I have terminal brain cancer and the doctor said I have ninety days left. In desperation, I bound myself to a fortune-telling system: as long as I set up a stall at a designated time and place, the more accurate the fortune telling, the longer my life will be. At the door of the Civil Affairs Bureau, I exposed the Internet celebrity fiancé's billions of debts with one sentence, and the bride cried and tore up the marriage certificate - her life was extended for three days. In front of the criminal police team, I counted the broken corpses and unsolved cases with a card, and the old criminal policeman's legs went weak on the spot. The billionaire CEO held up five million and begged me for more fortune telling. I pointed to my watch and said, "It's three o'clock, get off work, please be early tomorrow." The whole Internet was looking for me, the media called me "urban legend", and the rich offered a reward of tens of millions for just one fortune. And I just want to know: Who inserted this tumor in my brain.
