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

Today is truly a double celebration—I feel like going downstairs to set off some fireworks!
Where do you live upstairs? Don’t you know fireworks are banned? I’ll just report you right away.
Fine, I’ll just go downstairs and run a few laps instead—ahhhhhhh, I’m so excited!
I really want to share this joy with someone—@Lu Shuangchen, our wife won an award!
[lsc: ???]
Jiang Lan looks so adorable holding the trophy—I just want to pinch her cheeks.
Some are happy, some are heartbroken. Li Xiaofeng is so unlucky—I cried all the way through Homecoming.
Wang Yue is my eternal regret. Seeing her smile and applaud just makes me want to cry.
Why wasn’t Ming Yao there? I thought Ming Yao would be nominated—bursting into tears.
Honestly, compared to the others, Ming Yao’s acting is still a bit green. Getting nominated is already an achievement. If she’d won Best Actress, it would’ve been rigged.
Agreed. A nomination is already good. Newcomers should stay grounded. No one’s saying she acted poorly, but she’s still a step behind the veterans.
Keep working hard.
The fact that there were two winners says it all.
Awards aren’t about probability. Picking Best Actress isn’t a matter of one in five or two in five.
Winning is a cause for celebration; losing just means more effort is needed.
There’ll be plenty of chances in the future.
Ming Yao’s fans have quieted down too. In the entertainment industry, talent speaks for itself. Yu Wanqiu’s fans can be bold because she’s got the skills.
When Chen Cheng announced there was another winner, the expressions of the nominees in the audience shifted. Li Xiaofeng froze for a second, Wang Yue smiled at the camera, and Ming Yao looked surprised before quickly averting her gaze. As Yu Wanqiu had said, no one didn’t hope the winner would be them.
For a moment, Ming Yao wondered—could it be her? It wasn’t impossible. Yu Wanqiu had already won twice, and Homecoming and Lightwheel hadn’t performed as well at the box office as The Storyteller of Jianghu.
If it was her, her future opportunities would skyrocket. Ming Yao felt there was at least a 50% chance. If she didn’t win this time, who knew how long she’d have to wait?
No one could guarantee every project would win an award—not even Yu Wanqiu.
When Chen Cheng announced Yu Wanqiu as the winner, Ming Yao didn’t feel like smiling, but with the cameras rolling, she had to. She’d thought the other winner might be her, but not even half that hope came true. She needed a moment to process it.
Ming Yao didn’t win Best Actress, and The Storyteller of Jianghu crew only took home Best Supporting Actress.
Her fans were the most devastated, but they quickly rallied, flooding her Weibo hashtag with messages like Ming Yao has a bright future ahead and She’s still young—there’ll be plenty of chances. Yu Wanqiu’s already in her forties—she’ll probably retire in a few years, right? But they only dared say this in fan groups. Posting it on Weibo or forums would’ve set Yu Wanqiu’s fans off.
Right now, they really couldn’t afford to provoke them.
Yu Wanqiu’s fans were busy celebrating, and the shippers were drowning in sugar—they couldn’t be bothered with Ming Yao. Today was just too perfect. Yu Wanqiu won, and they were swimming in honey.
Yu Wanqiu’s solo fans were everywhere—across all age groups, from longtime moviegoers to new fans who’d discovered her through variety shows.
Onstage, Yu Wanqiu ascended to legend once more. But offstage, sitting beside Jiang Lan, whispering and laughing, she seemed utterly ordinary.
The person who’d pulled Yu Wanqiu down from her pedestal had no such awareness. Jiang Lan ran her fingers over the golden statuette.
"...Is this real gold?"
Yu Wanqiu: "Gold-plated."
Jiang Lan gasped. "So big! So shiny! So bright!"
Lu Xingran handed over his own trophy. "Here, you can touch mine too—get your fill."
Jiang Lan only needed one. "Keep yours. One’s enough for me. This is what a real award looks like—so beautiful."
