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

Even if the role required shaving her head instead of just cutting her long hair, Yu Wanqiu would be willing. Though she was genuinely reluctant—having kept her hair long for many years, the thought of chopping it off just like that pained her. Yu Wanqiu cared about her appearance; the older she got, the more she valued her looks. But she respected the role.
Liu Qingyun nodded. Veteran actors from the past had no issues with professionalism, but the newcomers she’d encountered in recent years were disappointingly lacking. They couldn’t handle any demanding scenes, always relying on body doubles—stand-ins for dialogue, stand-ins for action, even voice actors for dubbing. Aside from their faces, nothing else was truly theirs. It had almost given her PTSD.
Fortunately, Yu Wanqiu wasn’t like that. Liu Qingyun moved on to other questions. "Filming starts in mid-October. Your schedule won’t conflict, right?"
There was another segment originally planned for the hottest time in July next year, but it was too tight, so the summer scenes would also be shot in October, relying on set design and post-production. It might be chilly, but Yu Wanqiu didn’t seem like someone who’d be fazed by such things.
Liu Qingyun remembered she had just announced a promotional film—she wondered if the schedules would clash.
Yu Wanqiu replied, "No conflicts." The promotional film would shoot during National Day, the documentary during winter break, and the endorsement next week. Her schedule was manageable, though it’d be exhausting. On top of that, Yu Wanqiu was preparing for university entrance exams, burying herself in books daily.
Priorities came first—work took precedence.
Liu Qingyun asked, "I have one more question. What kind of person do you think Wu Qing is?"
She wanted to understand Yu Wanqiu’s interpretation of the character.
Calling her "great" felt insufficient, though she truly was. After the founding of the nation, there were many like her—including the protagonists of the other four short films in Homage: a firefighter who sacrificed himself in flames, a destitute researcher who dedicated his life to the country, a border guard standing alone against snowstorms, and a police K-9 whose career length matched its lifespan.
Countless extraordinary people existed, and Homage only captured a fraction. Liu Qingyun hoped the actors in The Poplar Forest would approach their roles with reverence, not just for fame.
Yu Wanqiu thought for a moment. "She’s someone I could never become. If I lived in that era, I wouldn’t have been able to be like Madam Wu—selfless, devoted, resolute. Everyone should hold her in awe."
Liu Qingyun turned to Chen Yi. "I think she’s the one."
The primary purpose of this film wasn’t just a National Day tribute—it was a homage.
Chen Yi was a seasoned director who had worked with Yu Wanqiu before. Even if Yunnan Province hadn’t recommended her, he would’ve called her in for an audition. She was an actor who lived up to the title.
Chen Yi said, "Don’t sell yourself short. Everyone shines in their own profession."
He took a sip of strong tea. The other four short films were either completed or in progress—only The Poplar Forest had struggled with casting.
Portraying a character from youthful vigor to old age in just thirty minutes was a true test of acting. Many actresses had auditioned—their skills weren’t lacking, but something always felt missing. Yu Wanqiu was the first to arrive already so thin.
She probably weighed just over eighty pounds. At her height, she looked like a twig, quite different from her appearance on variety shows. The role required drastic weight loss—at least Yu Wanqiu could manage that.
...
Wu Qing was also tall, so their physiques matched well enough.
Chen ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‍Yi told Liu Qingyun, "Let’s sign the contract later. We still have other auditions."
He yawned. This film was important—nonprofit, with all proceeds donated to hope schools. The actors’ pay was minimal; no one was here to make money.
Celebrities who came just for "screen time" had to invest in the production—exposure wasn’t free. Liu Qingyun put away her notes. "The lawyer will be here soon. Wanqiu, do you have any other questions?"
As the lead actress, Yu Wanqiu’s input on the character could be discussed. Liu Qingyun took the script seriously. Homage consisted of five short films, each directed separately—she was the only female director. Once released, comparisons with the other films (and directors) were inevitable.
Comparing films meant comparing her.
Netizens often claimed female actors had lower ceilings than male actors—she wanted to prove them wrong.
Like Yu Wanqiu, Liu Qingyun was driven and demanding of herself. No one wanted to rank last among the five films—she aimed for first place and had faith in herself and Yu Wanqiu.
Yu Wanqiu’s films had grossed over 20 billion yuan total, with recent works scoring above 8.0 on Douban. Liu Qingyun’s films, while not box office hits, had high ratings.
