After the Fake Young Master Betrayed the Australian Farmer - Chapter 2

“The scenery is nice. Next time, remember to invite me.”

As Friday evening approached, Han Yan’s colleague, Julie, asked if he wanted to join them for a trip to the city over the weekend.

The city’s Pitt Street was home to countless luxury boutiques of all sizes; it was a verified shopping paradise. In the past, Han Yan would stroll through there whenever he was bored. Sales associates from every brand kept the latest seasonal pieces specifically for him. He did not even need to try the clothes on himself; he would simply watch models with his exact physique walk in front of him. If he liked an item, he kept it; if not, he casually tossed it to whichever friend was accompanying him.

Thinking about those clothes, which he once viewed as cheaply as cabbages, and then looking at the money he now slaved away for made Han Yan’s teeth ache with bitterness.

In fact, when he was first cut off, Han Yan did not think much of it. When he lacked cash, he sold off the jewelry and clothes he was tired of. His lifestyle remained largely the same, aside from having fewer “fair-weather friends” around him. In every other aspect, he felt no different from when he was still the young master of the Han family.

However, jewelry and clothes eventually run out. It was only when he walked into a shop to buy a watch and found his card declined that he realized his balance could no longer sustain the life he took for granted.

With no income and no one to borrow from, he hit another wall: the university emailed him for an intervention because his absences had nearly reached the red line.

Back when he was a wealthy playboy, his group would at least attend classes during high school for the sake of the HSC (New South Wales Higher School Certificate) to keep up appearances. If their grades were truly atrocious, they simply threw money at the problem to find a way in. Once they reached university, they felt completely liberated and paid people to attend classes for them. Their assignments were handled by specialists, so their official grades looked decent; at least, they never failed or had to retake a course.

After being cut off, Han Yan was so focused on maintaining his lifestyle that he completely forgot about school. When he was suddenly called in for a meeting, he was not intimidated. He simply acted pitiful and cried a little. In the end, the white elderly woman in the office ended up comforting him with a face full of compassion. The matter concluded with the school decreeing that if Han Yan had any more unexcused absences, he would be deported.

It was then that Han Yan finally began to seriously reassess his future.

As the only son of the Han family, he had always been reckless, doing whatever he pleased. He always had a way out; the Han family was there to clean up his messes and protect him. Now that his solid support system was gone, only two paths lay before him. He could either be expelled and roll back to his home country in disgrace, or he could study hard, earn his degree, and graduate.

His choice, naturally, was the latter.

In today’s world, without a family background, the only way a commoner could find a decent job was through a degree. After the meeting with the school, Han Yan finally felt the reality of falling from grace. He gradually accepted the fact that he was now an ordinary person and began trying to live like one.

From then on, he took off his expensive clothes and replaced them with two-dollar jeans from Cotton On. He gnawed on half-priced, near-expired bread and carried his laptop to class every day, rain or shine. He stayed up late browsing course recordings and literature. Ultimately, at the cost of ten pounds of body weight and massive dark circles under his eyes, he received the good news that he had passed all his electives for the semester by a hair.

The moment he saw his grades, he nearly laughed at the sky. Han Yan was a goddamn genius!

As his thoughts drifted back to the present, Han Yan painfully declined Julie’s invitation. He absolutely could not go near the city center; he was afraid he would not be able to protect his wallet!

On Saturday, Han Yan slept until noon. When he woke up, he grabbed a cup of instant noodles from his suitcase with bleary eyes. With messy hair, a short-sleeved shirt, and boxers, he shuffled downstairs in his flip-flops.

The staff dormitory was a two-story villa. The second floor was the living area, while the first floor contained a communal living room and kitchen. On workdays, a dedicated cook provided their meals, but on weekends, they had to fend for themselves. Consequently, most people did not stay at the farm on weekends, choosing instead to go to the city or return home to their families.

Han Yan was a lone wolf with no attachments. Going to the city meant spending money and having no one to meet. It was better to stay at the farm and eat instant noodles for two days to “cleanse his palate” so that he could eat his fill again on Monday.

That was the plan, at least. But when a sharp, pungent aroma wafted into his nose and stimulated his taste buds, he could not help but lick his lips.

Damn it, who is it? Cooking something so fragrant this early? Are they trying to make my noodles taste like cardboard?

Swallowing his saliva, Han Yan stomped down the stairs, making the steps thunder. As he reached the final step, the person cooking in the open kitchen heard the noise and turned around. Their eyes met, and a hint of surprise appeared in the man’s emerald-green gaze.

“Adams? What are you doing here? Did you move into our dorm?”

Seeing a familiar face, Han Yan’s annoyance instantly vanished, replaced by obvious surprise. Since they were both “Chinese,” things were easier; perhaps he could even snag a bite! Although Adams technically only had one-quarter Chinese blood, Han Yan did not care. Adams spoke Mandarin and had Chinese ancestry; in Han Yan’s mind, he was already classified as a fellow countryman.

Adams glanced at the “bird’s nest” hairstyle on top of Han Yan’s head, then flicked his gaze to the two long, straight, dazzlingly white legs exposed by his boxers, before silently looking away.

“No. There was an issue with the stove in my kitchen. Since I was close by, I came in to borrow this one. Do you need to use the kitchen?”

As Adams spoke, his gaze drifted pointedly toward the instant noodles in Han Yan’s hand. He stepped aside to make room, revealing a steaming, bright red pot of Boiled Pork Slices (Shuizhu Roupian) that appeared before him.

Han Yan clenched his jaw tight to keep himself from drooling. Damn! It’s actually Chinese food!

