My Mother-in-Law and I Became the Internet’s Hottest Power Couple

Lu Yicheng lifted the hem of his shirt with one hand, revealing his toned waistline and abs. Jiang Lan froze for several seconds before snapping out of it and hanging up the call—though she immediately regretted it afterward.

He really had the nerve…

Jiang Lan didn’t want to hear anything else now. Her mind was completely occupied by the scene she’d just witnessed. It wasn’t like she didn’t have other high school or college classmates to ask; why did it have to be him?

She patted her cheeks to cool them down. Seriously, who didn’t like a good physique? Even celebrities preferred handsome guys with abs—and Yu Wanqiu herself had well-defined obliques.

Those two were really the kind of people who worked harder than most.

Jiang Lan wanted to put in more effort too. Maybe she could practice the piano an extra hour tomorrow.

After sending Lu Yicheng a "good night," Jiang Lan set her phone aside, ready to sleep—except she found herself waiting for him to reply with his own "good night" first. They hadn’t even said much, yet half an hour had already passed.

Lu Yicheng hadn’t gone to shower immediately.

[Fairy’s Pig: Really going to sleep?]

[Been busy lately, haven’t gone to the gym.]

[Booked a specialist appointment for the day after tomorrow. Took a day off.]

Jiang Lan took a deep breath.

[About to sleep. You should rest early too. Go shower, it’s late already.]

It was almost midnight.

[Fairy’s Pig: Right away.]

[Good night, baby.]

At a little past six in the morning, Jiang Lan was jolted awake by a cramping pain in her stomach. She dragged herself to the bathroom and then burrowed back under the covers, envying those lucky people who could eat ice cream during their period without any discomfort.

It wasn’t unbearable pain—just a nagging, intermittent torment.

By seven, the pain still hadn’t subsided. She’d always had painful periods, and on days like this, she’d usually just stay in bed. If she absolutely had to go out, she’d take painkillers.

Today, she knew she wouldn’t be getting up. She sent Yu Wanqiu a message and resigned herself to lying in bed like a corpse.

If only she could sleep in without the pain—that would be perfect.

Less than two minutes after sending the message, the door opened.

Yu Wanqiu walked in and asked, "Stomachache?"

Jiang Lan, pale-faced, groaned, "I’m dying."

It hurt so damn much. She hadn’t eaten anything this morning, and after staying up late and eating little the night before, her stomach was in knots on top of the cramps.

Yu Wanqiu frowned. "Don’t talk about dying. Just stay put—I’ll get you some hot water."

She’d been through this before. In her younger days, her period pain had been severe. While filming, there were scenes where she had to wear summer outfits in heavy snow, and even with heating pads, the cold seeped in. Pain or not, the show had to go on.

There were even underwater scenes—if her period coincided, she still performed.

Years of filming had left her with lingering issues. She knew exactly how awful menstrual cramps could be.

Yu Wanqiu took a piece of ginger from the fridge—ginger dispelled cold. A bowl of brown sugar ginger tea would help, along with extra heating pads and something warm to eat. The worst of the pain would pass eventually.

She prepared a large bowl of ginger tea, cracking an egg into it. Skipping breakfast wasn’t an option, so she carried it over. "Drink it all. Sweat it out, and you’ll feel better. Hurry up."

Today, Yu Wanqiu was unusually gentle.

Jiang Lan thanked her. The bowl was enormous, the ginger minced finely, its pungent aroma overwhelming. One sip, and she felt like she might ascend to the heavens on the spot.

But she didn’t want to waste Yu Wanqiu’s kindness. This was ginger tea made by Yu Wanqiu—how many people could say they’d gotten that privilege? She had an entire bowl. Who wouldn’t envy her? Who wouldn’t want a beautiful, award-winning actress coaxing them into drinking ginger tea during their period?

Bottoms up.

Seeing Jiang Lan hesitate, Yu Wanqiu nudged, "Drink it. Then think about what you want for lunch—hot pot, barbecue, or we could cook at home."

Jiang Lan nearly teared up. It had been so long since she’d had hot pot… or barbecue. Eating out would be better—she couldn’t wash dishes today. She couldn’t let Yu Wanqiu cook and clean.