Yu Wanqiu shook her head. "No more questions."
She wasn’t as calm as she appeared—inside, she was exhilarated, feeling like her efforts had finally paid off. She couldn’t wait to share the good news with Jiang Lan.
Why Jiang Lan? Aside from their close relationship, Jiang Lan gave genuine feedback. In the past, whether her films succeeded or she won awards, Lu Shuangchen would only say, "Congratulations."
Like when she was nominated for the Golden Bear Award again—even though she’d already won it once, a second nomination was worth celebrating. Yet Lu Shuangchen’s response remained a flat "Congratulations."
So many people congratulated her—just because Lu Shuangchen was her husband, did those two words carry more weight?
Yu Wanqiu called Cheng Ran to come over. She could share the news with Jiang Lan after signing the contract. Jiang Lan had probably already prepared flowers and gifts, waiting for her outside.
Even if she’d failed, Yu Wanqiu believed those things would’ve been ready anyway.
Jiang Lan waited in the car, occasionally glancing outside. A black car was parked ahead—driven by Lu Shuangchen.
Why was Lu Shuangchen here? That was a long story.
Jiang Lan had messaged Lu Yicheng the night before, and he was far from pleased.
[Fairy’s Pig: Weren’t you with my mom? Why are you looking for me now?]
Jiang Lan wanted to reach through the screen and throttle him. [Teacher Yu’s audition—how can you be so inconsiderate? Aren’t you happy for her?]
[Fairy’s Pig: I’m overjoyed. Can’t you tell?]
Jiang Lan: [Talk normally, or I’ll hit you.]
[Fairy’s Pig: I wish you would. Of course I’m happy for Mom’s audition, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel wronged.]
Even his grievances were policed—Lu Yicheng felt even more aggrieved. Sure, they spent Monday to Friday together, but it was all studying, reviewing, and sitting in libraries or cafeterias—hardly romantic settings. With so many people around, he only dared to hold her hand.
Finally, the weekend arrived—only for Jiang Lan to be whisked away.
Jiang Lan: [I was wrong, okay? Teacher Yu has an audition tomorrow, and I need your help. Whether the audition succeeds or not, it's something worth celebrating. I want to celebrate for Teacher Yu. Usually... when something like this happens, you’d want the important people by your side, right?]
When Lu Yicheng finished his internship, Jiang Lan also celebrated for him. When Jiang Lan succeeded in her interview, Yu Wanqiu celebrated for her too. She loved little moments of ceremony.
Teacher Yu would probably want Lu Yicheng and Lu Shuangchen there, right? Jiang Lan’s idea was to prepare a surprise, no matter the outcome. But her sixth sense told her Yu Wanqiu would succeed. [Can Uncle Lu cook? Maybe make some porridge—you can help too. Teacher Yu has lost so much weight lately.]
[And there should be flowers—fill the trunk with them, all kinds of colors, packed tightly. Look up tutorials online. Ugh, do I really have to teach you this?]
[The Pig Raised by a Fairy: But your Teacher Yu won’t let my dad come along. He asked…]
Hopeless.
Nothing could salvage a rusted brain—some things were just innate. Though Lu Shuangchen and Lu Yicheng were smart, Jiang Lan didn’t envy them at all.
[Haven’t you heard the saying that when a woman says no, she means yes?]
Lu Yicheng genuinely hadn’t. All he knew was that he should listen to his girlfriend—otherwise, after getting blocked, he wouldn’t even dare to look for Jiang Lan.
[The Pig Raised by a Fairy: ?]
Jiang Lan: [Just do as I say. Trust me, I’m right. Besides, if you bring Uncle Lu along, doesn’t that mean we can go have fun together?]
If she’d said that earlier, Lu Yicheng would’ve understood.
But Lu Shuangchen couldn’t cook.
They had a housekeeper at home, and when work was busy, assistants handled meals—Lu Shuangchen never needed to lift a finger.
Lu Shuangchen thought making porridge should be simple enough, especially with Lu Yicheng around. But he didn’t just want it to be edible—he wanted it to taste good. This was the first time he’d be making something for Yu Wanqiu, and he wanted to do it entirely by himself.
Though he briefly doubted whether Jiang Lan’s advice was reliable, Lu Shuangchen still followed it.
He made two kinds of porridge—one sweet (red date and silver ear) and one savory (beef with greens).
