Lunar Farmer: Richest Man, Regretful Ex

I'd just finished working out in the fields, but there I was, holding a small cake and rushing to see my girlfriend, Priscilla Reed.

I'd forgotten that this mud-splattered version of me was the one she hated to see most.

Downstairs at the female dorm, a few young women were chattering away.

"Priscilla, are you and Jeremy Stark together now?"

"You're amazing. You even have a rich kid like Jeremy wrapped around your finger."

Their fawning made me stop in my tracks. I thought I would hear Priscilla deny it and explain everything, but I only saw her lower her head shyly.

"Don't be silly. We're just friends. Jerry just invited me to a concert, that's all," she said.

The other women exchanged looks and giggled.

"Just a concert, huh? Then why didn't he invite me to it?"

"He's obviously pursuing you. When are you going to set up dinner so we can help you check him out?"

One of them said enviously, "Then again, it makes perfect sense. Priscilla is rich and pretty herself. It's only natural that another rich kid is pursuing her."

A sharp pain shot through my chest. Priscilla and I had grown up together, and she'd also been my girlfriend for the past four years. Yet she had never once acknowledged our relationship in front of anyone.

She'd once said, "Is it really that important to go public? Loving someone is something you keep in your heart. It's not just about pinning a chat in WhatsApp."

But once, I accidentally saw that she had pinned her chat with Jeremy.

She'd lied to me over and over again, and I'd backed down each time because I loved her. This time, though, I didn't want to back down anymore.

I stepped out from under the shade of a tree. Priscilla froze when she saw me, but she still remembered to turn to her roommates and explain, "My upperclassman from the student council needs to talk to me about something. You guys go on ahead, okay? I'll be right back."

I was the upperclassman, and Jeremy was "Jerry". It was clear who was near and dear to her.

Priscilla's roommates weren't in any rush to leave, though. One of them glanced at the cake I held and sneered. "Some people really don't know their place. They're really reaching beyond their league."

She slowly ran her eyes over my muddy clothes. "Priscilla's bag alone costs several thousand dollars. Can you even earn that much in a lifetime?"

I was the one who'd bought that bag for Priscilla last week, wasn't I?

Afraid I would expose her, Priscilla hurriedly grabbed my arm and dragged me off to the side. "Don't say that. There's nothing shameful about earning money with your own two hands."

From a distance, I could still hear her roommate saying, "Priscilla's just too nice. Her family's loaded, yet she doesn't look down on that farm boy."

In the shade, Priscilla's expression turned cold as she demanded, "What are you doing here?"

I held the cake out to her. "I wanted you to—"

I didn't even get to finish saying that I wanted her to celebrate my birthday with me before the cake was slapped out of my hands. It hit the ground and turned into a splattered mess.

Priscilla said impatiently, "I already told you I'm on a diet and can't eat sweets. Why can't you get that through your head?"

Her expression turned icier, and a flash of disgust flickered through her eyes.

It wasn't just the cake that lay in pieces on the ground. My broken heart lay there with it.

I finally couldn't hold it in anymore. All the grievances I'd swallowed over the years surged out at once. "Don't think I don't know you're going to that concert with Jeremy Stark tonight."

I thought that, at this point, Priscilla would at least look guilty. I was wrong.

"Since you already know the truth, then why bother questioning me?" She lazily toyed with her freshly done nails. They'd cost 250 dollars, and I'd paid for them.

She continued, "I just want a better life. What's so wrong about that? If you want to blame someone, blame the fact that you were born in some backwater town and will never make it big in your whole life. Jerry, on the other hand, was born with a silver spoon.

"Oh, and also blame yourself for insisting on majoring in agriculture. You always reek of dirt and mud that never washes off. I play the violin, and my roommates either play piano or cello. How am I supposed to hold my head high if they find out I have a farmer for a boyfriend?"

The more she spoke, the more worked up she became. In the end, her face was blotchy with anger.

Before I could say anything in response, a lazy male voice drifted over. "Priscilla, I'm here to pick you up for barbecue. I also wanted to return the thing you left in my car."

As he spoke, he pulled a crumpled pair of red lace panties from his pocket.