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

But the plain broth hot pot was really just average. After being used to spicy red oil broth, this one had no flavor at all—it wasn’t even as good as the mushroom broth. But Xie Yunzhen would never order the mushroom broth.

Jiang Lan didn’t eat much. She could always snack on something back at the villa, or even just boil a pack of instant noodles if she had to.

Xie Yunzhen remarked, “You ate so little? You’re as thin as a monkey.”

Jiang Lan thought there was no way her 100+ pound body could resemble a monkey, but she didn’t dare argue. She just added two more pieces of meat to her bowl and mumbled, “...Actually, I’ve grown taller, so I just look thinner. Plus, Yu Wanqiu has been teaching me yoga, which makes me look slimmer. I’ve been doing really well on the show—I even wore a really pretty dress.”

“I also filmed a small commercial for that milk brand. I brought you two cartons—it’s pretty good.”

Xie Yunzhen: “...”

After the meal, Jiang Lan carried the gifts she’d brought onto Xie Yunzhen’s car—a cute little red one. “I brought some mushrooms, scarves, and flower cakes from Yunnan. The flower cakes are seriously delicious, but make sure to boil the mushrooms for a long time.”

Jiang Lan was like a little hamster, constantly hauling things back home.

She had been so tiny when she was born, and now she was already dating someone.

Xie Yunzhen patted Jiang Lan’s head. “If you’re ever unhappy, just come home.”

Then she added, “I’ll drive you back to the show.”

Jiang Lan had planned to take the subway—it would be too far for Xie Yunzhen to drive her and then go back. “I can go by myself. The subway’s really convenient. No need to drive me. Just remember to eat the stuff I brought, okay?”

Xie Yunzhen didn’t respond. But as they stepped outside, Jiang Lan spotted Yu Wanqiu’s usual black car.

“Mom! Yu Wanqiu is here to pick me up…”

Just as Xie Yunzhen hesitated whether to go over and greet her, Yu Wanqiu had already stepped out of the car. “You must be Jiang Lan’s mother. I’ve heard so much about you from her.”

Xie Yunzhen replied, “Thank you for taking care of Jiang Lan.”

Jiang Lan had mentioned Xie Yunzhen maybe twice—Yu Wanqiu really had no problem lying with a straight face. No wonder she was an award-winning actress.

Yu Wanqiu smiled. “Today’s meeting was too informal. I’ll visit properly another time.”

Xie Yunzhen’s impression of Yu Wanqiu wasn’t bad, but she had no such goodwill toward her son. Still, she wasn’t about to be rude to someone being polite. She nodded. “Alright, I’ll head back then. Send me a message when you two arrive.”

The moment Xie Yunzhen left, Jiang Lan came back to life. It felt a little unfilial to say it, but she had only remembered bits and pieces of her past yesterday. Since losing her memory, Yu Wanqiu was the person she was closest to.

“Yu Wanqiu, eating with my mom is like dining with a strict school principal. I didn’t even dare reach for the food.”

Jiang Lan still smelled like hot pot. Yu Wanqiu chuckled. “You had hot pot?”

Jiang Lan pouted. “Plain broth. So bland.”

“Your stomach just recovered from the hospital—give it a couple of days. If you’re hungry later, make some congee.” Yu Wanqiu walked ahead of her. “Lu Yicheng probably knows you met Xie Yunzhen today. Let him know when you get back.”

Once in the car, they drove through the neon-lit streets, weaving through traffic.

“One more thing—Xia Jing came by this afternoon. The Yunnan provincial government wants to invite us to be tourism ambassadors, promoting local scenic spots. Would you like to do it?”

Jiang Lan perked up. “When?”

Yu Wanqiu thought for a moment. “You start school in September, right? If we film, it’ll have to be during holidays—National Day, Mid-Autumn Festival, or winter break.”

Yunnan had spring-like weather year-round, so the season didn’t matter much for filming.

“Would it be for the big tourist spots or the small town we visited?” Jiang Lan remembered how hard the elderly women in the town worked—weaving bracelets, making sachets, crafting ethnic clothing. If the promotional video could help more people discover the beauty of Yunnan’s small towns, she was all for it.

