My Mother-in-Law and I Became the Internet's Hottest Power Couple-Chapter 79

Jiang Lan thought, If you want to kiss me, just kiss me. I like kissing too.

But if you had to ask, what could she say? Saying "yes" outright would seem too forward, so there was only one answer left—no.

Jiang Lan: "No!"

Lu Yicheng chuckled and said, "You're the birthday girl, so you call the shots. If you say no, then no."

Today, everything would go according to Jiang Lan's wishes.

"..."

What’s so funny?

Lu Yicheng was such an idiot. What was he thinking? Jiang Lan decided to let it go—better not expect too much from your boyfriend. Lower your expectations, and you won’t get mad as easily. But not kissing him felt like a waste. She reached out and grabbed his collar. "If you want to kiss me, just do it. Why so much talk…?"

The small inn was a bit old, but it was quiet. The area was sparsely populated, and everything was still. In the autumn air, even the cicadas and frogs had gone silent. At that moment, all Lu Yicheng could hear was the pounding of his own heart.

They’d kissed many times before—both before Jiang Lan lost her memories and after—but this time, the emotions hit him with overwhelming intensity. His heart felt like it might burst. His hands pressed against the bed, fingers clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. His body reacted more honestly than his mind. In the next second, Jiang Lan was pushed back into the soft blankets.

Startled, Jiang Lan felt Lu Yicheng pinning one of her wrists while his other hand burned against her skin, hot as an iron she’d once accidentally touched.

When their lips met, sparks flew. A whirlwind of thoughts flashed through Jiang Lan’s mind before everything dissolved into a bubbling pot of thick porridge.

Time blurred. Eventually, Lu Yicheng suddenly sat up, tugging at his collar as if overheated. His gaze never left Jiang Lan, who still had one hand trapped in his grip. She wiped her mouth with her free hand. "Lu—"

His voice was rough. "Don’t say my name yet."

After a pause, Lu Yicheng raked a hand through his hair, looking like a radish being yanked violently from the ground, then quickly retreated to the bathroom.

Jiang Lan slowly burrowed under the covers. It was just a kiss—who knew he’d react like that? Her phone was nowhere to be found, and her clothes were slightly disheveled…

Why is he taking so long?

Eventually, Lu Yicheng emerged, his face still damp. "It’s late. Get some sleep. Goodnight, baby."

Jiang Lan rolled over. "Goodnight."

Lu Yicheng leaned against the headboard, scrolling on his phone until steady breathing signaled Jiang Lan was asleep. He glanced at her, waiting until she was deep in slumber before opening his camera and turning the lens toward himself.

He switched on his bedside lamp—warm, orange light that Jiang Lan would call "full of atmosphere."

Clearing his throat, he checked on Jiang Lan again. She slept like a log; even an earthquake probably wouldn’t wake her.

"Today is the sixteenth day of the ninth lunar month, October 28th on the solar calendar—my girlfriend Jiang Lan’s birthday. I wished her a happy birthday and gave her a photo album as a gift. It has pictures of us separately and together.

The meaning behind this gift is simple: I want to be part of your life from now on.

One more year… I plan to propose to her on this day next year. Starting today, I’ll record a video every day."

Lu Yicheng’s heart felt like a music box—wound tight, playing an endless, joyful tune.

"I really want to tell her, but I’m afraid of her reaction. Afraid she might refuse. I’m not expecting her to marry me in a year… just hoping she’ll be willing to.

I wonder if she’ll ever recover her lost memories. Life plays cruel jokes sometimes. Jiang Lan takes it lightly, saying the universe just locked her memories away until the right key is found. I wish I were that key."

Lu Yicheng smiled. "Even if she never remembers, it’s fine. We can relive those moments. If you don’t want to study, I’ll teach you. While you’re asleep, I’ll practice. Jiang Lan, will you marry me?"

He laughed at himself. "Need to practice other things too. Like calling you ‘wife.’ Wife… wife… wife."

He glanced back at Jiang Lan, confirming she was still asleep. "Jiang Lan, baby, I love you."

I want this to be official so badly. For now, I’ll just indulge in words.

He pressed the red stop button and renamed the video: 10.28. Check-in.

This video could play at their wedding—if the proposal succeeded. He felt a little guilty toward Lu Shuangchen, though. Back then, he’d boasted about getting engaged during winter break and married after graduation.

The gap between ideals and reality was wider than he’d thought.

From deciding to propose to actually doing it, a year remained. But he’d imagined this moment countless times already.

This wasn’t a whim.

Tonight, Lu Yicheng was brimming with excitement, his entire being buzzing with anticipation.

He really wanted to tell Jiang Lan, especially to know her reaction to a marriage proposal, but she was the protagonist—how could he discuss it with her?

Lu Yicheng pondered for a while before sending a message to Lu Shuangchen.

When faced with difficulties, Lu Yicheng still turned to his father first rather than his friends.

At this hour, Lu Shuangchen was still awake. To ensure he wouldn’t miss any messages from Yu Wanqiu, his private phone was always set to ring. When the notification sounded, he thought it might be from her.

But it was his son.

