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

Zhang Lin gave birth to a baby at the end of January, and the little one was about to celebrate their full-month ceremony, which would be held at home. Only a table’s worth of guests were invited.
Over the past seven years, Zhang Lin had lived in a daze, with few close friends. She only invited her agent, Sister Wu, and some people from the Mother-in-Law Is Coming production team.
Zhang Tian had long promised to visit after Zhang Lin gave birth and even declared he would be the baby’s godfather.
Shen Xingyao planned to attend to soak up some auspicious energy—she was preparing to try for a child herself. When it came to having kids, Shen Xingyao and Chen Hao shared the same mindset: let nature take its course. At 28, she did feel a growing desire for a child.
She wanted a baby with Chen Hao.
Du Wanzhou was overjoyed at the news. She spent her days browsing recipes online and looking at baby clothes. Originally, Du Wanzhou had preferred boys and dreamed of a grandson, but her perspective had shifted. She now thought, What’s so great about a grandson like Chen Hao—dark-skinned and taciturn?
A sweet, pretty granddaughter like Shen Xingyao would be much better.
Du Wanzhou believed she had decades of life ahead. During a recent check-up, her weight was 129 pounds, astonishing the doctor—she had lost over 30 pounds from her previous 160.
Her blood sugar and blood pressure were steadily decreasing. Though still slightly higher than average, she no longer needed medication, just dietary control. Everything else was fine.
Most importantly, Du Wanzhou looked much slimmer, almost like her younger self. She had been quite beautiful in her youth, and now that resemblance was returning. When she walked down the street with Shen Xingyao, they no longer looked like mother and daughter—with makeup, they appeared around the same age.
Du Wanzhou truly loved this feeling.
She planned to spend more time holding little Yangyang and exchanging childcare tips with Zhang Lin. Once Shen Xingyao had a baby, Du Wanzhou would undoubtedly take charge of raising them.
Chen Shuyun also intended to visit. Part of the reason her relationship with her mother-in-law had improved was because of Li Jia. But since Zhang Lin had divorced, and Chen Shuyun didn’t think much of Li Jia anyway, she decided to shower Zhang Lin with gifts instead.
Aunt Zhao brought two free-range hens and a crate of organic eggs from her hometown. It wouldn’t do to attend the full-month banquet empty-handed—these were perfect for postpartum recovery.
At the end of the month, Yu Wanqiu and Jiang Lan returned just in time for the celebration.
Zhang Lin shared two photos of the baby—adorable, with delicate features that resembled her own, looking like a soft little angel.
Jiang Lan couldn’t stop gushing. “So beautiful! So cute! Is the banquet on a weekend? I’m definitely going. What an angelic baby!”
Yu Wanqiu studied the photos again. “Absolutely precious. I’ll pick you up from Tsinghua that day.”
Yu Wanqiu had decided not to take on new work for the next six months, focusing instead on her studies. She’d fallen behind due to filming, shoots, and recordings—much of what she’d learned earlier was already slipping away.
Jiang Lan would return to prepare her graduation thesis while Yu Wanqiu dedicated herself to exam prep.
Age had dulled her memory compared to younger students. Yu Wanqiu wasn’t entirely confident about passing, so she planned to wear a mask and full disguise during the exam to avoid recognition.
The pressure weighed on her. Even Lu Shuangchen seemed sharper now—if he took the test, he’d probably score higher.
Jiang ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‍Lan agreed. “I’ll get the baby a little gift—a silver lock or bracelet. She’s just too adorable!”
She couldn’t resist the urge to pinch those tiny cheeks.
Yu Wanqiu took her phone back. “Then it’s settled—we’ll go on the weekend. Let’s skip sightseeing and just rest at the hotel.”
The small town in Country E had many scenic spots, but the two hadn’t explored them. At the rescue station, there’d been no internet—their phones were just cameras. Now that they were back online, they intended to make the most of it.
Jiang Lan grinned and opened Honor of Kings. “Teacher Yu, log in!”
The new season had reset Jiang Lan to Starry Glory rank, while Yu Wanqiu had dropped to Diamond. After nearly twenty days away, even seeing their accounts felt thrilling.
Once they started playing, it was hard to stop. They didn’t log off until past 2 a.m., then slept through the entire flight the next day, still groggy after landing.
