“Rock, boys!”
Jonathan had naturally noticed them as well, waving enthusiastically through the window.
Martha stood up right away and hurried out of the cafe with a warm smile on her face.
“Boys!”
She opened her arms, wrapping Clark in a hug before turning to Dio.
“You must be starving!
I ordered your favorites—”
“Pancakes and maple syrup,” Dio interjected ahead of her.
A glint of anticipation flashed in his eyes, though his proud expression quickly returned.
“Not that I’m particularly hungry, of course.”
*Gurgle~*
Unfortunately, his stomach betrayed him with a loud rumble.
Martha bit back a smile, pretending not to hear, and gently patted Dio on the shoulder.
“Head inside.
The pancakes are still hot.”
Standing off to the side, Rock watched the scene unfold with an involuntary smile.
He turned to Jonathan.
“I’ll leave these two little rascals with you.
In a bit, I have to take someone to inspect our farm’s corn and oats.”
“Brother,” Jonathan nodded, clapping Rock firmly on the shoulder.
“I really can’t thank you enough.”
Over the past few years, whenever Rock went to sell his crops, he had made a habit of giving Jonathan’s produce a push as well.
“We’re brothers, aren’t we?
What’s there to thank?” Rock chuckled, lightly punching him back.
“In that case, I won’t pretend to be modest.” Jonathan suddenly leaned in and lowered his voice.
“Lunch is on me today.
I still have a little secret stash left.”
“…”
As everyone knew, due to certain irresistible forces…
…Jonathan’s ‘secret stash’ never lasted more than three days before Martha found it with uncanny accuracy.
Still, since Jonathan was offering, Rock winked in play.
“Then I’m definitely going to bleed you dry.”
Turning around, Rock climbed into his truck, started the engine, and drove toward the spot where he had arranged to meet Anthony.
Except…
“Aren’t you hungry, kid?”
He looked back helplessly at the truck bed, where Dio’s blond hair was fluttering in the wind.
Tens of minutes later, the old Ford pickup slowly approached the town’s second entrance.
Rock narrowed his eyes, taking in the festooned street ahead.
Colorful banners fluttered in the breeze, storefronts were draped in decorations, and even the lamp posts were wrapped in streamers.
“Did…
the Kansas Crows win a game or something?” Rock turned toward the passenger seat in confusion, looking at Dio.
Hearing the question, he scoffed without looking up.
“How should I know?”
“Strange…” Rock raised an eyebrow.
“Aren’t boys your age usually obsessed with football?”
“Heh.” Dio snapped the book shut, a flicker of disdain in his crimson eyes.
“Only a gorilla like Clark would enjoy such a primitive sport.”
Rock was momentarily lost for words.
Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, he silently drove the truck to the designated meeting point with Anthony.
There, Anthony was warmly receiving a middle-aged man in a sharp suit.
*That must be the big boss.*
Rock parked the truck and appraised the man thoughtfully.
The man wore his hair immaculately slicked back, and behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes were sharp as a hawk’s.
Every gesture radiated the distinct elegance and detachment of high society.
“Dad, that man…”
Rock’s heart tightened, and he quickly asked, “What is it?”
“His watch,” Dio lowered his voice.
“It’s a limited-edition Patek Philippe.
Worth at least two hundred thousand dollars.”
Rock drew in a sharp breath.
That was equal to two years of his farm’s net income…
“Is that the point?
And how do you even know about Patek Philippe?” Rock swatted Dio’s head lightly, speaking with annoyance.
“Did you sneak a look at my *Playboy* again?”
“I didn’t!
Only Clark would be curious about garbage like that,” Dio defended himself.
“Hey, blaming everything on Clark—is that fair?”
“Dad, I told you, I only look at fashion.
I’m not interested in those heavily made-up women.”
“So you admit you looked!”
“?!”
Before Dio could argue back, Anthony noticed them nearby and hurried over with a jog.
The shrewd middleman was wearing a crisp new suit today, his tie done meticulously, and even his usually messy beard trimmed neatly.
“Rock!
You’re finally here!” Anthony grabbed Rock’s arm enthusiastically, glanced at Dio standing beside him, and grinned playfully.
“And who might this young gentleman be?”
“My son, Dio,” Rock said dryly, turning his gaze toward the suited man nearby.
Anthony immediately took the hint and ushered them forward.
“Mr.
Luthor, this is Rock Kent, whom I mentioned to you—one of our best farmers around here.”
*Luthor?*
*A Luthor with hair?*
He subconsciously glanced at the man’s head.
Thick blond hair glistened under the sunlight.
*That doesn’t look like Lex Luthor…*
“Dad…” Dio whispered, giving his absentminded father a gentle nudge with his elbow.
“Ah, sorry.” Rock snapped back to reality.
Seeing the man’s extended hand, he hastily reached out and shook it.
“I’m Rock Kent, and this is my son, Dio Kent.”
“Lionel.
Lionel Luthor.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Kansas’s finest farmer.” The man smiled faintly, completely unbothered by Rock’s momentary breach of etiquette.
He then pulled a skinny boy out from behind him.
“This is my son, Lex Luthor.”
*Now this is the real deal.*
Rock smiled and scanned Clark’s future arch-nemesis with curious eyes.
Young Luthor looked to be around ten years old, with sparse blond hair and an oversized pair of round glasses resting on his pale face.
He shrank timidly behind his father, looking like a frightened quail.
Well…
he didn’t look anything like a future ruthless mastermind.
“This boy…” Lionel offered an apologetic smile.
“He ran into some turbulence on the helicopter ride over and got quite a fright.
Please don’t mind him, Mr.
Kent.”
Narrowing his eyes at his peer, an inquisitive spark glinted in Dio’s crimson pupils.
Young Lex seemed to sense the gaze and shrank even deeper behind his father.
“It’s fine,” Rock said warmly.
“First time flying is bound to be nerve-wracking.
Dio was terrified the first time he rode a tractor.”
“Dad!” Dio protested instantly, his face flushing bright red.
“Hahaha…” Lionel broke into hearty laughter.
“Children are all like that.
Speaking of which, Mr.
Kent, I heard that your farm…”
“Father…” Just then, Lex spoke up timidly.
“Could I…
could I go play with Mr.
Dio first?”
His voice was as faint as a mosquito’s hum, yet it left everyone present stunned.
*Mr.?*
Dio raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips curving upward into a slight smirk.
He liked the sound of that title.