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The Hidden Lotus

Thea_Berg
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Synopsis
A mysterious Chinese girl, brilliant in medicine, martial arts, and business, hides her talents from her abusive step family. A cold billionaire who initially underestimates her becomes determined to marry her—only to slowly uncover the terrifying scope of her hidden genius.
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Chapter 1 - Chapter 1: The Girl Who Never Spoke Back

"What's with the sigh?"

The voice sliced through the cold kitchen like a blade dipped in vinegar.

Yanli's chopsticks paused midair, the tips barely brushing the surface of her lukewarm noodle soup. She kept her head down, shoulders squared, eyes fixed on the broth swirling with soggy cabbage. The steam had already faded—just like any warmth she used to feel in this house.

"I asked you a question, girl!" Madam Wen barked, slamming a porcelain bowl onto the counter so hard it cracked.

Yanli didn't flinch. She never did anymore.

"I didn't sigh," she replied softly, her voice calm, almost indifferent.

"Are you arguing now?" Madam Wen snarled, stepping closer, her diamond-encrusted heels echoing on the marble floor. "Acting like a pitiful mute doesn't make you noble. You're nothing but a burden that should've been drowned at birth!"

Another slap rang out.

Yanli's head jerked slightly from the force, her cheek stinging with heat. A red mark bloomed across her porcelain skin like a cursed flower.

Still, she said nothing.

She picked up the spoon. Slowly. Quietly. Her soup was getting cold again.

From the hallway came the sound of heels—clacking in a rhythm too rehearsed to be natural.

Meihua Wen, the beloved daughter. Same age as Yanli. Different blood. Different fate.

"Oh Mother, really?" Meihua drawled, walking into the kitchen in a silk robe, fake pout in place. "Do you have to hit her in the morning? The bruises will scare off our guests."

"She was sighing at the breakfast I worked so hard to make," Madam Wen said indignantly. "Disrespectful brat."

Yanli's lips tugged upward just a little. She had cooked the entire breakfast herself, down to the handmade dumplings Meihua now stuffed in her mouth.

Meihua waved a hand. "Whatever. Get her to clean up the terrace. That billionaire investor is visiting later. I want everything sparkling."

Yanli stood up without a word, clutching the edge of the wooden tray with both hands. Her sleeves slipped back just enough to reveal the faint, pale scar along her wrist.

Neither woman noticed.

They never looked that closely.

The terrace glimmered under the soft autumn sunlight, but the coldness in the marble tiles seeped through her shoes. Yanli scrubbed the mosaic floors until her fingers burned. She never looked up when the black cars arrived. Never turned her head when the Wen family came out in droves, all in designer suits and bright fake smiles.

But when the footsteps slowed near her—

When that voice—low, composed, dangerous—said, "This isn't the maid I was expecting."

Only then did Yanli lift her head.

Liang Zhen.

Even in person, he was colder than the rumors.

Sharp suit. Harsher eyes. And a cruel mouth that looked like it had never known kindness.

He looked at her like one would look at an old painting that didn't match the room. Intrigued. Dismissive. Confused.

Yanli held his gaze. Silent. Still. Her hands red with cold water, her eyes dark like deep ink, unreadable.

He blinked.

She bowed her head again and continued scrubbing.

Inside the living room, Madam Wen laughed too loud. Meihua leaned too close to Zhen's arm, smiling like a fool.

"Please excuse our help," Madam Wen said sweetly. "We took in that poor girl years ago. She's... obedient enough. Not the smartest though."

Zhen said nothing. He accepted his tea and took a sip.

But his eyes strayed—once, twice—toward the terrace door, where a figure in gray was kneeling beneath the sun, shoulders straight despite the weight of the world on her back.

He didn't realize it then—

But she wasn't a maid.

And she sure as hell wasn't going to stay hidden for long.

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