Blue skies, white clouds, Chinese characters everywhere—no endless snow or icy wilderness. They were finally back on home soil.
The Marine Animal Protection Association wasn’t based in City B, so Brother Zhao and the crew would return to City Q after a quick meal at the train station. “Editing will take about two weeks,” Brother Zhao said. “We’ll reach out if we need anything.”
The documentary’s quiet filming environment meant little post-production dubbing was needed. Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu’s work was essentially done.
It had been a highly enjoyable collaboration.
Brother Zhao was reluctant to part. “If there’s news about An’an, Kuaikuai, Lele, or that sea turtle, I’ll update you on WeChat.”
These were animals Yu Wanqiu and Jiang Lan had personally helped rescue. All creatures had spirits—if marine conditions improved, the animals at City B’s aquarium might eventually be released.
Such facilities shouldn’t exist, but rescued animals needed food, and staff needed livelihoods.
Yu Wanqiu nodded. “It’s been a pleasure. Let’s stay in touch.”
After seeing Brother Zhao’s team off, Yu Wanqiu and Jiang Lan turned toward home—where Lu Shuangchen and Lu Yicheng were already waiting.
By late February, spring had arrived. The father-son duo wore light layers: Lu Shuangchen in his usual black trench coat, dress pants, and leather shoes; Lu Yicheng in a hoodie and jeans, every inch the college student.
Lu Yicheng waved eagerly, looking slightly foolish, while Jiang Lan deliberately glanced everywhere but at him, driving him frantic.
“Can’t you see us?” Lu Yicheng muttered, stepping forward. “How do you miss someone this tall? What’s taking so long?”
Jiang Lan had spotted him immediately—his hopping around made him impossible to miss.
Once Brother Zhao was gone, she kept pretending not to notice until Lu Yicheng grabbed her collar. “Running away again? Or have you ‘forgotten’ me this time?”
He pinched her cheeks. “Not bad—didn’t turn into an ice cube. Finally back, huh?”
Jiang Lan felt she’d lost weight. “I barely ate at the rescue station, and it was freezing. Meanwhile, you guys were feasting on hotpot and barbecue!”
Lu Yicheng scoffed. “What nonsense. I ate cafeteria food or takeout every day—when did I have hotpot? And during New Year’s at your place, I stuffed myself to support Teacher Xie and Uncle Jiang. Even back home, I ate everything so you wouldn’t feel awkward. Gained a few pounds!”
While Jiang Lan was away, he’d stuck to fitness meals and nightly workouts.
“Don’t make things up. I haven’t touched barbecue or hotpot since you left—same as you. Check out my gains.” He flexed his arm. “That was only ten percent of my strength just now.”
Idiot.
Ten percent, my foot.
"Sure, sure, I’ll go say hello to Uncle Lu," Jiang Lan wouldn’t be having lunch with Yu Wanqiu today. After greeting Lu Shuangchen at the airport, she left with Lu Yicheng.
Jiang Lan had to go home, and naturally, Lu Yicheng followed.
Lu Yicheng asked, "Heading home now? Are Teacher Xie and the others there?"
Jiang Lan shook her head.
Xie Yunzhen knew her daughter was coming back, but she had classes today, and Jiang Baoguo was also at work—he couldn’t keep taking leave. So after dropping off their things, the two of them went straight back to school.
Lu Yicheng’s idea was simple: if Jiang Lan wanted to eat at home, he’d cook; if not, they could go out for hot pot or something else. Jiang Lan chose to eat out—anything was fine.
The entire way, Jiang Lan couldn’t stop talking—snowy plains, icy mountains, blizzards, the tiny rescue station, the family of polar bears, the seals they’d seen, the silverfish, and the aurora they’d been lucky enough to witness on their last night.
"It’s a shame you didn’t come along, or you could’ve seen the aurora too."
Lu Yicheng replied, "Next time, I’ll go with you. We’ll see the aurora and the polar bears together."
Jiang Lan: "Hmm… go again? But if it’s with you, I wouldn’t mind a second trip."
She didn’t really want to go back—once was enough. But if it were with Lu Yicheng, she’d consider it. Then she could boss him around, make him go wherever she wanted, do whatever she said.
Lu Yicheng: "We’ll watch the aurora together. That night on the phone, we barely talked for two minutes before you hung up. I was too busy looking at the aurora—I barely got to see you."
