Lin Xi sat in the interrogation room, deep in thought.
She didn’t believe the police were colluding with Fu Congsheng and his associates. Yunnan Province was a border region, and Fu Congsheng’s operations involved human trafficking, organ harvesting, and drug manufacturing and distribution.
No police officer would tolerate drug dealers. Rather than suspecting the police of working with Fu Congsheng, she leaned toward the idea that they had been monitoring his gang for a long time but lacked the evidence to act.
Perhaps they had even been nearby tonight. The more Lin Xi thought about it, the more convinced she became.
Ming Shu had been missing for over seven years. Throughout that time, Ming Li had never given up searching for her, visiting the police station every month to check on the investigation. Lin Muxi, the famous actress, had also been frequently summoned for questioning.
With such persistent efforts over the years, Lin Xi doubted the police would be indifferent.
As for the knockout drugs—if the police hadn’t questioned her about them, it was likely because they had witnessed her using them from the shadows.
That raised another problem: how would she explain the origin of those drugs when questioned? Modern society didn’t have such potent knockout agents, nor such miraculous antidotes.
Her thoughts spiraled further. Ever since joining the chat group, she had helped Xu Huanhuan reunite with family, assisted Lin Duxi in reporting a crime, aided Ah Huahua in finding a lost cat, and even brought Ye Bingbing back home.
Then there were the medical supplies and other materials she had purchased—none of it could withstand scrutiny. She couldn’t explain the gold peanuts and jade pendants she had pawned, nor the gemstones adorning her pet grass.
She wouldn’t survive an investigation.
Just as her thoughts grew more tangled, a ding sounded—her phone buzzed with a message from Ming Shu.
[Palace Intrigue Ming Shu: Lin Xi, I still don’t remember anything. But I had a dream. I saw myself lying on a hospital bed, surrounded by people forcing Lin Muxi to do things against her will.]
After the imperial physician’s acupuncture, Ming Shu had fallen into a deep sleep, but she felt as though her soul had floated free. From there, she became a spectator, watching her own body on the hospital bed.
Lin Xi quickly typed a reply: [Earth Girl Lin Xi: You must have seen the real world. The real you isn’t dead.]
She then recounted the night’s events in detail.
Ming Shu read the message three times, her eyes reddening with grief. She couldn’t bear imagining the suffering Lin Muxi had endured for her sake.
At that moment, she wished she were dead. The thought of Lin Muxi’s torment made her yearn to go back and cut down every person who had hurt her.
As Lin Xi sent the message, the door opened. A police officer in a blue uniform walked in.
Lin Xi straightened in her seat. Then, her phone vibrated again. A glance at the screen widened her eyes:
[System Alert: Member Earth Girl Lin Xi is at risk of exposure. Would you like to utilize the chat group’s rationalization function?]
[PS: Using this function will deduct 5% of the host’s task rewards.]
Without hesitation, Lin Xi selected Yes. It wasn’t that she lacked patriotism or refused to report the chat group—she simply believed the group was too unpredictable.
Though she had gained much from it, she hadn’t fully grasped its mechanics. For instance, new members only appeared when she visited certain locations—like Xiang Qianlan in Jingzhou or Ming Shu in Pingyuan City. Yet when she went to Meng City yesterday, no one joined.
Moreover, features like the automatic rationalization function and Ye Bingbing’s emergency escape had triggered randomly, without discernible patterns.
As for trading supplies, aside from her large-scale exchange with Lin Duxi, most other transmigrators didn’t need bulk resources.
Given all this, Lin Xi felt it wasn’t the right time for her transmigrator chat group to be discovered. If the system could cover for her, all the better.
The moment she confirmed her choice, the officer reached her. He smiled. "Miss Lin, don’t be nervous. We’re just conducting a routine inquiry."
Lin Xi, like most ordinary people, felt a natural tension around law enforcement—something she attributed to respect for authority.
The questions were straightforward. When the knockout drugs came up, Lin Xi followed the prompt on her phone, claiming she had bought them from an online store.
Taobao, China’s largest e-commerce platform, sold everything under the sun. The saying went: If you can’t find it on Taobao, it probably doesn’t exist. Not long ago, someone had even purchased human tissue there, sparking a viral scandal.
The police took the matter seriously, noting down the store details and order number. For the latter half of the interview, Lin Xi endured a twenty-minute lecture on legal responsibility.
The officer’s reasoning was sound, and Lin Xi earnestly vowed never to buy such dangerous items again, pledging to be a law-abiding citizen henceforth.