Side dishes included salted duck eggs and beef patties. The meat was air-flown that morning, and the vegetables were organic. Lu Shuangchen had a knack for learning—the porridge tasted decent to him.
If Yu Wanqiu liked it, he’d feel accomplished.
Lu Shuangchen found cooking unexpectedly enjoyable. He packed the porridge into thermal containers, along with the side dishes and salted eggs.
As for the flowers, he followed Jiang Lan’s instructions and filled the trunk with a colorful assortment, packed tightly. Still, he hesitated. “Isn’t this too simple? Maybe I should have my assistant order a necklace too.”
With that, he pulled out his phone and made the call. He trusted his own judgment.
After working through the night and into the morning, Lu Shuangchen was exhausted. He smoked a cigarette to wake himself up, took a shower, and then drove to the address Jiang Lan had sent.
Lu Yicheng sat in the passenger seat, pockets stuffed with snacks—he’d brought a little gift for Jiang Lan too.
They’d have lunch together as a family, and in the afternoon, he planned to take Jiang Lan out. He’d thought it through—Jiang Lan was right. If his dad monopolized his mom’s time, then Jiang Lan’s time would be his.
When they arrived at the audition location, Yu Wanqiu hadn’t come out yet.
Lu Shuangchen checked the porridge—still warm. He just hoped she’d like it.
Jiang Lan waved at Lu Yicheng, signaling him to roll up the window. A surprise had to be unexpected to feel like one.
Yu Wanqiu had gone in at 8 AM. It was now 10:30, and Jiang Lan was nervous, her heart racing. At 10:40, Yu Wanqiu finally emerged.
She was with Xia Jing and Cheng Ran, the lawyer from the studio.
The contract was already signed. The Poplar Forest would begin filming in mid-October, lasting two months. No details about the production could be leaked—doing so would breach the agreement.
In other words, unless the production team officially announced it, neither Yu Wanqiu nor her studio could disclose her role beforehand.
Due to Ming Yao's recent hot search controversy, Chen Yi was particularly sensitive to such behavior. Ming Yao's team would have to be warned; otherwise, she'd be replaced.
The pay was the lowest Yu Wanqiu had ever accepted—just over 600,000 yuan after taxes. But she had no complaints.
600,000 was still enough to enjoy plenty of good food. She’d eaten lightly that morning and was now slightly hypoglycemic—all she wanted was a proper meal with Jiang Lan.
Cheng Ran planned to return to the studio instead of joining the celebration. Still, since Yu Wanqiu had introduced her to Zhang Lin, she felt obliged to mention, “Sis, Zhang Lin’s matter is settled. No legal proceedings were needed.”
“Settled” meant divorced. Zhang Lin had paid Cheng Ran’s consultation fee.
Yu Wanqiu was momentarily stunned—she hadn’t known. No one liked airing their wounds, but she was glad things had worked out for Zhang Lin.
“That’s good. Drive safely on your way back.”
Cheng Ran waved with a smile. “See you later!”
They’d worked together for years, and she was genuinely happy for Yu Wanqiu. This was a huge win.
Xia Jing smiled too—good news always lifted spirits. This hadn’t been easy. Seeing Yu Wanqiu so thin was painful. Female celebrities were usually slim, but Yu Wanqiu’s height meant she should weigh over 90 pounds—shorter actresses hovered around 80.
She was practically skin and bones.
Filming wouldn’t start until October, but before that, they had to record a promotional video for Yunnan tourism. Her weight needed to rebound to 90+ pounds, or the local team wouldn’t be satisfied.
Then she’d have to lose it all again—the script spanned a long timeline, and Yu Wanqiu needed to achieve drastic weight loss in a short period.
With over a month until filming, Yu Wanqiu could finally relax. She tapped on the car window, eager to share the good news with Jiang Lan.
The window rolled down, revealing Jiang Lan’s grinning face. “Don’t say it yet! Let me guess.”
Yu Wanqiu schooled her expression. “Go ahead.”
Jiang Lan declared, “I bet the audition was a success!”
Yu Wanqiu smiled. “Smart. You guessed right.”
Jiang Lan had known. Yu Wanqiu reached for the door handle—but it didn’t budge. She frowned, wondering if the car was broken.
Jiang Lan jingled the keys. “Teacher Yu, your car isn’t here. It’s up ahead.”
Puzzled, Yu Wanqiu followed Jiang Lan’s gaze. Parked in front of the red car was a black Cayenne with a vaguely familiar license plate.
