The Adopted Girl from the Tea Mountain
The moment I pinched the tender tea buds and laid them into the bamboo basket, I heard a car engine roaring at the foot of the mountain.
It was a black luxury car, glaringly out of place on the moss-covered mountain path.
The man who stepped out wore a tailored suit, pearl cufflinks at his sleeves, yet he frowned at the soil of Tea Mountain.
"Ms. Whitney Lynn?" The business card he handed me read "Special Assistant of Lynn Group Tea Industry," his fingertips still faintly smelling of disinfectant.
"We are the Lynn family. You are the Lynn family's biological daughter who was lost to the outside world."
The bamboo basket in my hand wavered, tea shoots falling into the dirt.
It wasn't surprise, but a sense of absurdity—I had lived with my foster father on Tea Mountain for eighteen years and had never once heard the words "biological parents."
The special assistant seemed to notice my hesitation and pulled a photo from his briefcase.
In the photo, my foster father sat on a hospital bed, clutching the wool socks I had knitted for him, his face as pale as tea leaves left out in the sun too long.
"Your foster father's rheumatoid arthritis has worsened; he requires long-term hospitalization." The special assistant's voice was calm, as if quoting the purchase price of tea leaves: "If you come back with us to the Lynn family, they will cover all his medical expenses."
My fingers trembled as I held the photo.
My foster father never had an easy life; he spent his years planting tea in Tea Mountain, carrying me home from school on rainy days, teaching me to pick tea on sunny ones. His finger joints were swollen like old bamboo knots, yet he never once complained of pain.
"I'm coming with you."
Sitting in the back seat of the luxury car, my mind drifted to the patch of freshly sprouted Tea at the foot of the mountain.
My foster father had said that this season's spring tea would sell for a good price—enough to buy me a new tea-picking basket.
As the car left the Tea Mountain behind, I glanced back; the mist-shrouded mountain looked like a piece of dark green velvet, concealing the eighteen years of my life.
The Lynn family's villa perched halfway up the city outskirts— compared to our earth-walled house on the Tea Mountain, it was like a jewelry box edged in gold.
The door opened to reveal a girl dressed in a silk nightgown, her hair curled like a Barbie doll in a department store; she frowned the moment she saw me.
"Mom, is this the one who came from the mountains?" Her voice was sickly sweet, but she took a step back from my bamboo basket. "She reeks of earth and sweat."
Only then did I realize she was Willow Lynn—the fake heir daughter the Lynn family had raised for eighteen years.
Mrs. Lynn came out of the kitchen, still holding a stew pot. When she saw me, her face brightened with a smile, but she didn't move closer.
"Whitney is back? Come, sit down. You must be tired from the journey."
Her gaze swept over my worn canvas shoes before quickly shifting away, as if afraid of catching something.
Mr. Lynn only returned at dinner.
He wore a sharp suit, and as soon as he sat down, he asked the special assistant, "Has the Shaw Family been contacted?"
The special assistant nodded. "Mr. Shaw said they will meet this weekend to confirm the marriage."
I paused, clutching my chopsticks tightly.
So, they called me back not because I'm the 'biological daughter,' but to stand in for Willow Lynn to marry the young master.
Willow Lynn put down her spoon and curled her lips. "I'm not marrying that cripple! I heard he's depressed—like a madman."
Mrs. Lynn quickly patted her hand. "Willow, don't say such things. The Shaw Family is powerful and prosperous; our Lynn family still depends on the Shaw's cultural tourism projects to thrive."
Mr. Lynn glanced at me, his tone firm and unyielding: "Whitney, this marriage was originally meant for Willow, but she's too young and naive. As the older sister, you must take on this responsibility for the family."
I scraped the rice in my bowl, saying nothing.
I came to the Lynn family only for my foster father's medical expenses; I don't want to be involved in anything else.
On the weekend when I met Simon Shaw, the Lynn family specially bought me a white dress.
The dress was too long, and in my high heels, I stumbled awkwardly, like a tea tree bent crookedly by the wind.
In the cafe's private room, Simon Shaw sat in a wheelchair, wearing a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing a faint scar on his wrist.
When he looked up at me, his eyelashes were long, and his gaze was not, as Willow Lynn had described, "mad," but rather calm.
"Whitney Lynn?" His voice was deeper than I had imagined, tinged with a touch of huskiness.