By the time she was allowed to leave, it was 4 a.m. Stepping out of the station, she hadn’t gone far when someone called her name. She turned to see Ming Li, who had been waiting outside.
Half an hour earlier, Ming Shu had been transferred to the intensive care unit at Wufeng Town Hospital, under police guard. After much deliberation, Ming Li had decided to personally thank Lin Xi.
She knew that without Lin Xi’s intervention tonight, she and the others would have fallen into Fu Congsheng’s hands. The police had been investigating his operations for years.
Officer Zhang, who had taken their statements, had even admitted that Lin Xi’s timely use of the knockout drugs had spared them a lengthy pursuit. After all, Wufeng Town had a private airstrip—and Fu Congsheng’s plane was parked there. Had they been loaded onto it, no ground vehicle could have caught up.
"Miss Lin, thank you," Ming Li said, her gratitude profound.
Lin Xi reflected that in this past month alone, she had received more heartfelt thanks than in her entire twenty-plus years of life.
"Auntie, no need to thank me. It's just helping out when seeing injustice. Besides, I was acting on someone's request," Lin Xi waved at Ming Li before she could speak further. "I haven't slept all night and I'm exhausted. I’ll head out now, and we can catch up later, alright?"
With Lin Xi saying this, Ming Li had no choice but to swallow the many words she wanted to say. "Alright," she replied.
Lin Xi turned away with a carefree air, yawning as she left. Ming Li stood at the police station entrance, watching her go, her mind racing through name after name, trying to figure out who could have possibly asked Lin Xi for help. In the end, she was left with no clues.
Back at her hotel room, Lin Xi stripped off her clothes and collapsed onto the bed, falling asleep instantly. Over the years, she had maintained a fairly regular sleep schedule, rarely staying awake past three or four in the morning.
The next morning, when Lin Xi woke up, the group chat was already buzzing. Glancing at the time, she realized it was already noon. In her private chat with Da Mingbao, there was a message saying she planned to sleep in and they’d regroup in the afternoon.
The message had been sent at five in the morning, when the sky was still dark and Lin Xi had been deep in sleep.
She got up, freshened up in the bathroom, and was about to order takeout when Da Mingbao showed up, yawning. The two went downstairs together for a meal, indulging in Yunnan specialties—sour red bean soup with rice.
The rice was a mix of cornmeal and white rice, served with a bowl of sour red bean soup, a side of pickled tofu, and a dipping sauce made with chili and fish mint. The price was incredibly cheap—just ten yuan for two dishes and a bowl of rice.
The two ate heartily, and Lin Xi patted her stomach contentedly. "This is exactly what I crave when I’m away from home."
This meal was practically a trap for every child from Yunnan.
Da Mingbao chuckled as she sipped the broth from the pickled tofu. "Of course. Even though I’m home all the time, I still eat this at least once or twice a month. If I don’t, I feel like something’s missing."
After leaving the food stall, they strolled through the ancient town with the crowd, taking plenty of photos together.
By the afternoon, Sun Xianquan had mostly wrapped up his work, and the group packed up to head back. On the way, Lin Xi noticed several police vehicles speeding past.
Sun Xianquan remarked, "Something big happened last night. Rumor has it that the company Lin Muxi is signed to is involved in criminal activity. All their artists have been taken in for questioning."
Sun Xianquan’s connections in Wufeng Town were clearly solid—he’d already heard about the incident that morning.
Da Mingbao was startled. "The entire company was called in? Do you think it has anything to do with that girl with the surname Ming?" she whispered.
Sun Xianquan shook his head. "No one knows the exact details yet. But I’d say the entertainment industry is in for a major shake-up."
His prediction turned out to be accurate. By evening, news of the arrest of the CEO of Douchuang Media had already trended on social media. Lin Muxi and other celebrities under the company quickly issued statements announcing their departure.
Insiders began leaking a mix of truths and rumors—accusations of Douchuang Media forcing artists into unethical arrangements, using shady contracts, and exploiting their talents.
That night, the internet erupted in chaos. Waves of netizens flooded social media, leaving comments under every related post.
Meanwhile, Ming Shu had been missing all day, only reappearing in the group chat that night to ask Lin Duxi for medicine.
Lin Duxi responded quickly:
[Post-Apocalyptic Wasteland Lin Duxi: HIV is essentially a virus. It attacks immune cells, weakening the body’s defenses. Gene repair fluid can fix this.]
He wasn’t wrong:
[During the early days of the wasteland, experiments proved that gene repair fluid could cure diseases like this.]