Winning felt amazing. Even if she wasn’t the one onstage, watching Yu Wanqiu accept the award had her just as thrilled as anyone else.
She’d thought it was over—then the tables turned.
Chu Lingnan’s trophy ended up in Xie Zheng’s hands. Xie Zheng hadn’t won this time, and while he was disappointed, he still felt honored just to be nominated.
He’d debuted in a boy band, transitioned to acting, starred in a hit idol drama, and now shared the screen with award-winning actors like Yu Wanqiu and Chu Lingnan. "Let me soak up some of your luck—maybe I’ll win next time."
Zhang Po was in high spirits. "We’re all going to the afterparty—no excuses! I’ll be mad if anyone skips."
Chu Lingnan: "We’re going, we’re going. Order a big cake—everyone better eat up! Or how about hot pot first, then karaoke? Let’s pull an all-nighter! Yu Wanqiu, you in? Oh, wait—forgot you’re the queen of late nights now. Little fan, you coming too?"
Back when The Deep Sea wrapped, Yu Wanqiu had left the wrap party early, claiming she needed to reset her sleep schedule after all the late-night filming—lights out by 10 PM.
Chu Lingnan had believed her back then, thinking she was just being health-conscious.
Turns out? She could stay up gaming and snacking just fine.
Yu Wanqiu: "Sure, let’s go. Jiang Lan?"
Jiang Lan had no objections. Tonight was for celebrating.
The awards ceremony ended at 10 PM, and The Deep Sea crew headed straight for the hot pot place.
With assistants in tow, they were ready to milk Zhang Po dry. He didn’t mind—The Deep Sea had made bank. "Who cares? Eat whatever you want."
Zhang Po pulled out his phone to order a cake. "Hey, Yu Wanqiu, Jiang Lan—pick a flavor. Us guys don’t really care."
Chu Lingnan scoffed. "Don’t stereotype! I love cake. Xie Zheng, back me up here."
Xie Zheng stayed silent until Chu Lingnan coughed pointedly. "Yeah, yeah. I love cake too."
Between assistants and crew, there were over twenty of them.
They ordered a two-tier, ten-inch cake—it’d take about an hour to arrive. By the time they got to the restaurant, it’d probably be ready. Zhang Po also added barbecue and beer to the order. "Alright, get in the cars—don’t lose us!"
Yu Wanqiu rode in a spacious van this time. Jiang Lan sat with her in the back. Little Xu drove while Chen prepared hot water and spare clothes. Their outfits were a bit thin, but with the partition up, they could change in the back.
Xia Jing was on the phone with familiar media contacts. Actors needed PR—delivering strong performances and box office draws meant more scripts down the line. At Yu Wanqiu’s level, she rarely even needed auditions anymore—unless it was something like Salute.
This year had been smooth sailing for Yu Wanqiu’s career. Xia Jing hoped to steer the narrative toward her talent—no need for gimmicks. Yu Wanqiu’s influence spoke for itself.
Jiang Lan gazed out the window. She remembered the first time she’d accompanied Yu Wanqiu to a guest role during filming. The night view on the ride back had looked just like this.
Like a river of stars.
Yu Wanqiu followed Jiang Lan’s gaze and stared for a while. "It's raining."
Her emotions had already settled. Being happy about this matter was enough—there were still many things waiting for her to do. As for Jiang Lan, she seemed even more delighted than Yu Wanqiu, as if she were the one who had won the award.
Yu Wanqiu hoped to reflect on the experience and bid Chen Jinglan a proper farewell.
Jiang Lan was still holding the trophy when her phone rang—it was a call from Lu Yicheng. "Lu Yicheng… I wonder why he’s calling."
She answered the call, and soon Lu Yicheng’s face filled the screen. His camera angle was the typical "death angle" of a clueless straight guy. Jiang Lan asked, "What’s up? Is something wrong?"
Lu Yicheng replied, "…Can’t I just call for no reason?"
He moved the phone farther away. "Has the awards ceremony ended? When are you coming back? I went to the company today and came back to watch the live broadcast."
