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

Lu Yicheng fell silent for a moment before asking sincerely, “No, what’s the issue?”

How could he be so clueless?

There *was* an issue—she and Yu Wanqiu had been venting about him and his father. If Lu Yicheng overheard, it’d be a disaster.

“Yu Wanqiu and I were just talking about girl stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”

Jiang Lan listened to the sound of running water. “Seriously, gotta go. Bye.”

Lu Yicheng mumbled, “...How am I supposed to understand if you never tell me? Fine, bye, sweetheart.”

After hanging up, Lu Yicheng turned back to the livestream replay on his computer. Jiang Lan had forgotten—they’d also watched fireworks on West Street once, though without the hats. His expression back then had probably mirrored Yu Wanqiu’s now.

He’d never seen anything like it before, standing beside someone he loved, his heart pounding wildly, impossible to calm.

Jiang Lan didn’t know—he’d never seen fireworks so beautiful. He’d been too embarrassed to admit it, afraid she’d tease him.

Because of moments like these, Jiang Lan had never realized just how wealthy his family was.

Most of the places they visited were ones Jiang Lan had discovered.

*Lu Yicheng, let’s go here this weekend.*

*Dummy, this place looks fun.*

*There’s a lavender field in the suburbs? It must be gorgeous.*

Lu Yicheng was starting to understand what Jiang Lan loved.

After the call, Jiang Lan unpacked their snacks. The summer heat had kept everything warm—fried squid, blooming sausages, a small bag of chicken nuggets, roasted baby potatoes, rice noodle rolls, soufflé pancakes, and two cups of mango juice.

They’d eaten a big lunch, so dinner had been light. Now, close to 10 p.m., their stomachs were growling.

The hotel had a kettle, but Jiang Lan didn’t trust it, so she cracked open two bottles of mineral water instead.

By the time Yu Wanqiu finished her shower, Jiang Lan grabbed her clothes and slipped into the bathroom. Yu Wanqiu sat on the bed, blow-drying her hair, still lost in the memory of the fireworks.

So many people. Such a vibrant street. *We’re definitely coming back.*

Acting had brought Yu Wanqiu fame and fortune, but it had also cost her dearly. The higher her profile, the more she feared exposing her family to the media.

She dreaded being swarmed in public.

But today, barefaced under a mask and hat, no one recognized her. Who’d expect an award-winning actress to blend into a crowd, watching fireworks and wandering the streets?

Whether gaming or exploring, time flew with Jiang Lan.

If Yu Wanqiu herself clung to this joy, how could Lu Yicheng resist?

Still, she hoped Jiang Lan could hold onto this happiness.

If fate didn’t make them family, staying friends would be enough. After the show, they could keep hanging out.

(Though becoming mother- and daughter-in-law would be ideal. Her son, after all, carried her genes—exceptionally talented. But Xie Zheng wasn’t bad either. And Zheng Rong… Really, she knew too many remarkable young people.)

Tonight was a celebration for “Lanzhou Pulled Noodles” fans. No one had predicted Jiang Lan would take Yu Wanqiu to a fireworks display.

It seemed simple, yet from the moment Jiang Lan began the countdown, fans’ hearts raced alongside each number.

Anyone could see—Yu Wanqiu adored it. *Absolutely adored it.*

The handwoven vine hat. The sparklers “meant for fairies.” Every detail perfectly pierced Yu Wanqiu’s girlish heart.

*How does Jiang Lan just… get it?*

She *knows* what girls love.

With Yu Wanqiu involved, trending topics were inevitable—but this time, the hashtags weren’t about “Lanzhou Pulled Noodles.” Instead:

**#YuWanqiu’sInnerGirl**

**#SparklersForFairies**

**[I’m officially a Jiang Lan stan. Don’t say “anyone could do this.” I’m uncultured—*I* couldn’t.]**

**[They’re sweet, sure, but does this mean they’ll avoid mother-in-law drama after marriage?]**

**[MARRIAGE??? MY SHIP!!!]**

**[Not enough content!! Why’s it over??]**

**[FYI, guests stream for 2 hours. Today was only 30 mins. Tomorrow’s the rest.]**

**[Now I get why Jiang Lan has so many simps.]**

**[That “three…” from Jiang Lan? I stopped breathing.]**

**[I never got the hype for their CP—until today. Epiphany.]**

**[Dual stans stay winning.]**

**[Lu Yicheng, I’m too jealous to sleep. You good?]**

Neither Yu Wanqiu nor Jiang Lan paid much attention to hot searches. Yu Wanqiu had grown accustomed to ignoring them—early in her career, she had cared about public opinion, but no one could please everyone. Now, Xia Jing monitored things, suppressing overly negative buzz.

Jiang Lan avoided them deliberately. After glimpsing her DMs once, she’d noped out—some comments were vile.

Post-shower, the two polished off most of their snacks. Foods Yu Wanqiu would’ve once dismissed now tasted surprisingly good.

It wasn’t the same as proper meals. Put it this way: even after five-star dining, she’d still crave fried chicken and skewers.

The entire outing cost under ¥1,000—well within budget.

Post-midnight snack, Yu Wanqiu patted her stomach. “We didn’t even finish exploring West Street.”

Jiang Lan: “Yu Wanqiu, your mission now is to savor the rare luxury of sleeping in. Weekends are for being a lazy bum.”

But Yu Wanqiu wanted more adventures. Wasting daylight on sleep felt criminal.

Yet the next morning, her phone glared: **9:53 a.m.**

Almost 10.

Jiang Lan still snoozed. Yu Wanqiu lingered under the covers—the hotel bed was cloud-soft.