Ming Shu immediately replied:
[Palace Drama Ming Shu: Can we trade, then?]
[Post-Apocalyptic Wasteland Lin Duxi: Sure. I need plants—food crops and medicinal herbs, preferably in large quantities.]
[Palace Drama Ming Shu: Got it. Can we arrange the exchange through Lin Xi?]
[Post-Apocalyptic Wasteland Lin Duxi: Fine by me.]
As the two negotiated in the chat, Lin Xi suddenly smacked her forehead, realizing how foolish she’d been.
Aside from Lin Duxi from the post-apocalyptic world, the group also had A Huahua from the primitive era, Xu Huanhuan from ancient times, Ming Shu from the palace drama world—and Ye Bingbing from the CEO world!
Her previous encounters with the absurdities of the CEO world had given her a biased impression of Ye Bingbing’s universe.
But now, it hit her—she could have taken Lin Duxi’s order and then placed one with Ye Bingbing. After all, Ye Bingbing’s CEO world had merged with a normal one, and she had even handed herself over to the government! Whether it was food or medicine, Ye Bingbing’s world could easily supply Lin Duxi’s needs.
Lin Xi could have simply acted as the middleman, skimming a profit without all the unnecessary risks.
She was so frustrated with herself she could cry.
When Ming Shu’s group message arrived, she was still stewing in her own regret. Grumbling internally, she played her role as the intermediary, sending the requested plants to Lin Duxi and keeping the gene repair fluid for Ming Shu, waiting for the right moment to deliver it to Ming Li and Lin Muxi.
Just then, a system notification flooded the chat:
[System Notification: Congratulations to group member @Earth Girl Lin Xi for earning the title ‘Middleman.’ PS: From now on, when Lin Xi facilitates trades, a small handling fee will be deducted. Please take note.]
The moment this message appeared, the words "Middleman" in pink appeared before Lin Xi’s name in the chat.
The announcement instantly drew reactions from everyone in the group. No one objected to Lin Xi’s new privilege.
After all, the Transdimensional Chat Group had brought these wanderers together, and Lin Xi, still on Earth, was like family to them. Their bond was special.
After some chatter, the system sent another message:
[System Notification: Earth Girl Lin Xi has completed the task posted by @Palace Drama Ming Shu. Reward—Lanting Xu Anthology—has been sent to Lin Xi’s inventory. PS: This reward is a cultural relic. Handling fee: "Lanting Xu Anthology—Facsimile Edition."]
[System Notification: As this is a cultural relic, to preserve its historical value, the system will automatically imprint it with traces of time.]
Lin Xi’s bag—the same one she’d carried for years—now held a sandalwood box. Inside lay a book with yellowed pages, exuding the aura of centuries past.
The group clamored to see it, and Lin Xi snapped several photos to share with them.
After taking the photos, Lin Xi carefully closed the box, planning to send it to the museum in Yunnan Province when she had the time.
...
In the ancient palace intrigue world, Ming Shu smiled and lay under the blankets after hearing Lin Xi's agreement.
Ever since her previous headache, her health seemed to have deteriorated significantly. Even after so much time had passed, she still often felt breathless, and her complexion had grown alarmingly pale.
Ming Shu couldn’t shake the inexplicable feeling that her days were numbered.
In the past, she had feared death. She had always believed that even a miserable life was better than a good death. She felt that the ten years she’d skipped over—from twenty-two years old to suddenly being a girl of fourteen or fifteen—were stolen time.
So, to survive, she had lived cautiously, not daring to take a single wrong step. But now, faced with the certainty of death, Ming Shu’s heart had settled into an unexpected calm.
She was exhausted. After sending a message in the group chat, she closed her eyes and sank into a deep sleep.
When she woke again, it was already dark. The palace was lit by candlelight, and she sensed someone beside her. Turning her head, she saw the emperor’s sleeping face.
Perhaps he was so accustomed to frowning that even in sleep, his brow remained furrowed.
Ming Shu pushed back the covers, slipped on her shoes, and walked to the window to stand there.
It was summer, but the night breeze carried a faint chill. She had always preferred keeping her windows open, and tonight was no exception. She gazed blankly into the courtyard, lost in thought.
Footsteps sounded behind her, but she didn’t turn around. A cloak draped over her shoulders, bringing warmth.
"Jiaojiao, the night is cold. Why are you out of bed?" Perhaps because the moonlight was too beautiful, the wind too gentle, the emperor’s voice had softened as well.