The door opened, and Lu Shuangchen stepped out. Lu Yicheng emerged from the other side. The father-son duo were dressed similarly—button-ups and dress pants, their shirts slightly patterned.
Lu Shuangchen had swapped his glasses for black frames, his hair slicked back with gel. A watch adorned his wrist, giving him a sharp, polished look. The resemblance between them was striking—together, they made for a handsome sight.
Lu Yicheng stepped forward and hugged Yu Wanqiu. “Mom, congratulations.”
Yu Wanqiu had lost weight—hugging her felt bony. As her son, Lu Yicheng’s heart ached, but they all supported her career.
Lu Shuangchen opened his mouth, feeling the most uneasy. At home, when Yu Wanqiu was memorizing scripts, he couldn’t help much—he was clumsy with words, older, and even the idea of preparing a surprise had to be suggested by Jiang Lan.
Yu Wanqiu’s nose tingled slightly. “What’s this about? I didn’t ask you all to come. Go away.”
Lu Shuangchen said, “I booked a restaurant. Let’s have a meal together as a family. I also made some porridge—you can have some first to settle your stomach.”
...
Yu Wanqiu said, “Let’s get in the car first. Standing around like this, aren’t you afraid of being photographed?”
Lu Yicheng went to Jiang Lan’s car, while Xia Jing raised an eyebrow. “I’ll head back first. I won’t join you for the fun.”
She was genuinely surprised—Lu Shuangchen actually had such thoughtful ideas? They’d been married for over twenty years, and he rarely visited her on set. One was busy with work, the other with filming. But this was nice.
Yu Wanqiu said, “Come along. It’s just a meal. Xiao Chen and Xiao Xu can join too. Since someone’s treating us, why not take advantage?”
Lu Shuangchen kept smiling—he was the one treating, after all.
Only then did Xia Jing get into the car.
Lu Shuangchen pointed to the back seat. “I made porridge. See if it suits your taste. Last night, Jiang Lan suggested we give you a surprise together and mentioned you haven’t been eating well lately. Have some porridge first to settle your stomach. I booked a homestyle restaurant with light dishes—porridge and soup. It’s good for your stomach.”
Lu Shuangchen was honest enough not to take full credit, but since it was his idea, he didn’t attribute it entirely to Jiang Lan either.
While driving, he couldn’t hand her the gift, so he urged Yu Wanqiu to try the porridge first.
“There’s sweet red date and silver ear porridge, and savory beef with greens porridge. See which one you prefer. The dishes are light—steamed baby bok choy and vermicelli with cabbage. There’s also beef patties in the lunchbox.” Lu Shuangchen kept his eyes on the road but spoke to Yu Wanqiu. “It’s my first time cooking. The skills might be lacking—don’t mind it.”
As if she wouldn’t notice he was fishing for praise.
Yu Wanqiu snorted. “If it’s not good, why even bring it… Why can’t you think of these things yourself, like Jiang Lan does?”
She unscrewed the thermos—the porridge inside was still warm. She took a whiff; it actually smelled decent. “We have a housekeeper. Why cook yourself?”
In the past, neither Yu Wanqiu nor Lu Shuangchen cooked.
Lu Shuangchen said, “It feels more meaningful this way.”
That was Jiang Lan’s exact words—homemade things carried more weight than store-bought ones. Making porridge was simple; even she could do it. Just add rice and water—it wasn’t some complicated dish. With Lu Yicheng helping, it was hard to mess up.
Yu Wanqiu took a sip. She hadn’t eaten much lately—to lose weight quickly, she had to eat less and move more. None of her previous roles required her to be this thin.
Her stomach had been empty for days. She craved meat badly. The beef was tender, the rice soft and broken, the greens vibrant. It tasted genuinely good. There was also a salted duck egg in the lunchbox—mixing the yolk into the porridge made it even more fragrant.
Before she knew it, Yu Wanqiu had finished nearly half.
Lu Shuangchen glanced sideways. “We’re having lunch soon. Don’t fill up on porridge. I’ll make more for you later.”
Seeing Yu Wanqiu eat, Lu Shuangchen felt a sense of accomplishment. He’d never cooked before—didn’t know it could feel this rewarding.
Yu Wanqiu nodded and decided to humor him. “The taste is passable. Keep it up.”
Lu Shuangchen’s smile softened his usually distant demeanor. “Check the box up front. There’s a small gift.”