The aurora was beautiful, but what Lu Yicheng had really wanted to see that night was Jiang Lan.
His gaze lingered on her, and Jiang Lan scolded, "Eyes on the road! Drive properly, or the police will pull you over."
That finally shut him up.
Once home, Jiang Lan unpacked. It wasn’t as cold in City B anymore, so she’d need to bring lighter clothes for the new semester. Over the weekend, she planned to visit Zhang Lin’s newborn baby, and she’d stop by a silver shop later to buy a little bracelet and a lock pendant.
Lu Yicheng asked whose daughter it was. "I know Zhang Lin too. I’ll come along on the weekend to see her little girl."
Zhang Lin’s daughter’s formal name was Zhang Yang, with the nickname Yangyang. Her household registration was already settled—she was listed under Zhang Lin as a single mother, but Xu Chaoyang was undeniably her father.
Xu Chaoyang adored his daughter. From her birth through her first month, he never left her side. He learned how to feed her, change diapers, burp her, and make her laugh.
When she cried in the middle of the night, he was the first to wake.
Even after exhausting days at work, he’d rush home to see her at night—never once complaining. Li Jia had wanted to visit the baby, but he wouldn’t allow it.
Yangyang looked just like Zhang Lin, except for her ears, which took after him. After a month, she’d grown plump and fair, and Xu Chaoyang had fully embraced being a doting father.
While showering love on his daughter, he didn’t neglect Xu Yi.
Xu Yi adored his little sister—the first thing he did after school was check on her.
Only now did Xu Chaoyang truly understand what "family" meant. During his seven-year marriage, he’d barely lifted a finger for his child or shown Zhang Lin much care. After the divorce, he’d learned it all.
It was almost laughable—even he thought so now.
How utterly useless had he been to let Zhang Lin suffer so much? Now, their family was in shambles.
Xu Chaoyang hadn’t been back to the Xu family home in ages. When Zhang Lin gave birth to Yangyang, Xu Qian had visited once, handing over a bank card and pulling Xu Chaoyang aside for a talk. His tone was conciliatory, hinting that they should return—why stay away when they had a proper home? With the second child born, they ought to remarry.
Xu Chaoyang wanted that too, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask. The more he reflected, the worse he felt about his past behavior. So he resigned himself to this arrangement—at least he was still the children’s father, and Zhang Lin treated him decently.
Zhang Lin could guess what Xu Qian had said. She thought men were just like that—never valuing what they had until it was gone, then scrambling to make amends. Who cared for that now? After everything, she’d long given up on love. If they remarried, Xu Chaoyang would probably revert to his old ways.
All she wanted now was to raise her two children well.
Not that she thought all men were like that—look at Chen Hao, Lu Yicheng, and others. They were from wealthy families too, but they didn’t have those bad habits.
Early on the weekend, a crowd gathered at Zhang Lin’s home.
The first to arrive was Zhang Tian, who brought a hefty red envelope, two sets of baby clothes for Yangyang, and an Ultraman toy for Xu Yi. Zhang Tian was more concerned about when Zhang Lin would return to work. Since her comeback, she’d only starred in one drama. The entertainment industry was cruel—if you disappeared for too long, audiences forgot you.
It was harsh, but true. Take Mother-in-Law Is Coming—it had been a summer hit, but now no one remembered it.
Zhang Lin planned to start auditioning again after another month of recovery. Sister Wu had given her a new script, and she needed time to prepare. The main challenge was getting her figure back—she wasn’t as young as before, and postpartum recovery took effort.
Besides, Yangyang was clingy—she couldn’t bear to be apart from her mother.
Sometimes, gazing at her adorable daughter, Zhang Lin even felt the urge to quit acting and just stay home with her. But then she’d think of Xu Yi and the future, and she’d quickly suppress the thought.
She’d have to be insane to consider it—utterly out of her mind. "I’m planning to return in early April."
Zhang Tian nodded. "That’s just a month away. Rest well until then. Once Yangyang’s a bit older, you could even bring her along for variety shows."
Zhang Lin nodded—she knew it was well-meant advice.
Since her maternity leave, Xu Chaoyang had taken over cooking and chores. He’d even prepared lunch that day—his culinary skills had improved drastically over the past six months.