Ming Shu tightened the cloak around herself. "I couldn’t sleep. I just wanted some air."
The emperor pulled her into his arms, and she leaned against him quietly. Fifteen years—she had loved, resented, and hated this man. But now, there was no hatred or resentment left. On nights like this, resting against his shoulder gave her an indescribable sense of security.
Ming Shu knew it was just an illusion born of loneliness. After living in the palace for so long, any man could give her this same illusion.
The emperor said nothing. They stood together in silence for nearly half an hour before returning to bed.
Before falling asleep, Ming Shu heard the emperor say that Yang Zhao would be staying in the palace for a few days starting tomorrow. At that, she finally smiled.
She wasn’t afraid of death, but in this world, the ones she couldn’t bear to leave behind were Yang Zhao and the few palace attendants who had served her from the outside world into the palace. All the treasures she had once adored in her youth now seemed trivial.
The next morning, the first thing Ming Shu saw when she opened her eyes was Yang Zhao. His eyes were red—her illness that day had frightened him badly.
She reached out and took his hand, but the words of comfort stuck in her throat. She no longer had the will to keep fighting for her life.
Yang Zhao buried his face in her lap, and soon she felt the fabric at her waist grow damp with his tears.
Ming Shu’s own eyes reddened. Stroking his soft hair, she wished with all her heart that her A’Zhao would live a long, peaceful life.
She was too tired of living like this and didn’t want to continue.
Suddenly, Ming Shu remembered a time-travel drama she had watched before crossing over. The female lead, too, had withered away in the depths of the palace, her vibrant spirit slowly fading until she was gone.
The thought made her laugh at herself. She hadn’t even lived as fully as that heroine, who at least had a life full of drama and passion.
She, on the other hand, had spent all her years confined to these few square feet of the palace.
With no hope left, Ming Shu’s health declined rapidly. In just half a month, she was bedridden.
During that time, Yang Zhao stayed by her side, and the emperor visited whenever his duties allowed.
Sometimes, looking at the emperor and Yang Zhao beside her, Ming Shu’s mind would drift.
She thought—if this man, with his noble lineage and striking looks, had existed in the modern world, she would have fallen for him without hesitation.
What a pity. They had met in the wrong time, the wrong place.
A spoonful of medicine was brought to her lips. The bitter scent made her turn her head away. "Your Majesty, when I’m gone, please be kind to our A’Zhao. That’s the only thing I ask of you in this lifetime."
Ming Shu pleaded with the emperor. After more than a decade in the ruthless harem, she had to secure her son’s future before she died. She wanted him to live a long life.
A flicker of pain crossed the emperor’s eyes. After a pause, he said, "Don’t speak nonsense. The imperial physicians will cure you."
His words sounded as much for himself as for her. Ming Shu smiled softly and agreed, but inwardly, she sneered.
Damn men. Even emperors were the same. Ten years ago, when Concubine Wang died, this dog of an emperor had worn the same mask of deep affection.
Honestly, it was enough to make her sick.
Ming Shu had no desire to humor him further. She drank the medicine and lay down to sleep. The emperor watched her for a long time before summoning the imperial physician.
The lamps in Ming Shu’s chambers burned through the night. The emperor sat alone in the side hall, sleepless.
Ming Shu dreamed of the modern world again. This time, she was in a different hospital room, still lying motionless as her mother carefully wiped her body with a towel.
A thin but beautiful woman entered with a lunchbox. Her mother went to eat, and the other woman took over, gently cleaning her before sitting beside her, talking endlessly.
Ming Shu tried to speak to them, but no matter how loudly she shouted, they didn’t react.
She struggled to move closer to the figure on the bed, but she couldn’t reach them.
Frustrated, she woke in a panic—only to find herself still in the palace. Clutching her bracelet, she opened the group chat and typed:
[Palace Intrigue Ming Shu: I dreamed of the modern world again. I don’t think I have much time left.]
The group already knew about her failing health. They had offered comfort many times before.
But words were hollow. Some of them even envied her in secret.
For those stranded in other worlds, death meant release.
The others, including the perpetually busy Ye Bingbing, had been logging in at set times these past few days. Ming Shu had been the last to join the group, and her time with them had been far too short.
Yet they still needed this companion, and watching her approach death weighed heavily on their hearts.
Lin Xi, however, was always online, chatting with Ming Shu.
With the silent companionship of the group members, Ming Shu’s mood improved significantly.
Especially on this day—she managed to sit up in bed, even stood in the courtyard for a while, and ate half a bowl of food during mealtime.
