The newcomer hadn’t spoken in the group chat. Lin Xi got up and cooked a pot of porridge. By the time the sky was fully bright, Chi Xiangping came out while combing her hair. She went to the vegetable garden to harvest greens, then used a feed grinder to chop them before tossing everything into the large pot in the kitchen to cook.
Meanwhile, Lin Xi cleaned the entire house inside and out before deciding to make a trip to the city. Chi Xiangping disliked riding in cars and avoided going to the city unless absolutely necessary. As she put it, the endless streets and identical high-rises left her disoriented.
After breakfast, Lin Xi mixed cornmeal into the pig feed and fed the pigs before grabbing her bag and heading out. The Blue Army Stamp she had tinkered with the night before had been listed on an online vintage marketplace. She’d been too busy that morning to check her messages.
Only after boarding the bus at the village entrance did she pull out her phone and log into the site. To her surprise, her inbox was flooded—some users, seeing she hadn’t responded, had even spammed her with follow-ups.
Scrolling through the messages from the beginning, she watched as the offers climbed from 100,000 yuan all the way up to 200,000, with no signs of stopping.
Lin Xi instinctively clutched her bag tighter. Honestly, carrying something worth over a hundred or two hundred thousand made her suspicious of everyone around her.
Noticing she was online but unresponsive, some buyers even messaged asking to inspect the stamp in person.
After scrolling through the offers, Lin Xi replied to a fellow Yunnan resident whose tone struck her as particularly earnest.
As luck would have it, the buyer—Jia Fugui—was already in Pingyuan City. Upon learning Lin Xi was also there, he immediately offered to drive over. Only after she mentioned she was already on the bus did he relent.
When Lin Xi stepped off at the bus station, she spotted an elderly man in a black Zhongshan suit from afar, a string of Buddhist prayer beads in his hand.
He looked exactly like his profile picture. Lin Xi recognized him at once. "Hello, are you ‘Wealthy as Wangcai’?"
Jia Fugui—whose username was indeed "Wealthy as Wangcai"—studied her briefly before breaking into a jovial grin. "That’s me! You must be ‘Lin Xi of the Stream,’ right? Come, come, let’s chat over there. Have you eaten?"
Hearing her hastily chosen username spoken aloud in real life was oddly embarrassing.
"I’ve already eaten," she replied, following him to a nearby teahouse.
Pingyuan locals loved their tea, and even early in the morning, the place was bustling. Jia Fugui was a regular at many teahouses, and the owner greeted him warmly as soon as they entered.
Noticing Lin Xi was young, Jia Fugui didn’t lead her to a private room. Instead, they settled at a table by the window in the main hall. The owner personally brewed them a pot of premium Tieguanyin tea.
Amid the fragrant steam, Jia Fugui watched eagerly as Lin Xi pulled out the Blue Army Stamp from a sealed pouch in her pocket. The teahouse owner chuckled. "Hey, a Blue Army Stamp! And it’s in excellent condition."
Though not a stamp collector himself, the owner had picked up some knowledge from his enthusiast friends. After glancing between Lin Xi and Jia Fugui, he turned away to grab his phone.
Jia Fugui was practically vibrating with excitement. "It really is well-preserved. After a lifetime of collecting, I’ve finally gotten my hands on a Blue Army Stamp."
As the name suggested, the Blue Army Stamp was a military-issued postal stamp. In the early years of the nation’s founding, these were produced exclusively for soldiers to send mail free of charge.
However, due to concerns that military stamps could inadvertently reveal sensitive information—such as soldiers’ allowances, unit designations, or ranks—their production was swiftly discontinued.
To this day, only four types of military stamps from the 1950s remain: the Blue, Purple, Yellow, and Red Army Stamps. Among them, the Yellow Army Stamp had the longest circulation period and was relatively common. Jia Fugui had already acquired the Purple and Red versions long ago.
The Blue Army Stamp was different. It had been recalled shortly after printing, leaving fewer than a hundred in circulation. Its rarity, combined with the political mystique surrounding it, had driven its value sky-high—even fetching three million yuan at an auction in Hong Kong once.
Jia Fugui examined it meticulously. After decades of collecting, he could spot a fake instantly. In his opinion, this stamp was in even better condition than the one he’d seen on TV.
"Lin Xi, how about this—I’ll give you 300,000 yuan for it," he proposed earnestly. His collection was nearly complete, lacking only this and the "Whole Country is Red" stamp.