Soon after, Yu Wanqiu and the others arrived.
Yu Wanqiu gifted two more baby outfits and a red envelope. Jiang Lan and Lu Yicheng brought a silver necklace, bracelet, and lock pendant set. Shen Xingyao came with a doll and baby clothes, while Du Wanzhou, who adored children, held Yangyang for a long time.
Chen Shuyun and Aunt Zhao’s gifts were the most practical—a stewing hen and farm-fresh eggs to nourish Zhang Lin.
With the housekeeper absent, Zhang Lin couldn’t cook, so Aunt Zhao pulled Xu Chaoyang aside, chattering away. "This hen makes the best soup for recovery. Giving birth takes a toll—when my daughter-in-law was postpartum, I made her hen soup for a whole month. And these eggs? Pure nutrition, way better than store-bought. Make sure Zhang Lin eats them."
Xu Chaoyang froze. During Zhang Lin’s confinement, she’d been on a diet to regain her figure, eating meals from the maternity center. When Xu Yi was born, Li Jia hadn’t bothered with such things. He’d never asked—it was like they’d sleepwalked through that period.
Ironically, Aunt Zhao was the most knowledgeable here.
Du Wanzhou curiously leaned in. "What’s this about? What’s best for recovery? Sister Zhao, tell me—when our little one has a baby, I’ll do the same."
Shen Xingyao and Chen Hao were trying for a child—if it happened, they’d keep it.
Although Shen Xingyao is currently focused on her career, she has carefully considered that now is the best time to have a child. Having a baby would inevitably delay her work for a few months, no matter when she chooses to do it.
Might as well have the baby now and plan for it after wrapping up her new project.
Meanwhile, Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu went to see the little baby.
Yangyang wasn’t asleep—his big, curious eyes were wide open as he looked around. His tiny hands and feet, along with his plump little arms and legs, were as fair and tender as lotus roots.
Jiang Lan glanced between Zhang Yang and Zhang Lin and exclaimed, "Wow, it’s like a copy-paste!"
Zhang Lin couldn’t help but laugh. "Yangyang does take after me more. Do you want to hold him?"
Jiang Lan quickly shook her head. He was so small—she didn’t dare.
Lu Yicheng chimed in, "Can I hold him?"
Yu Wanqiu coughed lightly. "Have you ever even held a baby before? Zhang Lin, don’t mind him."
Zhang Lin smiled. "It’s just holding him for a bit. Let Yangyang soak up some of that top-student aura—maybe he’ll score over 700 in the college entrance exam when he grows up."
Zhang Lin showed Lu Yicheng how to hold the baby properly. Yangyang was incredibly well-behaved, lying snugly in Lu Yicheng’s arms, his little mouth slightly open and his big, grape-like eyes blinking.
Holding someone else’s baby melted Lu Yicheng’s heart. After a while, he reluctantly handed Yangyang back to Zhang Lin.
Babies don’t have much energy, and soon enough, Yangyang grew sleepy and dozed off.
Xu Chaoyang came in to call everyone for lunch. Even now, seeing the production team still made him nervous—especially Zhang Tian and Yu Wanqiu.
Zhang Tian couldn’t be bothered with him, and during the meal, no one brought up the third season of Mother-in-Law Is Coming. Shen Xingyao wasn’t planning to participate, Zhang Lin couldn’t join, and Chen Shuyun wouldn’t either—so it was just a private matter between Yu Wanqiu and Jiang Lan.
Zhang Tian noticed that Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu seemed to be getting closer—sitting together at meals, collaborating on documentaries and promotional videos. He wondered if they’d work together again in the future.
Jiang Lan was busy eating. The table was laden with dishes like crab and lobster, all ordered from a five-star restaurant by Xu Chaoyang—his own cooking skills weren’t worth showing off.
Lu Yicheng dutifully peeled crab and shrimp for Jiang Lan. After the meal, Zhang Tian pulled Yu Wanqiu aside for a private chat.
Yu Wanqiu gave the same answer as before: if she had time, she’d participate; if not, then she wouldn’t. She couldn’t give Zhang Tian a definite commitment.
Zhang Tian, ever the gossip, asked, "So, are Jiang Lan and Lu Yicheng getting married after graduation?"
He wasn’t just a producer of mother-in-law dramas.
