My autobiography is definitely not a tragedy!

The beginning of the book still features a photo of the author.

However, the original photo of him in a hospital gown has vanished.

In its place is an image of himself in a dark blue prison uniform, disheveled beard, sunken eyes, graying hair, utterly expressionless face revealing a mix of defiance and world-weariness…

I must say, the photographer chose an excellent angle.

A cramped room, Spartan furnishings, and that single iron-barred window letting in sunlight.

The gloomy atmosphere was at full throttle!

Meng Lang slumped on the floor, blankly staring at the photo that represented a certain future of his, his eyes filled with endless confusion.

I used to think that with a graceful split jump, I could leap over life's potholes. Little did I know, while I perfectly dodged Hole A, I ended up plunging headfirst into an even deeper Hole B upon landing…

Life's turning points aren't just a crossroad with two options, one leading to darkness and the other to light.

There are countless possibilities, perhaps one leading to darkness, and another to even deeper darkness…

He finally understood that the future can change, but not necessarily for the better; it might get even worse!

At least I managed to live 18 more years in "Miserable Life," right?

This time it's worse, a 10-year meal ticket and setting the record for the shortest survival.

Life is full of traps, and living safely until a ripe old age is just so hard…

…

"Hey, Meng."

"Ah Xian, are you free at noon?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Suddenly felt like talking to someone. Let's have lunch together; my treat."

"Hmm? What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, just feeling down."

"You're… sure you're not asking me out to sell me insurance?"

"…"

"Alright, alright, shall we go to the usual place then?"

"No! Healthy body, healthy soul, healthy people don't eat spicy hot pot."

"Pff! What are you on about with health? You? Not eating spicy hot pot?"

"Yes! Just now, I gave it up!"

Silence on the other end for a good ten seconds. "Looks like it's something serious. Alright then, where do you want to go eat?"

"How about the vegetarian restaurant downstairs from my place?"

"Uh…"

…

Half an hour later, at Liuhe Restaurant.

"What would you like to order, sir?"

The forty-something proprietress, whose charm had withstood the test of time, passed the menu with a particularly gentle voice and inviting eyes to Meng Lang… but to the person across from him.

"My friend will order." Duan Xian, who wore a puzzled expression, slid the menu with its list of unfamiliar dishes over to Meng Lang.

Duan Xian, Meng Lang's college roommate and sworn brother.

In the annual campus web public poll that year, he ranked No.2 among the "Top Ten Campus Hotties!"

Tall and leggy, six feet in height with a perfectly proportioned body, plus the eyes of Andy Lau, the eyebrows of Aaron Kwok, the nose of Tony Leung, and the lips of Takeshi Kaneshiro…

Women looked at him and thought of crime, men looked at him… and wanted to stamp a size 42 shoe print on that pure handsome face deserving of five stars and top grades.

In short, a natural friend to ladies of all ages, a peerless assassin who slayed universally!

Incidentally, the one who ranked first that year was the son of the head of the Political Education Office.

Just from the lovestruck look of the proprietress and the frequent glances from the nearby waitress girls, one could tell the destructive power he had on the opposite sex.

Meng Lang was no longer surprised by this.

He took the menu, glanced over it, and began to call out his choices.

"One steamed potato and radish dish, one plain boiled cabbage, two bowls of chestnut porridge, and add a seasonal vegetable salad.

Less sugar, salt, oil, and no MSG or chicken seasoning, thank you."

"Uh…"

The proprietress was taken aback by Meng Lang's exquisitely demanding "customization," but she quickly recovered her enchanting professional smile.

"Alright, please wait a moment!"

The proprietress personally expedited the order, and in no time the dishes were served.

The crystal-clear steamed potato and radish, the cabbage cut into lotus shapes unfolding in the clear broth, the thoughtfully color-coordinated salad, and the sweet and glutinous aroma of the chestnut porridge.

Plus, there were beautiful waitresses standing by, racing to serve at even the slightest gesture.

One of the benefits of eating out with this guy was that no matter where you dined, you were likely to enjoy Michelin-star-level VIP treatment.

Looking at the delicately prepared dishes without a trace of oil, and then at Meng Lang, who was earnestly sterilizing his cup and utensils with boiling water, Duan Xian was speechless.

This guy couldn't have been switched at birth, could he?

Could you please bring back the normal brother who could brag about the next place to conquer even after getting a stomach upset from gutter oil the day before!

At last, he couldn't help but pose a soul-searching question to Meng Lang.

"So, are you ready to turn over a new leaf and retreat into monkhood or something? Why, man?"

Upon hearing this, Meng Lang, who was daintily holding up his pinkie as he wiped his chopsticks, remained calm.

