After the Fake Young Master Betrayed the Australian Farmer - Chapter 7

“Thanks, cutie.”

The two did not go all the way; they simply shared a friendly moment of mutual assistance. After all, they were not the only ones in the villa. Although the rooms were well-insulated, they had to be careful just in case. It would be incredibly awkward if John or Zhou Fangrong heard anything.

Spending the afternoon claiming it was great to be “friends” with someone’s grandson, only to end up rolling around with said grandson that night, was indeed a bit embarrassing.

Thinking of Adams’ impressive “assets,” Han Yan felt increasingly satisfied. As expected of those Western genes—he held his own even when compared to certain races known for their natural gifts.

Tsk, I really found a treasure.

Han Yan hummed a little tune as he showered. By the time he lay in bed, his eyelids were fighting to stay open. He casually sent a message to Adams, wrapped himself in the duvet, and fell asleep instantly.

Yan Han: [Nighty night, cutie.]

Water droplets fell from the tips of his hair onto the phone screen. Adams stared at the message for a long while, his lips curling upward uncontrollably as his cool fingertips tapped on the screen.

Adams W: [Sweet dreams, babe.]

Han Yan slept deeply and without dreams. He woke up feeling refreshed, likely because it had been so long since he’d had any release; venting it all out last night made his entire body feel much lighter.

As soon as he went downstairs, he saw Adams standing by the stove. As if sensing him, Adams looked up, and their eyes met. A light ignited in his emerald eyes, and a visible smile spread across his face.

John sat at the dining table with his reading glasses on, flipping through the newspaper and occasionally taking a sip of steaming coffee. Zhou Fangrong sat on the sofa watching the morning news, clutching a thermos that had fogged up her glasses.

The oil in the frying pan sizzled, filling the air with the aroma of bacon. The toaster popped with a “ding,” revealing two slices of golden-brown toast. Han Yan’s stomach growled right on cue.

Tsk, I really am a bit hungry.

“Good morning, Grandma.” “Good morning, John.”

“Morning, Xiao Han! Did you sleep well last night?” Zhou Fangrong turned to greet him warmly.

Han Yan replied with a smile, “I slept very well, Grandma.”

“Morning, Yan. Adams is preparing breakfast; it’ll be ready soon. Would you like a coffee first?”

“Yes, please. Thanks, John.”

John took off his glasses and set them on the table, about to get up to brew the coffee, but Adams turned around and cut him off: “John, I’ll make the coffee for Yan.”

John nodded and sat back down.

Han Yan walked over to Adams and leaned against the cupboard, watching with interest as Adams poured coffee beans into a cylindrical grinder. The fine powder was then pressed firmly into the portafilter. He locked the portafilter into the machine, placed a cup underneath, and pressed the button.

While waiting for the extraction, Han Yan looked at Adams’ focused, handsome profile and curled his lips. “Morning, Adams.”

Adams glanced at him and nodded. “Morning, Han Yan.”

Han Yan suddenly leaned closer, lowering his voice so only the two of them could hear: “I slept very well last night because of you.”

Adams’ body stiffened. His gaze became fleeting, and he said huskily, “I… also slept very well.”

It seemed the other party didn’t mind what happened last night; perhaps they could go a bit deeper next time.

Han Yan raised an amused eyebrow. When he took the coffee, his fingertip slid from the base of Adams’ index finger all the way to the tip. He gave him a wink.

“Thanks, cutie.”

Adams froze. His thumb unconsciously rubbed his index finger as his lips curved into a small smile.

“No worries.”

“Xiao Han, do you have plans for tomorrow?” Zhou Fangrong asked after breakfast, taking a leisurely sip of hot tea.

“I don’t have anything specific,” Han Yan replied, squinting as he sipped his cooled coffee. Adams really has a knack for this.

“You know tomorrow is Boxing Day, right?”

“I do.”

In Australia, Boxing Day falls on December 26th. On this day, malls and supermarkets across the country offer massive discounts. Even luxury brands that rarely have sales offer up to 50% off.

In the past, Han Yan would either camp out on official websites with his friends to snag goods or ask familiar sales associates to set items aside. Being rich didn’t mean being stupid; passing up a good deal was practically a sin.

Meeting Zhou Fangrong’s smiling eyes, an idea formed in his brain, and his eyes widened in horror. “Grandma, you don’t mean you want to go to the City to go shopping tomorrow, do you?”

Han Yan had never stepped foot outside on Boxing Day. The traffic under his apartment was usually a nightmare, let alone the sea of people at the malls. He had no desire to be squashed into a meat patty!

However, since the whole family was going out, it wouldn’t be right for him, a guest, to stay home alone. He gritted his teeth and agreed to go with them.

The next morning, even after getting into the car, he didn’t give up trying to persuade them. “Grandma, the City is going to be packed today. Are you sure you want to go? Can you handle it?”

Zhou Fangrong, sitting in the back, patted John’s sturdy chest. “It’s fine! Look at his big build; when he stands there, who could push past me? And don’t look at my age—I’m in great shape! I just finished a half-marathon recently. Ask Adams if you don’t believe me.”

