth religious participation. The former adopts a disciplinary perspective, emphasising the ethics of struggle within mainstream social values. It asserts that young people should change their destiny through personal effort and worries that religious involvement may lead to passive withdrawal from society. The latter, in contrast, adopts an empathetic perspective, attempting to move beyond moral judgment by focusing on the underlying structural social causes behind the phenomenon. It advocates for paying attention to the real dilemmas faced by young people. Needless to say, whether the act of visiting temples represents a turn to religion or simply a release of pressure, young people’s religious fervour indicates that their religious behaviour has begun to undergo a significant shift.

Yet, what is both noteworthy and often overlooked in this discussion is why young people’s religious fervour has attracted such widespread attention. Data from the 2020 China Family Panel Studies indicate that a considerable proportion of the Chinese population still holds beliefs in “ancestors” (57%), “fate (ming 命)“ (50%), “Buddha/Bodhisattva” (28%), and “gods (shen 神)” (15%) (Lu et al. 2023). Research in northwestern China also shows that people widely believe “that there are gods (or that it does not hurt to assume that there are gods)” (Chau 2006, p. 66). It could thus be argued that what has sparked public debate is not the act of incense burning or the existence of belief itself, but rather a shift in the subjects of belief. In other words, in traditional understandings of religious practice, religious activities have often been regarded as the domain of the elderly, for instance, rituals presided over by male elders, mothers burning incense for the family’s well-being, or retirees volunteering at religious sites. Within this cultural habitus, young people’s religious participation has not typically been seen as something to be encouraged. Hence, when a large number of young people began sharing guides on visiting temples on social media, this seemingly ruptured and reconfigured generational religious habitus became a striking cultural phenomenon. Young people’s religious enthusiasm has captured attention because it breaks the stereotypical association between religion and old age. At the same time, the apparent immersion of youth in religious activities also touches upon Chinese cultural expectations regarding young people’s social roles and societal aspirations.

The youth has long been a pivotal social role assigned to young people by Chinese society. In reality, however, not all young people are willing or able to conform to the social expectations associated with this role. Those who cannot or choose not to step into the ‘youth’ role have gradually formed a non-role-based youth subculture (Y. Chen 2002). For these young people, religious or belief-related behaviours become an alternative path of self-making. Their identification with lifestyles such as ‘lying flat’ (tangping 躺平) or ‘Buddha-like (foxi 佛系)’, along with their turn to practices like visiting temples or metaphysics for spiritual solace, has led to a functional shift in their pan-religious behaviours. That is to say, the efficacy of burning incense and worshipping Buddhas is being replaced by the secular function of stress relief. Ultimately, religious symbols are transformed into cultural tokens, conveying a collective mentality shared by youth online. At its core, such a mentality represents a collective response by young people to the pervasive uncertainty within society and the role contradictions they embody.

Despite the collective nature of their underlying mentality, youths’ religious consumption practices manifest a clear trend toward individualisation in the contemporary consumer society. Unlike the older generation’s purchase of traditional religious symbols or acts (such as incense or amulets), young people place greater emphasis on reinterpreting meanings from religious symbols. This is precisely the core issue this paper aims to explore; that is, the reconstruction of ancestral worship and the fervour surrounding the Yonghe temple bracelet through online narratives. In the current context of intensifying uncertainty and competitive pressure, the religious consumption of young people is often closely intertwined with survival anxiety, the quest for meaning, and identity confusion. These religious behaviours, displayed or circulated online, reflect contemporary youth’s attempts to employ embodied and symbolic methods to negotiate their realities, such as digital wishing or cyber offerings.

This paper conceptualises such behaviours as affective consumption practices within a post-subcultural framework. These practices represent a social mentality through which young people seek moments of tranquillity and belonging in liquid modernity. The rising popularity of Historical Real Person Fiction (RPF) and Yonghe Temple amulets, as analysed in this paper, raises a central question: how do young people rebuild interpersonal connections and seek meaning and value in an age of uncertainty? Through neo-tribes and bricolage, they construct a fluid lifestyle sustained by loose, value-based online communities as a response to pervasive anxiety. A further, intergenerational question follows: how exactly do continuities and changes in religious attitudes unfold across generations? The data suggest that these emerging religious practices are neither a purely individualist approach nor a complete rupture with tradition. Rather, young people’s appropriation of religious concepts stems from having been socialised into these beliefs through family and community transmission. Their practices thus represent new transformations emerging from intergenerational religious habits, manifesting both in generational differences (e.g., attitudes toward ancestors) and in selective transmission and transformation. They do not invent tradition in a vacuum, but reinvent it on the basis of inherited local knowledge, responding to the existential predicaments of contemporary life. To address these questions, this paper first discusses how youth religiosity is displayed in the age of social media, then analyses two cases, Historical Real Person Fiction and the Yonghe Temple bracelet, before concluding with the theoretical implications for understanding contemporary youth spirituality.

This study adopts a digital ethnography approach, conducted between December 2024 and September 2025, focusing on two mainstream Chinese social media platforms: Xiaohongshu (Little Red Book, which is known as a lifestyle-sharing platform popular among urban youth with monthly active users currently exceeding 350 million) and Douban (which is known for its niche interest communities, covering films, books, music, and a wide array of interest-based discussion groups with over 300 million monthly active users). Data were collected from publicly available posts related to historical RPF fans and Yonghe Temple bracelets, prioritizing content with over 500 likes or reposts, resulting in a final sample of 1810 comments, which were analyzed through a three-stage coding process. This analysis yielded three core analytical dimensions: symbolic translation (how traditional concepts such as “sincerity brings efficacy” are re-signified from institutional authority to personal affect), intergenerational continuity and discontinuity (how youth practices inherit ritual forms while reconfiguring their objects and sources of authority), and fluidity and scene-based communities (how temporary, interest-based collectives provide personalized meaning-making spaces). In addition, semi-structured in-depth interviews were conducted with 15 historical RPF creators (aged 18–33, covering diverse occupational backgrounds), recruited via purposive sampling on the same platforms. Each interview lasted approximately 60 min and was conducted online via video call, covering themes of self-narration, life course, and daily practices. All interview data were anonymized, and informed consent was obtained from all participants. By combining comment analysis with interview data, the study examines how young people, within consumer society, translate traditional religious and cultural resources through creative symbolic practices to construct individual narratives of meaning.

2. Young People’s Spiritual Practices in the Age of Social Media

The new media era has given rise to the trend of individualisation, where everyone is a disseminator of information and holds discursive power. This has dismantled the traditional religious authority exclusively held by specialists or clergy and destabilised the systematic theoretical and interpretive framework built upon it. Originally niche religious phenomena, influenced by the openness and interactivity of the internet, have sparked clustering effects and collective emulation, thereby transcending their initial, limited sphere of dissemination. In terms of dissemination forms, religious communication in the internet age broadly manifests in two modalities: first, traditional religions utilizing the internet for religious dissemination or practice, commonly referred to as religion in cyberspace; second, forms of religious communication that must or can only exist on the internet, where participants form so-called online communities around shared religious topics, representing religious forms shaped and altered by the internet, typically termed religion on cyberspace (Jin 2015). This paper focuses precisely on the latter, that is, individualised internet dissemination phenomena driven by non-official actors and non-authoritative religious interpretation, along with the resulting online trending topics and niche communities. Membership in these niche communities is fluid, often fluctuating in response to public opinion trends and the influence of key opinion leaders (KOLs).