[Son: How did you propose to Mom back then?]

[Son: I’m planning to propose to Jiang Lan.]

However, Lu Shuangchen wasn’t the best person to ask. Their marriage had been arranged by their families—once they reached the right age, they simply wed without any elaborate proposal.

Lu Shuangchen had only asked Yu Wanqiu if she was willing to marry him.

If he had to call it something, that question was the proposal, followed by a substantial dowry.

[Back then, things weren’t as complicated. Your grandmothers discussed it, and then we just registered our marriage.]

That was how most marriages happened in those days. The fact that Lu Shuangchen could go abroad for their honeymoon was already considered progressive.

Getting no useful advice, Lu Yicheng took it as a lesson in what not to do.

Lu Shuangchen glanced at the time—12:40 AM. [What’s going on? Why aren’t you asleep? Where are you? Why haven’t you come home this weekend?]

Lately, Lu Shuangchen had been unbearably bored. His days were a monotonous cycle of work, like clockwork. It was Saturday, and Lu Yicheng hadn’t returned.

The enormous villa felt hollow, and Lu Shuangchen couldn’t shake the feeling of being an empty-nester.

[Son: [Location shared]]

[Son: Came to see Mom.]

Lu Shuangchen opened the location—a small town in the northwest. He froze. Why could Lu Yicheng visit the set, but when he suggested it, Yu Wanqiu outright refused?

He didn’t quite understand, but in some way, it felt like he wasn’t as important as Lu Yicheng.

[Son: If you have time, you should come too. Mom is here alone… It’s tough. She’s too stubborn.]

Lu Yicheng had been deeply moved today. He used to think Yu Wanqiu didn’t care enough about him—and in some ways, that was true—but he had come to terms with it.

Yu Wanqiu loved their family, but she also loved her career. Lu Yicheng suspected his father might have some misunderstandings about her too.

The blue glow of the phone screen cast shadows on Lu Shuangchen’s face, his gaze hollow.

After a moment, he took off his glasses and pressed his fingers to his temples.

[I see.]

The next day, Jiang Lan and Lu Yicheng boarded the train back home.

Jiang Lan sent a message to Yu Wanqiu before setting her phone aside.

The gray-yellow expanse of the Gobi Desert faded behind them. The next time they returned would be to bring Yu Wanqiu home.

Jiang Lan couldn’t help but look out the window. Lu Yicheng gently turned her head back. "If you’re tired, sleep for a bit. If you’re hungry, I have snacks. Sit properly."

The train wasn’t crowded—their carriage had only a few passengers.

Lu Yicheng whispered, "Whose little troublemaker isn’t sitting properly?"

"Who’s a little troublemaker? Lu Yicheng, you’re the childish one." Jiang Lan pulled her jacket over her head and buried herself in sleep.

Meanwhile, Lu Shuangchen boarded a train heading northwest.

Company matters could be handled via video calls. Anything unresolved could be left to Lu Yicheng. After working for half his life, he now wanted to focus more on family.

Lu Shuangchen had never been to the northwest before. The further he traveled, the more remote it became.

He only brought his assistant and rented a place about twenty miles from the filming set. Yu Wanqiu didn’t know he was coming—he hadn’t told her. She had been too busy lately, barely responding to his messages.

Traveling somewhere just for Yu Wanqiu—this was something Lu Shuangchen had never done before.

She was close enough to reach in twenty minutes by car, yet so far away that she still thought he was in City B.

Filming was progressing smoothly. Liu Qingyun estimated they could wrap up by the end of November.

Yu Wanqiu had gained a little weight—those extra pounds hadn’t come easy.

In mid-November, the official Weibo account of Yunnan Province posted a promotional video with the caption: "Welcome to Yunnan for tourism."

The video, forty-six minutes long, showcased six scenic spots—from Erhai Lake to Xishuangbanna, then to Dragon Gate Snow Mountain, Shaowu Ancient Town, Shanyue Valley, and the Firefly Forest. It featured both daytime and nighttime views.

Each segment lasted about eight minutes. The first was Dragon Gate Snow Mountain.

Jiang Lan filmed the snow-capped peaks with her phone, while the camera captured her profile and a glimpse of the mountain through her screen.

The towering, pristine peaks stretched toward the heavens, dwarfing human existence in an instant.

The perspective of Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu made the experience more immersive. The majesty of the snow mountain was beyond words—for those few seconds, it stole their breath away.

The snow-capped mountain at an altitude of over 4,000 meters took nearly a full day to climb. Once they reached the top, Jiang Lan took out a dinosaur clip, and the two of them sat in the snow, clipping numerous little dinosaurs.

The subsequent scenic spots showcased even more magnificent landscapes—the historic charm of Shaowu Town, the lively and adorable animals in the dense forests of Xishuangbanna, the melodious sound of flutes while boating on Erhai Lake, the uniquely shaped fallen leaves and wild fruits in Shanyue Valley, and the flickering fireflies dancing in the night.

It felt like a meticulously woven dream.

Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu appeared in about half of the footage, and through their eyes, viewers could witness a different perspective of the scenery. Perhaps if one were to visit in person, the sights they’d see... might still differ from what these two experienced.