“Both. The initial plan includes Lijiang, Erhai Lake, Snow Mountain, Firefly Forest… If you agree, we’ll sign the contract.” Yu Wanqiu figured that after the show ended, she’d be busy preparing for a new film, and Jiang Lan would be in school. They wouldn’t have much time to travel, so this would be a chance to explore while getting paid.

Jiang Lan grinned. “Sign it! Do we get paid too?”

Getting to travel, earn money, and promote tourism? Why wouldn’t she go?

Yu Wanqiu nodded. “Since it’s a government collaboration, the pay won’t be huge. But you’re about to graduate, right? This’ll look great on your resume.”

Plus, her internship at Chen Ninglei’s studio would help with future job prospects.

The decision to film the tourism promo was settled happily. Back at the villa, Jiang Lan snacked a bit more before video-calling Lu Yicheng.

He answered immediately.

Jiang Lan noticed his posture looked oddly familiar—like she’d seen it before. “Hey, why are you sitting so stiffly?”

Lu Yicheng blinked. “Huh? I’m not nervous.”

“Who said anything about you being nervous?” Jiang Lan studied his overly serious expression. “Wait, are you nervous? What for?”

She was the one who’d faced Xie Yunzhen, not him—and she’d been terrified.

Lu Yicheng had been anxious all night. He was worried Xie Yunzhen had a bad impression of him, or that she disapproved.

“So… did you mention me to Xie Yunzhen? What did she say?”

Jiang Lan teased, “I said…”

Lu Yicheng leaned forward. “Said what?”

Jiang Lan smirked. “Nothing much.”

“Are you messing with me? Really, nothing? Or did she say something you’re not telling me? Just say it—I can take it… Should I have gone with you? But meeting Xie Yunzhen should be more formal.”

At the very least, he’d need to shower, style his hair, dress nicely, bring gifts, and arrive half an hour early.

They had only briefly discussed Lu Yicheng—nothing else. “Seriously, nothing. Who’s messing with you?”

Jiang Lan thought for a moment. “But my mom really is like a head teacher. I don’t dare speak out of turn around her.”

Lu Yicheng nodded solemnly. “Teachers should be strict. Otherwise, students won’t listen.”

Jiang Lan had no response to that.

The next day was Monday, and Jiang Lan had to wake up early for work.

Yu Wanqiu drove her. “What do you want for lunch? I’ll bring it over.”

Jiang Lan craved meat. “Braised pork with potatoes and dry-fried green beans!”

This was the perk of just leaving the hospital—she could eat whatever she wanted. She vaguely remembered someone mentioning bringing her lunch too, but she couldn’t recall who. Probably not important.

It wasn’t until she reached the studio and saw Lu Xingran that she remembered what she’d forgotten.

Lu Xingran greeted her with a smile. “Morning!”

“You just got back from Yunnan, right? That town looked amazing—I’ve never been. I’ll have to visit someday.”

Lu Xingran usually stayed in while composing, but after watching the show and livestreams this week, he thought traveling might be nice.

Mainly because the places Jiang Lan picked were so interesting.

Jiang Lan glanced around. “Keep it down. I don’t want people staring at me like I’m a circus act.”

Lu Xingran followed her gaze and noticed the curious looks. “So what if they stare? I’ve performed for way bigger crowds at concerts.”

Jiang Lan lowered her voice, "Anyway, I don’t want people gossiping. Also, I forgot to tell Teacher Yu that you wanted a bento too. If you want some, you’ll have to ask yourself."

Lu Xingran didn’t dare. Even if he asked, Yu Wanqiu probably wouldn’t bring him any. Besides, her sending bento to Jiang Lan was just her looking out for a younger colleague—what would it mean if he ate it? Even his uncle had never gotten a meal from her.

"It’s fine, just let me have a bite later. Back to work—I’ll keep my distance from you."

Lu Xingran’s composition was already recorded. If he wanted changes, it would cost extra, and Jiang Lan still had other pieces to record. By the time it was his turn again, it was already 11 a.m.