God knew how long it had been since he had eaten Chinese food. Han Yan, a certified “kitchen disaster,” had always eaten Chinese food at restaurants or paid a chef to cook at his home. Since he ran out of money, he had not tasted it once. Even a simple tomato and egg rice bowl cost ten dollars near closing time; that money was enough to buy several bags of discounted bread!

Now, with a pot of fresh, steaming Boiled Pork Slices in front of him, how could he not be tempted? If he remained unmoved, something would be wrong with him!

Seeing Han Yan standing still, Adams looked at him with confusion. The latter let out a brilliant smile, fully utilizing his physical advantages. It was as if sparkling special effects appeared around him.

“Adams, if you hadn’t saved me before, I’d probably be lying in a hospital bed right now! In China, there is a saying: ‘The favor of saving a life cannot be repaid except by giving oneself in marriage.’ You know that, right?”

Adams shook his head blankly.

Han Yan’s brow twitched slightly. He felt a moment of pity for the lack of cultural overlap but waved his hand dismissively.

“Never mind, that is not important. Anyway, what I mean is: we are friends from now on! If you need anything, just find me. I will do my best to help!”

Adams was a bit lost. He understood generally that this person wanted to be friends because he had helped him in passing. Since he was young, Adams had spent all his free time on the farm. While his peers went to amusement parks or parties, he followed his grandfather to deal with cattle, sheep, and horses. He had little in common with people his age and was a loner at school.

He was a reserved person. Aside from farm-related matters, he knew nothing about current trends. Someone like Han Yan, with his gorgeous appearance and outgoing personality, surely had no shortage of friends. Adams had seen him laughing and talking with different people several times; it was a different face every time.

The man did not seem to lack friends, so Adams was puzzled as to why he wanted to be friends with him. However, when he met Han Yan’s sparkling eyes, he nodded almost instinctively.

The moment he nodded, the corners of Han Yan’s eyes crinkled. A joyful smile spread across his face, seemingly very satisfied with the answer.

“Then it’s a deal! Since we are friends now, shouldn’t friends learn to share?”

Adams hesitated for a moment, then nodded again. He had never had a friend, so he did not know how friends were supposed to interact, but if Han Yan said so, then it must be true.

Han Yan’s peripheral vision darted toward the Boiled Pork Slices, and a victorious smile played on his lips.

“Adams, your cooking is too fragrant! It’s just… hiss… a bit spicy… hiss…”

Han Yan was sweating profusely from the spice, his lips swollen. In contrast, Adams was composed, swallowing meat slices covered in chili flakes without a change in expression. Han Yan gulped down a large glass of water, took a few breaths, then ate more meat with rice. It was a cycle of pain and pleasure.

Han Yan had grown up in the Jiangnan region, where the diet leans toward sweetness. Although he usually liked spicy food, Adams’ cooking was far beyond his tolerance level. However, he had to admit it was incredibly appetizing! He had already finished three bowls of rice. If the rice cooker were empty, he probably would have had another.

Seeing that Han Yan’s eyes were misty from the spice, Adams opened the fridge and poured a glass of milk for him. “Are you okay?”

Han Yan nodded in thanks, drained the glass, let out a satisfied burp, and casually wiped his mouth. “Adams, where did you learn this? This is amazing!”

“My grandmother is from Sichuan. I learned it from her.”

“No wonder. Your Sichuan-Chongqing genes are strong! You have no reaction to this spice. Impressive.” Han Yan gave him a thumb-up.

After the meal, clutching his round belly, Han Yan suggested they exchange contact information. Upon learning that Adams did not have Instagram or Facebook, his eyes widened in shock. He looked Adams up and down. Despite being a big, tall man, he looked very young; early twenties at most.

In this day and age, there were still young people who did not use social media!

Han Yan stared at him like he was a rare animal, making Adams feel quite uncomfortable.

“Uh, then how do you contact people? Text or calls?”

“Yeah. I call for important things and text for unimportant things.”

“Don’t you ever have things you want to share? Like beautiful scenery? Or just venting your emotions? And with a physique like yours, if I were you, I would be showing off my muscles online every day to make netizens drool!”

Han Yan rested his chin on his hand, staring at Adams’ sturdy muscles. His Adam’s apple bobbed almost imperceptibly. Tsk, what did this guy grow up eating? This body is incredible.

Adams thought seriously for a long time and said sincerely, “Occasionally I do, but I do not have anyone to share them with.”

His tone was casual, just stating a fact, but it left Han Yan with an unidentifiable feeling. Who would have thought? Such a big guy like Adams is actually a lonely, unloved little pitiful thing? Not even a single friend?

Whether it was true or not, it did not stop Han Yan from offering some “warmth.” He made Adams download several social media apps, taught him how to register, and then followed him. The follower count, which was at 0, instantly jumped to 1.

Han Yan tilted his chin up and raised an eyebrow. “There. Now you have someone to share things with.”

Adams stared blankly at Han Yan’s profile picture. The man was looking directly at the camera, smiling boldly and brilliantly—so dazzling one could not look away.

Before going to sleep, Han Yan lay in bed scrolling through his phone. He came across Adams’ newly registered account, which had posted an update a few minutes ago. It was a photo of the scenery at dusk.

The sky was a mix of orange and yellow from the sunset. A reddish sun peeked out from behind the clouds, with a few stray stars appearing nearby. The afterglow fell on a flock of sheep, making their white wool look like it was covered in a golden veil.

Han Yan yawned and gave it a like. He casually left a comment before putting his phone on the nightstand and falling asleep.

Yan Han: [The scenery is nice. Next time, remember to invite me.]

Adams stared at the comment for a while. Then, he opened Google and searched for the phrase Han Yan had said earlier: “Giving oneself in marriage.”

As his eyes scanned the definition word by word, his pupils suddenly contracted.