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

Chapter 55

A fashion show is far more than just models walking down a runway. The stage design, music, and lighting are all meticulously planned, with each brand showcasing its unique style through distinct settings.

Take the brand "ie," for example. Though it’s a foreign label, this year’s spring-summer limited collection draws inspiration from traditional Chinese aesthetics. The colors of the garments and the drape of the fabrics are all nods to ancient Chinese attire.

Fans can truly appreciate the brand’s sincerity—there’s no misrepresentation of Chinese culture. The runway models are all Chinese, their makeup subtly classical, a testament to the genuine effort put into crafting this collection.

To Jiang Lan, it feels ethereal, like a dream. The designs incorporate motifs inspired by Chinese flowers—orchids, plum blossoms, lotuses, and peonies. Some are embroidered, while others are crafted from layered tulle to mimic the delicate appearance of real blooms.

The dresses come in hues like lilac, early spring red, and field blue, so breathtakingly beautiful that one can hardly bear to blink.

Yu Wanqiu asks, "Which one do you like the most?"

The implication is clear—Yu Wanqiu wants to gift Jiang Lan a dress. After all, a girl can never have too many pretty outfits. She’d love to see Jiang Lan dressed to the nines. "If you don’t pick one, I’ll choose for you. But I can’t guarantee it’ll be to your taste."

"I’ll pick!" Jiang Lan turns to Yu Wanqiu. "Teacher Yu, are you really giving me a dress? Is it expensive…?"

Jiang Lan’s first concern is always affordability.

Yu Wanqiu nods. "Not sure about the price. Just pick whichever you like."

Lu Xingran chimes in, "Auntie never worries about cost when she shops. Don’t stress—she can afford it."

The dress is likely in the six-figure range, but it’s worth it to see Jiang Lan smile.

Jiang Lan quickly calculates her bank balance. With earnings from ads and fan gifts, she should be able to return the favor with something of equal value. "Then I’ll choose!"

She’s already worn several beautiful dresses on the show—green, yellow, red, blue—so this time, she picks a slate-blue gown. The skirt is adorned with purple lilac blossoms, falling just past the knees with an asymmetrical hem of light tulle. On the model, it looks stunning, like the poetic image of a lilac-clad maiden.

Later, even more exquisite dresses appear as the runway transforms through scenes of traditional Chinese landscapes, mountain forests, streams, wilderness, and snowfields.

Beyond the dresses, there are also tailored suits.

The male models are impossibly handsome, with long legs and chiseled abs, their sharp gazes reminiscent of wild leopards.

Jiang Lan clutches Yu Wanqiu’s hand, tugging at her sleeve every time an exceptionally dashing model struts by. Her inner voice screams—so many gorgeous men! She even spots Zheng Jinyang, dressed in a deep brown shirt, walking the runway twice.

Unlike the obedient younger brother image he projects at the studio, on the catwalk, Zheng Jinyang exudes an aura of commanding presence.

There’s no denying it—this fashion show is a visual feast.

The show lasts four hours, part of a week-long event featuring other brands. For Jiang Lan, attending even one show feels like an unexpected twist in her life.

But ever since meeting Yu Wanqiu, such surprises have become frequent.

Well, technically, she met Yu Wanqiu because of Lu Yicheng. After seeing so many handsome men, she still thinks Lu Yicheng is the most attractive.

After the show, as the audience disperses, a staff member approaches Yu Wanqiu. "Teacher Yu, VIK’s designer would like to meet you. She’s a fan and is waiting backstage. Would you have time?"

The silver mermaid gown Yu Wanqiu wore during Qixi Festival was from VIK.

She agrees. "Jiang Lan is my friend. Would it be alright if she joins me backstage?"

The staff smiles. "Of course! Let me escort you both."

Compared to the meticulously designed runway and seating area, backstage is chaotic.

VIK’s designer, Giulia, is a blonde, blue-eyed woman in her forties. The moment she sees Yu Wanqiu, she covers her mouth, speechless with excitement.

Speaking in halting Chinese, Giulia says, "I’ve been your fan for eleven years. The silver mermaid dress you wore on Qixi was my design."

"I’ve also watched Deep Sea—all your films, actually. They’re incredible!"

"Teacher Yu—may I call you that?—I made a qipao for you." Giulia beams. "It’s a gift. I’d be honored if you wore something I crafted with my own hands."

Yu Wanqiu takes a deep breath. "Thank you for your support. I’ll strive to deliver even better work."

Giulia is moved to tears, deeply admiring the friendship between Yu Wanqiu and Jiang Lan. Her Chinese is shaky but earnest. "She’s like a sprite! May you both flourish!"

Jiang Lan thanks Giulia, touched by the genuine admiration for Yu Wanqiu.

Yu Wanqiu leaves with the qipao. If adjustments are needed, Giulia will make them.