The violin wasn’t deep enough, and the cello was too heavy. In the end, Jiang Lan came up with a solution—she tied a piece of yarn to the table, tuned it, and tested the sound. The notes from the yarn were lower than the violin but not as somber as the cello, so she used it to harmonize a section.

Lu Xingran thought this was absolutely genius. He’d only seen people do this kind of thing on Bilibili—playing a whole song with a single strand of yarn—but he never expected Jiang Lan could pull it off too.

It required an incredible sense of pitch. Even if she didn’t have perfect pitch, she was close.

Lu Yicheng really hit the jackpot with his girlfriend.

Lu Xingran’s piece was finalized by 11:30. He was a little too excited. "Hey, sis-in-law, how about I treat you to dinner tonight? If you’re worried about rumors, I can invite a couple more people. Also, can I ask you some more questions? Do you still need this yarn? If not, can I take it?"

The studio staff found Lu Xingran’s enthusiasm a bit excessive and annoying. Sure, he was handsome, and musicians tend to admire talent—like how Chen Ninglei held Jiang Lan in high regard—but his constant pestering made it hard for anyone else to get a word in.

One of the staff nudged Lu Xingran aside. "Jiang Lan, where’d you learn this trick?"

"Can you teach me? I’ve seen people do all sorts of creative stuff—glass cups, ice cubes, you name it."

"Stay away from that Lu Xingran. He doesn’t seem like a good guy," warned a senior colleague who was close with Jiang Lan.

Jiang Lan whispered, "Actually, Lu Xingran and I are sort of related, so he’s just asking more questions. He doesn’t mean anything by it. Don’t believe the rumors online."

Lu Xingran hadn’t relied on Yu Wanqiu to debut, so he preferred to keep their connection private. With an aunt like her, even if he won awards, people would just say it was because of her influence.

Jiang Lan sighed. At least her internship would be over this week.

She just hoped the studio staff wouldn’t go posting anything sketchy online.

At 11:40, Yu Wanqiu called Jiang Lan to come downstairs for lunch. Lu Xingran watched with hopeful eyes. He’d had his assistant order takeout from a famous restaurant—pan-seared salmon and beef stew with tomatoes—so he could trade some dishes with Jiang Lan for a taste of Yu Wanqiu’s cooking.

Yu Wanqiu asked about Jiang Lan’s work before sending her back upstairs.

Jiang Lan returned with the lunchbox, and Lu Xingran acted like a thief. "Just a little bite. I won’t bother you this afternoon."

She gave him two pieces of braised pork and two green beans in exchange for a generous portion of beef stew.

This was Lu Xingran’s first time tasting Yu Wanqiu’s cooking, and it was amazing—the pork melted in his mouth, and the green beans, though slightly softened from steaming, were just right.

At the Lu family home, Yu Wanqiu never had to lift a finger in the kitchen. Clearly, sticking with Lu Yicheng was a dead end.

And Jiang Lan could play music with a piece of yarn—Lu Xingran was in awe.

He ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‍couldn’t resist texting his brother:

[Your girlfriend is incredible. She played a whole song with a single strand of yarn.]

[Lu Yicheng: Piss off. And stay away from my girlfriend.]

Lu Xingran figured since they were family, they’d cross paths again—why be so distant? He’d never mistreat his sis-in-law. He just wanted to learn how to play yarn from her.

Jiang Lan knew so many instruments, and he wrote songs. They could collaborate!

Lu Yicheng was being way too possessive.

[Can I treat you and Jiang Lan to dinner? She turned me down when I asked her alone.]

[Lu Yicheng: Piss off.]

Fans, like Lu Yicheng, were wary of guys like Lu Xingran.

[Latest scoop: Jiang Lan and Lu Xingran are distantly related, which is why they exchanged WeChat. Jiang Lan and Lu Yicheng are meant to be. No, wait—Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu are the ultimate mother-in-law/daughter-in-law duo. No need to worry.]

[Uh… did something weird just slip in there?]