Undoubtedly, the characteristics of the internet have fundamentally transformed traditional modes of religious consumption and the societal responses they engender. The concept of religious consumption can be traced back to classical sociological inquiries into the relationship between religion and socioeconomic behavior, such as how Protestantism shaped ethical norms and, consequently, economic conduct and consumption logic (Weber 1987), or how the Maori concept of “hau” (the spirit of the gift) governed the logic of gift exchange (Mauss 2002). These foundational works established a basis for understanding material exchange and symbolic consumption within religious rituals.

While in the context of localised studies of Chinese religion, scholars have increasingly focused on employing the gift paradigm to interpret the intertwinement of religious offerings, the incense economy, and social reciprocity (Yue 2016; Y. Liang 2014, 2015; Palmer 2011). This relationship-oriented religious consumption sustains bonds not only between humans and deities but also within the interpersonal networks surrounding rituals. Within the Chinese context, such consumption is most commonly associated with significant life events. Taking funerals or weddings as examples, the associated religious consumption includes expenses for ritual paraphernalia or monetary gifts rooted in social obligations. This consumption primarily functions to maintain a social order. The bereaved family has an obligation to accept gifts from relatives and friends (Mauss 2002), and this acceptance establishes a future contract for reciprocity, embodying a cycle of mutual gift exchange. In other words, interactions within funeral consumption provide participants with a language of trust, solidarity, and mutual aid for cooperation (Malinowski 1987). As Seiwert (2016, p. 131) notes, ritual observance is central to expressing and safeguarding social order and hierarchies. Another common form of consumption at religious sites pertains to a more private mode of human–deity interaction. Through the exchange of gifts, individuals maintain daily relationships with deities, constituting a specific relational modality (Chau 2011).

In summary, whether it is ritual consumption centred on relationship maintenance or human–deity interactions oriented toward private inner experience, traditional religious consumption is deeply embedded within stable social structures and a clear symbolic order. Its logic obeys collective ethics and sacred covenants, with its core function being to confirm order and reproduce social morality. And most importantly, such ritual consumption reveals a broader religious psychology. There is a prevailing mentality among rural people that takes the deity’s efficacy for granted, rendering any questioning of it unnecessary or even improper (Cao 2024). In many cases, religious approaches are equated with useful or effective approaches, while their religious attributes are overlooked. This is why those who grow up in Chinese culture are subtly influenced by religious habits since religious practices are simply part of everyday life. Yet, in many instances, such practices are not even recognised as “religious”: for example, choosing an auspicious date for a wedding, or consulting a feng shui master when facing difficulties. These acts are not perceived as religious because they lack a clear institutional affiliation and because the divine is absent. No deity is invoked, and no explicit religious framework is acknowledged.

However, the advent of the internet era and the deepening of consumer society are catalysing a fundamental shift. When young people share a Yonghe temple bracelet on social media or engage in cross-temporal dialogues with historical figures within historical fan communities, they are participating in an individualised practice. This is no longer an adherence to or reinforcement of an established order; rather, it represents individuals breaking away from traditional authorities and collective ideology. The young start to utilise fragmented religious and cultural symbols to engage in a highly personalised bricolage of meaning. Here, bricolage refers to the practice of taking ready-made elements from different symbolic systems (e.g., religious rituals, popular culture, historical narratives) and reassembling them into a new configuration whose meaning derives from the individual’s own subjective investment. Its driving force has shifted from external social obligations to internal emotional anxiety and identity exploration. From fixed physical spaces to fluid digital arenas, the young are increasingly embracing temporary, interest-based neo-tribes rather than relying solely on stable communities grounded in kinship or locality. That is to say, the young generation’s religious consumption has revealed strong traits of post-subculture, which highlights the significance of personal choices. Their practices are characterised by fluid, temporary affiliations rather than fixed identities, and are often driven by affective needs (i.e., emotional desires for comfort, resonance, and belonging, rather than intellectual or doctrinal commitment) rather than doctrinal adherence. Ultimately, they represent a strategic bricolage of symbols through which individuals navigate uncertainty and construct a sense of self against modernity.

First, as discussed above, although young people are enthusiastic about burning incense, they do not exhibit a strong attachment to religion. Instead, they construct a lifestyle in a carnivalesque manner. It must be emphasised that the religious choices of young people are by no means traditional religious conversion. Conversion, in the traditional sense, refers to a profound and often irreversible shift in religious identity, involving the adoption of a new system of beliefs, doctrines, and moral precepts, typically accompanied by institutional affiliation and formal commitment. The outcome of conversion is the internalisation of doctrinal teachings and rituals into the convert’s personality, gradually shaping and transforming their faith, moulding the believer into an affirmed image (L. Liang 2005, 2006).

In practice, youth distance themselves from institutionalised religion, maintaining a pattern of “believing without belonging” or pursuing personal meaning-making. This reflects the privatisation of religious belief in Chinese society, where individuals may hold certain beliefs without necessarily identifying with the corresponding institutional religious organisations or public values (X. Li 2010). From the perspective of Religious Economy Theory, religion can indeed be understood as a product freely chosen by people within a specific social structure (Stark and Finke 2000). The availability of religious products as choices resonates with a post-subcultural perspective. For instance, it was found that the musical tastes and stylistic preferences of youth, rather than being tied to issues of social class, are in fact examples of the late modern lifestyles in which notions of identity are constructed rather than given, and fluid rather than fixed (Bennett 1999). This underscores that young people now navigate identity as a conscious project of the self, actively assembling cultural resources across traditional boundaries to forge identity. They do not have to worry about contradictions between their selected subcultural identities, for there are no rules, there is no authenticity, no ideological commitment, merely a stylistic game to be played (Muggleton 2000, p. 47). In this paper, young people’s free selection among a wide array of religious products is described as possessing a carnivalesque quality. They are free to pick and choose from different religious offerings without being bound by dogma or normative beliefs. Here, the notion of carnivalesque draws on Mikhail Bakhtin’s concept of second life in his analysis of European medieval folk culture (Bakhtin 1984). Carnival, as he described, temporarily subverts the everyday hierarchical order, norms, and authority. Within a specific time and space, everyone becomes equal, engages in free interaction and playful ridicule, forming a carnival sense of the world that stands in opposition to official, solemn culture. Influenced by this, the temple fairs in North China during the Ming and Qing dynasties are interpreted as embodying a similar carnival spirit (S. Zhao 2002). Similarly, the act of young people purchasing a bracelet follows this logic. At temples, they spend hours queuing, then photograph and narrate their experiences online, attracting public attention and generating a new form of carnival. This does not signify a full-scale rebellion by the masses, but rather a process of socio-cultural reproduction. In other words, it represents a form of resistance through rituals.

Of course, the notion of carnival discussed here differs from the Bakhtinian sense of carnival as an act of subverting hierarchical orders and challenging social structures. Instead, it manifests more as a spiritual effervescence, which is a kind of lively, affective resonance generated within the interactivity fostered by the internet. In this sense, it more closely resembles what Durkheim termed collective effervescence. Understood in this way, this carnival can be seen as a form of gentle resistance. It does not seek to restructure the social order, but rather achieves a symbolic distancing from mainstream consumer logic and singular narrative authority through ironic storytelling and creative symbolic bricolage. As such, it constitutes an attempt to reconstruct a discourse of the everyday sacred. Through consumption, young people temporarily enter a state of intense emotional resonance and shared meaning within specific moments, platforms, and community boundaries, transforming the mundane into a shareable experience.

