My autobiography is definitely not a tragedy!
Chapter 130 - 108: The Elderly Bids Farewell to the Young

Chapter 130: Chapter 108: The Elderly Bids Farewell to the Young

"No!"

Meng Lang sat up abruptly from the bed, his eyes filled with panic.

When he regained his senses and saw the familiar surroundings, he breathed a sigh of relief and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

"Huff~ It was just a nightmare."

He couldn’t help but touch his own neck with his hand.

He finally understood why he described his own end with the phrase "a sudden turn in the drawing style."

It was supposed to be a warm family drama, so how did it suddenly turn into a murder scene?

And the adjective used in the last section was also quite concerning.

Biting?

Even if someone wanted to kill me, apart from a psychopath, who would actually use their mouth?

Could it be that they released dogs? That’s just too brutal, isn’t it?

Then there was that back figure mentioned in the title, which seemed to be the killer, but who could it be?

A back figure that I could recognize and had a grudge against me...

And that last sentence, "like that year’s Qingming."

Is it reminding me that the killer will definitely appear on the day of Qingming?

My head hurts.

Fortunately, this tragedy won’t happen until 25 years later, and by my estimate, a big group of brothers are already on their way to investigate the truth...

Looking at the time, it was only 6:30 in the morning, and Meng Lang was no longer in the mood to go back to sleep.

He simply got up, freshened up, and then went downstairs wearing a set of workout clothes.

"Mom, I’m going out for a run!" Greeted by the dawn light, Meng Lang jogged away from the courtyard.

Hearing the noise, two people poked their heads out.

"Uh... what did he say he’s doing?" Mr. Meng, holding a toothbrush with froth in his mouth, turned and asked Yang Hui, who held a spatula.

"It seems... he’s gone out to exercise?" Yang Hui said uncertainly.

"Impossible, that’s not something that stinky kid would do, is it?"

The two looked at each other in bewilderment.

...

"Uncle Gen, out for a walk so early?"

"Auntie Seven, going to buy groceries?"

"Oh! Little Tiger has grown taller again, hasn’t he?"

Greeting familiar faces along the way, the name Meng Family Village told you that this was a village established based on kinship ties, where everyone was somewhat related.

If you encounter a little brat on the road, you might have to call them uncle or aunt.

Meng Family Village was not small, with a village area of 2,400 mu, a cultivated area of 830 mu, 640 households, and a population of 3,650 people.

Although Wu City was a famous big city known far and wide, the economic environment around Wu City was not that great, especially compared to the prosperous areas along the east and southeast coasts.

The locals sarcastically nicknamed their region the "Huanwu City Poverty Belt."

Overpopulation and a scarcity of land were the realities in Meng Family Village.

Besides engaging in semi-mechanical farming, another major economic pillar was animal husbandry.

In recent years, like many other rural villages in the Northeast and central-west, the young people have also been migrating towards coastal cities and major urban areas.

This is a national strategy, an irreversible trend of the times.

Meng Lang ran out of the village, through the fields, over the stone bridge, past the temple—everywhere he went was natural and harmonious, almost as if he had stepped out of an industrial society back into an agricultural one.

Looking at the familiar scenes along the way, Meng Lang felt a wistfulness he had never experienced before.

Retiring here wouldn’t be so bad...

Yet in such a peaceful and tranquil village... a murder? It was truly incomprehensible.

His mind once again drifted to the photo from the book last night.

It was a photo of Meng Lang with his parents.

His parents 25 years in the future had faces full of worldly wrinkles and hair turning white but stood straight up, looking healthy and robust.

If something were to happen to him, what about his parents?

Just thinking about this weighed heavily on his heart.

All sorts of scenes from movies about families being wiped out kept replaying in his mind.

I’ve lived longer and indeed seen a further future, but that future seems to be somewhat cruel...

2043... by then, I’d be 49 years old.

There’s a saying, "Established at thirty, clear about life at forty, and understanding destiny at fifty."

Does it mean I must live another year to understand the truth about my destiny? A short life is an original sin...

"Woof! Woof woof!"

Amid the barking of a stray dog by the roadside, he clenched his fist in the morning sun!

"Brothers, we need to work hard!"

...

After nearly half an hour of running, he was panting and out of breath, his mind felt much emptier, and the negative emotions that had started last night had dissipated quite a bit.

"I’m back!"

"Look over here."

"Click!"