A diamond necklace bought at an auction for over forty million. Lu Shuangchen was sure Yu Wanqiu would love it. What woman didn’t like diamonds? Sparkly, beautiful, valuable.
Yu Wanqiu shot him a look and retrieved the gift from the glove compartment—a flat, exquisitely wrapped box. Inside, it glittered brilliantly. “…Do you have money to burn? Why keep buying these? I only have one neck—two necklaces are enough.”
Lu Shuangchen was baffled. He distinctly remembered how much she loved the first necklace he gave her.
Yu Wanqiu put the necklace back and took another sip of porridge. “Honestly, always wasting money on useless things.”
“Don’t tell me Jiang Lan suggested this too?” Yu Wanqiu arched a brow.
Lu Shuangchen admitted, “…This one was my own idea.”
Of course it was.
At the restaurant, Lu Shuangchen still hadn’t figured out how to show Yu Wanqiu the flowers in the trunk. Eventually, he turned to Lu Yicheng for help.
Lu Yicheng could only look to Jiang Lan, who whispered, “Where’s the car key? Just open the trunk when Teacher Yu walks by. It’s that simple.”
As Yu Wanqiu passed the car, Lu Yicheng signaled Lu Shuangchen to press the key. The trunk slowly rose, revealing a vibrant explosion of roses, daisies, spray roses, tulips… filling the entire space.
Yu Wanqiu froze for a second. A luxury car filled with flowers might be cliché, but it was undeniably beautiful.
She smiled, then took Jiang Lan’s hand. “Let’s go eat.”
Lu Shuangchen couldn’t tell if she was pleased or not. She’d smiled, but didn’t walk with him. He decided then—no more diamonds. Houses or cars would be better.
Lu Yicheng said, “Let’s go too.”
He felt like a freeloader, while Lu Shuangchen was just the wallet.
Xiao Chen and Xiao Xu trailed behind. They’d met Lu Shuangchen before, but he seemed different now. This family was too wholesome—they couldn’t wait for the wedding.
Jiang Lan and Lu Yicheng’s wedding would surely be grand, with guests from inside and outside the industry. The party favors alone would be extravagant!
At the private dining room, Lu Shuangchen handed the menu to Yu Wanqiu. “Start with something soft and easy to digest. Settle your stomach before heavier dishes.”
Yu Wanqiu ordered a soup, two vegetable dishes, and steamed egg with scallops.
Then she passed the menu to Jiang Lan, whispering, “Order something spicy. I’ll just have a bite or two.”
That was all the indulgence she allowed herself now.
Jiang Lan added a boiled pork slices in chili sauce, then gave the menu to Lu Yicheng, who chose a sour fish stew.
After Xia Jing and the others ordered, they requested a few beers. Celebrations called for drinks.
Only the two assistants abstained to drive. The rest had a little.
“Congratulations to Teacher Yu for the successful audition! May your career soar higher and higher!” Jiang Lan toasted first.
Everyone at the table offered their congratulations, leaving little for Lu Shuangchen. Jiang Lan was curious what he’d say—so was Yu Wanqiu.
Under the group’s gaze, the internet mogul downed his beer. “Congratulations. Hope filming goes smoothly.”
That was it?
Yu Wanqiu sipped half her glass for appearances. “Let’s eat. Someone’s treating today—order more if it’s not enough.”
Seven people, nine dishes—plenty to go around.
Lu Shuangchen had chosen this private kitchen for its chef, allegedly descended from imperial cooks. Reservations were required, and the prices were steep. Everyone dug in quietly.
Yu Wanqiu was genuinely hungry, but she didn’t dare eat too much. She took a couple of bites of the boiled sliced pork—spicy, fragrant, and tender. It would’ve been perfect with rice.
Lu Shuangchen murmured softly, “I’ll learn how to make this dish when I get back.”
He didn’t have many hobbies. Aside from work, he exercised, and the rest of his free time was spent reading newspapers and watching the news. Now, he could add cooking to the list. Given his skills, he’d probably pick it up quickly.
If he was allowed to visit the film set, he’d pack a homemade lunchbox for Yu Wanqiu.
At 52, he wasn’t exactly old, but Lu Shuangchen could feel himself slowing down at work. Still, even if he was getting older, his son had grown up. He could confidently hand the company over to Lu Yicheng.
After lunch, Lu Shuangchen asked Yu Wanqiu if she wanted to relax and catch a movie. “Jiang Lan finally has a weekend off. She probably wants to go on a date—let’s not disturb the young couple.”