Second, young people’s religious choices are no longer confined to a specific religion but are strongly embedded in sociability, forming online collectives akin to neo-tribes where shared values are cultivated. As defined by Maffesoli (1996, p. 98), neo-tribes are “without the rigidity of the forms of organization with which we are familiar, [tribe] refers more to a certain ambience, a state of mind, and is preferably to be expressed through lifestyles that favour appearance and form.” Such tribes provide a free and fluid sense of belonging. This aligns with the counter-mainstream ethos of subculture, and “the acts of bricolage by modern youth subculturalists were a form of resistance (Muggleton 1997, p. 174)”. Many subcultural practices indeed constitute a form of passive resistance to survival anxiety and life predicaments, expressing discontent and frustration through an attitude of non-cooperation (Fu 2022). For the participants in this study, engaging in such religious consumption to respond to real-world dilemmas, seeking in virtual spaces an affective connection and resonance of meaning that approximates collective support.

Meanwhile, the rise of consumer society means young people have more choices rather than relying on collective arrangements. Traditional religious consumption has often been examined at the community level, focusing on the significance of religious practices for villages. For instance, in rural Zhejiang, the production and consumption of religious goods successfully facilitated the redistribution of community resources (Gao 2015). Through collective rituals, a sacred atmosphere and emotional experience were created, thereby fostering village integration (Yuan 2009). This indicates that within traditional religious structures, relatively stable lifestyles enabled collective faith centred around village temples to shape local worship and villager identity (Gan 2007; Jing 2013). In contrast, against the context of rural hollowing caused by outmigration and land transfer, the capacity for collective action in villages has significantly weakened (C. Zhao 2022). Today, whether in urban or rural settings, young people increasingly navigate a fluid, post-acquaintance social landscape, shaped by individualisation and characterised by the increasing importance of emotionality and desire in private life (Yan 2003, 2010). Therefore, under the dual influence of the internet and consumer society, young people’s consumption behaviour is no longer a passive absorption or possession of commodities. Instead, it represents an active mode of asserting self-worth and connecting with an idealised community (Baudrillard 1998). By deconstructing dominant values, they carve out group survival space and self-identity (Luo and Deng 2021). The internet space, in turn, fosters collective empathy, providing emotional support and identity affirmation for youth at similar life stages or facing shared dilemmas. Within these virtual communities, members build connections through comparable life experiences and affective bonds (Wu et al. 2025). The identities performed on social network sites align more closely with a neo-tribal reading of belonging than they conform to the rigid boundaries implied by subcultural frameworks (Robards and Bennett 2011). Consequently, such consumption could be understood as an alternative form of ritual participation based on affective resonance and collaborative meaning-making. It serves as a cultural tactic for constructing belonging and authoring self-narrative within a fluid society, toward an identity quest in a fragmented world.

Finally, the religious practices of young people, influenced by postmodernism, increasingly manifest as a form of affective consumption. This consumption emphasises the specific feelings and states of being evoked through the process, rather than mere emotional release. For instance, research on Electronic Dance Music Culture (EDMC) reveals that youth regard participation in festivals or smaller-scale events as a form of contemporary pilgrimage. Entering such dedicated spaces equates to gaining access to a renewed sense of the sacred. This emerging pilgrimage is “formed by health and social insecurities, a fundamental lack of confidence in social and political systems, and the desire for and in the transcendental” (Margry 2008, p. 324). Applying Victor Turner’s ritual structure (Turner 1969), entering these specific spaces (e.g., music festivals or online spaces) can be seen as undergoing a rite of passage. Individuals separate from their established social structures, enter a liminal phase characterised by blurred identities and suspended norms, and eventually reintegrate into a subtly altered social order, carrying a transformed self-awareness and group bonds. In this process, the “burring of boundaries” (Muggleton 2000, p. 75) redefines individual perceptions of space and the demarcation between the sacred and the secular. From this perspective, the online consumption behaviours of young people are redefining the local knowledge recognised by their communities. The core of interpreting local knowledge lies in understanding what is local: Local not just as to place, time, class, and variety of issues, but as to accent—vernacular characterisations of what happens connected to vernacular imaginings of what can (Geertz 1983, p. 215). Through these online consumption rituals, young people are not simply applying existing local knowledge but are actively generating a new, platform-mediated vernacular dialect of desire, anxiety, and belonging that redefines what is local in the internet age.

Furthermore, within this emerging context of local knowledge, such consumption can be read as a resistant act of agency. As Muggleton (1997, p. 174) argues, “the subculture’s active appropriation and transformation of signs through the subversive act of bricolage” forms a mode of active consumption. Whether it pertains to blind box collections or online prayer rituals, these practices are, at their core, a form of affective consumption influenced by digital collective effervescence, yet they inadvertently constitute a post-subcultural lifestyle achieved through bricolage and homology. Within this framework, identity is constructed rather than ascribed, fluid rather than fixed. Consequently, the religiosity displayed by young people diverges from mainstream discourses centred on efficacy or Dharma (Chau 2011; Feuchtwang 2001). Instead, it represents the pursuit of a state of well-being or attunement. In this dynamic, ongoing process, individuals adjust their existential state to seek inner harmony and attain a sense of meaningful orientation within a fluid and uncertain world.

In summary, against the backdrop of consumer society, among the young participants in this study, youth religiosity is shifting from institutional faith to temporal, fluid, and affective meaning-making. While existing research often dismisses young people’s consumption as either religiously driven or irrational, impulsive spending, this study employs a post-subcultural analytical framework centred on the acts of bricolage and scene-based congregation observed in youth culture.

3. The Reinterpretation of Ancestral Belief Through Personal Narratives

As a subgenre of fan culture, fanfiction has attracted a massive community of young people brimming with intense passion and creative energy, establishing itself as a significant component of online subculture. Fanfiction refers to derivative works based on pre-existing texts (typically from popular culture), which borrow established characters, relationships, basic plotlines, and worldviews from the source for secondary creation (Shao 2018, p. 74). The resulting fan-works take various forms, including fiction, artwork, video edits, songs, games, and more. Fanfiction does not demand fidelity to the original text, thereby granting immense creative freedom to explore unexplored possibilities, unspoken emotions, and unseen perspectives, transforming them into a highly personalised and emotional private discourse. Fanfiction enthusiasts encompass both readers and creators, and their most crucial distinction from general fans lies in how they derive self-satisfaction and emotional expression through consuming or producing fan works (Wu et al. 2021). Fan culture is constituted by creators, readers, and the works themselves—encompassing both the cultural act of re-creation and the cultural products (i.e., fan-works) generated from it (M. Wang 2010). Studies indicate that the emergence of fan communities allows enthusiasts to transcend temporal and spatial constraints, freely collaborating on and interpreting fan works, thereby gaining pleasure, mutually supportive friendships, a sense of belonging, and identity (Xu and Zhang 2023; Barnes 2015; S. Liang 2022). This community has evolved beyond a mere interest group into a meaning-producing community that shares common emotions, collective symbols, and shared narrative conventions.

3.1. The Affective Logic of Historical Real Person Fiction

The historical Real Person Fiction (RPF) discussed in this paper refers to unofficial, non-academic derivative creation and practice that takes real historical figures, events, and periods as its original text. Its essence is not historical or textual research but rather a form of post-subcultural meaning production through bricolage and homology. That is, creators actively appropriate, remix, and transform historical resources into tools for personal emotional expression and existential grounding. Judging from the articles or videos published on platforms, such works may expand upon or supplement the experiences, relationships, and narrative arcs of historical prototypes as recorded in historical texts, yet they may also subversively alter these elements according to the creators’ own desires or to respond to the readers’ feedback (Zheng 2016). The core of historical RPF lies in instrumentalising historical figures as mediums for self-exploration and interpretation, and in actively constructing a cohesive historical RPF community grounded in this shared recognition.