Han Yan turned to Adams, who was buckling his seatbelt. The latter nodded in agreement. “Grandma is indeed in great health. She finished her last half-marathon in under three hours.”

“It was two hours, forty-nine minutes, and twenty-two seconds,” Zhou Fangrong added proudly.

For a woman in her sixties, that was truly impressive. Many young people couldn’t even hit that mark on their first try.

Well, looks like we’re definitely going out today.

Han Yan could only give a thumb-up. “Grandma, you really are as fit as a fiddle.”

The drive from the Wilson home to Sydney’s city center took about an hour. Because they left early, the traffic wasn’t too bad. The parking lot, as expected, was overflowing. After circling for a while, they finally found an empty spot in a corner.

The group got out of the car, and before they even reached the mall, the streets were already swarming with people. Walking through the bustling crowd, Han Yan felt people bumping into his shoulders or stepping on his feet. He knit his brows in annoyance.

Suddenly, a large hand gripped his arm, gently pulling him into a firm embrace. A tall body shielded him from the surrounding crowd.

“There are a lot of people here.”

A deep voice came from above. Han Yan looked up slightly. Adams stood with his back to the sun, his face hidden in the shadows. Han Yan instinctively checked on Zhou Fangrong and John first; they seemed to be discussing something and hadn’t noticed.

He reached up to pinch Adams’ chin and gave him a bright smile. “Thanks.”

The first floor of Myer was filled with beauty brands. Zhou Fangrong loved looking good, so she wasn’t about to miss a chance to stock up. She joined the others crowded around the counters, occasionally picking up a lipstick to ask the overwhelmed clerk about stock and discounts.

John, with his massive build and sunglasses, stood beside her like a bodyguard. Zhou Fangrong was torn between several shades, but John, being a typical straight man, understood none of it. Adams was even more “old-fashioned” than she was. In desperation, she turned to Han Yan for help.

Han Yan received the signal and struggled through the crowd, with Adams clearing the way in front of him. When he finally reached her, he took a breath and said, “Grandma, if you like them, just ‘all in.’ You can wear a different color every day.”

“Besides, even similar shades have subtle differences. Look, these two are both red, but this one has a clear shimmer—it’s perfect for dark outfits.”

“And these two—they’re both nudes, but this one has orange undertones, while this one leans more toward pink…”

Han Yan’s analysis was spot on. Zhou Fangrong’s eyes lit up; she looked at Han Yan as if she’d found a kindred spirit. John and Adams both looked at the two lipsticks in Han Yan’s hand, then at each other. They both saw total confusion in the other’s eyes.

Don’t these two colors look exactly the same? What’s different?

“By the way, Xiao Han, do you want to pick a few for your mother? You can get two for the price of one right now, plus samples. It’s quite a deal,” Zhou Fangrong mentioned casually while queuing to pay.

Han Yan’s body stiffened slightly. A flash of loneliness crossed his eyes, but he quickly adjusted his expression and pulled on a polite smile. “No need. she doesn’t lack any; there’s a whole pile of unopened ones at home.”

Han Yan’s knowledge of lipsticks came from years of being around Mrs. Song. Since her husband was always busy with work, Han Yan became the “bag carrier,” accompanying her on shopping trips every other day. The “all in” philosophy was something Mrs. Song often said. He had unconsciously repeated her words verbatim.

In the past, he probably would have video-called her to help her choose. As for now…

Well, she has her precious biological son to accompany her now. Why am I, an outsider, overthinking things?

“What’s wrong?” Adams’ eyes hadn’t left Han Yan, so he hadn’t missed the slight change in his expression. Even though Han Yan hid it well, Adams still sensed it.

“Huh? Nothing.”

Han Yan gave a perfunctory reply. Suddenly, his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of his favorite perfume brand. He told Zhou Fangrong and John, then pulled Adams toward the counter. This brand was expensive—a single bottle cost several thousand RMB—and the discount wasn’t huge, so only a few people were testing scents.

With a clear goal, he picked up a bottle, sprayed it twice on his wrist, and held it up to Adams, raising an eyebrow. “Smell this.”

Adams gripped his forearm and leaned forward slightly. His nose almost touched Han Yan’s skin. The scent of neroli mixed with cedarwood drifted into his nose, with a hint of sweetness from tuberose underneath.

White-flower perfumes were usually too cloying, but the slightly bitter neroli neutralized that, while the cedarwood added a touch of crispness and clarity. It was contradictory yet seemed perfectly natural and harmonious.

“It smells good,” Adams gave a sincere evaluation.

“I think so too. Let’s go with this one.”

Although the price was a bit cheaper than usual, the cost nearly four hundred dollars still made Han Yan’s heart bleed.

That’s four hundred dollars! Four hundred whole dollars!

I could eat forty bowls of tomato and egg rice with that! I could eat it until I puked at the sight of tomatoes!

But it was a holiday; he had to treat himself a little.

“How would you like to pay? Card or cash?”

Just as Han Yan pulled out his phone to use Apple Pay, a large hand reached out from behind him and handed a bank card to the clerk.

“Card, please. Thank you.”