In the car, Yu Wanqiu examines the embroidered qipao—a traditional piece reminiscent of her roles in period dramas. She’s profoundly grateful for such devoted fans.

Knowing someone has loved her work for eleven years fills her with a sense of purpose.

"Teacher Yu, you’re truly remarkable. I hope one day, people will listen to symphonies because of me," Jiang Lan muses. Imagine someone loving her violin playing, cherishing a single passage enough to adore her as a person. That would be magical.

Yu Wanqiu replies, "If you make it to the National Symphony Orchestra, I’ll be your first audience member."

Jiang Lan nods vigorously, determined to work harder just for that promise.

The day has been exhausting—morning styling, the fashion show—and though they didn’t do much else, Jiang Lan dozes off in the car while Yu Wanqiu scrolls through her phone.

Xia Jing messages, "Domestic coverage is delayed, but photos are up. If there are any shots of you and Ming Yao together, I’ll have them suppressed."

Yu Wanqiu acknowledges.

Xia Jing adds, "I noticed Lu Xingran sitting with Jiang Lan during the show. We should issue a statement to prevent gossip."

While rumors can boost popularity, given Jiang Lan and Lu Xingran’s relationship, it would only invite backlash. Lu Xingran’s fans, particularly his obsessive admirers, can be ruthless.

This era is already harsh enough on women.

Yu Wanqiu replies, "I’ll talk to Lu Xingran. He does seem fond of Jiang Lan—they share a passion for music."

Lu Yicheng, on the other hand, lacks artistic talents, much like his father, Lu Shuangchen.

Lu Yicheng took piano lessons as a child but quit after two years. By now, he’s probably forgotten everything.

Yu Wanqiu glances at her phone. "Lu Xingran says he’s releasing a new song tonight."

It’s the collaboration with Chen Ninglei’s studio.

The track was re-recorded, with a segment replaced by the sound of a violin. It’ll be interesting to see if Lu Xingran’s fans notice.

Due to the time difference—China is six hours ahead—it’s nearly 10 PM domestically when fans finally see the media’s runway photos.

Yu Wanqiu is undeniably the centerpiece.

Beside her sits Zheng Qiu, posture straight, sporting a hint of stubble—devastatingly handsome.

On the left was Jiang Lan, her light blue dress flowing like a fairy’s.

Beside Jiang Lan sat Lu Xingran, looking exceptionally handsome today—so much so that even the former leader of an idol boy group couldn’t overshadow him, with his effortlessly cool and roguish charm.

Xie Zheng was as dashing as ever, unchanged from before.

These were the domestic celebrities seated in the first row.

Ou Mingyang was in the second row, two seats away from Jiang Lan. She had gone for a sweet and playful look, with her hair tied into two small braids, and wore a subtly matching couple’s outfit with Xie Zheng for promotional purposes.

Meanwhile, Ming Yao, who had flaunted her plane ticket early on, was seated in the third row next to a well-known internet celebrity.

[Ugh, how did someone end up in the third row?]

[Domestic resources may be top-tier, but the international scene is a reality check.]

[Her fans act like she’s going to win an Oscar or something.]

[Seriously though, Ming Yao only posted a photo and never claimed she’d be in the center seat. Plus, many A-listers didn’t even get invites to this show, so the fact that Ming Yao, a newcomer, did should say something. What’s there to hate on? [sweat]]

[I can’t even with Ming Yao’s fans. First, she rides the coattails of the Best Actress winner, then her fans claim she never said she resembled her—as if she wasn’t the one copying her makeup, turning a zero into a three. Who forced her? After the Golden Bear nominations came out, she started dragging others, and now her fans say all the criticism comes from haters? Tsk, the hypocrisy is nauseating.]

[Thankfully, the Best Actress is gracious enough not to care.]

[This is disgusting.]

[Her debut film was produced by Director Wang, and you still think she has no connections?]

[Let’s not give her attention. The Best Actress today is absolutely stunning!]

[So many gorgeous people here—a visual feast. This photo alone makes me want to eat two extra bowls of rice.]

[Screenshot saved as my wallpaper. At least the clout chaser is in the third row.]

[Husband, come here!]

[Why is Lu Xingran sitting next to Jiang Lan?! The name tag behind him says it’s Xie Zheng’s seat!]

[Why did they switch seats??]

[???]

[Don’t ask—just assume they’re close.]

[I’m done. Can’t my husband and my wife just keep some distance? Do it for me, please! I’d really appreciate it!]

[Uh, are you living under a rock?]

[Wait, what did I miss?]

[If we’re going by Yu Wanqiu’s side, Jiang Lan would call Lu Xingran her nephew. If we’re going by Lu Yicheng’s side, she’d call him her cousin.]

[Got it now?]

[Confused? Join the club.]

[Check your husband’s Weibo. His fangirls are all welcoming their sister-in-law.]