"I’ll decide in a bit."

Jiang Lan added, "Just sit here, Teacher Yu. Watch me down this in a few gulps."

The ginger tea was scalding, spreading warmth through her body the moment it hit her stomach. The taste wasn’t great, but the heat was comforting. Maybe it was just her imagination, but the pain seemed to ease a little after the first sip.

But the flavor really was awful. Even if Yu Wanqiu made it, unpalatable was unpalatable.

Yu Wanqiu smiled. "Take better care of yourself. Cut back on cold foods."

Jiang Lan sighed. "Teacher Yu, ice cream is delicious. Ugh, it’s been days."

Yu Wanqiu thought, High sugar, high calories—what’s so good about it?

But if Jiang Lan liked it, then fine.

After finishing the tea, Jiang Lan’s stomach felt a little better. "Teacher Yu, let’s have hot pot! Let’s go out!"

Yu Wanqiu nodded. "If you want to game, just say so. Or we can binge a show, watch a movie—want snacks?"

"Teacher Yu, why are you so nice today?!"

During her period, Jiang Lan was usually irritable, spending the whole day in bed scrolling through memes and videos.

Today, she’d planned to do the same—until Yu Wanqiu brought her ginger tea, made her eggs, promised hot pot for lunch, and even offered to game or watch shows with her.

Not boring at all.

Yu Wanqiu raised an eyebrow. "Was I not nice before?"

After a pause, she added, "You only suffer like this once a month. Ask for whatever you want now—once this day’s over, the offer’s gone."

Jiang Lan raised her hand. "I want to binge a show and eat snacks."

The last grocery run had left them with chips and spicy strips in the fridge—junk food, in Yu Wanqiu’s eyes. Since spicy food wasn’t ideal during her period, Yu Wanqiu only brought the chips.

Jiang Lan scooted over, making room. "Teacher Yu, come here! There’s a new drama on Penguin Video."

Every school break, a flood of new shows aired. People called them "winter exclusives" and "summer exclusives," something to enjoy over the holidays.

Jiang Lan browsed the drama section on the tablet—modern romance, historical fantasy, you name it.

She turned to Yu Wanqiu. "Which one do you want to watch?"

Yu Wanqiu skimmed the options, unimpressed. "You pick."

Jiang Lan chose a sweet romantic comedy called *Childhood Sweethearts*. The leads were childhood friends whose parents had jokingly betrothed them as kids.

But the male lead didn’t like his "fiancée." Though they lived close, he never waited for her to walk to school together.

Meanwhile, the female lead had liked him for years. She was lively, mischievous, shamelessly bold, and never hesitated to shoot her shot.

It was addictive.

Even Yu Wanqiu chuckled.

Here she was, a woman her age, watching youngsters fall in love in an idol drama. Not that idol dramas were bad—but as an actress herself, she tended to nitpick acting.

Still, these two were natural. Passable performances.

Jiang Lan was engrossed, her pain all but forgotten. They binged four episodes straight, catching up to the latest release.

Behind-the-scenes clips showed the leads being just as sweet off-screen—head pats, cheek pinches, the works.

Promotion done right.

By the time they finished, both were grinning like proud aunties. Yu Wanqiu checked the time—10:40. "Still hurting?"

Jiang Lan shook her head. "Nope, hehe."

Yu Wanqiu stood. "Then get ready. Let’s go eat."

Jiang Lan hadn’t checked her phone much since waking up. Lu Yicheng had messaged her around eight.

A "good morning."

And a "still asleep?"

Jiang Lan thought for a moment before replying: [My stomach hurt, so I wasn’t checking my phone. I’m going to eat now.]

...

Lu Yicheng replied surprisingly fast: [Drink more hot water.]

Jiang Lan knew it! Of course, it was "drink more hot water"—even in the middle of summer.

There was nothing inherently wrong with the advice. Lu Yicheng wasn’t with her, so there wasn’t much he could do to help. He couldn’t exactly take the pain for her. But compared to Yu Wanqiu’s response, it just felt… lacking.

Jiang Lan: [Got it. It doesn’t hurt anymore.]

Lu Yicheng was still quick to reply: [Get some rest.]

