Haley’s words caught the attention of Abigail and Sophia. With Leon included, three heads leaned in together to look at the award-winning photo.
“Didn’t expect you to be so photogenic. But that umbrella really stands out.”
“Yeah, you look pretty handsome, but that floral umbrella must be yours, Haley. I think I saw it by the door earlier.”
Once Abigail and Sophia had gotten a good look at the photo and shared their opinions, Leon understood why. This was the shot taken on that rainy day when Haley had asked him to hold the umbrella for her.
The truth was, this picture carried more punch than the fishing record shots from before: the calm side profile of a handsome man, a delicate feminine umbrella, dark storm clouds in the distance, and raindrops clinging to his raincoat—all woven into an oddly absurd yet strangely mysterious scene.
Still, Leon didn’t think it deserved an award. So he asked, “You didn’t… add a story to it, did you?”
“Of course. Without an excellent backstory, any piece of art loses a big part of its appeal,” Haley answered matter-of-factly.
“So I became the sacrificial lamb?” Leon’s expression froze.
“Relax. It’s just a derivative story for the judges. It wasn’t published or announced anywhere. It’s just an internal exchange within the industry—it won’t affect your reputation.” Haley smiled reassuringly.
…
Since Haley put it that way, Leon didn’t push the matter.
Abigail and Sophia, on the other hand, were curious about the so-called derivative story, pestering Haley until she shared it.
Haley retold the little story Leon had once made up. By the end of it, both girls were giving Leon strange looks.
Noticing this, Leon said calmly, “It’s just a made-up story. Why the shocked faces?”
“I never thought you had this kind of talent. It’s a shame you’re just a farmer,” Sophia remarked.
“Yeah, you could write novels. You’d be famous by now,” Abigail agreed.
“A cliché like that? Famous? Please.” Leon snorted. Back in his previous life, you could find a dozen stories just like it on any online forum or microblog—each one more melodramatic than the last.
“But it’s really touching,” Sophia argued. “It’s just too short—no real beginning or end. If you fleshed it out into a complete short story, I’m sure it could move a lot of people.”
“Then why don’t you write it?” Leon suggested.
“No thanks. I don’t have that kind of skill,” Sophia declined without hesitation.
Abigail, however, looked intrigued. “Maybe I could give it a try?”
“Do what you like,” Leon replied. He didn’t care either way.
Abigail’s enthusiasm rubbed off on Sophia, and soon the two were huddled together, filling in details and settings based on the core of the story, chatting away happily.
Leon ignored them and turned to Haley. “I read your letter. You said you had something for me. What is it?”
“This.” Haley got up and ran to her vanity, opening a drawer to take out a small box.
“What’s this?” Leon asked, seeing no markings on it.
“It’s a prize. Last time, I donated the competition winnings to the Pelican Town retirement home without asking you. So this time, I’m giving you the prize as compensation.”
She shoved the box into his hands. “Go on, open it.”
Leon opened it to find… an old-fashioned, nine-key phone with a pixelated screen.
It looked like a senior’s phone to him—except it was even worse. At least real senior phones had color screens and voice prompts. This one had only the look of a senior phone; in terms of features, it was utterly outdated by his standards.
Yet in this world, it was the most advanced model available.
“This reward isn’t cheap.” Remembering the price tag he’d seen at Joja Corporation’s electronics counter, Leon asked, “You’re sure you want to give this to me?”
“Sure. It’s not expensive anyway, and I already have one.” Haley pulled a matching phone from her dress pocket to show him.
“No wonder you’re the daughter of a jewelry family,” Leon thought, full of envy.
These days, he could grit his teeth and buy one himself. But back then, when his monthly salary was only 2,000G, a phone like this was a real luxury—costing as much as three months of living without spending a single coin.
Some people are born in Rome; others are born to pull the cart. If not for his farm now, he’d probably be telling Haley, “I don’t want to work hard anymore.”
“I already got you a SIM card, so you can use it right away. I’ve saved my number and my sister’s in it. That way you don’t have to wait for my letters—just call me directly,” Haley said.
“You don’t have to thank me. I just thought it’d be troublesome for you to go all the way to Zuzu City to get one, so I did it for you. Adding my sister’s number was Emily’s idea.”
“Uh-huh.” Leon smiled. Too bad tsundere charm was out of style now—Haley’s little speech would’ve sold well back in the day.
Their conversation caught Abigail and Sophia’s attention. Sophia, seeing the phone, pulled out her own and said, “Hey, now that you’ve got a phone, want to swap numbers?”
“Sure,” Leon said without surprise. After all, Sophia was a well-known winemaker whose bottles sold for hundreds of G—a little rich girl with a phone was nothing strange.
After exchanging numbers with Sophia, Abigail came over too. But she didn’t pull out a phone. Instead, she said, “Leon, give me your number too.”
“Do you even have a phone?” Leon asked.
“I can buy one. It’s just a phone—not like I can’t afford it,” Abigail replied carelessly.
Leon sighed.
It suddenly hit him that, as a farm owner, he might still be the poorest one in the group. All the girls he knew seemed to have deeper pockets than he did.
Ah, busy to the point of numbness… and now no time to play games tonight. Great—off work and still a pack mule, huh?
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