NOVEL NEXT Chapter 1:
Chapter 1: The Time-Space Mailbox—Writing a Letter to Your Past Self?:
“What kind of delivery is this? Did I order something?”
Lin Xian looked at the package he had just signed for, feeling completely puzzled.
“Maybe it’s from a friend,” the delivery guy casually suggested.
Lin Xian brought the package into his room and opened it.
Inside was a small, strange red mailbox, roughly the size of an electric kettle.
“This must be a children’s toy… Is this some kind of prank?”
Inside the package was also a letter.
Lin Xian opened it to take a look. The handwriting was a bit sloppy, about the same level as his own.
The letter was brief:
[This is a time-space mailbox that can send letters to the past!]
[Be sure to include the recipient, address, and delivery time on the envelope!]
[And don’t forget to attach a stamp! The postage is always 1 yuan!]
“Hah, this has got to be a joke.”
Lin Xian chuckled.
Sending letters to people in the past? Ridiculous.
He didn’t pay much attention to it. Though he didn’t know who was behind this prank, he figured the culprit would show up sooner or later.
After a busy day, Lin Xian felt exhausted. He lay down on the sofa and turned on the TV…
Beep!
“Now! The thrilling moment of the Double Color Ball lottery draw!”
“Just one more number to go! Let’s spin the machine!”
On the TV, the live broadcast of the lottery draw was underway. Most of the numbers had already been revealed; only the final one remained.
In the draw machine, dozens of numbered ping-pong balls swirled around. Eventually, one rolled out with the number “06” written on it.
The host enthusiastically picked up the microphone:
“It’s 06! The basketball number is 06! Congratulations to all the lucky winners!”
Lin Xian watched the overjoyed host on the screen with indifference.
He had long since stopped believing in the “fairness and transparency” of lotteries. To him, it was just a game rigged behind the scenes.
“If only I could go back in time… and know the winning numbers in advance.”
“Hmm?”
That thought made Lin Xian glance at the small red mailbox on the table.
The label claimed it could send letters to the past.
…
“Interesting.”
Lin Xian smirked helplessly. Might as well treat it as a bit of fun.
In modern times, who even writes letters anymore? Envelopes were more often used for gifting money, and stamps were collector’s items.
By coincidence, though, Lin Xian’s job did involve using envelopes. As for stamps, he didn’t collect them, but his father had given him a set when he was a child.
“Got it.”
Digging through a small box of childhood keepsakes, Lin Xian found the stamp set.
There were four stamps in total, featuring a zodiac theme. Each had a face value of 50 cents.
Now that he had an envelope and stamps, all that remained was to write the letter.
Lin Xian took out a sheet of A4 paper and a pen, thinking about what to write.
“If I actually received a letter like this, wouldn’t I assume it was a prank too?”
“I need to make it convincing, so the past me doesn’t think it’s a joke!”
With a plan in mind, Lin Xian started writing effortlessly:
[Dear Past Me,]
[Hello.]
[To you, I’m your tomorrow self. This is a letter I’m writing to you from the future.]
[Don’t worry about whether this is a prank. Let me share a little secret only we would know…]
[When you were in elementary school, you secretly wrote a love letter to your Chinese teacher and hid it in your homework book. You even wrote it in pinyin! But the teacher treated it as homework, graded it, and left comments like, ‘S, C, Z and SH, CH, ZH are confused—rewrite it!’]
[Relax, no one else found out. It’s just between us.]
[Now you believe me, right? I’m you, your future self.]
[Here’s the important part: This week’s Double Color Ball numbers are XX-XX-XX-XX-XX-XX-05.]
[Remember it? Buy a ticket for 2 yuan. I wouldn’t lie to you about this!]
[Sincerely, Your Tomorrow Self]
…
Lin Xian intentionally changed the last number of the jackpot combination from “06” to “05.”
The correct number was 06, but he altered it to avoid creating a butterfly effect.
With one wrong number, he’d still win second prize—worth hundreds of thousands. Greed had its limits. Too much, and the “operators” might change the winning numbers entirely, leaving him with nothing.
“Done.”
Lin Xian folded the A4 paper, slipped it into an envelope, and sealed it with glue.
He wrote down the recipient, address, and set the delivery date to “yesterday.”
Finally, he attached two 50-cent stamps.
Everything was ready.
Lin Xian patted the red toy mailbox.
Completely ordinary.
Whoosh!
He slid the envelope into the slot without looking back.
“Time to wash up and get some sleep!”