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"This son is the reincarnation of the real dragon, the life of the son of heaven."
When I think of what the fortune teller said to me in the street, I will struggle to pedal the tricycle and shout "collect junk", and my blood will surge, as if I were going to die in an instant.
At noon, the sun is shining, and people who bask in the sun are sleepy. Everyone should take a nap at noon. You shout at the top of your voice to collect junk, and don't let people scold you to death? I also want to go back to sleep and continue collecting junk in the afternoon!
When I got home, I gulped down several cups of cold water and wanted to lie in bed. A nap can save me a lunch!
Yes, I picked up a paper box today. There seems to be something in it. I have to go and see what it is.
The box is opened, and there is something like a helmet inside. Look at the word "God" on the box. Oh! That's right. Isn't this the game advertised on the posters posted in the streets? Oh, my God! God gave me this "real dragon son of heaven", is it pitiful?
Can't wait to come up with the instructions. In fact, although I am a rag collector, I am only 23 years old. Some people may be surprised: "What are you doing at the age of 23, collecting junk?" Isn't this also helpless? I couldn't find a job after graduating from college, so I tore up my diploma in a rage, and now I'm ashamed to go back to see my parents. What can I have in this strange S city? ...
Please confirm and adopt.