The Real Young Master Only Loves Fortune-Telling and Has No Interest in Rejoining His Family

In my seventh year telling fortunes from a stall on an overpass, I had just evaded the urban management officers and was setting up when a woman covered in jewelry suddenly appeared, crying and claiming to be my mother. I scratched my face and calmly nodded. The young woman behind her, wearing heavy makeup, looked at me with disdain and mocked me. “With an attitude like his, we shouldn’t have come looking for him. Let him fend for himself here!” Not far away, a balding man was hurrying over with a fair-skinned boy. I propped my chin on my hand and looked at the group, whose intentions were unclear, then let out a deep sigh. A weepy mom, a bald dad, a short-tempered sister, and a dimwit brother. I really couldn’t understand what kind of attitude I was supposed to have toward the calamity fate had dealt me.