Three Meals a Day, Just Potatoes

"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.