The question caught Yu Wanqiu off guard.
"Definitely not," she replied firmly.
Zhang Tian scratched his head. "Still not? The internet says they’ve already met each other’s parents. Why the wait?"
Yu Wanqiu thought to herself—what’s the rush? She hadn’t married until she was 26, and Jiang Lan was only 22 now.
Why was everyone so obsessed with marriage?
"Why marry so young? Do they have stable careers? Nothing’s settled yet, and they’re already thinking about marriage?"
Zhang Tian assumed she was talking about Jiang Lan, but on second thought, it seemed she meant Lu Yicheng. "Alright, I’ll ask you again later."
After celebrating Zhang Yang’s full-month ceremony, Jiang Lan returned to school, while Yu Wanqiu went home to continue reviewing high school textbooks.
By early March, Jiang Lan was consulting her advisor about her graduation thesis. Mid-March, she went to Chen Ninglei’s studio to help Lu Xingran record a new song—this time purely as a favor, unlike her previous part-time work.
Lu Xingran had composed an insert song for the short film Populus Euphratica Forest. To capture the right mood, he even traveled to the northwest for inspiration.
The first half of the song carried a somber tone. Lu Xingran recorded the sounds of the Gobi Desert—the howling wind, the rustling leaves of the poplar trees, and the flowing water—all woven into the arrangement. Jiang Lan was responsible for the dizi (Chinese flute) and violin sections.
Recording took half a month. By late March, Populus was finally complete. Jiang Lan thought she could rest, but then the National Symphony Orchestra released a recruitment notice.
The hiring process had two rounds: the preliminary round required applicants to submit a six-minute solo performance video and a short ensemble piece, totaling no more than ten minutes.
Videos were to be sent to the orchestra’s official email for review. Those scoring over 70 would advance to the second round—a live professional exam. Scoring over 80 here would qualify them for the final interview.
The final decision would be based on all three evaluations, with only four spots available. After selection, candidates would undergo a physical exam—failure meant disqualification.
The notice went out in late March, with the first round starting in early April. The competition was fierce—thousands of music graduates vying for just four positions.
On top of job hunting, Jiang Lan still had her thesis and graduation performance to prepare for. The next six months would be grueling.
On April 2nd, Jiang Lan submitted her thesis draft and sent her solo video to the orchestra’s email. Finally, she could breathe.
Preliminary results would be announced within seven business days, and the thesis draft would undergo plagiarism checks and blind review. Jiang Lan had about a week to rest.
The past month had left her irritable, and even Lu Yicheng had treaded carefully around her. Now that everything was submitted, they could finally go out for a nice meal.
"Let’s go out, eat something good, relax. If you want to go home, I’ll take you back. You’ve worked so hard," Lu Yicheng said, massaging her hands. "Whatever you want to do, we’ll do it."
Jiang Lan sighed. "You’re the one who’s been working hard—putting up with my bad mood and getting scolded. I’m sorry. You were right—thesis writing is brutal."
Lu Yicheng believed love meant accepting everything about the other person. Even when Jiang Lan was upset, she was still adorable.
She never took her frustrations out on him—only snapped when pestered too much.
Lu Yicheng had finished his thesis early and often tried to chat, but Jiang Lan, buried in work and thesis stress, would lash out.
But now, with the draft submitted and her defense in May, things were finally easing up.
Meanwhile, Yu Wanqiu was nearing the end of her high school review. She’d take the college entrance exam in June, the same month Jiang Lan graduated.
At over forty years old, sitting for the exam was daunting. She worried people would laugh at her.
Aside from Jiang Lan and the others, no one knew Yu Wanqiu was retaking the exam. Every time her name trended on Weibo, her heart skipped a beat.
Currently, the top trending topic was #ProtectTheEnvironment, followed by #JoinLanzhouNoodlesInProtectingTheOcean.
After a month of editing, the marine animal conservation association had finally completed their documentary.
After final cuts, review, and broadcast, the documentary aired on CCTV-9. Divided into four seasons, each episode ran forty minutes, and the first season’s ratings soared past 1.5.
The documentary was exclusive to CCTV-9—nowhere else online. During break, a bored college student flipping channels stumbled upon it and recognized Yu Wanqiu and Jiang Lan.
The screen was filled with blue—not the ocean, but blue paint.