This type of secondary creation can be viewed as a form of textual poaching, in which elements of the original work are stripped of their initial narrative context to grant new meanings (Jenkins 1992). This, in fact, aligns with the original intent behind much historical RPF creation. “Honestly, it all started because I liked him so much. I felt the history books treated him too unfairly. (He) must have had so many struggles inside that historical records could never capture. Then I couldn’t help but start wondering, what if…? And the more I thought about it, the more I felt, why not just write it down?” (Interviewee J, 27, student) In this description, no specific historical figure is deliberately specified. This is because, as the research finds, the rewriting of regret forms the most fundamental creative motif and emotional driving force within this community. Any historical figure whose life contains a significant event of regret can sustain this regret-oriented rewriting. Official historical records inevitably contain gaps, oversimplifications, or even logical leaps, which constitute intrinsic narrative regrets. This life regret embodied in historical figures or events provides both the space and inspiration for subsequent derivative creation. That is to say, the act of historical RPF creation always stems first from a refusal to accept and an unwillingness to resign oneself to this regret, and second, from the transformation of regret into empathy, projecting a more idealised self-image into the fan-work. Like interviewee K explained, “what I wrote is not only fanfiction, but is my version of how his story should end.” As a third-year humanities undergraduate, she has written a 100,000-word serial novel in her spare time. “They are truly lively,” interviewee K further explained, “(I) don’t want them to be just a name in a history textbook.”

The writing of historical figures’ regrets is, in fact, a concrete manifestation of homology in post-subcultural practice. Homology refers to the profound, structural correspondence between a subcultural group’s internal emotional structure, social situation (especially class experience), and the symbols, styles, and rituals they choose (Hebdige 1979). Creators structurally align their own emotional frameworks and realities in modern society with the fateful trajectories of historical figures. Through narrative reconstruction, these figures are symbolised as spiritual totems that carry collective emotions. This process transcends geographical and temporal limitations, enabling young people to deconstruct dominant historical narratives and integrate fragmented personal identities into a self-reflexive network of meaning, thereby contesting group survival space and self-identity by deconstructing mainstream values (Luo and Deng 2021). This coincides with what Geertz (1973) described as an animal suspended in webs of significance. Through online historical writing and offline activities such as tomb-sweeping, the historical RPF community constructs a resonance between individuals and chosen historical figures.

This paper argues that the profound affection and engagement of contemporary youth with historical figures constitutes a form of post-subcultural spiritual ancestor worship. Young people are far from ignorant of familial rites or religious ethics; their long-term embeddedness in family rituals is what enables them to actively choose a meaning-making path distinct from their parents’. Online secondary creation and offline tomb-sweeping activities within historical RPF both carry forward the older generation’s reverence through the ritual of “honouring the dead and remembering the distant past” (慎终追远), while reorienting its embedded emotions and meanings from bloodline ancestors toward affective historical figures. To some extent, this discontinues normative identification with traditional rituals. As interviewee H noted, “My mother couldn’t understand when she heard I planned to visit Cao Cao’s tomb during Qingming Festival. ‘He’s not our ancestor,’ she said, ‘why pay respects?’” She had no choice but to explain to her mother the Cao Cao she saw—the ambitious yet ultimately unfulfilled hero of the Three Kingdoms era. “Fortunately, I already have a job and my own income,” she added. “I don’t need her permission (to visit the tomb).” Her experience is not uncommon among those engaged in historical RPF. Their practice of honouring historical figures over familial ancestors reflects a deliberate cultural shift. For the older generation, ancestral belief typically extends from one’s own family ancestors to collective figures such as the Yellow Emperor or Yan Emperor, with the connotations of cultural identity and hierarchical order. What is being discontinued is not the impulse to remember and revere, but the obligation to direct that reverence exclusively toward bloodline ancestors.

3.2. Narrative as Ritual: Writing as a Mode of Spiritual Communication

In this new interpretation within historical RPF, the emotional bond between participants and historical figures does not stem from religious piety, nor are their actions products of collective discipline. Instead, these practices represent a form of declassed expression. Within this framework, historical RPF fans relate to their constructed objects on a more equal footing. Internally, although creators and readers may differ in their investment of time and enthusiasm, all participants remain fundamentally equal in terms of social status. Thus, through writing, historical RPF reconstructs a belief not in ancestors, but a post-subcultural system of meaning based on voluntary emotion, collaborative symbolic creation, and egalitarian participation.

Firstly, this declassed and decentralised practice of equality not only restructures the relationships between participants and historical figures, as well as among fellow enthusiasts, but also imbues the entire field of activity with a distinct quality of carnival. It represents a form of everyday carnival in the post-subcultural sense, which reveals a cultural state in which real-world social hierarchies and norms are temporarily suspended, allowing for the creation of new meanings through free symbolic and bodily participation. Different genres and texts refer to one another, replicate and parody each other, forming intertextual and dialogic homology that ultimately ascends to the level of literary carnival (L. Chen 2015). Different historical RPF writers each depict the same historical figure from their own experiences, thereby constructing a carnivalesque space that dissolves the discursive authority of traditional historiography and restores historical figures from icons into objects of intimate bricolage. It allows all participants equal recognition based purely on affinity and emotional labour. In the postmodern context, the anger and rebellion once characteristic of subcultures have evolved into a mild, fragmented playfulness; expression, too, has become a consumerist carnival that highlights individuality (Ye 2006). The carnival of post-subculture does not seek permanent transformation but offers, within temporary cultural enclaves, a fleeting entry into the utopian promise of sharing, freedom, and equality.

“As the saying goes, ‘history is written by the victors,’” explained Interviewee D. “Back then, I just felt the portrayal of him in textbooks and academic papers was too flat and too simple, so I wanted to write.” A 25-year-old who works at a bank after graduating with a bachelor’s degree, she continued, “At work, I often get complaints from customers and always feel wronged. I’m just following the rules, but some people don’t understand. When I get home and see all the comments praising me like your writing is so touching and call me ‘太太’ (a term of respect for creators), it makes me happy. Here (in the fan circle), only the work matters, not your social status.” From Interviewee D’s self-reflection, it revealed that for many young people, historical RPF is far more than a simple hobby. It functions as a coping strategy and an everyday practice within the alienating and disciplined modern society. Through creative symbolic practices (e.g., writing or crafting memes), young people can reshape their subjective identities, loosen the constraints of their real-world roles, and construct a more idealised form of identity distinction (Du 2016). For individuals like Interviewee D, engaging in creative narration and participating in a fandom community offers a temporary escape from the impersonal, rule-bound frustrations of professional life. This dynamic is equally evident in the popularity of “cloud-pet” short videos, which provide a virtual social arena for youths in neo-tribes, enabling affective interaction that is physically absent yet spiritually present (Zong 2023). Crucially, within the fan circle, validation is derived purely from creative and emotional labour. The shared belief that “what one creates matters” motivates many enthusiasts to pursue a more authentic mode of being.

Second, such types of affective consumption also possess the essence of a ritual of resistance, for these historical RPF fans do not seek to dismantle social boundaries but rather treat culture as a choice. By offering personalised, emotional interpretations, they are opposing mainstream discourse, specifically, the official, academic, and rigorous writing of history. The space for meaning construction in youth subculture lies precisely in how young groups express dissatisfaction and rebellion toward lingering contradictions within mainstream culture through stylised resistance (L. Wang 2014). Many comments posted on Xiaohongshu capture the very charm of subculture: the freedom of choice. For examples:

History is no longer written by historians. (537 likes)

Does posthumous judgment really matter? Li Yu (a defeated emperor known for his poetry) may not have been a good emperor, yet you left behind so many poems. (858 likes)

It feels as though these poems were written for us, thousands of years later. A reader today looks back from the present and catches a glimpse of a time when the poet no longer existed. (2388 likes)

Choosing is the operative word here, for post-subculturalists revel in the availability of subcultural choice (Muggleton 1997, p. 180). Within the vast expanse of history, they select the historical figure who resonates with them and allow that figure to live again through their own writing. However, it is noteworthy that this freedom of choice may also lead to the dissolution of authenticity. Since fidelity to the source text is not required, historical RPF can appropriate other historical periods and events to enrich its narratives. Consequently, “post-subculturalists no longer have any sense of subcultural ‘authenticity’ where inception is rooted in particular socio-temporal contexts and tied to underlying structural relations” (Muggleton 2000, p. 47). In other words, the truth conveyed through writing is, in fact, the narrative and emotional truth co-experienced by creators and readers. This truth does not strive for strict correspondence with historical facts; it exists in the interaction between text and community, constituting an experiential authenticity that is collectively constructed and perceived.

