Part 1Harvest of Betrayal

For the sake of my hometown's development, I brought my media team back to the countryside to help the farmers.

After a year of hard work, Greenridge Village became a model example for the whole state.

At the year-end dividend distribution, the village chief announced with fanfare:

"This year's dividend is $15,000 per person!"

"But, Caleb, you only get $1.50."

I was confused, thinking it was a joke.

The village chief's son, Mason, pulled out a crumpled dollar bill and two quarters, throwing them in my face.

"You just moved your lips and filmed some videos. That's all you're worth."

Amidst the roaring laughter of the crowd, my parents also blamed me.

"Caleb, everyone was working in the fields, you were indeed lazy."

I sneered, clutching the $1.50 tight.

In that case, the million-dollar order for next spring, I'll be canceling it ahead of schedule.

* * *

Hearing that I was going to cancel the orders, the villagers began to murmur in panic.

"You can't do that! My peaches are almost ripe. What if the order is canceled?"

"Yeah, Caleb, don't mess around!"

The village chief's son, Mason, raised his voice, signaling everyone to calm down.

"Don't be afraid. All he did this year was film videos and talk."

"We can learn that too. Anyone can livestream."

The villagers looked at each other, hesitation on their faces.

I scoffed.

"I contacted the channels, I built the brand, and I maintained the clients. You think learning a few tricks will let you replace me?"

"So what?"

Mason shouted.

"We did all the work! We planted the fruit! We packed the boxes!"

"While we were out in the sun and wind, you were inside with the fan on. Why should you get the same share as us?"

He turned to face the villagers.

"Folks, am I right?"

After a brief silence, Uncle Bob spoke up first.

"That makes sense. Caleb, you did put in effort, but the money... you shouldn't get that much."

"Exactly."

Neighbor Mrs. Lee whispered.

"Anyway, you made money in the city. Coming back to contribute to your hometown is what you should do."

The village chief also nodded.

"Educated people have active minds. Helping out is expected, don't be so calculating."

They chimed in one after another.

Everyone advised me to be generous; no one spoke up for me.

I looked at my parents.

They sat at another table, heads lowered, faces flushed red.

My mother secretly wiped away tears.

My father glared at me fiercely, his eyes saying:

"You're embarrassing us."

Mason was very satisfied with everyone's reaction and said boldly.

"Don't worry, everyone. I will lead you all to open livestream accounts."

"In the future, we won't be controlled by anyone. Everyone can make big money!"

He raised his arm and shouted, drawing applause from the crowd.

I curled my lip and gave him a thumbs up.

I struggled in the city for nearly ten years to become a top influencer in this field.

If it weren't for my hometown, for helping the farmers, I wouldn't have come back.

I didn't care about the $15,000.

I cared about whether my efforts were recognized, whether the people I helped had a conscience.

Since it's like this, there's no need for me to waste my breath on them.

I put the $1.50 in my pocket, turned, and walked away.

The villagers whispered behind me.

"He's got quite a temper, taking it so seriously!"

"Tsk, let him go if he wants. Could we not live without him before?"

"Exactly. Since he came back a year ago, we've been walking on eggshells. I've been annoyed with him for a long time."

My heart grew colder and colder.

Greenridge Village was originally a poverty-stricken village in the state.

It was only through this year that we shed the poverty label, and the village chief even received a commendation from the state.

When the city reporters came for interviews, the village chief held my hand, thanking me profusely.

Now, only a few months later, they've turned their backs.

In that case, I'll wait quietly for them to "stand on their own feet."