I fell in love with a broke guy at first sight.

I started dating the poorest guy in the school.

While the school beauty and the school hunk drove a Lamborghini and flaunted their wealth, we rode a Schwinn Black Phantom to the mountaintop to stargaze.

While the school beauty and the school hunk dined on a candlelit dinner at a fancy restaurant, we were at a street stall bargaining over fifty-cent Swedish meatballs.

Others laughed at us, saying we were shortsighted and that poor people had poor fates.

But we were content, and our relationship was growing stronger.

Just when I thought this was the soulful love I wanted, we met at an auction.

"What a coincidence! I'm here to work as a cleaner."

"What a coincidence! I'm here to work as a security guard."

***

As soon as I started school, I noticed Hugh Mason, standing out among the luxury cars with his Schwinn Black Phantom and a bag of urea.

Especially with his handsome looks, the stark contrast made people around him stare.

Despite being the center of attention, he moved through the crowd as if he were alone, occasionally adjusting his worn-out cloth shoes.

I often watched him secretly.

If he wore a yellowing black T-shirt today, I'd wear a pair of ripped overalls the next day.

If his cloth shoes had patches from wear, I'd peel off the soles of my shoes the next day.

Shoes with peeled soles made a loud, slapping noise when walking, like a duck that wandered into the classroom.

I turned the corner and went upstairs amid mocking stares, only to bump into Hugh being confessed to.

"Hugh, be with me. I'll give you fifty thousand a month, and you won't have to worry about food or clothing."

The school beauty, usually haughty and spoiled, traced an ambiguous circle on Hugh's thin T-shirt with her finger.

Hugh remained calm and pushed her smooth hand away with a pen that had lost its cap and was chipped.

"Sorry, thank you for your offer, but I'm not in need of money and I'm not interested in dating you."

If you only looked at his face and tall, strong figure, he didn't seem like someone who needed money.

But everything about his clothes and belongings screamed that he was dirt poor.

The school beauty, embarrassed by such a flimsy excuse, felt her pride wounded.

"Do you know what it means to be with me? My family owns the Ross Group in Ashwick! Most of Ashwick's chain hotels are ours! Maybe if you make me happy, Ross Group might even hire you as a son-in-law!"

Hugh seemed to curl the corner of his lips slightly, but his expression quickly returned to its indifferent, aloof state.

He pulled out his cordless phone and glanced at it. "Sorry, I'm not very interested. I have class soon, so I have to go."

The school beauty, left standing there, stared in disbelief for a moment before letting out a sharp, angry outburst.

I walked into the classroom through the back door, found a random seat, and easily spotted Hugh sitting at the front of the classroom.

His back was very straight, and his slightly long hair, unkempt due to his lack of money, was tied up with a yellow rubber band.

He looked like a disheveled and unconventional art student.

But the financial economics textbook he was flipping through revealed that this fearless poor guy was studying finance.

A poor guy studying finance, yet disdainful of wealthy women?

Interesting.

I launched an aggressive pursuit of Hugh.

Specifically, I did the following:

Every day, I placed paper airplanes on his usual seat.

It was simple and easy to fold—I only knew how to make these.

And with A4-sized scrap paper, one sheet could make four airplanes, enough for four days.

Each paper airplane was filled with my dense handwriting, and my big, flamboyant characters.

[Hello Hugh, I'm Taylor Parker from Class 3. I like you.]

The paper airplanes were buried under a pile of luxury watches and bank cards, and Hugh didn't notice them.

Until the Valentine's Day, when the gifts on his usual desk piled up like a small mountain.

As usual, he carried the pile of gifts to a corner of the podium, and upon returning, he saw the lonely, shabby paper airplanes left behind. The paper was covered in writing, clearly showing the process of a definite integral calculation.

The paper is covered with handwriting, and you can clearly see the calculation process of the definite integral.

The result of the calculation was hidden inside, and when he flicked his finger, he saw the bolded line of text I had written.

The next second, Hugh turned around and locked eyes with me.

I froze for a moment, my heart skipping a beat.

He then nonchalantly withdrew his gaze.

As if that glance was just a coincidence.

I waited anxiously until class was over.

When the bell rang, I immediately waited on Hugh's usual path and, as hoped, managed to block him.

"Hi, I'm Taylor, the one who gave you the paper airplane."

He looked down at me, his gaze lingering on my worn-out shoes for a couple of seconds, and said, "Hmm."