This is the essence of travel—watching videos or looking at pictures can never compare to seeing it with your own eyes.

After National Day, there’s still New Year’s Day and winter vacation. Comparatively, the climate in Yunnan Province is milder and more humid, making it an ideal winter getaway for those who dread the cold.

And these were just the autumn views—imagine the beauty when spring arrives, with flowers blooming everywhere.

The promotional video was quite long, originally planned for thirty minutes to avoid boring the audience. But the editing team truly did their best, cutting down over fifty hours of footage—ten hours shot daily—into just forty-six minutes. Many delightful scenes were left out, so the official team decided to follow Zhang Tian’s approach and release behind-the-scenes clips.

A nearly hour-long, plotless promotional video would usually feel tedious to most viewers. Yet, this travel video was so captivating that time seemed to fly by.

Halfway through, viewers would instinctively check the progress bar, realizing with surprise that only half remained.

The filming and editing were done with great care, and the scenery surpassed the aesthetic of even the most popular fantasy dramas, blending modern vibrancy with timeless classical charm.

Except for the heavy mountaineering gear worn on Longmen Snow Mountain, the two women donned beautiful ethnic outfits in other locations, with minimal makeup that enhanced their natural radiance. Just watching these two beauties could easily fill an entire day.

[This scenery absolutely puts some current dramas to shame. So, can we film in these places next time?]

[If I climb the snow mountain now, can I still find the little dinosaurs my wives clipped?]

[Counted them—66 in total. First come, first served!]

[Absolutely breathtaking. I must visit at least once in my lifetime.]

[So much delicious food—are the flower cakes really that good?]

[The bubble-blowing scene totally killed me.]

[Just kill me already to celebrate these two!]

[Their first reunion since the show ended—I’m crying.]

[I’m adding this to my must-watch list for every meal.]

[Lanzhou Lamian forever!!!]

[It’s been over two months—feels like forever since we last saw them. What have they been up to?]

[Secretly got married?]

[Paparazzi, are you even trying? If not, step aside for someone who can.]

[No news from Jiang Lan attending classes is one thing, but Yu Wanqiu is a public figure!]

[Right? Feels like ages since we last saw Yu Wanqiu. The last time she disappeared was during the filming of Deep Sea—she was gone for half a year.]

[Maybe she’s filming something new?]

[She’ll probably reappear soon—the Golden Bear Awards ceremony is in a month.]

[Can’t wait to see her walk the red carpet!]

[Qinghua University grad student here—I see these two in the study hall every day.]

[Do ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‍these two even know how to date? Can’t they be sweeter?]

[LOL, people complain when they don’t study (“not living up to Qinghua standards”) and when they do (“neglecting romance”).]

[They’re already seniors—why are they still grinding so hard? I slacked off all of senior year.]

[That’s why he’s Lu Yicheng, and you’re just an anonymous netizen.]

[??? Well, thank you for that.]

[Checked Qinghua University’s official Weibo—comments have hit hundreds of thousands, and the check-ins are still going strong.]

[Lu Yicheng must be swamped. Unlike other rich heirs, if it weren’t for Jiang Lan, he’d probably work straight till retirement.]

[My boyfriend worked with Lu Yicheng for a while—this guy’s a workaholic. Back when Jiang Lan was filming the show, he pulled overtime till 11 PM daily.]

[Zhang Mingyue here, totally jealous of people like him—born wealthy, yet still hardworking. Not just hardworking, but also ridiculously handsome. And on top of that, his girlfriend is amazing, so their future kids will be adorable.]

[Why doesn’t Lu Yicheng just join the entertainment industry? Then we’d at least get updates on our two wives.]

[LYC: Just a pure tool, huh?]

[Honestly, without the show airing, my happiness is gone. Meals don’t even taste good anymore. Zhang Tian, how are you going to make this up to me?]

[I miss my wives.]

[I miss my wives +1.]

The primary audience for the promotional video were fans of "Lanzhou Lamian" and the individual supporters of the two women. Jiang Lan’s fanbase largely consisted of music enthusiasts who loved watching her play the violin and other instruments, while Yu Wanqiu’s loyal followers were long-time film buffs. The harmony between CP fans and solo fans was unparalleled in the fandom.

Brand endorsements prioritize fan purchasing power, which is why big names usually hire trending celebrities. Though Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu aren’t typical "idols," their fanbase is massive.

Yu Wanqiu is also the spokesperson for Yuexiang Ting, but the marketing director of Yuexiang Ting is starting to regret it. They should have hired two spokespersons from the beginning—it’s not like they couldn’t afford the endorsement fees. However, the sales of Yuexiang Milk Ting have surpassed competing products of the same category, with major supermarkets constantly placing new orders.

Never satisfied with just enough, the marketing director decides to send Yu Wanqiu more products. But no one is home at the Lu residence, and calls to Yu Wanqiu go unanswered, as do WeChat messages. It isn’t until mid-November that Yu Wanqiu finally replies to a WeChat message sent in late November.

[Yu Wanqiu: I haven’t been home these past two months. Was there really no one at my place?]