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

"Teacher Yu, I won first prize!" Jiang Lan rarely ever won anything—even when pulling for rare items in games, she’d always get them on the very last try.
Her luck was usually terrible, so this was a surprise.
Yu Wanqiu smiled. "That’s adorable. Go ahead and pick one."
There were two tour guides left—a black Brown Bear and a chubby, lovable giant panda.
Who could resist a giant panda? Jiang Lan chose the panda guide.
But the panda was enormous—taller than Jiang Lan by a full head and then some. She had to tilt her head up to look at him.
"Aren’t you hot?"
Even though it was nighttime, the temperature outside was still around 37-38°C. Wearing that suit was like bundling up in a winter coat during the peak of summer.
The panda shook his head, then extended a paw toward Jiang Lan.
A black furry paw, the panda’s head slightly lowered—given his height, it was probably a guy inside. Jiang Lan didn’t take his paw. "Teacher Yu, let’s hurry and get some milk tea!"
The camera crew kept their distance, but they could still capture the scene. Some viewers had already recognized the location, especially students from Tsinghua University, who were familiar with the area.
**[@Lu Yicheng, your girlfriend is here!]**
**[Hurry up! Others can’t make it, but you can—you’re only half an hour away!]**
**[Wait, where is this exactly?]**
**[Just an ordinary food street. It smells amazing… Ugh, my roommate invited me, but I didn’t go.]**
**[What insane luck—winning first prize just like that. But is this guide mute or something?]**
When Jiang Lan didn’t take his paw, the panda gently nudged her arm instead, motioning for her and Yu Wanqiu to follow him. After a few steps, they stopped in front of a stall selling grilled corn.
The line here was long—Jiang Lan had actually bookmarked this place in her foodie guide.
Since the milk tea shop was further inside, they might as well grab some grilled corn first.
She turned to Yu Wanqiu. "This place is amazing. Let’s just share one so we can try other stuff too."
Yu Wanqiu nodded. "Let’s use the voucher first."
The voucher was worth 20 yuan, but a grilled corn only cost 5.
Yu Wanqiu scanned the QR code with her phone. "My treat this time. You paid last time."
She didn’t want to keep spending Jiang Lan’s money.
The line was way too long, so while Yu Wanqiu waited, Jiang Lan used the voucher to buy two drinks from the milk tea shop—a taro bubble milk green tea (30% sugar) and a berry fruit tea (full sugar). She also got a cup of ice water for the panda.
When she returned, the panda was standing quietly beside Yu Wanqiu, but his head was turned toward her.
Jiang Lan felt a little weird. She couldn’t see the person inside the costume, but she had the distinct feeling he was staring at her. Then again, she *had* won him as a prize, so she shrugged it off. "Teacher Yu, here’s your milk green tea—lighter than regular milk tea. And Panda, I got you ice water. Where do I hand it to you?"
"Maybe you should just take the headpiece off."
The panda shook his head again, silent. Once Yu Wanqiu got the grilled corn, he gestured for them to follow him.
Yu Wanqiu pulled down her mask and took a big bite. The corn was glazed with honey and salt—sweet, savory, slightly charred on the outside, and tender on the inside. It was *delicious*.
She couldn’t resist taking another huge bite.
Everyone on the food street had snacks in hand. Yu Wanqiu couldn’t tell what they were eating, but everything looked mouthwatering.
"This is really good. Try it." Yu Wanqiu handed the corn to Jiang Lan while holding their drinks and water.
As they munched on the corn, the panda led them to the next stall—this one sold fried chicken legs, three for 15 yuan.
Yu Wanqiu felt like she’d stepped into a whole new world. She’d never been to a food street before, let alone eaten anything this cheap. Through the window, she could see the cooking process—gloves changing, oil being replaced. And the chicken legs? Crispy on the outside, juicy and tender inside.
They each took one, leaving one extra.
"Let’s save this for later," Yu Wanqiu said. "We might find more snacks."
Next, the panda guided them to a stall selling grilled sweet potato noodles. The line here was just as long. After finishing the corn and chicken, Jiang Lan went to throw away the trash. From Yu Wanqiu’s live stream, viewers could see the panda staring *intently* at Jiang Lan.
Yu Wanqiu was right next to him—sure, she wasn’t wearing makeup and was dressed differently than usual, but she was *still* a living, breathing person.
Yet the panda acted like she was invisible.
His eyes were *only* on Jiang Lan.
CP fans were *not* happy. Given the panda’s height, there was clearly a guy inside. Was he staring just because Jiang Lan was pretty? She *had* a boyfriend, for heaven’s sake.
And he kept trying to touch her—didn’t he know personal space existed? Being a national treasure didn’t give him a free pass.
**[Ugh, this is infuriating. Look at him—still staring!]**
**[Seriously, so annoying. Can he STOP? Someone punch those panda eyes swollen.]**
**[Winning this was worse than getting a keychain.]**
**[Should’ve just not won anything.]**
**[I’m so mad.]**
**[Jiang Lan’s back. This panda is *so* irritating.]**
**[Teacher Yu, can’t you do something? Is Lu Yicheng even your real son?]**
**[The fans protect Jiang Lan more fiercely than Lu Yicheng ever could.]**
**[Honestly, if those two ever get married, it’ll be thanks to every single fan here.]**
Before Jiang Lan returned, the vendor started prepping their order. "Shall I add scallions and cilantro?"
Yu Wanqiu nodded, but then the panda spoke up. "Leave out the cilantro for one portion."
Yu Wanqiu glanced at him and repeated, "One without cilantro."
That was the only thing the panda said—his voice was surprisingly pleasant. But with the camera at a distance and the noise of the food street, viewers weren’t sure if they’d imagined it. The chat went silent for a few seconds.
The vendor began grilling the sweet potato noodles, smoke billowing up. Even through the screen, the aroma seemed tantalizing.
The panda kept watching the direction Jiang Lan had left, his big head and dark panda eyes unwavering in the sweltering heat, waiting for her to return.
Yu Wanqiu’s expression was unreadable behind her mask, but gradually, the chat exploded again.
**[HOLY—]**
**[No way. NO WAY. Tell me I’m not hallucinating.]**
**[WHAT THE— WHO IS THIS GUY?? He doesn’t eat cilantro?!]**
**[My god. I thought Lu Yicheng was *nowhere* near here.]**
**[And here I was judging him for staring at his own girlfriend. Who am I, the ocean police?]**
**[Is this *actually* Lu Yicheng?? How is he not DYING in that suit?]**
The temperature in City B was 37°C. Even though it was nighttime, the breeze was warm, more like a furnace blast than relief.
In weather where people stripped down to shorts and T-shirts, Lu Yicheng was wearing a *thick* mascot suit.
And to keep Jiang Lan from recognizing him, he wasn’t even speaking.
**[Anyone nearby—PLEASE rush over and rip Lu Yicheng’s head off! Just half an hour, that’s all we need!]**
**[Trip him!]**
**[Just grab the head and run. The fandom will worship you.]**
**[Better yet, push Jiang Lan into his arms.]**
**[Make them kiss for ten minutes straight.]**
**[He’s gotta be at least 185 cm, and his voice is nice. Very good. Excellent, even.]**
**[Someone take that head off already! She’s your girlfriend—HUG HER!]**
**[I’ve got a genius idea: Lu Yicheng should *faint*, and then Jiang Lan has to give him CPR!]**
**[I’m *dying* of frustration here.]**
**[Finally witnessing the fandom’s dual-faced nature firsthand.]**
【Lu Yicheng, if you can’t even kiss for ten minutes later, it means your lung capacity sucks and your kidneys are weak. Don’t make me look down on you.】
In the livestream, fans saw Jiang Lan return.
With Jiang Lan back, the grilled sweet potato skins were ready. Yu Wanqiu said, “Yours doesn’t have cilantro.”
Jiang Lan: “Thank you, Teacher Yu.”
Yu Wanqiu glanced at the giant panda mascot but didn’t say anything else. She’d never tried grilled sweet potato skins before—small, cheap, and delicious, just five yuan a serving.
By the time they finished the snack, it was already 7:30 p.m. Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu had been out for half an hour, and the panda had been wearing the mascot head for just as long.
The bottle of ice water Jiang Lan bought was slick with condensation. “Have some water, it’s too hot. Drink up before you keep guiding us.”
The panda stayed silent, so Jiang Lan unscrewed the cap. “Come on, drink.”
One tall and broad, the other petite and slender—the two stood facing each other in the bustling night market, tension thick in the air. Fans watched anxiously, desperate for Jiang Lan to rip off the panda head and hug the mascot.
On screen, Lu Yicheng took the water, turned away, lifted the headgear just enough to gulp down most of the icy bottle, then quickly readjusted the costume before leading them to the next food stall.
Jiang Lan’s heart ached. Winning the grand prize had been exciting, but in this sweltering heat, dressed in that heavy suit, acting as their guide… a few snacks were enough. She and Yu Wanqiu could explore the rest on their own—she’d done her research.
Leaning close to Yu Wanqiu, Jiang Lan whispered, “Teacher Yu, maybe we should pretend to head back? It’s too hot. I’m worried he’ll get heatstroke if we keep going.”
Yu Wanqiu checked her phone. Only half an hour had passed.
Just thirty minutes together, and she finally understood what Lu Yicheng had meant by “don’t let her realize it’s me.”
Her son had never known hardship growing up. Seeing him suffer in the summer heat like this pained her.
But Yu Wanqiu would rather let him have this.
This was Lu Yicheng’s choice—something he embraced willingly.
This was the beauty of young love: minds full of each other, willing to endure anything. Thirty-seven degrees? Even storms or blizzards wouldn’t stop them from meeting.
But if Lu Shuangchen had to do this… his body probably wouldn’t hold up.
With a quiet sigh, Yu Wanqiu said, “He’ll be fine. It’s his job, after all. Leaving early might cut his pay. Let’s finish the tour first.”
The panda extended its paw toward Jiang Lan again.
This time, viewers no longer found the mascot annoying—only pitiful.
【Just hold his hand already! ［crying in frustration］】
【It’s a giant panda asking to hold your hand—that’s a national treasure!】
Jiang Lan didn’t move. “If you’re thirsty, drink. Don’t push yourself too hard.”
After grilled corn, sweet potato skins, and fried chicken legs, the panda guided them to a crowded stall for grilled cold noodles.
The sign read “Auntie Xia’s Grilled Cold Noodles,” with tomato, spicy, and sweet-and-sour flavors. A double-egg, double-noodle, and sausage portion cost ten yuan—generously sized.
Yu Wanqiu suggested, “Jiang Lan, how about a photo together?”
It’d be a meaningful keepsake—something to look back on after they married.
This time, Jiang Lan didn’t refuse. She stood beside the panda, flashing a peace sign, while the mascot tilted its head toward her. Yu Wanqiu snapped several shots.
“Not the best photographer, but you’re photogenic enough,” Yu Wanqiu said, handing her phone back. “I’ll send these to you later.”
After a ten-minute wait, the noodles arrived in a round container with two bamboo skewers. The dish was soft, the eggs flavorful, the diced ham slightly spicy—delicious. Yu Wanqiu had asked for no cilantro, but the crunchy onions added texture.
Yu Wanqiu even fed Jiang Lan a bite. The burst of flavors was mouthwatering, easily top-three best grilled cold noodles Jiang Lan had ever tasted.
Between bites and gulps of drinks, Jiang Lan was nearly full. “Teacher Yu, we could still get dessert—there’s soufflé pancakes over there, and a ring-toss game.”
Yu Wanqiu smirked. “I trained with guns for a film once. My aim’s not bad.”
As they wrapped up, Jiang Lan smiled at the panda. “We’ve seen everything. Thanks! Need us to walk you back?”
The mascot nodded.
The livestream showed 7:55 p.m.—not quite an hour yet, but in that suit, an hour was pushing it.
The panda stumbled slightly, its steps unsteady after so long in costume. Jiang Lan caught its arm. “You okay? Take the head off—you’re off-duty now.”
Yu Wanqiu, still holding the fried chicken, agreed. “Yes, take it off.”
The panda clutched its head and shook it. Jiang Lan figured they’d just escort it the short distance left.
At the entrance of Zhu’an Alley, Jiang Lan waved goodbye.
“Let’s go.”
Yu Wanqiu walked slowly, glancing back just as Lu Yicheng removed the headgear. His face was flushed, hair soaked, still trapped in the bulky suit as he caught his breath—eyes locked on Jiang Lan.
With Oscar-worthy shock, Yu Wanqiu gasped, “Lu Yicheng?! What are you doing here?!”
【Bravo. Just bravo.】
【Yu Wanqiu’s acting hits an all-time low.】
【Lu Yicheng… just wanted to see Jiang Lan. No grand surprise planned.】
No elaborate reveal—if not for Yu Wanqiu, Jiang Lan might never have known the panda guiding her was her boyfriend.
The moment Lu Yicheng appeared on screen, fans weren’t focused on his looks, only the overwhelming emotion of the scene.
Jiang Lan could prepare roses for his birthday; Lu Yicheng would wear a mascot suit for an hour just to see her.
When Jiang Lan turned, Yu Wanqiu feigned wide-eyed innocence. “How did he get here?!”
Lu Yicheng had no time to reassemble the disguise. In that heartbeat, longing won. He pulled Jiang Lan into a hug—awkward with the costume and her crossbody bag between them—but he held tight.
Bystanders paused, staring as the crew discreetly cleared space, cameras zooming in.
Jiang Lan’s mind went blank.
Lu Yicheng panted, overheated and dizzy. Through the sweat and the stifling headpiece, he could barely see her earlier.
When he finally released her, his voice was rough. “Jiang Lan… I’m so thirsty.”
She looked up at him—hair drenched, face a mess—and couldn’t bring herself to refuse.
Their drinks were gone, the ice water nearly empty, bottles discarded. Only her water bottle remained. “I’ll buy you a drink,” she offered.
Lu Yicheng eyed the pink bottle at her hip. “You’ve got water right there.”
Before she could protest, he added, “I’ve drunk from it before. I’m dying here.”
And so Lu Yicheng ended up sipping most of her pink water bottle through its straw.
He took off the mascot costume, changed into casual pants and a short-sleeved shirt, and when he came out, he naturally reached for Jiang Lan’s hand. "Baby, I'm hungry."
Jiang Lan pulled her hand away. "Can you be more careful? There are cameras."
Lu Yicheng frowned. "So what if there are cameras?"
He glanced at Yu Wanqiu. "Mom."
Yu Wanqiu gave a slight nod.
The implication was clear—they’d already met the parents, so what was there to hide?
Jiang Lan said nothing. Lu Yicheng was wonderful, but he wasn’t *her* boyfriend. If he knew his real girlfriend was gone, that someone else now occupied her body, he’d probably be devastated.
No matter how good he was, Jiang Lan couldn’t bring herself to treat Lu Yicheng as her boyfriend.
Yet he stubbornly held her hand. She almost wanted to grab his shoulders and shake the nonsense out of his head while demanding, *Can’t you tell this isn’t your girlfriend?*
Lu Yicheng tugged her closer. "It’s so hot. I’m hot *and* hungry."
Yu Wanqiu handed him a fried chicken leg. "Eat this first. We haven’t been here long—let’s play a little longer." She smiled. "I’m not done having fun yet."
Jiang Lan passed Lu Yicheng a small fan and abandoned her water bottle, her palms slick with sweat. Her thoughts were a tangled mess, making it impossible to focus.
Lu Yicheng noticed Jiang Lan’s discomfort with physical contact but assumed it was just shyness around the cameras. And with Yu Wanqiu present, she was holding back.
After finishing the chicken leg, he suggested, "Let’s go to that roasted pork trotter place. Maybe grab some rice noodle rolls too, okay?" He was *really* hungry.
"Why aren’t you happy to see me?" Lu Yicheng couldn’t let it go. "What’s wrong? Did you really not want me here?"
Jiang Lan couldn’t explain. She didn’t want to ruin Yu Wanqiu’s mood, nor could she tell Lu Yicheng the truth. "It’s nothing. Let’s just eat first."
"Then smile for me."
Jiang Lan forced a dry chuckle. "Go on, let’s get food."
*And then maybe we can send Lu Yicheng on his way.*
While Jiang Lan was tense, the live chat was celebrating like it was New Year’s Eve.
**[OMG, they’re so perfect for each other!]**
**[I approve of this relationship!]**
**[Someone feed him already—I volunteer to do it mouth-to-mouth!]**
**[Jiang Lan’s being so shy. Don’t be! Where’s the boldness from when you played violin in front of a crowd?]**
**[I’d lend Jiang Lan all my courage if I could.]**
**[Thank you, Yu Wanqiu—this performance deserves an Oscar.]**
**[Yu Wanqiu’s only career misstep.]**
**[Sacrificing dignity for her son’s happiness.]**
Lu Yicheng dragged Jiang Lan to buy rice noodle rolls. "Chicken, egg, and corn?"
Yu Wanqiu had no objections, nor did Jiang Lan. The combination was tasty.
The three shared one order, Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu taking a few bites before handing the rest to Lu Yicheng. A guy over six feet tall, wearing a thick costume for an hour—no wonder he was starving.
They bought three roasted pork trotters, one each. Lu Yicheng said, "Don’t eat ice cream these next few days. It’s too cold. I didn’t get yours spicy, either."
Jiang Lan bit back her words several times. When Lu Yicheng grabbed her arm—"Let’s go play the claw machine?"—she shot Yu Wanqiu a pleading look, hoping she’d suggest going home.
Instead, Yu Wanqiu tilted her head. "Claw machine… how do you play?"
In her forty-plus years, Yu Wanqiu had never tried one. When she and Lu Shuangchen watched movies, they didn’t even buy popcorn.
And the last time they’d gone to the cinema was years ago.
Behind Zhuan Alley stood rows of claw machines stuffed with plush toys. Nearby, a shooting game had colorful balloons arranged in a circle—hit them all, win a giant prize.
Yu Wanqiu smirked, glancing at Jiang Lan. "Which one do you want?"
Lu Yicheng narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing?"
Yu Wanqiu rolled her wrists. "Just testing my aim. It’s been a while."
She bought a hundred yuan’s worth of tries.
Holding the toy gun, she stood behind the marked line and fired—*pop!* A balloon burst.
Jiang Lan gasped.
Yu Wanqiu shrugged, unimpressed.
Lu Yicheng’s expression darkened.
During *The Deep Sea*, Yu Wanqiu had trained for two months in martial arts and marksmanship. She never half-assed anything, refusing stunt doubles. Her precision was deadly.
She won two giant bears before the stall owner refunded fifty yuan, begging her to take her talents elsewhere.
Lu Yicheng cleared his throat. "Which one here do you like?"
His gaze was soft as he looked at Jiang Lan, who, dazed, pointed at random.
Lu Yicheng had honed his claw machine skills through trial and error. At first, he couldn’t grab anything, but he’d cracked the code—now he never missed.
Five or six plushies later, he dumped them all into Jiang Lan’s arms. A glance at his phone: 8:30 p.m.
Two hours of live streaming.
Time to head back.
Lu Yicheng stayed silent. It felt too fast—like they’d done nothing. If Jiang Lan left, only the toys he’d won would keep her company.
Yu Wanqiu asked, "You’re on leave these days? No work?"
Lu Yicheng nodded, eyes on Jiang Lan. He hoped she’d ask him to stay.
She didn’t.
Something was off. Even winning prizes hadn’t lifted Jiang Lan’s mood. He couldn’t figure out why.
Yu Wanqiu pressed, "Staying at school? Curfew?"
Tsinghua’s dorms were old, with spotty summer showers. Jiang Lan rented a studio off-campus for the break.
The Lu family owned properties galore—no way Lu Yicheng roughed it in dorms. But he seized the opening. "Yeah, curfew’s at ten. It’s fine, I’ll crash somewhere outside."
**[What school has a *10 p.m.* curfew???]**
**[“Crash somewhere”—as if they’d let you sleep on the streets.]**
**[Just take the poor stray puppy home already!]**
Yu Wanqiu sighed. "Why not stay at the villa tonight? Leave tomorrow."
Lu Yicheng brightened. "Then I’ll leave tomorrow evening. What do you want for lunch?"
"We’ll buy groceries in the morning," Yu Wanqiu said. "Maybe play games in the afternoon. There’s a spare room—you’ll manage for one night."
Trapped by the mother-son tag team, Jiang Lan relented. Fine. She *did* have things to say to Lu Yicheng.
Grinning, Lu Yicheng squeezed her hand.
He was handsome, with Yu Wanqiu’s sharp eyes and his father’s strong jaw. His hair, lightly curled with bangs, and his crisp outfit fit every fan’s fantasy of Yu Wanqiu’s son.
Jiang Lan ended the stream. Yu Wanqiu took the front seat; she and Lu Yicheng sat in back, hands linked as she stared blankly out the window.
She remembered another night like this, when Yu Wanqiu suddenly asked if she’d blocked Lu Yicheng.
If she couldn’t avoid this, she might as well come clean.
By the time they reached the villa, it was 9:30. Lu Yicheng, drenched in sweat, needed a shower.
Jiang Lan’s expression remained detached. Back in her room, she covered the camera and took a steadying breath.
She felt awful for Lu Yicheng—but there was no choice. She’d thought it was just four months, but they’d been together for three years.
Three years—it was bad enough that she had taken over someone else’s place, but now she was even taking over their boyfriend.
Jiang Lan splashed cold water on her face, then stepped out and knocked on the door of the middle room.
Lu Yicheng emerged with damp hair, having changed into fresh clothes. Yu Wanqiu had been serious about arranging for someone to deliver new outfits.
Jiang Lan said, “I need to talk to you.”
Lu Yicheng shifted aside to let her in. “Sweetheart, you know every time you start with that line, it terrifies me.”
It was like a reflex.
Jiang Lan covered the camera, unplugged the audio cable, and locked the door.
Lu Yicheng looked puzzled, then smirked, tugging at his collar. “What’s this about?”
Standing in front of him, Jiang Lan took a deep breath. “You might not be able to accept this, but you’ll have to come to terms with it. Lu Yicheng, I don’t remember you anymore. I’ve forgotten everything from the past. You could say I’ve become a different person—no longer the Jiang Lan I used to be.”
“I’m not the person you fell in love with anymore. We have to break up. I’m sorry.”
Jiang Lan felt guilty, but there was nothing she could do.
She expected Lu Yicheng to cry, to be lost—after all, three years of feelings weren’t something you could just let go of. But instead, he laughed.
Lu Yicheng turned to grab a towel from the bathroom to dry his hair. Jiang Lan insisted, “I’m not joking!”
His eyes crinkled with amusement. “I know. So what you’re saying is, you remember playing the violin, going to the snack street, gaming, carrying your teammates, and that you hate cilantro—but somehow, you just forgot me. Right?”
Jiang Lan: “?????”
“Sweetheart, is messing with me fun?”
Jiang Lan wanted to deny it, but his words weren’t entirely wrong. “No… I really don’t remember anything…”
Lu Yicheng had scored 732 on his college entrance exams—150 points higher than Jiang Lan. He nodded, as if agreeing with her. “Right, just forgot me.”
“I don’t remember anyone else either.”
“Mm-hmm, just the violin, gaming, and snack street.”
“Lu Yicheng, stop being unreasonable!”
“So when you can’t win an argument, this is your move, huh? Sweetheart, now you know—I only ever let you win before.” He rubbed his hair until it was half-dry and muttered, “No idea what’s going on in your head.”
For the first time, Jiang Lan felt genuine frustration. It was like talking to a brick wall—no, worse, like playing music for a cow.
Jiang Lan snapped, “Who’s messing with you? Can’t you tell your girlfriend isn’t the same person anymore?”
Lu Yicheng countered, “You’re right, you’re different. You hate cilantro, can’t stand cumin, love sour fish stew, prefer your chili balanced—not too much, not too little—crave hot pot and ice cream, remember the violin, the cello, every instrument except your boyfriend.”
“You know how in dramas, amnesia makes people forget their loved ones? Does that mean I’m your favorite?” His tone was dead serious.
Jiang Lan couldn’t refute him—because he had just listed all her preferences perfectly.
She was faking amnesia, not actually suffering from it. Now, she was starting to wonder if she really had lost her memories—if the girl who dated Lu Yicheng for three years was actually her.
“But…”
Lu Yicheng cut in, “If you’ve lost your memories, we’ll go to the hospital. How will breaking up help you remember?”
Jiang Lan: “…………”
This guy—was he insane?
She looked up. “What if I never remember?”
“It’s just a stretch of time,” Lu Yicheng said, as if confused by her worry. “If you can’t recall, then I’ll just chase you all over again.”
He set the towel aside and reached out to ruffle her hair. Jiang Lan swatted his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
Lu Yicheng pulled her into a hug instead. “Why not? Even if you’ve lost your memories, you’re still my girlfriend. What’s wrong with hugging?”
The night had already thrown too much at Jiang Lan, leaving her unable to think straight—but she still pushed him away on instinct. “It’s just not allowed!”
Lu Yicheng sighed. “Sweetheart, you’ve got to give me something believable. This…”
Even her stubbornness was the same. How could he believe her?
Still, he was starting to think Jiang Lan really didn’t remember. Otherwise, after a long separation, with him freshly showered and right in front of her, she wouldn’t be so indifferent…
That really wasn’t normal.
Jiang Lan said, “Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say. I’m going back.”
Lu Yicheng grabbed her wrist, sat on the bed, and patted the spot beside him. “It’s still early. What are you going back for? Gaming? Binge-watching?”
“Even if you don’t remember, we’re still together. After so long apart, shouldn’t you stay with me for a bit? Come here—I’ll tell you about our past. Maybe it’ll help you remember faster.”
Jiang Lan realized he was making sense. She sighed. “Fine. Tell me, then.”
Lu Yicheng asked, “Do you remember your parents?”
Jiang Lan shook her head.
“What about Xu Xiang?”
Another shake.
Lu Yicheng looked relieved. “Good. Xu Xiang isn’t important anyway. Forget him.”
Before Jiang Lan could react, he continued, “Do you remember how we met? Don’t tell me you forgot that too.”
“Honestly, if Yu Wanqiu hadn’t called your name, I wouldn’t have recognized you even if you walked right past me.”
Jiang Lan: “……”
Lu Yicheng began, “Then let’s start from the beginning. During winter break in our second year of high school, you were in a cram school next to my Olympiad math class, and you struck up a conversation with me.”
“You’d just come back from arts classes and were way behind in academics, so you had to attend extra lessons.”
Jiang Lan’s expression turned strange, but the details he provided forced her to believe him.
Lu Yicheng continued, “You said my name sounded familiar and asked if we’d met before.”
If amnesia was real—if her transmigration was real—then after so much time, she might have genuinely forgotten the novel. That would explain why his name felt familiar when they met.
Lu Yicheng added, “Back then, I thought, ‘Is this how people flirt now?’”
He chuckled softly.
Lu Yicheng was handsome—a little intimidating when expressionless, but breathtaking when he smiled, with traces of Yu Wanqiu’s charm.
“That’s how we met. During winter break, you kept bringing me food and drinks, acting all possessive even though we weren’t even together. You wouldn’t let any other girls near me. After break, you wrote me a love letter, asking to date.”
“The letter was too long—I won’t recite it. But we were still in high school, so I turned you down. You asked, ‘If we wait until college, can we be together then?’ I said I was aiming for Tsinghua.”
Jiang Lan was an arts student—her entrance exam scores wouldn’t have matched his.
“Back then, your grades were barely over 400. But because I wanted Tsinghua, you decided to aim for it too. You begged me to tutor you, stuck to me every day. Eventually, I couldn’t help but fall for you. After graduation, we got together. You were really into me—so controlling.” He smiled. “The rest, I’ll tell you later, bit by bit.”
Jiang Lan thought, *Is this really me? That can't be right.* Flirting, sending food, clinging to someone—anyone seeing this would call it *simp behavior*.
If she could still like a Lu Yicheng like this, he must have something wrong with him.
Lu Yicheng lifted his chin slightly. "Anything else you want to ask?"
Jiang Lan couldn’t quite pinpoint what felt off, but something definitely was. "What exactly do I like about you?"
Lu Yicheng’s expression darkened instantly. "How should I know what you like about me? That I’m handsome, good at studying, have a great personality, or treat you well?"
Jiang Lan sighed. "Fine, let me rephrase—what do *you* like about *me*?"
"Does liking someone need a reason?" Lu Yicheng said, as if it were obvious. "Anything else? Ask away. I don’t know much about your family."
"Jiang Lan, I mishandled things with Teacher Yu. I never brought it up before—that was my fault. I’m sorry."
Jiang Lan exhaled. "It’s fine. It’s all in the past."
If she were truly herself back then, she would’ve been upset when she first found out. But too much time had passed.
Lu Yicheng nodded. "Then shouldn’t *you* apologize for blocking me on WeChat and my number without even giving me a chance to explain?"
Jiang Lan nearly choked. If they hadn’t argued much before, it was probably only because Lu Yicheng had always let her have her way.
"...Sorry."
"Alright, forgiven."
Just as Jiang Lan relaxed, Lu Yicheng stared at her, deadpan. "Why are you still standing there? Unblock me already."
Impatient, he snatched her phone, unlocked it with practiced ease, and removed himself from the blacklist. But he didn’t return it immediately. Instead, he raised an eyebrow. "You deleted all our chat history *and* photos? Impressive."