I nodded and recited the 'self-introduction' the Lynn family had prepared for me, as if I were memorizing the varieties of Tea Leaves.
He smiled after listening, tapping his fingers on the table. 'I know you.'
I was momentarily stunned, thinking he had mistaken me for someone else.
But he said no more, only had his assistant hand me a cup of hot cocoa, the temperature just right—not scalding.
On the way back, Willow Lynn sat in the car, fixedly staring at my phone—Simon Shaw had added me on W Chat just before leaving.
'How did he add you?' Willow Lynn's nails dug into her palm. 'You must have pulled some trick!'
I slipped my phone into my pocket and ignored her.
I didn't mention it to her, but when Simon Shaw added me, he said, "Tea from the Tea Mountain—I really like it."
That night, I was in my room organizing my foster father's medical records when I heard footsteps outside the door.
It was Mrs. Lynn and Mr. Lynn talking.
"Willow just told me she thinks Simon Shaw is quite handsome. She regrets it now." Mrs. Lynn's voice was low, yet it still drifted into my ears.
"It's too late to regret now—Simon Shaw already knows the one he's to marry is Whitney Lynn." Mr. Lynn's voice carried a hint of impatience, "However... perhaps Whitney Lynn will willingly step aside."
I tightened my grip on the medical record.
It turned out that in their eyes, I was not even a mere substitute, but simply an object to be toyed with at will.
Just as I was about to open the door, a cup of cold water splashed onto me.
Water dripped down my hair, soaking over half of my dress, which clung coldly to my skin.
"You little thief!" Willow Lynn stood at the doorway, still clutching the empty cup. "You stole my parents, and now you want to steal my fiance too!"
I wiped the water from my face and looked up at her.
Her eyeshadow was smudged, yet she still wore that spoiled expression—just like those tendrils of Sweet Pea flowers in Tea Mountain, always climbing on others to get ahead.
"Willow Lynn," I smiled softly, my voice low, "you better realize who the real 'stolen' one is."
If it hadn't been for her birth mother exchanging me right after birth while cradling her, how else could she be dressed in a silk nightgown, living as the Lynn family's cherished daughter for eighteen years?
Willow Lynn's face went pale in an instant, and she screamed as she lunged forward, trying to grab my hair.
"Enough!" Mr. Lynn's voice came from the stairway. Frowning, he looked at me. "Whitney Lynn, how can you speak to your sister like that?"
"Sister?" I looked at Mrs. Lynn. "Didn't you say I am the only daughter of the Lynn family?"
Mrs. Lynn's face flushed a deep red as she came over and took Willow Lynn's hand. "Willow has been our daughter for eighteen years. How can you be so ill-mannered?"
"Ill-mannered?"I pointed up at the surveillance camera. "You can check the footage to see who started it first."
The moment I finished speaking, I regretted it.
I had forgotten that just now, they were scheming outside the door about how to make me give up the marriage.
Mr. Lynn's expression shifted slightly, and he cleared his throat dryly. "Alright, let's drop it. Go back to your room and change—don't catch a cold."
I said nothing more and turned back toward my room.
The white dress hanging in the wardrobe was still dripping wet. I rummaged through my suitcase and pulled out my old T-shirt and jeans—bought by my foster father last year, faded from washing but still very comfortable.
I sat at my desk and took out the Tea Notebook my foster father had given me, where the picking dates of each spring tea season were recorded, along with my birthday.
There was a gentle knock at the door—it was Mrs. Lynn.
She held a pink dress in her hand, her face radiant with a smile. "Whitney, what happened earlier was my fault. Don't take it to heart."
"This dress is one Willow never wore. Why don't you try it on?"
I looked up at her; the dress was studded with rhinestones, blindingly bright—utterly incompatible with me.
"Madam Lynn," I closed the book. "If you have something to say, please say it directly."
Mrs. Lynn's smile faltered as she sat in the chair across from me. "Whitney, about the marriage to the Shaw family... could you possibly let Willow take your place?"
Of course, it was all about that matter in the end.
"You brought me back only to have me marry in Willow Lynn's place, didn't you?" I smiled, "What's this, now that you see Simon Shaw is handsome, you're regretful?"
I distinctly recall how much Willow Lynn despised Simon Shaw back then—calling him a 'cripple' and 'madman,' saying marrying him was worse than death.