Ming Shu was smiling, but everyone else wore sorrowful expressions. Yang Zhao, in particular, stayed by her side without leaving even a step.
The emperor set aside all official duties to accompany her.
They watched the sunset together in the courtyard. When they returned indoors, Ming Shu suddenly felt dizzy. The emperor, noticing something was wrong, scooped her into his arms, laid her on the bed, and frantically called for the imperial physicians.
The physicians had been waiting in the adjacent hall. Hearing the emperor’s voice, they rushed over in a panic.
Ming Shu held Yang Zhao’s hand tightly—only now did she realize how much she couldn’t bear to leave.
She caressed his cheek. "A-Zhao, when Mother is gone, you must take care of yourself. Eat well, exercise, grow tall and strong, and live a safe, peaceful life, alright?"
Yang Zhao knelt by the bed, tears streaming down his face like broken pearls.
Ming Shu then reached for the emperor’s hand and, with great effort, placed Yang Zhao’s hand in his. "Third Brother, A-Zhao is our child—our only child. When I’m gone, he’ll have no mother left. Only you can protect him now. Promise me you’ll raise him well."
The emperor gripped her hand tightly, his eyes reddened.
Seeing him like this, Ming Shu suddenly remembered the time she first fell for him, and she smiled.
"Third Brother, I won’t live to see next year’s magnolia blossoms. When they bloom, will you look at them for me?" Her words sent tears cascading down the emperor’s face.
Ming Shu raised her hand to touch his cheek. In both her lifetimes, she had never experienced love—the emperor was her first. Facing death, it seemed all the bitterness had faded, leaving only the sweetest memories behind.
How she wished time could freeze in those moments. Perhaps that had been the happiest period since she transmigrated into this world.
"Promise me."
The emperor stroked her hand. "I will. I’ll protect A-Zhao and watch him grow."
Ming Shu nodded with a smile, then pulled Yang Zhao into her arms. "My baby, my baby… Mother can’t bear to leave you. I can’t bear it."
"Baby" was Yang Zhao’s childhood nickname, one Ming Shu hadn’t used since he was old enough to remember. Her reluctance to part with him now reached its peak.
Yang Zhao sobbed openly. Ming Shu kissed his cheek and whispered several apologies.
Everyone in the hall knelt, their cries filling the room.
With her heart aching for Yang Zhao, Ming Shu closed her eyes.
The funeral bell echoed through the palace, and countless servants wailed in grief.
Ming Shu, now unaware and weightless, drifted through the air, carried by the wind across the vast landscape.
She felt no passage of time, but when she reappeared in the capital, she saw a young man of eighteen or nineteen riding through the streets on horseback.
Ming Shu heard those around him address him as the Second Prince. She looked closer—he was tall and handsome, just as she had hoped. She followed him back to his residence.
He had already married and been granted the title of Prince Ming. His household held no concubines, only his princess. Seeing this, Ming Shu smiled in contentment.
She then visited the palace again. The emperor had aged considerably, and on his desk stood a single magnolia blossom.
Ming Shu suddenly realized—spring had arrived. As this thought crossed her mind, a voice spoke.
[Group member Ming Shu, due to special circumstances, your body remains intact. You may return from the imperial intrigue world to reality. Do you wish to proceed?]
[Upon return, memories of the group chat will be erased, and recollections of the ancient world will fade.]
Ming Shu hesitated briefly before quickly selecting "Agree."
At the same time, in a hospital in Meng City, Lin Xi received a message visible only to her.
A chat box appeared before her: [Group member Earth Girl Lin Xi, do you consent to Ming Shu’s return from the imperial intrigue world?]
Lin Xi glanced at Ming Li and Lin Muxi, who had already taken the genetic restorative serum, then tapped "Agree." Afterward, she left, with Ming Li seeing her off.
Once Lin Xi was gone, Lin Muxi went to check on Ming Shu—and suddenly gasped. "Auntie! Auntie! I saw Ming Shu’s finger move!"
Ming Li whirled around and sprinted toward Ming Shu, stumbling in her haste but feeling no pain.
Doctors, hearing Lin Muxi’s shout, rushed over.
Lin Xi, standing at the stairwell, listened to the commotion behind her and smiled.
She didn’t know why the group required her approval for a member’s return, just as she didn’t know how she had acquired this chat group in the first place. But she felt she understood it a little better now.
Ming Shu’s return filled her with joy. She hoped Ming Shu would live a long, healthy, and happy life from now on.
If that could be, then their meeting would not have been in vain.