Third, historical RPF creation operates as a knowledge-production mechanism fueled by emotional labour. On one hand, to articulate their understanding of a character, historical RPF fans break free from the habitus enforced by compulsory education, realising that they no longer study out of obligation, but actively read and research for the sake of a beloved figure. They strive to restore historical persons from flattened historical materials into complex, living individuals. As Interviewee H explained, “In school, I memorised so many of Li Qingzhao’s poems, like that most famous ‘desolate, miserable, heartbroken’. (I) often wondered why she seemed so sorrowful. Then I once read a historical RPF story that described her as having a lively personality. I thought, isn’t this just made up? But when I looked up historical sources, I found it was true. The real Li Qingzhao enjoyed drinking, playing games, and even sued her second husband for divorce, landing herself in jail. That’s when I realised what a multifaceted person she was.” This moment of discovery is central to historical RPF’s knowledge-production mechanism. It is not a rejection of historical facts but an affective engagement with them. Also, the term made-up reflects a particular way in which historical RPF creators understand history. Official historical records’ simplicity leaves room for multiple interpretations and imaginative reconstruction. When faced with the same historical figure, different creators may produce entirely different narrative versions based on their own emotional projections. What resonates with many historical RPF creators is the possibility of creative gap-filling within the lacunae of historical sources. Interviewee K, who particularly enjoys writing about Zhang Juzheng, noted, “In school, we only learned about how Zhang Juzheng reformed and tried to save the Ming dynasty. What a very heroic and righteous image. But after learning more, I discovered he actually loved wearing gorgeous clothes in private, insisting they be brightly colored and dazzling. It’s this contrast that fascinates me, and I want others to know it too.” This desire to “let others know” reveals a key feature of historical RPF: it is not only a private act of affection but a public re-narration of history. The creator becomes an alternative educator, challenging the singular, heroic narrative transmitted through formal schooling. Once liberated from textbook knowledge or exam-oriented education, the writing of historical figures becomes a form of intrinsically driven, boundless, and self-motivated lifelong learning. As Deci and Ryan (1985, p. 27) observe, the reward of competency-motivated behaviour is the inherent feeling of competence that results from effective functioning. This intrinsic motivation transforms the very acquisition of knowledge into the cornerstone for deepening emotional bonds and constructing a personalised belief system.

On the other hand, the labour invested in creation is often uncompensated. While some studies note that some fanworks may evolve into a form of subcultural capital and generate profit, the hierarchical distinction between core and peripheral groups within subculture (Yang and Zhou 2018) does not lead to widespread financial gain. Significant economic returns through platform traffic mechanisms, commercial partnerships, or copyright derivatives tend to be limited to a very small minority at the peak of the historical RPF creator pyramid. The vast majority of participants remain at the stage of working for love, and their emotional labour forms the bedrock of community vitality, yet is rarely directly convertible into market capital. In the network society, most user-generated cultural production constitutes unpaid “emotional labour” rather than commercially driven activity (Zeng 2020). Profit is no longer the sole driver; greater emphasis is placed on human emotion and interaction. Emotional labour refers to the production, consumption, and sharing of symbolic or material products driven by emotional satisfaction or value identification (Zhang 2024). The emergence of interest-based connections dissolves hierarchical gaps and interest competition among individuals (Xie 2007). People gather around shared affinities, enabling free and equal exchange. Thus, emotional labour unfolds in a relatively pure form, serving as the core dynamic that sustains the cohesion and shared meaning of post-subcultural communities.

Finally, the neo-tribe formed by historical RPF constitutes a cultural space that is perpetually in the making and whose boundaries remain fluid. Offline gatherings of historical RPF enthusiasts are marked by continuous participant turnover since anyone who encounters related posts online may join, and the forms of participation themselves diversify, transforming such gatherings into a ritual-performative arena of the neo-tribe, even a new form of pilgrimage. Here, the definition of the sacred is no longer confined to traditional religious frameworks but merges with individual experience. Consequently, sacred sites cease to be static, enclosed religious spaces and instead become dynamic sites of multicultural convergence (Margry 2008). In Durkheim’s view, the sacred encompasses everything extraordinary, taboo, powerful, and awe-inspiring, and its power ultimately derives from society itself (Durkheim 1995). In the world of historical RPF, however, figures such as Li Qingzhao are no longer ancestors of the Li family, Cao Zhi is no longer merely a Cao lineage ancestor, and even Guan Yu, often worshipped as a martial deity, undergoes varied re-creations. These historical personas are thus liberated from the constraints of familial genealogy and historical sanctification, becoming what Prasenjit Duara terms “superscribed” cultural symbols (Duara 1988). Yet a crucial difference remains: while both historical RPF and orthodox canonisation rely on narrative accumulation to enhance a figure’s significance, the modes of narration could not be more divergent. Historical superscription typically rewrites a figure’s image and mythology to serve different actors’ aims. For instance, successive dynasties moulded Guan Yu into a model of loyalty and patriotism, while merchants recast him as a god of wealth. The goal in such cases is to shape the figure’s impersonal traits, much like the orthodox standardisation of deities discussed by Watson (1985). In contrast, historical RPF writing is a desacralizing, quotidian practice that pulls figures off their pedestals. Even their offline activities reflect this shift. Participants engage in costume play and visit historical sites as if meeting vivid characters. The offerings they bring are not traditional incense or candles but postmodern objects: because historical records mention Cao Cao suffering from headaches, they might leave ibuprofen; since the poet Li Bai was famously fond of wine, his gravesite is often covered with bottles of various brands. This practice exemplifies ritual bricolage and emotional homology of belief-behaviour, a creative reassembly of symbols and affective alignment that transforms ancient figures into intimate contemporaries. Thus, today’s historical RPF writing continues the deep-seated habitus of folk belief through the circulation of legends and the layering of narratives while reinvesting historical figures with distinctly human attributes.

Such bricolage extends to traditional religious festivals. Beyond Qingming tomb-sweeping, historical RPF appropriates the Ghost Festival (Zhongyuan Jie) as a temporary scene tribe. In Chinese tradition, the festival centres on reverencing one’s own ancestors since “one man’s ancestor is another man’s ghost” (Wolf 1974, p. 146). Historical RPF’s commemoration of non-ancestral figures extends beyond this logic. This paper argues that the duty of ancestral worship is transformed into a resonance with a chosen figure of identification which based not on reciprocal obligation but on the individual’s “awareness and experience of ‘who I am’ and ‘what I will become’” (Xiao 2014). As Interviewee D put it, “My own life may be ordinary, but at least my all-time favourite has a vigorous life.” The satisfaction may come not just from escaping an ordinary life, but from the act of creation itself.