Mrs. Lynn's face paled slightly as she rubbed her hands nervously: "Willow is still young, with high standards—ordinary people just won't measure up in her eyes."
"This time, she truly likes Mr. Shaw. Just think of it as helping the family out; Mom will find someone better for you in the future."
I took out the business card Simon Shaw had given me from the drawer, my fingertips tracing the name on it.
"No," I looked up at her, "I like this man too."
"Isn't it what you said? That sending me back to the Lynn family was for marriage."
Such a valuable 'pawn'—I can't just let it go.
Mrs. Lynn's face darkened completely. As she stood, she bumped into a chair. "Whitney Lynn, don't be ungrateful!"
I ignored her and kept flipping through my Tea Notebook.
I heard Willow Lynn stomping outside the door; she was definitely eavesdropping again.
Why do they call me their 'biological daughter' when they need me, but throw me away like trash when they don't?
Even when I was picking and drying tea leaves on the Tea Mountain, I never endured such treatment.
Over the next three days, the Lynn family kept setting traps for me.
That morning, when I went to the kitchen looking for food, I found all the milk in the fridge had expired. That afternoon, when I tried to call my foster father, I found someone had tampered with my phone and drained all my credit.
I know it was Willow Lynn who did it.
On the fourth day, Willow Lynn had the nanny carrying a wardrobe full of clothes and knocked on my door.
She wore a luxury suit and carried the latest designer bag, looking down on me. "Sister, I was wrong before. I apologize to you."
"You just came from the mountains; you've surely never worn such fine clothes. These are all for you."
I looked at those clothes—they were all worn by her, some still stained with lipstick, much like the tea leaves on Tea Mountain that had been chewed by bugs.
"Just put it there."I kept my head down, staring at the book in my hands—Tea Leaves Cultivation Techniques—without looking up.
Willow Lynn's face flushed dark, but she still forced a smile. "Sister, these clothes are all designer brands; you probably haven't even seen anything like them up here in the mountains..."
I didn't listen to her any longer and turned the page.
The next morning, I handed all those clothes over to Bella, who had come down from Tea Mountain.
Bella's family had a daughter about my age, who usually helped my foster father dry the tea leaves.
Willow Lynn saw Bella sweeping the courtyard wearing her clothes and immediately lost her temper.
"Whitney Lynn! Have you lost your mind?" She rushed over and grabbed my arm. "Do you know how expensive those clothes are? You actually gave them to a cleaning woman!"
I pulled her hand away and pointed to the camellias in the yard. "Your clothes aren't even as clean as the camellia petals."
Bella is an honest woman; hearing this, she quickly took off the clothes. "Whitney, I'll return them to you—don't make your sister angry."
"No need." I held Bella's hand firmly. "Since these clothes were given to you, they're yours now."
Willow Lynn was so angry she was about to cry, then turned and ran to Mrs. Lynn to complain.
"Mom! Look at Whitney Lynn! She wiped my clothes on the floor! She's deliberately humiliating me!"
When Mrs. Lynn rushed out, her face turned pale, and she scolded me harshly: "Whitney Lynn, how can you be so ill-mannered? Willow kindly gave you her clothes, and this is how you treat them?"
"Ill-mannered?"I smiled. "When I was in Tea Mountain, my foster father taught me that one must know gratitude, not flaunt others' belongings as a show of vanity."
"Willow's clothes are designer brands, but her heart is dirtier than the mud of Tea Mountain."
Mrs. Lynn was left utterly speechless by my words and pulled Willow Lynn back into the room.
That night, I heard Mr. Lynn on the phone in the living room.
"Yes, Mr. Shaw, we'll take care of Whitney Lynn. The wedding will definitely proceed as scheduled."
My fingers tightened around the phone.
It was the same in my previous life.
The night before the wedding, they handed me a cup of milk spiked with medicine.
I refused to drink it. The next morning, I saw Willow Lynn in her wedding dress, getting into the Shaw Family's wedding car.
I ran after them, but Mr. Lynn stopped me, saying I was 'immature' and was 'bringing shame on the Lynn family.'
Two months later, I went back to the Lynn family to retrieve my foster father's medical record, only to be pushed off the cliff of Tea Mountain by Willow Lynn.
As I crashed onto the jagged rocks below, I could still see Willow Lynn standing at the cliff's edge, smiling as she said, "Whitney Lynn, you should never have come back."
