On the day I graduated from college, I had just received my diploma when Robert Lane, my grandfather, rushed to arrange a family-arranged date for me.

He said the guy’s parents had been business partners with our corporation for years, that he was well-mannered and came from a wealthy family, and that I’d never be mistreated if I married him.

For the sake of Grandpa’s health, I reluctantly agreed to start as friends with the man and even agreed to travel together to see the grasslands near Portland.

I never expected this date to turn out to be a nightmare — he literally forced me to eat his mother’s homemade potato stew three times a day!

When I refused, he righteously lectured me:

"Aren’t you just the pampered daughter of a small family-owned factory? Stop acting like a spoiled princess!"

I was stunned — he actually had no idea who I really was. But for Grandpa’s sake and the long-standing business ties between our families, I chose to stay silent.

As soon as the trip ended, I told him we were not a match.

To my shock, Jason King later showed up carrying a bag of spoiled potato stew, threatening me:

"If my mom finds out these potatoes were wasted, she’ll be heartbroken! You wouldn’t want to upset your future mother-in-law, right? My mom could shut down your little factory with the snap of a finger!"

I thought of that middle-aged woman who showed up at my house every month in a tight red dress to deliver gifts and couldn’t help but sneer.

"Anyone can eat this stew if they want, but as for your mom — she’s nothing in front of me."

Then I called my secretary:

"Ms. Lewis, notify everyone — terminate all cooperation with King Foods immediately."

The day after agreeing to the trip, we appeared at Seattle–Tacoma International Airport.

Standing at security, I watched Jason open his overstuffed suitcase and froze.

"Are these… all potatoes?"

I stared at the suitcase full of potatoes, both raw and cooked, some still with dirt clinging to them.

"Why on earth did you bring so many potatoes?"

Jason gave me a dismissive glance.

"My mom prepared them for me. When you travel, you have to bring your own food — it’s so expensive to buy outside."

"Potatoes are practical — they fill you up and don’t take up much space!"

I gasped, curling my toes in my shoes.

"Isn’t this heavy?"

He chuckled, flexing his biceps proudly.

"I lift way more than this at the gym. No big deal."

Just then, the TSA officer politely spoke up:

"Sir, your luggage is overweight. You’ll need to pay an additional fee."

Jason’s face darkened.

"Overweight? That’s impossible! I weighed it myself!"

"The full ticket price is $1,000. You’re five kilograms over, so that’s $1,000 × 1.5% × 5 = $75."

The officer calculated quickly.

"Seventy-five dollars?"

Jason’s voice rose, drawing stares from nearby passengers.

"Are you robbing me? Potatoes cost way less than that per pound!"

My cheeks burned from embarrassment. I opened my wallet.

"I’ll pay for it."

To my surprise, Jason grew even more agitated and pointed at me.

"Typical spoiled rich girl! Wasteful and arrogant! With this attitude, how are you supposed to marry into the King family?"

I was speechless.

Grandpa said he was supposed to be generous and good-tempered.

But the man yelling over seventy-five dollars in public — was this his idea of generosity?

And then, to my utter shock, Jason refused to check in his luggage and instead opened the suitcase right there, pulling out cooked potatoes and stuffing them into his mouth.

"It’s just five kilos over — I’ll eat them!"

He muttered as he stuffed potato after potato into his mouth.

A small crowd began to gather, some even pulling out their phones to record.

Camera shutters clicked. Someone was livestreaming.

"Guys, check this out — it’s Potato Guy at the airport eating potatoes on the spot!"

Humiliation washed over me, and I instinctively took a step back.

He had already eaten ten potatoes and was clearly full, but still kept forcing more into his mouth.

I finally couldn’t stand it anymore.

"Stop. This is bad for your health. Just pay for the extra weight and check it in."

He looked up, potato crumbs at the corner of his mouth, glaring at me.

"Do you know how hard farmers work to grow these? Every bite counts! Stop standing there — eat one too!"

He shoved a mashed potato toward me.