[What kind of relatives wait until work to add each other on WeChat?]

[At this point, it’s less "Jiang Lan’s relative" and more "Lu Yicheng’s relative."]

[She should still stay away from him.]

[He really doesn’t seem trustworthy.]

Jiang Lan, of course, didn’t go to dinner with Lu Xingran. She was somewhat of a public figure now. Though she didn’t browse Weibo much, Zhang Tian often reminded her to wear a mask outside and updated her on brand collaborations—like how milk sales spiked after her ad.

Zhang Tian’s exact words were: "You guys need to act like you’re the hottest stars on the hottest show."

Even Aunt Zhao had fans now.

Except Li Jia.

Zhang Tian was at his wit’s end with Li Jia. The tension between her and Zhang Lin kept escalating, to the point where editing couldn’t even smooth things over.

That morning, Zhang Lin’s husband, Xu Chaoyang, dropped by. He couldn’t understand why she insisted on working. And the moment he arrived, Li Jia suddenly looked deathly pale.

Her lips were colorless as she murmured, "Madam Du went for a checkup last week, and her results weren’t great. Maybe I should get examined too."

Xu Chaoyang pressed her: "What’s really going on?"

Li Jia sighed. "Nothing serious. Probably just exhaustion."

Zhang Lin remained indifferent. Xu Chaoyang turned to her. "You didn’t notice Mom was like this? And you still let her cook for you?"

Zhang Lin smiled faintly. "What else could I do? I can’t manage on my own."

Xu Chaoyang scoffed. "You did everything when you were pregnant with Xu Yi."

If he hadn’t brought it up, those memories would’ve faded entirely.

Zhang Lin said, "My stomach hurts when I cook."

"Then just quit the show. We’ll pay the penalty."

Xu Chaoyang went to negotiate with Zhang Tian.

Zhang Tian said, "Let’s bring in the show’s lawyer. He’s the expert."

The lawyer adjusted his glasses. "Per the contract, leaving before filming concludes—or divorcing—constitutes a breach. Compensation will be calculated based on ratings and other metrics to offset the negative impact."

"Zhang Lin had 2.4 million Weibo followers before joining. Now she has 8.6 million. The increase alone—"

Xu Chaoyang cut him off. "Skip the details. Just tell me how much."

The lawyer cleared his throat. "Approximately… 200 million RMB."

Xu Chaoyang: "…………"

In the end, he told his mother to tough it out and urged Zhang Lin to be more understanding. Zhang Lin covered her nose, neither agreeing nor refusing, but the disappointment in her eyes was unmistakable.

Xu Chaoyang said, "Stop talking about acting. Look at how big your belly is—you can’t even cook properly, how are you supposed to act?"

Zhang Lin hadn’t spoken a word since Xu Chaoyang arrived. Deep down, she envied Shen Xingyao and Jiang Lan.

"Xu Chaoyang, do you remember what you said you liked about me when you proposed? You said you loved me for my acting." Zhang Lin’s voice trembled slightly. No one gets married planning for divorce—everyone hopes for a happy life. But looking back on all the suffering she’d endured over the years, she truly couldn’t go on like this anymore.

Xu Chaoyang froze.

Zhang Lin continued, "It’s only been seven years. There will be many more seven-year stretches ahead. Once the show wraps up, let’s get divorced. I don’t want this kind of life anymore."

Li Jia was stunned too.

The production crew all wore identical expressions of shock.

Zhang Lin’s face returned to calm. "I don’t have a job, so I won’t ask for any assets in the divorce. But Xu Yi—"

"Let’s follow legal procedures. I want custody of Xu Yi." That was the only thing she refused to concede.

Xu Chaoyang looked utterly bewildered. "Why would you want a divorce when everything’s fine?"

He went to work every day, never caused unnecessary trouble, clocked in and out on time—why would Zhang Lin want to leave him?

"You might be fine, but I’m not." Zhang Lin didn’t want to say more. Dragging this out in public was humiliating enough. "Just go home. We’ll talk after the show ends."

She turned to Zhang Tian and apologized. "I’m sorry for the trouble."