"Because of the damn survival instinct."

"..."

It took Duan Xian quite some time to regain his ability to speak before he tentatively asked, "What on earth happened?"

Meng Lang, silent, picked up some salad with his chopsticks, chewing on the bland and tasteless spinach. A twitch appeared at the corner of his eye as he struggled to swallow the food.

He slowly put down his chopsticks and then let out a long sigh. "Ah!"

Having died twice in the late stages of stomach cancer made Meng Lang realize just how important a healthy diet was.

Regrettably, during his first life in "Miserable Life", he was completely unaware, and in his second life in "My Struggle", he simply didn't have the conditions for it.

Therefore, pursuing health was absolutely necessary, ranking as the top priority in the "change of fate" series.

Without taking care of oneself, one couldn't even serve out their sentence—how sad that was!

He also planned to find time to go to the hospital for an examination and, by the way, get an endoscopy.

Yes, preferably a painless one.

"It's nothing. I just encountered a hurdle in life that I couldn't get over, and I suddenly appreciated the value of life."

Appreciated the value of life? Hearing this somewhat familiar phrase, along with Meng Lang's strange behavior and low spirits, Duan Xian's face suddenly turned pale.

"No way? Don't tell me… you're terminally ill? It can't be that melodramatic!"

Meng Lang cast a faint glance at him.

"No, not that. But, it should be soon."

"I..."

Duan Xian had a whole basket of complaints but didn't know where to start.

What did he mean by "it should be soon"? Could that kind of thing even be predicted to happen soon?

In fact, Meng Lang had basis for saying this.

He had just taken a moment to search online, and found that stomach cancer, a malignant tumor of the stomach, normally progresses from early to late stages within one to two or three to five years, with the process being very rapid.

So even for the shorter-lived "My Struggle" version of Meng Lang, the normal onset of the disease should be five years later, and that's under extremely poor living conditions.

The current Meng Lang was probably just in the "mild gastritis" stage, a still salvageable sub-healthy state.

Seeing Meng Lang's serious expression and not resembling someone joking, and being uncertain about what he was actually facing, Duan Xian could only offer consoling words.

"Keep starving yourself. Since you can still tell jokes, it probably isn't serious. Life's problems will sort themselves out—you don't have hurdles you can't get over!"

Upon hearing this, Meng Lang seriously asked, "But what if after getting over it, it's still a hurdle?"

"Still a hurdle? Then you just keep going! If one step doesn't do it, take another. It's not like you've only got one leg!"

Meng Lang paused for a moment, then with a face somewhat relieved, he slowly nodded.

"Yeah! What you're saying makes sense. I feel much better now."

"That's right. Come on, tell your brother what difficulty you've encountered, but let me make it clear first—if it's about a woman, save it!"

"Yeah! I know the rules!" Meng Lang nodded.

Talking about Duan Xian setting rules, that story goes back to their college days.

Once, one of Duan Xian's buddies who was doing well had taken a liking to a younger female student and, speaking of this guy's clever schemes, had actually planned a ploy to play the hero and save the beauty.

Unfortunately for him, he didn't hire the right extras and recklessly asked Duan Xian to help make up the numbers.

As one might expect, the outcome was quite obvious.

Although he played the role of the villain, regrettably, his good looks broke through the stocking barrier.

In the end, the younger female student fell for the bandit and developed a severe Stockholm syndrome, and the hero was left crying in the bathroom.

Although Duan Xian repeatedly rejected the girl to clarify his stance, the two still ended up on bad terms, parting on a sour note.

Following that, Duan Xian closed off.

Later, as he let himself go, he often changed girlfriends, which was somewhat related to that incident.

Meng Lang considered his words carefully for a moment before speaking.

"The thing is, it's pretty complicated, and there's a lot I can't explain to you. Let me keep it simple and just tell you what I can explain," he said.

"Okay! Go ahead!" Duan Xian listened with serious attention.

"I'm short on money."

"..."

The worst is when the air suddenly goes quiet, isn't it? When friends suddenly show their concern?

After a long pause, the color of Duan Xian's face changed from pale to white, then from white to black, displaying a range of emotions.

He stared at Meng Lang expressionlessly until Meng Lang awkwardly looked away.

"So you laid out this whole foundation just to borrow money?"

"Not exactly that. I came to you because I really had a heavy heart and needed to talk it out. Once I felt better, that's when I thought of the actual matter," Meng Lang said somewhat sheepishly.

Duan Xian struggled to resist the impulse to dump boiling water and cabbage on his head.

"How much do you want to borrow?"

"That depends on how much our friendship is worth."

"Can our friendship even be measured in money?"

"If it can, I hope you can put a price on it."

Duan Xian: "..."