Lin Xi had no objections. She agreed without hesitation. Thrilled, Jia Fugui immediately transferred the money via his phone. Lin Xi was equally delighted.
She’d never imagined a single stamp could sell for such an exorbitant price. The items she’d sent Xiang Qianlan couldn’t have been worth more than a thousand yuan. The staggering profit left her feeling almost guilty.
Jia Fugui left in high spirits, eager to show off his new treasure to fellow collectors. Meanwhile, Lin Xi texted Xiang Qianlan.
Xiang Qianlan was just as stunned by the stamp’s value—though her shock quickly gave way to indignation. Furious on behalf of the original owner, she vented her anger by giving Qin Aiguo another beating before leisurely replying to Lin Xi.
[1960s Boxer Xiang Qianlan: Once I gave those things to you, they were yours to keep. The selling price has nothing to do with me. If you really feel bad, just help me sell any other stamps I find in the future.]
Xiang Qianlan had given it some thought. While she was determined to spend the rest of her life battling these idiots, she still needed to eat and live, didn’t she? She’d never done farm work in her life—the special period had forced her hand. But once the reforms kicked in, why would she stay trapped in this backwater village?
[Earth Girl Lin Xi: No problem.] Jia Fugui had already assured her—if she ever came across another rare stamp, he’d offer top dollar.
Satisfied, Xiang Qianlan set down her sickle. When she turned, Qin Aiguo was watching her. Trembling, he ventured, "Auntie next door has frozen persimmons. Do you want some? I’ll go get them."
Xiang Qianlan stared at him, wide-eyed, as if she’d seen a ghost in broad daylight. She was convinced Qin Aiguo had lost his mind. What kind of person took beatings every other day without getting angry?
...
Lin Xi was completely unaware of Xiang Qianlan's inner turmoil. She was stopped by the teahouse owner, who spoke with earnest sincerity, "Young lady, I have a friend who’s also very fond of stamps. If you ever come across such rare stamps again in the future, feel free to contact me directly. My friend will offer prices no lower than Old Jia’s."
Thinking of Xiang Qianlan, Lin Xi accepted his business card. "Alright, if I find more, I’ll reach out to you."
"Wonderful, wonderful! Take care on your way," the teahouse owner said, without a hint of guilt for poaching Jia Fugui’s potential deals. He enthusiastically escorted Lin Xi to the door. Before she had even walked far, his phone rang.
"Why would I lie to you? It really was a Blue Army stamp, perfectly preserved. Old Jia snatched it up… What? Why didn’t I stop him? How could I? The deal was settled so quickly…"
Hearing this, Lin Xi couldn’t help but chuckle. Having just climbed out of poverty into a modestly comfortable life, she couldn’t quite grasp the obsession stamp collectors had for their treasures. After leaving the teahouse, she headed to a rental agency and leased a large warehouse on the outskirts of the city. The space was vast but had been empty for a long time, covered in dust.
Lin Xi immediately hired cleaners through the agency. By the time the place was spotless, it was already afternoon. She locked the warehouse and went to a vehicle dealership, where she bought a tricycle to drive home. It wasn’t that she didn’t want a nicer car, but in the countryside, a tricycle was far more practical and convenient.
Besides, her family had just paid off their debts. If she returned with a fancy car, the villagers would gossip endlessly, and her grandmother would never let her hear the end of it.
On her way back, she stopped at an electronics store to buy a laptop and then ordered a refrigerator and a washing machine from an appliance shop. The fridge at home had been bought when she was ten years old—the upper compartment no longer kept food fresh, and the freezer barely functioned.
Every penny in the past had been stretched to its limit, so replacing it had never been an option. Now, she didn’t have to endure it any longer. And her family had never owned a washing machine before—through freezing winters and scorching summers, all their clothes had been washed by hand.
From now on, as the weather turned colder, washing clothes in icy water would be pure misery. Now that she had the means, she refused to suffer unnecessarily. Winter water was painfully cold—literally numbing her hands until they itched for an entire day after just one wash.
The furniture store promised to deliver the appliances before nightfall. Lin Xi rode her tricycle, puttering along the road home. Along the way, she stopped at a pharmacy to buy medicine.
The long list of medications Lin Duxi had given her mostly consisted of treatments for diarrhea and heatstroke. Lin Xi suspected something serious was happening on his end. By the time she got home, she had gathered a sizable stash of medicine and promptly sent it all to Lin Duxi.