The moment I opened my eyes upon reincarnation, I resolved never to follow their plans again.
My return to the Lynn family was solely to collect my foster father's medical expenses.
Now that the money has arrived, it's time for me to leave.
On the night before the wedding, just as expected, Mrs. Lynn knocked on my door carrying a glass of milk.
"Whitney, it was my fault before, don't take it to heart." She handed me the milk, her face wearing a fake smile. "Drink the milk and go to bed early—you have to get up early tomorrow to have your makeup done."
I stared at the cup of milk, exactly the same as in my past life—steaming, yet concealing poison.
"Alright." I took the milk and downed it in one gulp.
Mrs. Lynn's eyes gleamed as she pulled a bank card from her bag. "This is compensation from me. From now on, buy whatever you want."
"Rest well. Mom is leaving."
The moment the door shut, I pulled a pill from beneath my pillow and swallowed it.
It was a hangover pill from my foster father, capable of easing mild drug effects—I'd taken it once before in my past life and knew its use.
I lay in bed, listening to the sounds outside.
Laughter came from Willow Lynn's room; she must be trying on the wedding dress.
I took out my phone and sent Simon Shaw a W Chat message: "Don't come to the wedding tomorrow."
He replied quickly, "I'll be waiting for you."
I didn't reply. I packed my belongings—still the same old canvas bag I arrived with, containing my clothes, the tea notebook, and my foster father's medical record.
At dawn, the joyful sounds of the wedding procession echoed from outside.
Through the window, I saw Willow Lynn clad in a white wedding dress, linked arm in arm with Mr. Lynn, stepping into the Shaw Family's wedding car.
Mrs. Lynn trailed behind, smiling so broadly it seemed her face might split.
The entire villa stood silent and empty, except for the nanny tidying the living room.
As I descended the stairs with my canvas bag on my back, the nanny glanced at me sideways and sneered, "Ms. Lynn, it's too late to catch up now. Ms. Willow has already married into the Shaw Family."
I smiled and shook the bus ticket in my hand—it was for the earliest bus to Tea Mountain.
"Who said I'm going to chase after them?"
I grabbed my bag and walked out of the Lynn family's villa.
The air carried no scent of perfume, only the fragrance of grass drifting from afar, just like the scent of Tea Mountain.
In the Shaw Family manor, Simon Shaw wore a black suit and sat in a wheelchair, watching the wedding cars come to a stop.
When the car door opened and Willow Lynn stepped down wearing a wedding dress, the smile on his face vanished instantly.
"Why is it you?" His voice was cold, like the icy surface of a frozen lake.
Willow Lynn's smile faltered for a moment, and she quickly stepped forward, linking her arm with his. "Simon, the one you're marrying has always been me."
Simon Shaw sharply withdrew his hand, his expression darkening. "You're mistaken—send her away."
"The one I'm marrying is Whitney Lynn."
The guests nearby instantly erupted, whispering among themselves.
Mr. Lynn hurried over, his face stretched into a smile. "Mr. Shaw, are you sure you're not mistaken? The one you originally proposed to was my daughter, Willow Lynn."
"I'm not mistaken." Simon Shaw lifted his chin slightly, and the Butler immediately stepped forward. "The wedding car convoy should return exactly the way it came."
Mrs. Lynn grew anxious, grabbing Willow Lynn's hand. "Mr. Shaw, Willow is the Lynn family's most beloved daughter. She truly likes you. The wedding is fully prepared; there's no reason to send her away."
Simon Shaw ignored her and pulled out his phone. The screen displayed the W Chat message I sent last night.
"The person I'm waiting for is not her."
Willow Lynn's face turned pale instantly. She clutched Simon Shaw's suit jacket tightly. "Simon, I'm also a daughter of the Lynn family! Whitney Lynn is just a rustic girl from the Tea Mountains. She only knows how to pick and dry tea leaves. How could she be worthy of marrying into the Shaw family?"
The butler frowned and took a step forward. "Ms. Lynn, please control yourself. Our young master is to marry Ms. Whitney Lynn, not a fake."
Willow Lynn trembled with rage, suddenly snatching a wine bottle from the nearby table, shattering it, and pressing the jagged edge to her throat.
"Simon Shaw! You must marry me today! Otherwise, I will die right here!"
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