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My autobiography is definitely not a tragedy!

Suddenly, the mysterious book I received turned out to describe my own life? Once I chose to change my destiny, the life within the book changed as well. In the book, I encountered insincerity, spent ten years behind bars, and witnessed viruses laying Siege... Cancer, bus plunging off cliffs, plane crashes, senile dementia ... even the end of days – a variety of deaths; was this fate's punishment for the rebels? No one is a hero; it is just that this disaster-ridden fate forcibly made me into a warrior charging into battle. Those who killed me over and over will ultimately make me stronger! Through numerous life simulations, I amassed wealth from the financial markets, rescued innocent girls from felons, and acquired advanced technology from the future... Although I always encounter various disasters and accidents, I still strive to flutter the butterfly's wings, changing my original fate little by little. After countless simulations, the world too embarked on a completely different path. However, where did this autobiography come from? Behind it all, what kind of unknown conspiracy is lurking... [A literary man's laid-back daily life of unlimited simulations to save the world]

Empty green · Sci-fi
Not enough ratings
333 Chs

Chapter 32 Good Man

"At least it's a third prize..." Meng Lang could only console himself.

Seven numbers, fourteen digits, ten thousand yuan; by any measure, his autobiography was close to the old saying 'every character worth its weight in gold.' Even a mosquito's leg is flesh, after all!

As for why the winning lottery numbers were stirred up by this little butterfly...

Forget it, forget it, knowing too much is no good for oneself.

"Ahem! I'll go see if there's anything I can help with."

Meng Lang felt the secondary harm from the joyful atmosphere in the room and decisively found an excuse to escape to the kitchen.

"Hey! You..." Lin Haitang seemed to want to stop him, but Meng Lang had already dived into the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Xiao Yu was wearing a small apron, standing on a stool, making a dish of braised pork. The fragrant aroma of cooked dishes was pervasive, making one's mouth water.

Seeing Meng Lang suddenly enter, Xiao Yu turned her head.