"Almost gave me a heart attack, but it turned out fine. The organizers really know how to play with suspense," Lu Yicheng said, patting his chest. "Where’s Teacher Yu? I want to congratulate her."
Jiang Lan: "She’s right next to me—the dazzling award-winning actress and her dazzling trophy."
Yu Wanqiu took the phone, and Lu Yicheng said, "Congratulations on winning another award."
Yu Wanqiu: "Thank you."
Noticing that only Lu Yicheng was visible on the screen, she asked, "Are you at home?"
Lu Yicheng hummed in agreement, then said, "Can’t you two tell that it’s snowing in City B?"
Behind him, the scenery was blanketed in white, snowflakes drifting through the air. But Yu Wanqiu’s attention wasn’t on that—how could she have noticed?
She handed the phone back to Jiang Lan. Lu Yicheng knew to congratulate her, so Lu Shuangchen must be home too. Why was he being so inconsiderate? If Lu Shuangchen didn’t say something today, he was dead meat.
In the past, he would at least offer congratulations. The older he got, the worse he behaved.
Jiang Lan glanced at Yu Wanqiu, sensing the low pressure around her.
"Your face takes up half the screen—how could anyone tell?" Jiang Lan retorted. "Where’s Uncle Lu? Why isn’t he there?"
Lu Yicheng: "You mean my dad? He’s home. Jiang Lan, it’s snowing heavily in City B today. The weather forecast says it won’t stop until the day after tomorrow—it’s like goose feathers falling. The airport says flights are grounded, so you won’t be able to return until the snow stops. It’ll be a few more days."
"A few more days…" Lu Yicheng sighed. "Why not just take the high-speed rail back? I wonder if the trains are running."
Jiang Lan wondered why Lu Yicheng, usually sharp-witted, was being so dense today. Was he an idiot? Asking about Uncle Lu’s whereabouts was obviously a hint for him to speak—why keep talking about the snow?
Lu Yicheng feigned mystery. "Xia City doesn’t have snow, right? Do you want to see it?"
Without waiting for Jiang Lan’s reply, he added, "There’s only one correct answer—say ‘yes.’"
Jiang Lan opened her mouth. Was Lu Yicheng a blockhead? Was he seriously a blockhead?
"Hey, Lu—"
Lu Yicheng flipped the camera to show the outside. It had been snowing in City B since morning—lightly at first, like grains of salt, but gradually heavier. By the time Lu Yicheng returned in the afternoon, the snow was already ankle-deep.
After watching the awards ceremony live stream, the snow had piled even higher. The lawn outside the Lu family villa was covered in a thick layer, the entire house blanketed in white. Lu Yicheng went back inside to grab a shovel, a broom, and the dinosaur-shaped snow clip Jiang Lan had brought back, then dragged Lu Shuangchen outside to clear the snow…
Lu Yicheng’s hands were bright red from the cold, his face flushed. He thought, If only Jiang Lan were here, we could shovel snow together and have a snowball fight.
The camera panned to the lawn outside the villa, where four snowmen now stood.
Two larger ones held hands, and two smaller ones did the same. The snowmen were quite well-made—round heads, plump bodies, with carrots and chestnuts for noses and eyes.
Jiang Lan’s tone softened. "Snowmen?"
She noticed one of them holding an ice-carved trophy. "Teacher Yu! This one’s you!"
Yu Wanqiu leaned over to look at the screen. It really was a snowman. Behind Lu Yicheng, snow continued to fall, flakes drifting silently. A figure carrying a shovel walked into view from the snowy landscape.
Lu Shuangchen wasn’t wearing a mask, but he had a hat on. He tossed the shovel aside and asked Lu Yicheng, "Are you on a call? Can your mom see me?"
Before Yu Wanqiu could respond, Lu Yicheng nodded. "She can."
A faint smile crinkled the corners of Lu Shuangchen’s eyes. "Congratulations on winning the Best Actress award at the 30th Golden Bear Awards. Congratulations."
