Chapter 82 It Was Not Me

Very soon, the carriage beneath Tan Qingjiu began to move, racing at breakneck speed toward the city gates.

“Move aside, please! Make way! The horse has gone mad!”

The coachman shouted in panic, and before long, Tan Qingjiu heard the shrill neigh of the horse. The carriage came to an abrupt halt. She clung tightly to the window frame, barely managing to steady herself and avoid falling.

“Thank you, thank you,” the coachman stammered in gratitude, then turned to her. “Miss, are you all right?”

“I’m afraid this carriage can’t go any further. Miss, perhaps you should get down and switch to another one.”

Qingdai and Zisu hurriedly helped her out. The coachman quickly added, “Miss, it was them who saved us.”

Tan Qingjiu glanced at the horse, collapsed on the ground, before raising her eyes to the carriage on the opposite side.

Beside it stood a middle-aged man with the bearing of a steward. When his gaze landed on her, his eyes widened in astonishment.

“Fifth... Fifth Miss?”

Had he mistaken her for her mother?

Tan Qingjiu blinked in confusion, stepping up to the Shen family’s carriage and bowing politely. “Thank you for your help. Had you not intervened, I fear I would have been injured by the runaway horse.”

“Sir, do you know me?” Her gaze fell on the steward, her face puzzled. “Did you call me Fifth Miss? Or Miss Wu?”

“I’m sorry, sir; you must have mistaken me for someone else. I am second in my family’s line, and my surname isn’t Wu. My surname is Tan...”

She had barely finished when the carriage door was flung open.

An elderly couple gazed out at her. Their eyes were bright with emotion as they looked at her face.

“Master, is it...”

The old man’s expression was also moved, though he managed to remain calmer. “Are you Qingjiu?”

Tan Qingjiu grew even more perplexed. She stared at him for quite some time. “Yes, my name is Tan Qingjiu. But... I don’t believe we’ve met before. How do you know me, sir?”

He pressed his lips together, lifting his chin slightly. “My name is Shen Chang’an.”

She almost found it amusing—did her grandfather suppose she would recognize his identity just from his name?

Her lashes trembled lightly, but she kept up the act of confusion, her face innocent.

Shen Chang’an’s expression darkened. “You don’t know me? Your mother never mentioned me?”

He let out a cold laugh. “How impressive—she truly disregarded me, her own father, to the point she never spoke of me to you?”

Tan Qingjiu lowered her eyes. “Sir, you knew my mother?”

“Please, don’t blame her. It’s not that she never mentioned you; it’s just... she passed away when I was five or six. Perhaps she spoke of you when I was young, but it’s been so long I must have forgotten...”

Shen Chang’an froze, his face going ashen. “What did you say?”

The woman beside him hadn’t yet recovered, her voice trembling. “You mean... your mother...”

“Yes, my mother has been gone for fifteen or sixteen years.”

“That can’t be! How did she die? Why did no one tell us?”

Tan Qingjiu cast them a bewildered glance, then replied softly, “She...”

She lowered her eyes. “I was very young then. Later, they told me my mother was accused of infidelity, that my father initially forgave her, but after she found herself pregnant and couldn’t bear it, she took her own life.”

“Nonsense!” Shen Chang’an’s forehead veins bulged. “Who said that? Tell me—I’ll kill them! I know my daughter better than anyone; she would never do such a thing!”

Tan Qingjiu nodded. “I never believed my mother could be that kind of person either, but that’s what everyone said.”

As she finished, she seemed to realize something, looking blankly at Shen Chang’an and the old lady beside him. “You said... your daughter, you...”

Her lashes fluttered. “Sir, your surname is Shen—are you... my grandfather?”

Shen Chang’an was still reeling from the shock and anger of learning his daughter had died. Noticing a crowd gathering, he drew a deep breath. “Get in the carriage. Tell us everything. What happened?”

Tan Qingjiu nodded quickly and climbed inside.

The carriage set off again. Her grandmother had already begun to weep silently, while Shen Chang’an’s face was grim.

In a low voice, Tan Qingjiu asked, “Are you really my grandfather and grandmother?”

“We are,” the old lady replied, eyes red-rimmed. “We are your grandparents.”

Tan Qingjiu’s lips trembled. After a moment, she asked, “Then... why weren’t you there when Mother was in trouble?”

The words struck the old lady like a dagger. “At the time... Tan Yun tripped up your grandfather, got him demoted to a minor magistracy in Qizhou. When we left, we asked your mother to come with us—she refused.”

“Because of Tan Yun, your mother gradually lost contact with us. At first, we’d get the occasional letter, but your grandfather was angry with Tan Yun then and refused to reply, so the letters stopped altogether.”

Shen Chang’an turned away. He had always thought his daughter was simply sulking with him, and his pride would never let him bow his head…

“We sent people back to Jing City several times to inquire about her. Every time, word came that the Lady of the Tan household was fine, everything was well. Oh, a few years ago, our informant told us you had married the heir of Prince Ding.”

Tan Qingjiu paused in surprise, finally understanding where everything had gone wrong.

Qizhou was far away. Their informants had always asked after the Lady of the Tan household, not Shen Nianqing.

And the informants only inquired once a year or so, never realizing that the Lady of the Tan household had changed.

“It wasn’t me,” Tan Qingjiu said softly, lowering her eyes. “You heard news of the Lady of the Tan household. After my mother died, just a hundred days later, Tan Yun elevated his concubine to the position of principal wife. That Lady Tan is indeed doing well, and her daughter did marry Prince Ding’s heir. But Lady Tan was not my mother, and I am not the one who married him.”