3.3. Reinventing Tradition: How Historical RPF Reinterprets Ancestral Belief

This section, through an analysis of historical RPF enthusiasts’ creative writing and ritual practices regarding historical figures, reveals a reinterpretation of ancestor worship within a post-subcultural context. The core of it lies not in replicating traditional bloodline veneration or geographical identity, but in constructing a form of affective spiritual ancestor belief bonded by emotional resonance. This shift aligns with the aforementioned transition in the religiosity of young people in the internet era, from a pursuit of efficacy or orthodoxy toward a focus on spiritual well-being. As Hobsbawm and Ranger (1983) observed, many seemingly invented traditions are in fact reinventions of tradition through dialogues with pre-existing cultural materials. Historical RPF enthusiasts achieve trans-temporal emotional homology through empathetic writing about the life regrets of historical figures. They project their own experiences of confusion and anxiety in modern society onto the fateful frameworks of these historical personas. This process vividly illustrates what Hebdige describes as subculture’s orderliness: each part is organically related to other parts, and it is through the fit between them that the subcultural member makes sense of the world (Hebdige 1979, p. 113). Bricolage, as the concrete practice of homology, serves in a more visible form to address individuals’ existential anxieties. Whether through online narrative creation or offline activities like tomb-sweeping and pilgrimage, these practices constitute a neo-tribe. By actively appropriating symbols and engaging in emotional labour, young people temporarily suspend the role discipline and instrumental logic of real society. Within an affinity-defined egalitarian community, they connect themselves to a broader historical network of meaning. Where history is absent, literature and imagination begin. Historical RPF demonstrates that the central concerns of youth have shifted from specific class experiences toward more universal existential dilemmas.

4. The Everyday Reinterpretation of Religious Orthodoxy Through Affective Consumption

Yonghe Temple, a Tibetan Buddhist monastery with a history dating back to the Qing Dynasty, has long operated a Dharma objects distribution centre selling items such as incense-ash bracelets, primarily targeting devotees and tourists. However, around the 2023 Spring Festival, social media platforms such as Xiaohongshu and Douyin witnessed a surge in user-generated guides on how to ‘invite’ bracelets from Yonghe Temple. The use of ‘invite’ rather than ‘buy’ or ‘obtain’ is deliberate, reflecting a customary Chinese linguistic practice when referring to religious or spiritually significant objects. The word ‘请 (qǐng)’, literally “to invite”, carries connotations of reverence, respect, and ritual propriety, acknowledging the object’s perceived sacred or auspicious nature rather than treating it as a simple commodity. Later, items like the “incense-ash glaze bracelets” quickly went viral, driven largely by their visual appeal and layered symbolic meanings. As of late 2025, the hashtag #雍和宫手串 (#YongheTempleBracelet) on Xiaohongshu alone had garnered over 510 million views and more than 1.652 million posts. Increasingly, users associate the bracelets with wishes for career, academic success, health, and other auspicious meanings, fueling a large-scale trend-following wave. For these young people, the bracelet, originally an important ritual instrument in Buddhist practice, has been reinterpreted through creative bricolage into both a fashion accessory and a key social topic. The explosive popularity of Yonghe Temple bracelets thus represents a quintessential internet festivity among youth, serving as a contemporary manifestation of online blessing-seeking or cyber-esoteric practices.

4.1. The Bricolage of Sacred Symbols

The resonance of online blessing-seeking stems precisely from its embodiment of the pervasive sense of powerlessness experienced by youth within this social condition, as well as a sentiment that further evolves into a form of gentle resistance conducted at the level of linguistic symbols and collective experience (J. Wang 2016). By reposting specific texts, using blessing-themed memes, or participating in reconstituted rituals such as collective online wishing, young people are not seeking to directly alter their surroundings. Instead, they are collaboratively constructing a temporary, mutually supportive emotional space to achieve symbolic solace from real-world pressures. Contemporary youth inhabit an industrial-civilisation era unprecedented for previous generations, while also tasting the pressures urbanisation imposes on the individual; they have entered a society of unprecedented mobility, yet simultaneously encounter spiritual disorientation and a lack of identity (Fan 2013). Therefore, young people’s purchase of Yonghe Temple bracelets does not signify adherence to Tibetan Buddhism, but rather constitutes a fragmented form of personal expression. For many, there is no contradiction between buying a bracelet, believing in astrology, and even self-studying psychological tips. While institutional religious faith often entails strong exclusivity and orthodoxy, what these young people pursue is, as discussed above, a religiosity oriented toward well-being. Although they also exhibit the efficacy-seeking characteristic of traditional folk belief, this pursuit of efficacy is not necessarily a demand for immediate, miraculous results. Rather, it represents a selective, curated religious experience.

Firstly, the viral popularity of the practice of ‘inviting’ bracelets reflects a shift in religious narrative and discursive authority. The interpretive authority over the meaning of the bracelets has transferred from the monastery’s religious expert system to the personal experiences and social sharing of consumers themselves. In traditional religious practice, discursive power over religious knowledge is held by specific individuals, that is, institutionalised clergy who maintain the authority and orthodoxy of that knowledge. Meanwhile, folk ritual specialists, such as those believed to have spiritual abilities or the power to interpret omens, often face accusations of illegitimacy and heterodoxy. Consequently, research shows that many urban fortune-tellers or fengshui masters actively adopt modern institutional forms like association memberships and professional certifications to construct legitimacy, authority, and professionalism for their practices (G. Li 2015). On the internet, however, it is difficult for any single actor to monopolise discursive power; everyone can engage in subcultural interpretation. Sharing personal religious experiences often requires no endorsement from established religious knowledge. Thus, the core issue in subcultural dissemination is no longer “who gets to interpret” but rather “who can become the ‘authentic’ representative of the subculture to do the interpreting” (Yang and Zhou 2018). This shift triggers contests over orthodoxy, which further differentiate and fragment groups. Platforms like Xiaohongshu and Weibo have become primary arenas for meaning negotiation, filled with “purchase guides”, “experience shares”, and “fulfilment-testimony posts”. Together, they constitute a decentralised, community-based network for disseminating spiritual knowledge grounded in lived, personal sensation.

Subculture has evolved into a discursive and fluid construct from which individuals now selectively draw, modify, and remix symbolic resources in a continuous, reflexive project of self-understanding (Robards and Bennett 2011). Driven by this self-selection, individuals transform diffuse anxieties into visible, articulated concerns like academic performance, wealth, health, relationships, and each of which can be mapped onto a bracelet of specific materials and colours. The act of consumption functions as a psychological operation that imposes temporary order upon disorder, aligning with the contemporary youth’s impulse for instant self-gratification (Yu and He 2025). This consumer psychology readily shifts into affective consumption, where the core aim is no longer acquiring a commodity’s use-value, but rather obtaining and sustaining a particular emotional state and self-narrative.

Subcultures can therefore be understood, somewhat paradoxically, as collective expressions and celebrations of individualism (Muggleton 2000, p. 79). In other words, discursive authority, once held by clergy or ritual specialists, has shifted to specific subcultural members who, through posting and similar acts, continually enhance their own subcultural capital to gain greater discursive power. A key characteristic of the objectification of subcultural capital is that consumers can acquire subcultural capital symbols through consumption itself (Yang and Zhou 2018). This process of accumulating discursive authority through consumption and sharing ultimately materialises as a visible system of symbols and behavioural patterns that lead to the formation of style. Hebdige argues that “the idea of style as a coded response to changes affecting the entire community has literally transformed the study of spectacular youth culture” (Hebdige 1979, p. 80). This style is not only a projection of individual emotion but also a cultural token circulating within the community. It renders abstract subcultural capital perceptible and evaluable, thereby consolidating or elevating an individual’s position within the community of meaning. Indeed, post-subculturalists will experience all the signs of the subculture of their choosing time and time again through the media, before inscribing these signifiers on their own bodies (Muggleton 1997, p. 180).