Yu Wanqiu narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying they’re young and I’m old?”
Jiang Lan nearly choked. How did Lu Shuangchen always manage to step on landmines? Didn’t he know a woman’s age and weight were off-limits?
Lu Shuangchen hadn’t meant it that way at all. He just wanted to take Yu Wanqiu to a movie—why was it so hard?
“That’s not what I meant. I just wanted to invite you.”
Yu Wanqiu thought, Please don’t let it be one of Ming Yao’s films. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”
Lu Yicheng silently saluted his father’s noble sacrifice. Truly, a father’s love was as steady as a mountain.
Lu Yicheng didn’t need the car—his destination was close by. Besides, it wasn’t as hot as July or August, and a walk after a meal sounded nice.
Xiao Xu and the others headed back to the studio.
Once everyone had left, Jiang Lan flashed Lu Yicheng a smile.
He couldn’t help but smile back.
Jiang Lan quickly schooled her expression. “What’s with the silly grin? Where to? Back to campus?”
She started it, Lu Yicheng thought, pulling her into his arms. “Not a chance.”
He fished three paper stars from his pocket. “Pick one. Let’s see where fate takes us.”
Each star had a location written inside: the first was a Ferris wheel at an amusement park, where they could play games and win stuffed animals.
The second was a DIY cake shop, where they could bake their own desserts. The third was a painting studio, reminiscent of childhood crafts—using glittery powders to color pre-printed designs, or even bringing their own photos.
Three options. Jiang Lan reached for the red one and unfolded it: Piggy Cake.
Lu Yicheng held out his hand. “Let’s go.”
Jiang Lan tried to peek at the other two stars, but he tucked them away with a smirk.
“Fine, let’s go, Piggy.” She placed her hand in his.
Piggy Cake was a ten-minute walk away—a cozy DIY bakery where they could make cookies or cakes for a small hourly fee plus materials.
The shop was decorated in pastel pinks, yellows, and blues, with a sugary-sweet aroma in the air. Display cases showcased hilariously misshapen cookies—failed attempts by previous customers.
The owner, a woman in her thirties, greeted them. “Reservation under Mr. Lu? Room 2 is ready for you.”
Lu Yicheng nodded, gathering flour, eggs, and butter before leading Jiang Lan to their station.
Jiang Lan grinned. “Lu Yicheng, you’re finally going to taste my cooking.”
He sighed dramatically. “I’ve already survived one food poisoning incident. What’s a second trip to the hospital?”
“You’ll be begging for a bite later,” she retorted. “Just be my assistant.”
Aprons hung nearby. Jiang Lan tied one on and offered another to Lu Yicheng, who spread his arms obligingly.
She looped it around his neck. The room was stocked with mixers, piping bags, molds, and recipe books. Jiang Lan flipped through one. “What should we make? Breakfast for tomorrow, plus some for Xu Xiang?”
Lu Yicheng deadpanned, “You eat what I make. Xu Xiang can have yours.”
Jiang Lan shared a dorm with Xu Xiang and others who’d long known about her relationship with Lu Yicheng—the handsome, top-scoring valedictorian. Now, they were more curious about Yu Wanqiu.
So pretty, so famous—how lucky is Jiang Lan?
They’d cherished the milk tea Yu Wanqiu sent, though they eventually drank it. So sweet, so good.
At Jiang Lan’s future wedding, they’d probably see Yu Wanqiu again.
Jiang Lan huffed. “You liked the cake I made with Yu Wanqiu last time, didn’t you? Or was it not good enough?”
That cake had actually been decent. Fine—more for her.
Lu Yicheng admitted it was tasty, but last time, she’d given him too much.
Jiang Lan studied the recipes intently. Having done this before, she was more skilled than Lu Yicheng. She planned a chiffon cake with whipped cream, fresh fruit, and a batch of cookies.
“We’ll each make our own and eat our own creations,” she declared.
No sharing with him.
Lu Yicheng surrendered. “Let’s make it together. I never said it was bad. Please.”
Couples were supposed to bake together, after all. “I’ll be your assistant.”
Jiang Lan relented—but Lu Yicheng was a terrible assistant. He smeared flour on her cheek, hid butter, and generally caused mischief.
Jiang Lan wasn’t one to back down. His dark shirt became her canvas as she scribbled on it.
