"At the Tangs’ Centennial Banquet, Mrs. Wen Grabbed My Hand and Whispered That I’m the True Heir — But When I Brought the DNA Report, the Screen Flooded with Comments I Wasn’t Ready For"

“At the Tangs’ Centennial Banquet, Mrs. Wen Grabbed My Hand and Whispered That I’m the True Heir — But When I Brought the DNA Report, the Screen Flooded with Comments I Wasn’t Ready For”

The Heir Who Shouldn’t Exist

The Tang family’s centennial banquet was supposed to be nothing more than a performance — a parade of silk, diamonds, and champagne.
I wasn’t even meant to be there. I had been invited as Mrs. Wen’s “assistant,” a convenient excuse for her to bring me along to what she called “the night that changes everything.”

I didn’t know what she meant. Not yet.

Chapter 1: The Whisper

The ballroom glittered with gold chandeliers and laughter. Waiters drifted between tables like ghosts in tuxedos, and the Tang patriarch — Old Master Tang, the kind of man newspapers called “a living legend” — sat at the head of it all.

He was turning ninety-five that night. His children and grandchildren flanked him, every one of them glowing with inherited pride.

I was standing quietly behind Mrs. Wen when she suddenly reached back and gripped my hand so tightly I nearly spilled the wine I was carrying.

Her eyes were bright, feverish.
“Tonight,” she whispered, “you will know who you truly are.”

Before I could speak, she stood and raised her glass to toast the old man.

“To longevity,” she said, voice clear and calm. “And to truth — no matter how long it hides.”

A ripple went through the crowd. I didn’t understand it then, but every gaze that flickered toward me carried the same mixture of curiosity and fear.

Chapter 2: The Photograph

After the banquet, Mrs. Wen led me into a quiet corridor lined with portraits of the Tang family.
She stopped before one — a woman in her twenties, graceful, smiling, holding a baby.

“That’s me,” she said softly. “And that baby… was supposed to be you.”

My breath caught. “What do you mean, supposed to be?”

She pulled an envelope from her bag and pressed it into my hands. Inside were photographs — a hospital ward, a bracelet tag, and a record that bore my birth date. But the mother’s name wasn’t the one I grew up knowing.

It was Wen Qing.

My hands trembled. “You’re saying—”

“I’m saying you’re not who you think you are,” she said. “You’re the eldest grandchild of the Tang family. The rightful heir.”

Chapter 3: The DNA Test

I didn’t believe her.
I couldn’t.

But that night, she gave me a small test kit and an address — a private laboratory in Shanghai.

“Do this quietly,” she said. “If the result matches what I know, you’ll understand everything.”

Two weeks later, an envelope arrived.
The report was clear.
99.98% probability — biological match: Tang lineage.

The paper trembled in my hands. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, wondering how a stranger could wear my face for twenty-six years.

Chapter 4: The Return

I returned to the Tang estate the following month.
They were holding another gathering — a charity auction this time — and every major figure in the family was there.

I walked in holding the DNA report like a shield.

The whispers started immediately.
Who is she?
Why is she here?
Why does she look like—

Then the murmurs died when Mrs. Wen entered behind me, chin lifted.

She guided me straight to the stage where Old Master Tang sat. The room went silent.

“Master Tang,” she said clearly, “this young woman is your granddaughter. The real one.”

Gasps rippled through the hall. The air felt electric.

I handed him the envelope. His hand shook as he opened it. His eyes scanned the report, then slowly widened.

And then—

All the large LED screens in the hall flickered to life, and suddenly, words began to pour across them like falling stars:

[Who is she?!]
[She’s lying—there’s no way!]
[Look at her face—it’s the same as Madam Wen’s!]
[The real heir is abroad! Who planted this?]
[Is this some kind of revenge play?!]

Lines of digital “bullet comments” rolled across the screens — hundreds of them, streaming in real time from some unknown feed.

Someone was broadcasting the event.

Chapter 5: The Unraveling

The room erupted in chaos. Security rushed toward the screens, trying to shut them down. Guests shouted, cameras flashed.