As soon as he entered the yard, Yang Hui took a snapshot of Meng Lang with her new phone.

"Uh... Mom, what are you doing?"

Meng Lang had returned from his morning run, his face covered in sweat and his hair somewhat disheveled, when Yang Hui captured the photo.

Yang Hui looked at the photo on her phone with some satisfaction and nodded before saying with a smile,

"It’s nothing. I’m just taking a photo to show Aunt Liu, to see if she knows any suitable girls to introduce to you."

Aunt Liu, the village’s famous matchmaker, was known as the "Information Center for Eligible Bachelors and Bachelorettes within a Ten Kilometer Radius."

"Uh... Mom! I’m only 24," Meng Lang protested, somewhat exasperated.

"You’re already 24. Did you know your cousin is already planning for a second child?" Mr. Meng came out of the house and said with a hint of disappointment.

Meng Lang was speechless.

That’s why people must read more. Otherwise, your worldview is decided by family and friends.

Yes! That includes views on marriage!

He resignedly sat down at the dining table and served himself a bowl of porridge.

"Dad, the script of my life may be a sequel to my parents or a prequel to my children, but it can’t be a spin-off of my cousin’s, right?"

"Don’t give me that literary talk. If you’re our sequel, then stick to the script. Your mom and I had you when we were twenty, so don’t wait until we’re both gone and still not have a grandchild to hold!"

"Pfft!" Meng Qingqing, who was brushing her teeth nearby, burst out laughing.

"What are you laughing at! I sent your photo too! I’m not holding out much hope, but we’re treating a dead horse as if it’s still alive!" Yang Hui glared at Meng Qingqing.

Meng Qingqing froze in place, letting out a wail of despair.

"You’ve gotta be kidding me! I’m only 20!"

"So what? You’re not of legal marriage age or what?"

"Brother! Whose side are you on?!"

"Shared hardships, right?"

Meng Lang chuckled, then smooth his hair back and struck a pose.

"How about that, Mom? Should I go freshen up and take another shot? I wasn’t prepared earlier, and you can’t take a casual photo for matchmaking, right?"

"No need! I’ve already sent it. Isn’t there a trend for sunny, athletic guys nowadays? I think it looks good! Trust your mom, I’ll definitely find you a nice girl!" Yang Hui winked at Meng Lang.

"... Alright then." As long as you’re happy.

Meng Lang didn’t care much, since he was in Su City anyway, far from the emperor’s reach. He could reject the Twelve Golden Orders just as well.

Speaking of matchmaking, Meng Lang thought of Ou Lu again.

Would Ou Lu’s life have been different if he hadn’t gone to Wu City to buy a house?

Our story ended before it even began...

When he thought about it, it even had a poetic touch, didn’t it?

He shook his head and chuckled to himself.

When going to sweep the graves, he decided to bring an extra bunch of flowers.

...

Going to sweep the graves invariably involved carrying big and small bags, offerings, spirit money, hoes, and sickles...

In the end, when leaving the house, everyone had various items on them.

The group of four slowly entered the somewhat narrow mountain path behind the hill.

Mr. Meng walked in front with two sacks hanging from a carrying pole, the heavy weight bending his figure slightly.

Meng Lang followed him, carrying a hoe, as the morning sunlight filtered through the trees, casting mottled patches of light that landed on Mr. Meng’s figure ahead.

It was then he noticed that Mr. Meng’s once-black temples had unknowingly acquired streaks of white hair, reflecting silver in the sunlight.

His parents had aged unnoticed, and Meng Lang felt a sense of melancholy.

Looking at Mr. Meng’s staggering "Back," his eyes suddenly became unfocused...

For some reason, the cover illustration from the book came to mind.

Gradually, that "Back" and this "Back" began to overlap slowly...

Equally familiar, equally... stooped?

"The path ahead is narrow and difficult to navigate, be careful everyone!"

Just then, Mr. Meng ahead called out and glanced back at Meng Lang.

But in the moment he turned back, Mr. Meng’s face in Meng Lang’s eyes suddenly became distorted and terrifying!

"Clang!" The hoe hit the ground, and Meng Lang stood frozen in place.

"Brother, what’s wrong?" Meng Qingqing asked from behind, puzzled.

Meng Lang seemed not to hear, just staring blankly at Mr. Meng ahead.

So it was really "Back"?

Not just theme, but also truth revealed?

The true ’white-haired person sending off the black-haired person’?!