Lu Yicheng eyed her. “Why are you being so well-behaved today?”
Just storing up good karma, she thought.
“Do I need a reason? I’m focused on baking.”
He grinned. “Fine. Thirsty? Want a cheese strawberry tea or icy grape?”
Cute. But she had principles—she’d only embarrass him once.
“I’m good. You?”
Lu Yicheng was a bit parched. “Maybe I’ll grab us drinks.”
Jiang Lan tugged him down for a quick kiss. “Focus on the cake. Thirst gone?”
His ears pinked. Cheeky. “Still a little.”
She kissed him again.
If he was still thirsty, he could fetch those drinks—but she wouldn’t warn him about the flour on his face.
Baking was simple: whip egg whites in stages, add sugar, a pinch of baking powder to prevent collapse. Whip cream separately. Jiang Lan assigned Lu Yicheng fruit duty while she tackled butter cookies.
Somehow, he had a knack for timing—his cookies and cake turned out perfectly.
Jiang Lan checked her phone: 5:40 p.m.
"Want to try some?" Jiang Lan wasn't sure how it tasted—the cake was still a bit warm, and the cookies weren’t burnt, but she couldn’t tell if they were good.
Lu Yicheng took a piece, blew on it, and popped it into his mouth. "Just okay. Don’t bother bringing any for Xu Xiang and the others. I’ll eat them myself."
Jiang Lan saw right through him. "You said it yourself—what you make, I eat. What I make, Xu Xiang eats. No take-backs."
Lu Yicheng came up with a brilliant idea. "Then I’ll take a bite out of every cookie!"
Jiang Lan divided the cake and cookies into two portions. "Relax, there’s plenty for you… Later, what do you want to eat? My treat!"
Jiang Lan was feeling flush these days. The show’s payment hadn’t come through yet, but the ad revenue and gift money had already been deposited. She’d wanted to give some to Xie Yunzhen, but her mother refused.
Xie Yunzhen would never take money from her daughter. Even though earning in the entertainment industry was relatively easier, she believed Jiang Lan worked hard for it.
As for the money, Xie Yunzhen told her to think carefully—whether to invest it or buy property.
Jiang Lan didn’t have many expenses beyond food, though she might splurge on a nicer instrument someday.
They’d had rice for lunch, so dinner had to be something else. Lu Yicheng thought for a moment, recalling a place he’d looked up. "How about fish head with soaked flatbread?"
The reviews were solid—a big iron pot of stewed fish, the broth rich and savory, the fish head tender, and the flatbread perfect for soaking up the sauce.
Jiang Lan happily grabbed Lu Yicheng’s hand. "Then fish head with flatbread it is!"
They’d spent four hours at the bakery, and between the cake and cookie ingredients, it came to 115 yuan. The restaurant was a bit far, about a half-hour walk.
Jiang Lan walked slowly, the words she’d written on Lu Yicheng’s back still there.
Halfway there, Lu Yicheng suddenly sensed something off. They were both wearing masks, so they shouldn’t be recognized, but… "Babe, I just saw someone pass us, then turn around and come back?"
"What’s going on? People keep staring at us." He tightened his grip on Jiang Lan and glanced back—several people were openly watching them. "Who are these people? Why are they looking? Did they recognize us?"
Jiang Lan coughed. "Oh, maybe you got flour on your back. Let me brush it off."
She swiped away the words "I’m a pig." "Yep, there was flour. All gone now. Let’s go."
Lu Yicheng: "???"
Then it hit him. Back when he’d annoyed Jiang Lan, she’d once stuck a note on his back that said "I’m a pig," and he’d worn it through an entire class!
He grabbed her by the neck playfully. "Out with it—what did you write on my back? No wonder you wouldn’t let me go buy bubble tea. How sweet of you, not letting me embarrass myself in public."
Jiang Lan feigned innocence. "I did no such thing. I could sue you for slander! Don’t go making things up."
She couldn’t stop laughing, so Lu Yicheng started guessing. "Come on, at least give me a hint. Or show me a photo. Let me guess… ‘I’m an idiot’?"
Jiang Lan shook her head. "Nope, you’re not an idiot."
Lu Yicheng: "‘I’m a fool’?"
She’d never called him a fool. "Fine, I’ll tell you. ‘I’m a pig.’"
He knew it. Lu Yicheng leaned most of his weight onto her, half-complaining, half-laughing. "You just love messing with me!"