How was she supposed to rest when she was about to go eat?

[I already said I’m going to eat, eat, eat!]

Truly, girls and clueless guys were just different species. Jiang Lan put her phone down, changed her clothes, and headed out.

Since Yu Wanqiu took over the Green Leaf Hotpot restaurant where they first met, business had been booming. The area was full of students, and the place was always crowded. However, Yu Wanqiu couldn’t easily go to such busy spots, so the two of them opted for a more private venue.

There, Yu Wanqiu ran into an acquaintance—Chu Lingnan.

Chu Lingnan had met Jiang Lan at a premiere before. Yu Wanqiu had mentioned that Jiang Lan was a fan of his, but they hadn’t had a chance to get an autograph. Last time, he’d promised to sign something for her to take back, but they couldn’t find pen and paper. Today, luck was on their side.

Chu Lingnan said, "Wanqiu, here for hotpot too? Oh, I should give Jiang Lan that autograph now."

Jiang Lan turned to Yu Wanqiu, her expression full of confusion: "???"

Yu Wanqiu coughed lightly. "Jiang Lan, aren’t you a fan of Chu Lingnan? Here’s your chance to meet the real deal."

Chu Lingnan laughed heartily. "I thought girls her age all liked guys like Xie Zheng. Never expected her to be into an old-timer like me. Hahaha!"

Jiang Lan took a deep breath. "Your performance in *The Deep Sea* was outstanding. I really am a fan. You’d really give me an autograph?"

Chu Lingnan was generous. "Here, Wanqiu, take a photo of us first. Given our connection, I should give Jiang Lan a personalized autograph."

He even knew about personalized signatures.

Chu Lingnan was forty-seven, a year older than Yu Wanqiu. He’d spent his career in the film industry, often playing tough military roles, and had won numerous awards.

In terms of popularity, though, he couldn’t compete with Xie Zheng. But then again, even Xie Zheng was polite enough to play Yu Wanqiu’s son in a friendly cameo.

Jiang Lan clearly had good taste.

After taking the photo and getting the autograph, Chu Lingnan invited them to join his table, but Yu Wanqiu politely declined.

Once he left, Yu Wanqiu rubbed her temples and explained, "At the celebration dinner, he asked about you, so I mentioned you were a fan."

The two were old friends, having worked on several films together, so the comment had slipped out casually.

Jiang Lan admired Chu Lingnan’s elegant handwriting. "Ah, it’s fine. I’ll just watch more of his movies so I don’t blow my cover."

Who knows? Maybe Chu Lingnan’s influence had even helped Yu Wanqiu earn that thousand-yuan cashback on Pinduoduo.

Then Yu Wanqiu suddenly asked, "How many of my movies have you actually seen?"

Jiang Lan had forgotten—Yu Wanqiu was *obsessed* with being the best.

She hedged, "A few, I guess? But it’s been a while, so I don’t remember much. Yu Teacher, let’s just eat already. I’m starving."

Yu Wanqiu: "Oh."

"If you’re rewatching, *Cocoon* is a good start." It was her first film and the one that won her first award.

"If you prefer historical dramas, *Jade Beauty* and *Sword Qi* are solid choices—both wuxia classics…" Yu Wanqiu proceeded to recommend several more films, all ones she was particularly proud of.

With decades in the industry and dozens of movies under her belt, Jiang Lan had plenty to catch up on.

After sitting down, Jiang Lan texted Lu Yicheng. He sent two replies:

[Then eat well.]

[I told you last time to cut back on cold stuff. You never listen.]

Jiang Lan typed back: [Yeah, yeah, got it. Hey, didn’t we watch movies together before? Yu Teacher’s films?]

[Immortal’s Pet Pig: No.]

...

Lu Yicheng almost never watched Yu Wanqiu’s movies, despite her fame in the industry.

No matter how she transformed on screen, knowing she was his mother made it impossible to immerse himself in the story.

Staring at the chat log, Lu Yicheng frowned thoughtfully. It was always like this—whenever she was in this mood, Jiang Lan became irritable.

She’d snap over nothing, getting angry even when he hadn’t done anything wrong.

[You’re not mad, are you? Did I say something wrong? Should I just apologize now? Sorry.]