It was crushed and unappetizing.

I stepped back, suppressing my disgust.

"I’m not hungry. Thanks."

"No, you have to eat!"

His tone turned commanding.

"From now on, you’ll eat my mom’s potato stew three times a day. Otherwise, how much money do you think we’d waste eating out? A King family daughter-in-law should know how to be frugal!"

I was completely stunned.

People like this still exist?

I took a deep breath.

"I’m not eating it."

Jason’s face hardened.

"You’re just the pampered daughter of a small factory — stop acting spoiled. Are potatoes too good for you?"

I was shocked — after years of business cooperation, he had no idea about the Lane Corporation’s true power or my real identity?

But for Grandpa’s sake, I stayed silent.

As more people gathered to watch, I gently tugged his sleeve.

"People are staring. Calm down."

Maybe that worked, because he finally stopped eating.

But he kept grumbling.

"A woman who doesn’t know thrift will never run a household. What was Aunt May thinking introducing me to such a crazy girl?"

I heard it but stayed quiet.

We finally boarded the plane, but once inside, Jason started again — gawking and pointing everywhere.

"Wow, so this is what a plane looks like! Are these leather seats? Doesn’t look like it! My house furniture is nicer!"

His loud voice drew more stares. I wanted to disappear.

"Hey, why do you look so experienced? Been on a plane before? How can your family’s little factory afford this?"

I forced a tight smile.

"Jason, it’s the 21st century. Flying isn’t expensive — normal people can afford it."

That was like poking a hornet’s nest.

"Not expensive? Do you know how many people go hungry in the world? Do you know how many potatoes this ticket could buy? Enough to feed a family for a month!"

He was full of self-righteous anger.

I’d had enough and pulled out my phone to complain to Grandpa about this living disaster.

I had just typed “Grandpa, the man you introduced me to—” when Jason leaned over, snatched my phone, and sneered at my contact list.

"Is that Robert Lane’s profile picture? You claim to know Robert Lane? Stop pretending — you think name-dropping will get my family to raise your engagement gifts?"

I clenched my jaw and said as calmly as I could:

"Didn’t Aunt May tell you about me? Not even my last name?"

Jason crossed one leg over the other, looking smug.

"She said you were from Portland. Who cares enough to ask more? Me? I’m a real Seattle native — do you know how valuable a Seattle household registration is? People would kill for it!"

He then launched into bragging about his family’s glorious history, their tiny house that he claimed was worth a fortune, and how many machines his mom’s factory had — which, to me, sounded pathetically small.

Just then, the flight attendant brought us two airplane meals.

Jason’s eyes went wide.

"There’s food? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?"

"Are you mute? You made me eat all those potatoes downstairs! When you marry into the King family, you’d better learn to speak up!"

I’d had enough.

"Jason, we’re not — and never will be — in the kind of relationship you’re imagining."

He ignored me, looked me up and down like an emperor picking a concubine, then took out his phone and sent a voice message to his mom.

"Mom, I met her! Not bad — a bit mouthy, but pretty. Passes the first test!"

After sending it, he suddenly turned pale, ran to the restroom to throw up, then returned satisfied.

"Waiter! Are there more meals? I wasn’t full earlier — bring me ten more!"

I wondered if he was addicted to getting free stuff.

He didn’t finish all ten and even stuffed two quail eggs up his sleeve for later.

"Listen — since we’re traveling together, we follow King family rules. If you get hungry, only eat the potatoes I packed in the outer pocket of my bag. Don’t buy outside food — waste of money."

He patted the potato-stuffed backpack proudly.

I stared at him, searching for a trace of humor, but found none.

King family rules?

Were they about conquering the world with potatoes?

Grandpa’s text came just then:

"Sweetheart, you can’t judge someone’s character after such a short time. Give him another chance."

I gripped my phone tightly and followed Jason off the plane.

"I booked us a place to stay — picked it carefully!"

His “careful choice” turned out to be walking us past a row of luxury five-star resorts.