Up close, I realized how striking Hugh's face was.

My once steady heart now raced rapidly, and my palms were sweating.

My brain stalled, and all the words I had prepared slipped my mind.

Hugh moved his right hand, and only then did I notice that he was still holding the draft paper.

He pinched the paper between his index and middle fingers and shook it at me.

"So, what's the result?"

Seeing me frozen, he repeated. "I couldn't solve this problem, so what's the result?"

I never write down the answers to problems, so I didn't know the result either.

I quickly snatched the paper from his hand and did the calculations in my head.

Suddenly, an idea struck me, and I smiled slyly.

"The result is a bit long. How about we discuss it while walking? To the cafeteria?"

Hugh raised an eyebrow, and before he could respond, he was interrupted by a loud commotion nearby.

"Taylor!"

Interrupted, I turned impatiently.

A flashy, arrogant rich kid in a flashy Gucci outfit, with an oversized bouquet in hand, approached amidst the clamor.

The Gucci kid looked down at me. "Do you know who I am? Be my woman, and I'll give you 50,000 a month, ensuring you live comfortably."

My lips twitched. Is this how rich kids now pursue people—so straightforward and crude?

I glanced around instinctively, but Hugh had already disappeared without me noticing.

The stairs were packed with students leaving class; there was no sign of Hugh.

I frowned in annoyance and said, "Sorry, not me."

The Gucci kid looked surprised. "Hey, I'm serious. You're just a poor girl. Stop pretending. If you're interested, reconsider your answer."

He sized me up and sneered. "Before you act all high and mighty, consider your own situation. Wearing shabby shoes and pants, and still trying to act like..."

"No need to consider. Thanks for the offer, but I don't need money and don't want to date you."

I pulled out a bright red rose.

"Just borrowing this. Thanks, bro."

Behind me, the Gucci kid angrily threw the flowers to the ground, kicked the door of a nearby classroom, and made a loud, thunderous noise that drew everyone's attention.

I took advantage of the crowd and ran to the cafeteria.

When I found him, he was already sitting by the window with a simple meal.

I grabbed a few dishes and sat down across from him.

Ignoring Hugh's slightly surprised look, I complained. "You didn't wait for me, and I had a hard time finding you."

I handed him the rose.

"I forgot that confessions need flowers. Here's this for now. I can't afford flowers yet, so I hope you don't mind. When I have money, I'll get you a big one."

He took the flower and placed it aside.

"I thought..."

Seeing his plate full of green vegetables, I added two chicken legs to his plate. "Thought what?"

Hugh stared at my actions in surprise, then smiled and shook his head.

"Nothing."

It was the first time I saw him smile, lazily, with a glimmer in his eyes.

I was momentarily mesmerized.

When I came to my senses, he had taken back the two chicken legs I had added.

"You eat them; I'm not very hungry."

I had never seen him eat meat before. I didn't expect him to be so considerate of me, despite his own financial situation.

I was moved and wanted to win him over even more.

I really didn't want to eat that cafeteria chicken leg; it was both dry and tough, and it seemed like they had poured soy sauce recklessly.

After thinking for a moment, I grabbed another chicken leg and said firmly, "No way, you have to eat it. I went out of my way to buy these two chicken legs, and I usually can't even bear to eat them myself. You can't trample on my kindness, or it would mean you look down on me for being poor."

I added. "After you finish this chicken leg, I'll tell you the calculation results."

Hugh's gaze shifted from my face to the chicken leg, he swallowed hard, and after a moment, said with difficulty, "Alright."

I happily withdrew my hand, knowing that he really wanted to eat it. His reason and craving were at odds, which was why he looked so reluctant.

Watching him chew slowly, savoring each bite, taking many chews with every mouthful.

I was extremely satisfied.

This chicken leg would surely become a cherished memory for him, like a rare delight after a long drought.

Seeing him enjoy it so much, I took a bite myself.

My teeth almost broke.

Looking up, I saw he was eating with tears in his eyes, and my heart seemed to break.

On impulse, I held his hand.

"Hugh, though I'm poor right now, you won't be at a loss with me. I might not be able to give you fifty thousand, but I can promise you a chicken leg every week. I will do my best to treat you well."

See, no wonder I chose him.

Amy Ross offered fifty thousand right off the bat, and he was indifferent.

I promised one chicken leg a week, and his tears immediately fell.

Poverty reveals true love.

I am indeed his true love.