She rarely slept this late. The last time? Post-wrap party in Shanghai.

(She’d woken at 9:30 then. Now, nearing 10…)

She stretched. They’d walked miles yesterday; her step count was astronomical. Even if her mind buzzed with excitement, her body begged for mercy.

Breakfast would be jianbing. Then back to the villa—they still owed over an hour of livestreaming.

After 10, Yu Wanqiu roused Jiang Lan, who groaned, “What time…?”

“Almost 11.”

*That late?!*

Rubbing her eyes, Jiang Lan fumbled for her phone. **10:05.**

“…Yu Wanqiu, you’re *the worst!*”

Yu Wanqiu cackled. “Up and at ’em. We’ll grab jianbing, then head back for the stream.”

The cameraman, already awake in the adjacent room, waited patiently. His job wasn’t easy—shadowing them everywhere, hauling gear in the sweltering heat.

By 11:30, they reached the villa. Zhang Tian delivered a task card:

**“Attention all guests: Failure to complete your livestream before 12 p.m. will result in penalty overtime.”**

**“Prepare for the next photoshoot theme: Fairies & Princesses.”**

Inspired by last night’s stream, Zhang Tian had conceived this concept. Every woman—regardless of age or marital status—was a princess. A fairy.

And every princess needs a prince. Zhang Tian had contacted Chen Hao, who’d just wrapped filming.

Zhang Lin recruited her husband, Xu Zhen, but he declined. Instead, their seven-year-old son would play the role.

Chen Shuyun’s husband was unavailable, so her son, Little Xuan, stepped in.

Zhang Tian didn’t dare to contact Lu Shuangchen directly, so he had no choice but to reach out to Lu Yicheng instead—considering it a delightful surprise for the guests.

This theme offered plenty of potential shooting locations. Shen Xingyao and Chen Hao were tentatively scheduled to film at a rose garden, complete with white horses, princesses, princes, and fairies.

For Zhang Lin and Li Jia, the production team planned to shoot at an amusement park. The vibrant colors of the rides would suit the seven-year-old child perfectly.

As for Chen Shuyun’s group, the theme would lean toward school and home settings. Initially, Aunt Zhao was reluctant, grumbling, “At my age, why would I want to film something so flashy?”

Chen Shuyun persuaded her, “Mom, you barely have any photos of yourself. This is such a great opportunity.”

Older people often dislike taking pictures, and though Aunt Zhao agreed, she still wasn’t thrilled. “They won’t make me wear a dress, right? I can’t pull that off.”

Chen Shuyun replied, “Just wear whatever the production team gives you. We’re being paid—it’s not like we can make demands.”

Aunt Zhao sighed. “...It’s been decades since I last wore a dress. Wouldn’t I look ridiculous at my age?”

Zhang Tian had no intention of dressing Aunt Zhao and Chen Shuyun in princess gowns. A good shoot depended on what suited them, and unlike the other three groups, these two represented an ordinary mother-in-law and daughter-in-law duo.

Neither was young anymore, so Zhang Tian decided on qipao dresses for them—something that would complement their elegance.

For Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu, Zhang Tian planned a seaside shoot at night, complete with sparklers. Their dresses had to be dazzling, with voluminous tulle skirts in vivid hues that would float beautifully as they moved. Their eye shadow needed to shimmer, ideally in a mermaid-like iridescence.

Just imagining it made Zhang Tian excited.

The latest they’d film was tomorrow evening.

Jiang Lan was puzzled. “Don’t we already have posters?”

Yu Wanqiu shrugged. “We can’t argue with the production team’s arrangements. Should I wear a hat? Would that match the outfits better?”

Jiang Lan: “...Wear it if you like. Who knows what kind of poster they’re going for?”

She sent a message to Lu Yicheng, who asked where they were filming.

[The production team didn’t say. We’ll be taking a car soon.]

[Fairy’s Pig: I was planning to see you today… [Sad dog face.jpg]]

Jiang Lan touched her cheek, surprised that Lu Yicheng was using emoticons now. She sent one back: [Don’t bother. Just forget about me.jpg]

[Fairy’s Pig: Don’t you miss me at all? It’s been a whole week since we last met. [Crying turtle.jpg]]

Truthfully, Jiang Lan did miss him a little. Lu Yicheng was her boyfriend, and that alone set him apart from everyone else. The only men she interacted with these days were Zhang Tian, the cameramen, and Chu Lingnan.

She could clearly feel that Lu Yicheng was different.

But spending time with him wasn’t as comfortable as being with Yu Wanqiu.

Jiang Lan wasn’t sure how to face him.

[I do, but we can’t meet right now.]

Lu Yicheng, you should only believe half of what I say.

On their way to the shoot, the two went live. Chen Shuyun and Aunt Zhao streamed while cooking, Zhang Lin during movie nights, and Shen Xingyao went live frequently—only Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu needed to make up for lost airtime.

“No gifts, please. We’re in the car, heading to shoot the posters. Each of the four groups has a different location, but the director hasn’t told us where yet.”

Jiang Lan chatted with fans in the comments, many of whom kept mentioning Lu Yicheng. “Lu Yicheng is at work. This is a mother-in-law/daughter-in-law show—him appearing too often wouldn’t be appropriate.”

[I disagree. Without LYC, would the two of you even be in this relationship?]

[Let’s be real—people should show gratitude.]

[Can’t stand those who kick away the ladder after climbing up.]

[Right, now that you two are close, he’s just an afterthought.]

[The Lu men work day and night to provide, while their wives enjoy movies, fancy meals, takeout, and fireworks.]