I am a person of low status. No one has really cared about me since I was a child, not even a real concern. I am a little bastard who has been scolded since I was a child. My mother is a mistress, so I am her drag. Since I was born, I have lived in a gap. I have never read a book and am illiterate. I have never thought about changing my life. The feeling of fate suddenly came to me. Whether this is good or bad, who can tell clearly? That winter, my mother was lying on the bed, her subtle breathing echoing in the air. I lay beside the bed and looked at my mother's pale face quietly. He told me that I also had a father, who was a rich man. My mother gave me another piece of yellow wrinkled paper with a series of phone numbers written on it. She told me, call this number and say my name to the person inside, and someone will pick you up and take you to a new place.