'He is a pauper, and he is a prince.'
Before his parents died, Lu Zhiting had seen Gu Qiao at social events in Hong Kong.
The young master, barely sixteen or seventeen, wore a crisp tailcoat and stood apart from the crowd, delicate and proud, fragrant and noble. He reminded Lu Zhiting of a Juliet rose, a cut flower with a hardy life force and classical beauty.
But when his parents died suddenly and his uncle seized the family fortune, Lu Zhiting was forced to leave Hong Kong. From then on, the little rose could only be a guest in his dreams.
What Lu Zhiting never imagined was that years later, across an ocean, he would find this bedraggled little rose right outside his own home.
Like a gardener who had found a lost flower, he was delighted and wanted to keep the little rose in his garden, where he could cherish and protect him.
But Gu Qiao had this to say: "What's the point of dating? One of us is dirt poor, and the other is miserable. Put us together, and are we supposed to play Hamlet and the Pauper?"
Lu Zhiting took out his phone and opened his banking app. "Don't make up stories for yourself. Count the zeroes first."
The prickly pauper prince x his prince
