A Farm Girl: Three Acres of Fertile Land Can Be Exchanged for a Country

Strange as it was, she had to admit she enjoyed this kind of life. After Duan Fufeng got off work, the two would occasionally go for a walk hand in hand, and when they rested, they would lie in bed all day.

If you ignore their identities and the fact that they are being hunted, this is the kind of life she has always dreamed of.

One day after work, Wutong sat on the sofa as usual, waiting for him to come home. But Duan Fufeng knocked on the door from the outside, saying that he had forgotten his keys.

She reached for the door, her hand, which had mostly healed, expecting to see his handsome face. Instead, she was greeted by a large bouquet of vibrant red roses, numbering at least fifty or sixty.

The fragrance of flowers filled the air. She parted the bouquet and saw Duan Fufeng's smiling face. She asked in surprise, "Why did you buy flowers?"

"It's for you."

Duan Fufeng walked in, casually closed the door, leaned his slender body against the door frame, and looked down at her.

Wutong touched her cheek shyly.

"No need, we've known each other for a while now, and there's nothing to celebrate... You work hard to earn money, so don't waste it like this again."

"Today is a day to celebrate."

"what?"

Duan Fufeng raised his right eyebrow, looking quite spirited, and tapped his cheek with his finger.

Want to know? Then give me a kiss.

How old are you? Still playing this...

Wutong silently complained in her heart, but her body betrayed her. She leaned over and kissed him, rolling her eyes as she asked, "Can you tell me now?"

Duan Fufeng smiled and said, "I've been promoted."

Wutong: "...Really?"

"Am I the kind of person who would boast?"

"No, what I mean is... how long have you been working? Less than half a month, right?"

For most people, their internship wouldn't even be over yet.

Duan Fufeng spread his hands in a pretentious manner.

"I'm too good, what can I do?"

Wutong stared at him for a long time, unable to utter those sarcastic words. She stood on tiptoe, hugged his neck, kissed him on the cheek again, and asked, "What position have you been promoted to?"

"Team leader."

"Do we need to manage people? How many?"

"More than ten, the working hours have been adjusted to management positions, 9 to 5 every day, weekends off, salary of 8,000 per month, and subsidies for holidays."

Wutong couldn't help but nuzzle his cheek and said sincerely, "That's great, you won't have to work so hard anymore."

Duan Fufeng said, "You don't need to work so hard. Now that we have money, you can buy whatever you want."

Wutong said, "That won't do. We have to save the money we earn. What if we encounter an accident and can't earn any more money in the future?"

“That day will never come,” Duan Fufeng whispered in her ear. “Since you love me, then listen to me and spend all the money I’ve earned.”

Wutong looked at him with gratitude, not wanting to appear like a child who could be easily fooled with a piece of candy, and deliberately scoffed, "Only eight thousand? Do you think that's a lot?"

"How much is a lot?"

"It must be at least ten or eight million."

"Okay." Duan Fufeng nodded. "I've got it."

Wutong had just said it casually, and it was unclear why he had written it down. He let go of her hand and asked, "What are we having for dinner tonight?"

"I'll do it," Duan Fufeng said, changing his shoes and heading towards the kitchen.

Wutong followed behind and said, "But I'm also very bored. How about I help you out?"

"If you're bored, just put this away." Duan Fufeng handed her the rose in his hand and used it to shut her up.

Both of them got busy; one cooked dinner, and the other searched everywhere for vases.

Wutong counted them carefully; there were exactly fifty-nine roses. They were quite heavy when she picked them up, and the flower heads together looked like a table. Where could she find a vase that big to hold them? She would have to use a bucket.

She looked around and realized there was nowhere to put it. She thought she might as well put it on the balcony to save space, but she was worried that Duan Fufeng would be unhappy, since he had put thought into buying it.

Roses... roses...

Wutong squatted beside the coffee table, her chin resting on her hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the large bed behind the door. On a whim, she carried the roses into the room with one hand.

Duan Fufeng was in a good mood, so he decided to cook a nice meal. It took him two hours to prepare dinner, during which time he didn't hear Wutong say a word.

He placed the last dish on the table, looked around the room, and called out to the open door, "Dinner's ready."

Wutong's voice came from inside, "Come in and see the flowers I put here."

"Can you finish eating before you look at it? Otherwise, the food will get cold."

"No, come in and take a look now."

She used to be so sensible, but now she's becoming more and more like a child.

Duan Fufeng smiled helplessly yet indulgently, untied his apron and went into the room. He saw a huge heart shape made of rose petals on the bed, with Wutong lying in the middle of the petals, awkwardly striking a sexy pose, smiling at him with a mix of shyness and provocation.

"How's it going? Do you like it?"

Duan Fufeng's breathing became rapid. "I like it."

Do you like me or the flowers?

He got into bed and hugged her, carefully avoiding her injured hand. "Of course I like you."

Before the words were even finished, a burning kiss landed, and the air temperature in the room rose with passion.

By the time the two finished showering, the food had gone completely cold.

Duan Fufeng went to heat up his food, and Wutong stood outside the kitchen watching him. Suddenly, she asked, "Do you like your current life?"

"Ah."

"But you were once the King of Southern Xinjiang. Isn't this kind of life too ordinary for you?"

Duan Fufeng stopped using the spatula in his hand, looked down at the frying pan, and cast a beautiful shadow on the snow-white wall from his profile.

He gave a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"My identity as the King of Southern Xinjiang was not something I chose voluntarily, but rather something imposed upon me by fate. If I could choose for myself, I would not have become that kind of person."

"If you had to choose between me and the throne of the Southern Frontier King, what would you want?" Wutong asked him, her body tense as she looked at him, voicing the question that had kept her tossing and turning all night.

Duan Fufeng replied without hesitation, "Of course it's you."

She wasn't very happy. After a moment of silence, she asked, "What if it were a choice between the throne and me?"

A faint smell of burning filled the air. Duan Fufeng stirred the pot a few times with a spatula and said indifferently, "Don't ask such meaningless questions."

Wutong's heart skipped a beat, and a bitter smile appeared on her face.

"okay, I get it."

He still yearns for what he desires; she is merely an extra scene along his path to his dream. Isn't it obvious which is more important, the scenery or the final destination?

Although Duan Fufeng didn't say it directly, his attitude made it all clear.

But so what?

She loved him, so even if it meant sacrificing herself, she hoped he could get what he wanted, instead of living a life filled with regrets.

Wutong finally understood how Wenxin felt back then: loving someone you can't have is more painful than death.