Secondly, the act of displaying bracelets constitutes a bricolage of meaning-making, forming a kind of fluid, everyday sacrality on display. Unlike the commitment demanded by traditional faith, practices in a post-subcultural context are marked by a distinct fluidity. The relationship young people establish with symbols like the Yonghe Temple bracelet is not one of eternal devotion, but closer to a phased emotional attachment. Such fluidity manifests in the stage-specific and goal-oriented nature of the practice. For instance, ‘inviting’ a bracelet symbolising wisdom during exam periods, then possibly switching to a style associated with career success during a job search. At its core, these symbols are not ultimate objects of faith, but rather projections for coping with specific life goals. Affect involves a pre-conscious emotional resonance that may signal discontinuity and complexity in lived practice (Xu and Zhang 2023). Consequently, this bricolage becomes an active, selective consumer performance, as well as a public staging of individual preference. Within such contexts, consumers need not visit Yonghe Temple in person nor consult specialists; they can find all manner of guides within online communities, like which colours correspond to which effects, what taboos accompany wearing them, and so forth. At the same time, they actively construct distinct styles by combining specific efficacies with colours. As Hebdige notes, “Style in subculture is, then, pregnant with significance” (Hebdige 1979, p. 18). The Yonghe Temple bracelet thus constitutes a form of everyday sacral practice, where the boundary between the taboo and the sacred begins to blur. In traditional religious practice, ritual experts “treated their knowledge as a professional secret” (Wolf 1974, p. 17), while on internet platforms, such knowledge is widely interpreted and circulated. Questions like whether one should wear the bracelet while bathing shift from explanations based on Buddhist precepts to practical concerns such as “it might fade if worn in the shower”.

In post-subcultural practice, traditional ritual objects are stripped of their original context and juxtaposed with secular symbols. The result is no longer a standard religious artefact, but a vehicle for personal meaning-making, as well as a homology with one’s own concrete existential anxieties. Popular posts such as “Yonghe Temple Bracelet Out-of-Stock Ranking” stimulate consumers’ sense of urgency and desire for possession by constructing commodity scarcity; while guides like “10 Things You Must Know Before Inviting a Yonghe Temple Bracelet” emphasise fit, the idea that “what suits you is most efficacious”, transforming the act of consumption into a personalized ritual imbued with self-exploration. Together, these two discursive genres shape a contradictory consumer ethic. It simultaneously caters to the logic of market competition and possession, yet deftly returns the power of choice to the individual, granting an emotional conviction of autonomous control over one’s fate.

4.2. Affective Consumption as Self-Narration

Consumers neither fully conform to mainstream societal values nor completely abandon self-expression. As Muggleton observes, “the acts of bricolage by modern youth subculturalists were a form of resistance” (Muggleton 1997, p. 174). This resistance further dissolves the religious connotations originally associated with the bracelets. For instance, a post from 17 January 2026, asked, “Is the Yonghe Temple bracelet really worth it? I’m so torn.” The 72 replies can be categorised into three types. The first treats the bracelet as a display of subcultural capital (e.g., “I got this cinnabar tantric seed-syllable bracelet for 520.”). The second anchors affective consumption in personal subjective experience (e.g., “In terms of value it’s definitely not worth it, just for peace of mind.” “Don’t overthink it, sincerity brings efficacy,” and “If you like it, it’s worth it”). The third directly criticises the bracelet as a rip-off. (e.g., “I bought a much cheaper one from Yiwu.” “It faded, not worth it”). Among these three types of comments, only the notion of “sincerity brings efficacy” (心诚则灵) touches upon core traditional religious knowledge. In folk belief, the principle of engaging with deities is summarised in these four words (Cao 2024). Furthermore, this sincerity is often tied to personal moral conduct; as Wolf notes, deities were “said to reward those who lead virtuous lives” (Wolf 1974, p. 163). Therefore, when young consumers extract “sincerity brings efficacy” from a complex moral and belief system and elevate it to the ultimate criterion for judging the bracelet’s “value” and the “efficacy” of their own practice, they accomplish a crucial post-subcultural translation. They internalise and simplify the responsibility and authority of religious efficacy, shifting it from external divine reward and punishment and moral discipline to the sincere emotional state invested at the moment of consumption. This self-constructed discourse helps consumers deflect utilitarian criticism while providing legitimate backing for their act of posting and showcasing their bracelets.

Meanwhile, such self-constructed discourse is rooted in China’s indigenous religious and cultural traditions. Many religious notions are transmitted through family upbringing and folk customs and constitute a body of local knowledge shared by generations. As discussed above, the principle of “sincerity brings efficacy” is a cultural habitus that has been passed down for thousands of years. The practice of the Yonghe Temple bracelets should not be understood as a discontinuity with tradition. Instead, these young people grew up accompanying their parents or grandparents to temples before they ever considered purchasing a bracelet of their own. But what they differ from the old generation lies in their emphasis on the relation with the deity and the commitment through consumption. While the elderly continue to maintain a stable relationship with a certain temple or deity, the young people are committed to the bracelets without attaching themselves to either of them.

Within the bricolage of narrative, the act of consumption itself becomes the raw material for self-narration; or rather, consumption constitutes an integral mode of expression. Authenticity no longer stems from doctrinal authority, but emerges from shared emotion and experiential resonance. The experience of Yonghe Temple bracelet buyers inadvertently creates an intertextual link with the historical image of Emperor Yongzheng, who is renowned for his rigorous work and relentless diligence. For instance, many purchasers post online stating, “After asking for a career boost, I’ve been working overtime every day.” This phrasing cleverly connects the bracelet’s career symbolism with Yongzheng’s workaholic habitus. Such a connection is not a strict historical reference, but a form of post-subcultural affective storytelling. Consumers are not worshipping Yongzheng; rather, they are appropriating his popular-culture-simplified symbol of diligence to interpret and dramatise their own struggles and anxieties in the contemporary workplace. It illustrates how cultural symbols operate “as cultural resources actively defined by young people themselves and used as a means of negotiating cultural spaces in local, everyday contexts” (Bennett and Kahn-Harris 2004, p. 172). It echoes the historical RPF narrative logic discussed earlier: historical figures are no longer objects of worship, but are transformed into symbols that resonate emotionally with the present.

Interestingly, some seemingly “critical” or mocking posts actually employ a rhetoric of irony and self-deprecation to inversely construct and reinforce the spiritual efficacy associated with the bracelet symbol. For examples:

It’s true that making wishes at Yonghe Temple works. I wished to get rich overnight, and then I fell and broke my arm. The insurance paid out over 400,000.

I went and wished for my career to sail smoothly and rise to the next level. After that, my office was moved from the second floor to the third floor.

My sister is a nurse. She wished for her department to be less busy and exhausting. Within a month, her department was shut down. Too effective.

I went to Yonghe Temple and wished to make some money in 2024, by whatever means. It dragged on until December, almost 2025, and I still hadn’t earned anything. Then, suddenly, my partner of two and a half years broke up with me and gave me a lump sum as a settlement. I did end up making money.

I’m almost embarrassed to say: I made a wish on Yonghe Temple’s official account to become prettier and thinner. Afterwards, I was hospitalised with pancreatitis for four months and lost 15 kg. I did get a bit prettier.