In the post-apocalyptic wasteland, Lin Duxi received the supplies and immediately headed to the base office. The world had grown even harsher in recent days, with temperatures soaring to a scorching forty degrees Celsius. Many had fallen ill from the sudden extreme heat, and Lin Xi’s medicine arrived just in time to ease their crisis.
Driving her tricycle home, Lin Xi spotted Chi Xiangping carrying pig feed. She loaded the feed onto the vehicle and helped Chi Xiangping climb aboard. She didn’t bother telling her to take it easy—Chi Xiangping had worked hard all her life and wouldn’t know how to sit idle. Cutting pig grass wasn’t strenuous labor anyway; it could even count as light exercise.
After dinner, the group chat buzzed with lively conversation. Xu Huanhuan was still exhilarated from her earlier confrontation with her husband, while Xiang Qianlan chimed in occasionally. Ye Bingbing remained silent, and Lin Duxi was too busy to participate.
The newest member of the group still hadn’t spoken, ignoring all attempts to tag her. Lin Xi didn’t press the matter. After chatting for a while, she began searching the local community group—a massive two-thousand-member network spanning several villages, with people from all walks of life. Among them was a family of gold and silversmiths.
Lin Xi planned to have the ruby that Ah Huahua had given as a dowry for her cat, Cao'er, crafted into a necklace.
The jeweler, whose skills had been passed down through generations, was baffled by the request—who in this day and age would commission jewelry for a cat? But business was business, and he wasn’t about to turn it down. Nowadays, most jewelry stores sold mass-produced pieces, and traditional craftsmen like him were rarely sought out except by the elderly. Even his own descendants had no interest in learning the trade.
Determined to impress, the jeweler stayed up late flipping through his design sketches, preparing to showcase his finest work to Lin Xi the next day.
After arranging an in-person meeting for the following day, Lin Xi went to freshen up. As she stepped out of the bathroom, her phone pinged—the silent group member had finally spoken.
[Concubine Ming from the Palace Intrigue World: Hello everyone, my apologies for only now finding the time to reach out. Is anyone still here?]
Far away in the world of imperial intrigue, Concubine Ming sat on the divan in her palace, Yongming Palace, absently tracing the bracelet on her wrist as she watched the flickering candlelight. Her heart was still clouded with confusion.
Fifteen years had passed since she transmigrated into this world—fifteen long years that had dulled her memories of her original life in the future. So when she discovered the chat group embedded in her bracelet that morning, she had been too stunned to speak.
She had pinched herself—hard—to confirm this wasn’t a dream.
Outside, the voices of her trusted maids, Qingxiang and Bai Xin, murmured softly.
Concubine Ming stumbled to her feet and rushed out of the palace. Qingxiang and Bai Xin hurried after her in alarm. She ran into the courtyard, where the moonlight spilled like water over the walls. Gazing up at the enormous, round moon hanging beyond the high palace walls, she wondered—as she had countless times before—whether this was the same moon that shone over her homeland.
For years, the question had haunted her without answer. Now, the truth had arrived so abruptly that she was utterly unprepared.
"My lady, my lady, what’s wrong?" Qingxiang asked gently.
Concubine Ming turned to look at the familiar face of her maid, and suddenly, grief welled up inside her.
In this world, she had borne many names. When she first crossed over, she was the daughter of the Minister of Rites, soon to enter the palace as a concubine. Within those gilded walls, she began as Lady Ming of the Dingxiang Pavilion. Step by cautious step, she had navigated the treacherous court—from Lady Ming to Noble Lady Ming, then to Bright Consort Ming, and finally to her current title: Concubine Ming.
She was just one step away from becoming the most revered woman in the world. It seemed she had everything—her husband’s undivided favor, the respect of lower-ranking concubines, the envy of her peers, and the adoration of her children. Yet, in some ways, it felt as though she had nothing at all.
In this world, those beneath her addressed her as "Your Highness," while those of equal standing called her "sister" or "cousin." The man of this world, the king of this realm, referred to her by the name he had bestowed upon her—Jiaojiao, like the radiant moon.
After being called Jiaojiao for so many years, she had nearly forgotten her original name, even the one she bore in her past life. But today, memories she thought long buried surged back like a tidal wave, bringing with them the pain of remembrance. In that moment, agony overwhelmed her.
Whether in her past life or this one, her name had always been the same—Ming Shu. The "Ming" of the sun and moon, the "Shu" of a woman’s beauty.