Five minutes ago, Lu Xingran posted:

[Lu Xingran: My new song is finally ready for release. It took a long time to prepare, so big thanks to the team at @ChenNingleiStudio for their help and collaboration. Also, shoutout to @JiangLan, my sister-in-law, for contributing the “yarn sounds.” Can you guess which part was played on yarn? [audio]]

Lu Xingran’s fangirls usually flood his posts with “hubby, come here!” But today was different.

[Sister-in-law?]

[No way! No wonder Lu Yicheng looks like you!]

[So Jiang Lan and I are sisters-in-law? Wow, if she gets along so well with her mother-in-law, she must be great with in-laws too!]

[What kind of fate is this? Are you brothers?]

[Probably cousins, since they share the same surname.]

[The entertainment industry is so small. Turns out we’re family all along. So what do I call Jiang Lan?]

[We’re all family here, folks.]

[Wow, destiny really tied us together centuries ago.]

[Forget the family drama—this song is amazing! I’ve already looped it a dozen times!]

The song is a traditional-style ballad with its own backstory.

This is Lu Xingran’s first attempt at a traditional-style song, and he wrote both the lyrics and music.

The story is simple: a cat spirit falls in love with a human, cuts off its tail to become human, and though the ending is happy, there’s a melancholic interlude.

That’s where the “yarn sounds” come in.

The ?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????cello was too somber, the violin lacked the right texture—but this segment was perfect.

It was played by Jiang Lan.

Though the recording process isn’t clear, it’s easy to imagine Jiang Lan plucking the yarn, her fingers stopping and plucking the strings, blending seamlessly into the melody.

[I love Jiang Lan so much now—I’m tempted to be her solo stan, but the ship is too good.]

[Just the boss’s usual excellence. No big deal.]

[The biggest takeaway from following this show? It used to be just one person against us. Now it’s a whole group.]

[Studying while keeping up with the show… When will the boss return? QAQ]

[A collab between my wife and my husband! (Of course, credit to everyone else involved too. Big thanks to Chen Ninglei’s studio team! Mwah!)]

[Now I can fangirl freely. I used to hold back, afraid of accidentally trending and upsetting Yu Wanqiu enough to blacklist Lu Xingran.]

[Since we’re family, I’m going all in.]

[Sis-in-law, come here!]

[But here’s my concern: How many relatives does Lu Yicheng have? Jiang Lan’s just one person—how’s she supposed to divide her time?]

[Morning: Teaching Lu Shuangchen “100 Ways to Praise Your Goddess.” Afternoon: Jamming with Lu Xingran on yarn. Evening: Gaming and hitting the snack streets with Yu Wanqiu. Night: Practicing piano and yoga. Meeting Lu Yicheng in her dreams.]

[I think… mornings aren’t enough.]

[Lu Shuangchen: Are you all insane?]

[Even insanity isn’t enough. She’d need at least a full day.]

All the buzz about Ming Yao had vanished from the trending list.

Marketing accounts weren’t stupid—pushing Ming Yao’s PR now would mean pitting a one-year-old newcomer against an award-winning actress, especially with Yu Wanqiu’s current popularity.

Tomorrow, swarms of fans would show up for their airport arrival.

Zhang Tian had arranged for the show’s crew to be there and reminded the two that they still owed two hours of livestreaming. Due to the time difference—six hours ahead domestically—they had to make up for it now.

Otherwise, they’d be penalized with an extra two hours. That was the show’s rule.

It was the weekend—time to catch up on missed streams.

They’d had so many chances to go live earlier in the week, but they’d skipped them all. If only they’d done it on Monday.

Yu Wanqiu had completely forgotten. She wasn’t one to procrastinate, but ever since meeting Jiang Lan, she’d been sleeping in, staying up late, and doing all sorts of things she never used to.

She deflected, “You didn’t remind me either. We almost got penalized. I’ve never been penalized in my life.”

She quickly started the livestream.

No streaming on the plane, so they had to do it now.

Jiang Lan shot back, “You didn’t remind me either! If we’d streamed on Monday, we’d be fine right now!”

Regrets aside, they had to make up the time. Jiang Lan turned on the stream and greeted the viewers.

[What kind of ungodly hour is this to go live?]

It was 10 PM in Milan—4 AM on a Sunday back home.

Jiang Lan said, “This is the entrance of La Scala Opera House. It’s too late to go in now, but we’ll show you around. Same rules as always—no gifts, just enjoy the stream.”

Their stay in Milan was short, so they couldn’t visit many famous spots.

They’d have to come back another time.

Yu Wanqiu added, “We’re still awake, so let’s chat for a bit.”

[Ah, I see. A filler stream.]

Yu Wanqiu: "I've been to Milan a few times. The earliest was when Mr. Lu and I came here for our honeymoon."

Since mere small talk didn’t seem engaging enough, and the livestream had only a handful of viewers, Yu Wanqiu decided to share a bit of her past.

["Now this is something that’ll keep me awake!"]