This narrative of reverse efficacy does not undermine the authority of Yonghe Temple or its bracelets. On the contrary, it humorously confirms the reality of their power. Such a narrative style also resonates with online memes and the abstract play. The abstract play refers to a post-modern discursive game in online communication where participants deliberately employ ambiguous, disjointed, and non-logical symbols and expressions to deconstruct conventional meaning. Its rise reflects, to some extent, a challenge by some youth to established norms. Rather than adhering to fixed patterns and standards, they employ innovative thinking to break conventional expression through nonsensical forms, thereby fully displaying their distinctive individuality (Lan and He 2025). Hence, even seemingly unfortunate incidents are reinterpreted as counter-evidence of the bracelet’s efficacy. These highly postmodern, ironic, even carnivalesque comments often garner hundreds or thousands of likes and interactions due to their creative subversion of traditional blessing narratives and emotional resonance. As Bennett and Kahn-Harris observe, lifestyle attributes “the reflexivity which informs individual consumer creativity to a desire on the part of individuals to take an active part in the making and remaking of their image and identity” (Bennett and Kahn-Harris 2004, p. 13). In stark contrast, a reply that follows the conventional narrative of fulfilment— “Just returned from giving thanks. I made the wish in February and thought I’d missed it, but it came true at year’s end, and it was an impossible opportunity. I’m so happy.”—receives no likes in the comment section, despite its ostensibly positive and normative tone. Everyday superstition is a spontaneous act of symbolic empowerment by netizens, and its participants may not genuinely believe in the fetishistic function of these symbols; rather, they use them to rationalise the risks pointed to by anxiety and concretise the uncertainties they face (Liu 2020). Consequently, the traditional linear narrative of manifestation and fulfilment loses its communicative potency in the flow of meaning because it lacks the space for bricolage, irony, and affective projection that enable secondary creative engagement.

4.3. Intergenerational Continuity, Discontinuity, and the Limits of Incorporation

In summary, the discussion of the affective consumption surrounding Yonghe Temple bracelets illustrates how young people redefine traditional religious symbols through emotionally driven consumer practices. Because, as Maffesoli notes, social life can be determined only in relation to the group, whether directly or á contrario (Maffesoli 1996, p. 79), the consumption of these bracelets inevitably evolves into a collective narrative, forming a fluid neo-tribe. This practice reflects individuals’ active appropriation and bricolage of traditional and popular symbols, through which they share and accumulate cultural capital within affinity-based communities to cope with anxieties.

However, this does not mean that consumption behaviour surrounding the bracelets can entirely avoid discussions of religious knowledge, nor does it represent a complete rupture with the past. For instance, “consecration” (kaiguang 开光) is not only an authoritative Buddhist/Taoist ritual practice, but also a lived experience passed down through generations. A comment with over 600 likes states, “What we are inviting is faith, the blessing of a master, consecration.” This leads directly to a key question: Does consecration truly confirm the uniqueness and irreplaceability of Yonghe Temple bracelets? Consequently, the fluid neo-tribe begins to exhibit internal division: some consumers insist on the locational and ritual orthodoxy of consecration, believing that only bracelets consecrated by monks at Yonghe Temple possess “genuine” efficacy, constructing the bracelet’s scarcity and sacred uniqueness; another viewpoint holds that one can purchase inexpensive bracelets elsewhere and then have them consecrated at Yonghe Temple, which dissolves the monopoly of consecration as an institutional religious authority. In other words, consecration reflects the complexity of discontinuity and continuity in young people’s religious consumption practices. What is discontinued is the compliance with consecration as an institutional religious obligation which means that young people no longer recognize the temple’s monopoly over the discourse of the sacred. What continues, however, is the cultural efficacy of consecration as a traditional practice.

It is noteworthy that once narratives such as “only consecrated bracelets are efficacious” or “only those bought at Yonghe Temple are authentic” become dominant, the originally fluid and creative post-subcultural practice risks being incorporated and commodified. As Hebdige warned: “no amount of stylistic incantation can alter the oppressive mode in which the commodities used in subculture have been produced” (Hebdige 1979, p. 130). When orthodoxy and efficacy must be obtained through specific places, rituals, and price, the young people’s once active, affective, and self-empowering game of meaningful bricolage may regress into a passive adherence to a new form of cultural dominance and consumer preference. Before that day arrives, young people’s wearing of Yonghe Temple bracelets remains, for the most part, a transformed experience of everyday sacred ritual. Unlike the older generation, who used prayer beads as Buddhist instruments for counting mantras and cultivating focus, young people’s bracelet practices have taken on a more self-expressive dimension—at least for now.

5. Conclusions

While this study refers to “young people” for the sake of readability, its findings are primarily drawn from and applicable to a specific segment of Chinese youth, namely, those actively engaged in historical RPF or temple bracelet consumption on social media platforms such as Xiaohongshu and Douban. Their religious habitus is profoundly shaped by Chinese cultural traditions, particularly the family environments in which they were raised. In other words, their individualistic orientation remains deeply embedded within familial inheritance and cultural continuity, as transmission is the cultural precondition that makes transformation possible. It is based on this inherited religious mentality that young people can reinterpret and reappropriate ancestral beliefs and practices, such as the Yonghe Temple bracelets. Thus, rather than inventing a new tradition under the banner of post-subculture, they are better understood as reinventing a mode of meaning-making that resonates with a universal existential experience, building upon the cultural context provided by tradition. Specifically, young people inherit the ritual form of ancestor worship while displacing its object from bloodline ancestors to emotionally resonant historical figures; they continue to employ the efficacy logic of “sincerity brings efficacy” while relocating its source of authority from external deities to the sincerity of personal emotion; and they recognize the weight of “consecration” within orthodox ritual while translating it from a monastery-monopolized ceremony into a legitimizing label available for individual consumer choice. This pattern of selective continuity and transformation operates on two levels: in terms of meaning, it shifts from collective blessings for family prosperity to individual well-being, and in terms of discursive and religious authority, it moves from institutional interpretation monopolised by monks or historians toward self-empowerment centred on personal experience and collective consensus.

The practices of historical RPF and Yonghe Temple bracelet consumption, while seemingly disparate, both exemplify the enduring yet transformed cycle of resistance and defusion that, as Hebdige (1979, p. 130) argued, characterises subcultural life. Historical RPF enacts a narrative transposition of traditional belief across time, whereas the Yonghe Temple bracelet performs a behavioural transduction of religious orthodoxy. To some extent, both practices enact a gentle form of resistance against dominant culture, reconstructing personal emotional rewrites of historical figures through individualised narratives, and dissolving the solemn religious connotations of Buddhist prayer beads through affective consumption. Their commonality lies in creating a fluid, temporary lifestyle through relatively positive means, consumer preferences, and self-selection. However, when youth subcultural resistance shifts from bold stylistic opposition to dispersed affective practices and symbolic play, can it still escape the fate of incorporation? Although it grants individuals meaning and group identity at the micro level, as a visible, sizable cultural practice deeply embedded in consumer markets and digital platforms, it cannot remain outside the broader logics of cultural power and subcultural capital.

Particularly noteworthy is that the two cases examined in this study distinctly appear as highly active, female-dominated subcultural practices on the internet. This may signal a deeper cultural shift; against the declining institutionalised faith, new forms of religiosity characterised by emotional affiliation, symbolic narration, and communal identity are emerging prominently among female groups. This represents both a digital-era continuation of the religious roles traditionally often assumed by women and a potential harbinger of new gender divisions in spiritual life. This finding underscores that gender is not a peripheral issue in digital spirituality. It calls for more systematic attention to how emerging spiritual practices may reproduce, negotiate, or even transform existing gender hierarchies. However, several limitations should be acknowledged. The findings are drawn from two specific cases and platform-specific data (Xiaohongshu and Douban), which limits their generalisability to other contexts or platforms. Consequently, future research should undertake cross-gender comparative analysis to further explore how digital environments are reshaping gender roles and the affective politics within spiritual practice. Other future directions include extending the inquiry to other social media platforms, adopting longitudinal designs to examine temporal dynamics, and testing the theoretical concepts developed here through quantitative methods.