He asked Lu Yicheng to hand him the phone—he wanted to see Yu Wanqiu. As he spoke, his breath formed white puffs in the cold air. "I watched the live broadcast. Today, you… looked beautiful."
Saying such things in front of the younger generation made Lu Shuangchen a little embarrassed. Yu Wanqiu had stunned him today—on the red carpet, she had looked like a queen.
Lu Shuangchen asked, "Do you want a closer look at the snowmen we made?"
Yu Wanqiu nodded. She wondered how long the father-son duo had spent crafting four snowmen. Aside from them, the ground was dotted with little dinosaur figures—some gathered around the snowmen, others lined up along the villa’s iron fence.
Lu Shuangchen asked about the weather in Xia City, even though he had already checked the forecast—light rain today. But he just wanted to hear Yu Wanqiu say it.
Yu Wanqiu turned her camera toward the window. "See? It’s raining."
Lu Shuangchen: "Dress warmly. Don’t catch a cold."
Yu Wanqiu couldn’t resist snapping back, "You dress warmly. It’s freezing out there, yet you’re wandering around like a young man. Don’t forget your age."
Lu Shuangchen’s smile deepened. "Understood."
Lu Yicheng snatched the phone back. "Mom, pass it to Jiang Lan. I need to talk to her."
Yu Wanqiu’s mood had improved significantly—thanks to Lu Shuangchen and the snowmen.
Jiang Lan switched to the front camera. "What? What do you want with me?"
Lu Yicheng showed her his frost-reddened hands. "Why were you so rude when you first answered? And now you’re all sweet? Did you think I just called to chat? Jiang Lan, you’re something else—gone for a few days and already forgetting about me, not even wanting to talk. Look at my hands. If you were here, I’d definitely rub them on your face."
Jiang Lan cleared her throat. "The snowmen are nice. Is the one next to the trophy supposed to be me?"
Lu Yicheng’s face darkened. "That’s my dad. These two are us. Jiang Lan, are you doing this on purpose?"
She absolutely was. "I just got confused. I think mine looks cute—nice round head, nice round body. Very plump."
Lu Yicheng: "Yeah, it’s a sign of good fortune. I wonder if the snow will still be here when you get back. It’d be fun to have a snowball fight."
Neither father nor son had spoken openly about missing them, but their unspoken longing was palpable.
"Are you heading back to the hotel now?"
Jiang ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‍Lan: "We’re going to a hot pot restaurant later for The Deep Sea’s victory celebration."
Lu Yicheng made a noise of acknowledgment. "Then I won’t keep you. Send me a message when you’re done."
Yu Wanqiu and Lu Shuangchen were right beside the couple, so there was no chance for them to whisper any more sweet nothings.
Jiang Lan waved her hand. "Alright, bye-bye then."
Yu Wanqiu looked relaxed—perhaps she’d still get to see the snowman when she got back. If possible, she might even take a photo with it.
The car ride was smooth, and forty minutes later, they arrived at the reserved hotpot restaurant.
Zhang Po let everyone go in first. He had just gotten a call from the delivery guy—the cake would arrive soon, so he decided to wait outside for it.
Only now did everything finally settle down. Inside the private room, some were ordering dishes while others chatted. Jiang Lan knew exactly what to do in such situations—just eat. Eat as much as she wanted, stuff herself silly.
Hotpot, barbecue, cake… By the end, Yu Wanqiu murmured quietly, "If I gain weight in winter, I’ll have to spend all spring losing it."
That was when Jiang Lan finally stopped eating.
The celebration lasted until two in the afternoon. Both of them had been drinking, so afterward, they headed to a KTV to sing. The next day, they slept in until eleven.
Yu Wanqiu was woken up by a call from Xia Jing. "The snow in City B has stopped. The person in charge of the Marine Animal Protection Association said that starting tomorrow, there’ll be a week-long hands-on training session for animal rescue. The location is City Q. After the training, we’ll go straight into filming. You two need to get up now."