Old Master Tang didn’t move. He stared at me with an expression I couldn’t read — not anger, not joy. Something heavier.

Finally, he spoke. “Who told you to come here?”

Mrs. Wen stepped forward. “I did. Because she deserves to know the truth.”

A man’s voice rose from the crowd — sharp, furious. “Truth? Or your own scheme, Madam Wen?”

It was Tang Yuren, the old man’s eldest son.
His gaze turned to me like a blade. “You think a piece of paper proves anything? You’ve been gone for twenty-six years. Where were you when our family bled to keep this empire alive?”

“I didn’t even know who I was,” I said quietly.

He laughed. “Exactly. And that’s how it will stay.”

He snatched the report, tore it in half, and threw the pieces into the air like confetti.

But even as they fell, the comments on the screen multiplied.

[DNA doesn’t lie!]
[They’re covering it up!]
[I saw the old records — the baby was switched!]
[Check the hospital archives from 1999!]

And then — a new image appeared.

A hospital birth record, projected in front of everyone. Two babies born within minutes. One marked “Tang Family—female.” The other “Wen Family—deceased at birth.”

Someone had hacked the system.

Chapter 6: The Confession

The room plunged into silence.
Mrs. Wen’s lips trembled. “I tried to protect you,” she whispered. “They told me you were gone. I… I thought I’d lost you forever.”

Old Master Tang rose slowly, leaning on his cane. “Enough,” he said. His voice, though frail, carried authority like thunder.

He looked at me for a long time. “If what you say is true, then someone in this house has lived a lie for twenty-six years.”

Tang Yuren shouted, “Father, you can’t possibly—”

But the old man raised a hand. “Bring the family registry. Now.”

What followed was an hour of chaos, confrontation, and tears.

Records were uncovered, files matched, and one truth remained impossible to deny: the hospital’s birth logs had been altered. The Tang family’s heir — me — had been recorded as stillborn. The switch had buried me under someone else’s name.

Chapter 7: The Other Heir

And yet, when I thought the nightmare had ended, the real twist emerged.

A woman stepped forward — elegant, composed, the same age as me.

“I’m Tang Yulan,” she said. “The one who lived your life.”

Her voice was calm, but her eyes were glass. “If you’re the real heir, what am I?”

I didn’t know what to say.

She continued, “You think I wanted this? They told me I was her daughter. They raised me with expectations that weren’t mine. You lost a family, but I lost myself.”

The crowd murmured. The comments on the screen shifted tone.

[Two daughters, one destiny…]
[Which one will the patriarch choose?]
[Maybe they’re both victims.]

Old Master Tang’s cane struck the floor. “Enough,” he said. “From this day, both of you are my granddaughters. One by blood, one by fate. And I will not let greed destroy either of you again.”

Chapter 8: The Hidden Will

After the banquet, I stayed behind.
The hall was empty now, except for Old Master Tang sitting alone at the long table, the DNA report fragments beside him.

He motioned me closer.

“I knew something was wrong years ago,” he said quietly. “But I was too weak to question it. Now, before I go, I must set things right.”

He handed me a sealed envelope.

“This is my true will,” he said. “When the time comes, open it. Not before. The family must believe the balance still stands.”

I wanted to ask what he meant, but he only smiled faintly.

“Blood decides nothing, child,” he said. “Only the courage to face it.”

Epilogue: The Broadcast

A month later, the Tang patriarch passed away peacefully in his sleep.

During the funeral, as the family gathered around the main hall, the massive screens flickered once more.

It wasn’t the live broadcast this time.
It was him.

A pre-recorded message, smiling faintly as he spoke:

“If you’re seeing this, it means the truth could no longer wait.
My heir will not be chosen by name or lineage — but by the one who dares to uncover what the Tang family truly buried.”

The room fell into silence again.

And then, a new document appeared on the screen — the seal of the Tang fortune’s final division, signed and dated one week before his death.

Two names.
Mine.
And Tang Yulan’s.

Fifty-fifty.

But beneath the signatures, a single line in his handwriting read: