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

Lu Yicheng rarely played this game unless it was with Jiang Lan—he only did so because she enjoyed it.
He didn’t care about winning or losing, but Jiang Lan did, and there were other teammates involved. Lu Yicheng didn’t want to keep dragging them down. “Can’t you just talk properly? Why can’t you play with me the same way you do with Teacher Yu?”
Jiang Lan raised an eyebrow. “If Teacher Yu picks the hero Yao, will you pick Yao too?”
“I’ll play whatever,” he replied.
Jiang Lan chuckled. “Sure, sure. Next time, let’s just play casual mode. No need to worry about ruining the game for others.”
Lu Yicheng nodded. “Is your stomach still bothering you?”
Jiang Lan shook her head. “Not anymore.”
“Remember, no breakfast before the check-up tomorrow. Go to bed early, and no sneaking in games,” Lu Yicheng warned. “If you can’t sleep, just message me.”
How did he know she was planning to play games?
Fine, she wouldn’t.
After hanging up, Jiang Lan set her phone aside and tried to sleep. She had a medical check-up the next day, though she wasn’t sure what they’d find.
What if she’d actually injured something and needed surgery?
What if she never remembered?
What then?
Half-asleep, Jiang Lan mentioned the appointment to Yu Wanqiu the next morning—though she didn’t bring up the memory loss, just that her memory had been shaky and she wanted to get her brain checked.
Yu Wanqiu asked, “Is Lu Yicheng going with you?”
Jiang Lan nodded.
“Which hospital?”
Jiang Lan recalled it was B City People’s Hospital.
“Zhang Lin’s going for her prenatal check-up on Wednesday. Aren’t you two worried about running into her?” Yu Wanqiu frowned. “Does your family even know about this? What if the paparazzi catch you? Lu Yicheng’s not thinking, and neither are you?”
Jiang Lan shook her head. Her mother occasionally called, but their conversations were brief. She was busy with work and probably didn’t watch the show.
“Do your parents know you’re dating?” Yu Wanqiu pressed.
Jiang Lan wasn’t entirely sure.
Her mother was a high school teacher—she was probably great at spotting early relationships. Surely she’d have noticed?
“They know.”
Yu Wanqiu sighed. “Text Lu Yicheng. I’ll take you.”
Jiang Lan blinked. “Huh?”
“Tell Zhang Tian it’s a routine health check for your internship. How can you be so careless while filming?”
Jiang Lan realized Yu Wanqiu had a point. A check-up was far better than being photographed and accused of a shotgun wedding.
Lu Yicheng didn’t object—if anything, he felt better knowing Yu Wanqiu would be with her.
[Pig Raised by a Fairy: Lunch is on me afterward.]
He had project bonuses coming in, along with his salary at the end of the month. He could afford to treat them.
Yu Wanqiu scheduled a check-up for herself as well, so neither of them ate breakfast that morning.
Jiang Lan grinned. “After this, we’re getting jianbing! With fried dough sticks, no crispy skin—just soft purple rice crepes. And a cup of soy milk. So good.”
There had to be a stall outside the hospital.
Yu Wanqiu nodded. “Fine. Little Xu can grab it for us.”
The check-up covered a range of tests—blood sugar, lipids, ultrasound—and Jiang Lan added a brain CT scan.
By the time they finished, it was past 10 a.m. Little Xu waited in the car with two steaming jianbing crepes—Jiang Lan’s loaded with sausage, double eggs, light spice, and extra scallions, while Yu Wanqiu’s included cilantro.
Results would take a while, so the two ate in the car.
Yu Wanqiu had never tried street food like this before. The crepe was soft, the sauce spicy and fragrant, the freshly fried dough still slightly crisp, with pickled vegetables adding a tangy crunch.
Jiang Lan knew so many delicious things she’d never experienced. Yu Wanqiu smiled and patted her shoulder. “Don’t stress about the results. You’re young—nothing to worry about.”
Jiang Lan forced a laugh. “Right. Medicine’s so advanced now.” Even if something was wrong, they could treat it.
…Unless the doctor said, *Eat, drink, and enjoy your remaining time.*
Yu Wanqiu scowled. “Must you say such things? Can’t you hope for the best?”
“Teacher Yu, I was just joking.”
Yu Wanqiu turned to the window. “Go away.”
She’d even donated blood for this. Her luck had always been good—nothing bad would happen on her watch.
Half an hour later, Jiang Lan collected the results. Everything was normal.
Yu Wanqiu smirked. “See? Told you.”
No blood clots, no abnormalities. Jiang Lan asked why she’d forgotten parts of her past.
The doctor explained, “The brain has a self-protection mechanism. If a memory feels harmful, the subconscious suppresses it.”
Jiang Lan texted Lu Yicheng: [Time to fulfill your promise. The doctor says I’m fine.]
Lu Yicheng exhaled in relief. Forgotten or not, as long as she was healthy.
[Good. I’ll start chasing you all over again.]
Jiang Lan went to reply—only to see a red exclamation mark.
?
[“Irreplaceable” has enabled friend verification. You are not yet friends. Send a request to chat.]
She sent a friend request. [What’s this about?]
[Irreplaceable: Back then, we hadn’t added each other yet.]
Could someone please schedule a brain scan for Lu Yicheng too?
Yu Wanqiu’s results were also clean, though old injuries would take time to heal.
They met Lu Yicheng at the barbecue place he’d booked. He sat across from them, barely speaking to Jiang Lan during the meal.
Last time, at the villa, he’d kept serving her food. They hadn’t seen each other in days—why was he acting like this now?
Yu Wanqiu frowned. “Still mad about last night?”