"Luckily, I still have them. We can check the Couple Space too." He handed the phone back. "Blocked for over ten days, no ‘good morning’ or ‘good night’…"
"And what’s with that alt account? *‘I’m trash’*?"
Jiang Lan rubbed her temples and quickly got out of bed. "It’s late. I should go back to sleep—I have to wake up at seven tomorrow."
"Wait. Where’s my ‘good night’?" Lu Yicheng caught her wrist. His hand was warm, but Jiang Lan’s skin felt cool.
"Good night!"
Lu Yicheng: "Good night."
He leaned in and kissed her. Jiang Lan covered her mouth. "What was that?!"
Lu Yicheng licked his lower lip. "Didn’t even use tongue. Go to sleep. What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?"
Jiang Lan was too irritated to care. *How can he just—* She tugged at her hair. "I’ll have Teacher Yu’s sandwiches!"
Lu Yicheng walked her out, fixing her clothes and hair by the door. "There are cameras outside. People will think I did something to you."
She swatted his hand away. Lu Yicheng watched her leave, thinking, *This is fine. Her not remembering… it’s kind of cute.*
Back in her room, Jiang Lan took a cold shower to clear her head. She wasn’t *disbelieving* Lu Yicheng, but she remained skeptical.
A violin sat on her desk. Shared hobbies and habits—she couldn’t convince herself she had *no* connection to her past self.
If she *had* lost her memory, learning Lu Yicheng’s background back then would’ve likely led to a breakup.
It wasn’t a trivial matter. Had she known without the amnesia, running into Yu Wanqiu at the hotpot restaurant would’ve ended things for good, let alone joining this show.
It wasn’t about being dramatic. Dating and marriage were different. She never dreamed of marrying into wealth, wearing luxury brands, or dining on exorbitant meals.
A snack street was paradise enough for her. She and Lu Yicheng *were* from different worlds.
But she *had* joined the show. Yu Wanqiu had walked down from her pedestal.
And Lu Yicheng, wearing thick clothes in summer—Jiang Lan wasn’t unaffected.
By 11 p.m., the villa was silent.
Zhang Tian monitored the edited livestream clips and Twitter trends, steering discussions where needed.
The livestream still had viewers. Since Lu Yicheng’s *"no cilantro"* remark, viewership had held steady at 1.5 million.
The mask removal shot it past 2 million, landing the show two more hashtags.
Zhang Tian had predicted right—this season was *way* hotter than the first.
Twitter buzzed with tags: *#LuYichengAndYuWanqiuLookAlike*, *#HowFarWouldYourBfGo*, *#TheRightWayToHandleAMotherInLaw*...
Sponsors flooded his inbox—diamond rings, watches, clothing. Zhang Tian smelled profit.
The *#Irreplaceable* fanbase had already hit 5 million.
After browsing the tag, Zhang Tian felt half-converted to a shipper himself.
The top post read:
**"Betting $1.30 Lu Yicheng got out of the doghouse today."**
**"Congrats, Lu Yicheng!"**
**"Cue the 99-gun salute!"**
**"More! I’ve waited ages for this!"**
**"If he’s already in her room, marriage can’t be far off."**
**"Today was a rollercoaster, but it ended well. Only thing missing? A kiss. Betting $1.30 they did."**
**"Lu Yicheng sneaks into Jiang Lan’s room."**
**"Doing what adults do."**
**"Today’s our festival! Next goal: Lu Yicheng visits again next week."**
Zhang Tian marveled at fans’ creativity. Sure, Jiang Lan had entered Lu Yicheng’s room and disabled the cameras and mics—but she left after half an hour.
*Then again… absence makes the heart grow fonder. Why else cut the feed?*
He cleared his throat. "Skip the blurry clips. And check if Douyin has livestream archives. Should’ve never streamed—split the traffic too much."
The editing team, dark circles under their eyes, had pulled all-nighters. Zhang Tian handed out red envelopes. "Lu Yicheng leaves tomorrow evening. Film and edit carefully. Remind him to keep cameras on."
Lu Yicheng struck him as reticent, even cold. Hard to believe this was the same guy who’d wear a mascot suit to cheer his girlfriend.
Zhang Tian briefed him on show rules and invited him to visit often.
Lu Yicheng responded like a one-word bot: "Okay."
The next morning at six, Lu Yicheng was in the kitchen prepping breakfast.
Yu Wanqiu, an early riser, arched a brow at the sight. "Someone’s diligent."