Jiang Lan shook her head. “Teacher Yu, it’s not that.”
She’d assumed “chasing her again” meant doting on her, being attentive, showering her with care.
But Lu Yicheng had a different interpretation—he seemed intent on recreating their past, down to the smallest detail.
Lu Yicheng shrugged. “Has nothing to do with last night. This is between Jiang Lan and me.”
Yu Wanqiu sighed. “Maybe you should book a check-up too.”
The “Irreplaceable” fanbase had dwindled to just over 600,000.
A pinned post from three hours ago read:
[*Heartbreaking news—Irreplaceable is officially over. Just two minutes ago, I checked their in-game profiles and found they’ve removed each other as partners. Jiang Lan’s profile now only lists a best friend. Two weeks, and it’s already done. I’m shattered. Sorry, everyone—I’m leaving this fandom. Off to stan “Lanzhou Noodles” instead.*]
Attached was a screenshot of their in-game relationship status—Lu Yicheng’s side empty, Jiang Lan’s showing only a female friend.
Last night, fans had celebrated Jiang Lan calling Yu Wanqiu “mother-in-law,” giddy as if sending off a bride. Today, their ship had sunk without warning.
[*No way. Jiang Lan’s still on the show!*]
[*Guess they’ll announce it after filming ends.*]
[*Told you dual-shipping was safer. At least Lanzhou Noodles won’t sink. You guys were too naive.*]
[*Need some Yu Wanqiu & Jiang Lan crumbs to heal my soul…*]
[*This can’t be real.*]
【Isn’t it supposed to be the only solution? Why is this happening?】
【I hope it’s just a fight】
The fanbase for the "Irreplaceable" ship has dwindled by more than half. No one wants to believe it, even though the show’s official Weibo still has behind-the-scenes clips of Lu Yicheng. But deep down, everyone knows what breaking off their couple relationship means—an official breakup announcement is only a matter of time.
For the sake of the show, they’ll probably wait until filming ends before making it public.
Zhang Tian scrolled through the fan community daily and was startled when he saw this. What’s going on? How did it already end in a breakup? No one even said they’d split up!
【I work for the production team. They’re fine. They just unbonded their in-game relationship—it’s not that serious, really.】
【The last person who said that also claimed they went to Qinghua University. *lights a cigarette*】
【I really am part of the crew. They’re not broken up.】
【Girl, wake up and smell the roses.】
Zhang Tian: “…………”
The show has contracts in place. For example, Shen Xingyao and the others can’t get divorced before the program ends, and even divorcing afterward would negatively impact the show, resulting in hefty penalties per year.
Jiang Lan and Lu Yicheng aren’t married, so there’s no restriction on breaking up after filming. But the contract explicitly states they can’t split during the show’s run.
Could it really be over? Zhang Tian’s heart skipped a beat—until he saw the camera feed. The two were on a video call. Normally, Jiang Lan would turn off the camera for these calls, but today, she didn’t.
Jiang Lan didn’t know how Lu Yicheng planned to win her back. She’d deleted him from WeChat but kept him on QQ. She’d considered removing him there too, but Lu Yicheng argued: “You can always rebind a broken in-game relationship. But if you delete me as a friend, all our built-up intimacy points will be gone for good.”
That night, Lu Yicheng sent her a document via QQ:
[Advanced Mathematics—start with Chapter 1. Ask me if you don’t understand.]
Jiang Lan replied: [Why do I have to study math? I’ve already gotten into university!]
[Different fields, different hurdles. I can’t understand your major’s coursework either.]
Jiang Lan was part of Qinghua University’s High-Level Art Troupe, majoring in Broadcasting and Hosting. Her art entrance exam had been in cello. All her classes were related to her major.
Jiang Lan protested: [But that doesn’t mean I should study math! I was already bad at it.]
[Do you want me to pursue you again or not?]
Of course, she did. But university math was even harder than high school math, and she’d long forgotten her high school lessons. Jumping straight into advanced calculus felt like scaling a mountain.
[If you do, then listen to me.]
Where they once video-called to chat, now they video-called for math tutoring. It had been years since Jiang Lan took the gaokao, and her math skills had rusted. Almost every problem required Lu Yicheng’s help. He was an excellent teacher, but the truth remained—she just didn’t get it.
Everything else might deceive you, but math never would. If you didn’t understand it, you simply didn’t.
Jiang Lan couldn’t grasp it in one go but was too embarrassed to ask him to repeat himself. “Is Professor Yu good at advanced math? Maybe I can ask her instead, and we can skip this part…”
Lu Yicheng: “No. You can only ask me. Break one rule, and our whole game is void.”
“Professor Lu, how do I solve this? What’s L’Hôpital’s Rule?”
Zhang Tian returned to the fan community and posted:
[Believe me, sisters, they’re NOT broken up. If they are, I’ll chop my head off and serve it to you as a drinking snack.]
The thread was so dead no one replied. Half an hour later, someone else posted:
[Guys, go binge the “Lanzhou Lamian” ship right now—it’s disgustingly sweet! Lu Yicheng totally deserved that beating LOL. Professor Yu, hit him again! HAHAHAHA]
Zhang Tian: “…………”
He checked the trending list. The “Irreplaceable” couple had trended many times before. With so many fans leaving, it was bound to happen again. But there were no breakup-related hashtags—the only one tied to Lu Yicheng read:
**Lu Yicheng’s expert-level emotional manipulation...**
*41K likes*
[lyc: Planning to win her back all over again. [image]]
The photo showed their high school ID cards, with the student numbers blurred out—just their faces.
A callback to where it all began.
[AAAAAAH JUST KILL ME ALREADY TO CELEBRATE YOUR LOVE!]