My Mother-in-Law and I Became the Internet's Hottest Power Couple-Chapter 72

“The ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‍audition’s on Saturday,” Yu Wanqiu said. “I’ll pick you up Friday evening, Jiang Lan. I’ve never done a film like this before—I’m kind of nervous.”

The National Day tribute film didn’t cast based on fame or popularity, only on how well the actor fit the role. If the director said no, that was it.

With this opportunity before her, Yu Wanqiu was determined to seize it. She’d received the script four days ago and had just five more days to refine her performance. “I’ll have to slim down for the role. Once the audition’s over, we’ll treat ourselves to something delicious.”

She craved ice cream, barbecue, hotpot—but for now, it was salads and light meals. Tonight, she’d eat sparingly. Indulgences could wait.

Jiang Lan grinned. “Deal! My treat—we’ll celebrate! Eat whatever you want then. Don’t stress, Teacher Yu. I know you’ve got this!”

This wasn’t blind admiration. Jiang Lan genuinely believed in Yu Wanqiu’s versatility. She’d seen all her films—Yu Wanqiu transformed completely for each role, unafraid to look unattractive, gain or lose weight, and perform every stunt herself.

While this was basic professionalism for an actor, few actually lived up to it.

“Teacher Yu, I’ll go with you,” Jiang Lan added.

Lu Yicheng couldn’t help but wonder—why wasn’t his dad accompanying his mom to the audition instead of his girlfriend? When he interned, he didn’t drag Jiang Lan along.

But then again, he’d missed her every single workday, wishing they could commute together. Maybe that explained it.

Lu Yicheng quickly dismissed the thought—it felt a little too dangerous.

Yu Wanqiu would never let Lu Shuangchen tag along. He was as dull as a brick, always spouting lines like, What’s meant to be yours will be yours. If it’s not, no amount of worrying will change it. Just do your best.

His endless lectures drove her up the wall.

He wasn’t wrong, but was that what she wanted to hear?

Lu Shuangchen was all about empty platitudes.

As they neared the school, Yu Wanqiu told Lu Yicheng to pull over. “Your dorm has six people, right? Little Xu, go buy some milk tea and desserts.”

She planned to let them drop off their luggage first, then head out for a meal before returning.

Since she could probably enter the girls’ dorm, she’d likely meet Jiang Lan’s roommates. Bringing snacks and drinks would serve as a friendly gesture—a little fan-meeting gift.

After the show wrapped, Jiang Lan might get recognized on campus. Maintaining good dorm relations was important.

Yu Wanqiu, being over twenty years older, had seen enough of the world to know that while Jiang Lan’s friends seemed harmless, it never hurt to be cautious.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.

“Lu Yicheng,” she added, “keep a low profile at school. Aside from academics, don’t go chatting with other girls. Be reliable.”

This was the first time Yu Wanqiu had ever given him a pre-school pep talk.

Lu Yicheng replied flatly, “You should be saying this to Jiang Lan. She knows more girls than I’ve ever met.”

Between the violin club, her classmates, and gaming buddies, Jiang Lan collected friends everywhere she went.

Who knew why? Girls just adored her. First there was Xu Xiang, now Yu Wanqiu.

Yu Wanqiu raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Is that so?”

Jiang Lan grinned. “Don’t worry, you’re my favorite now.”

Little Xu returned with six cups of milk tea and six small cakes—different flavors so everyone could choose. She was used to this; Yu Wanqiu often treated cast and crew to drinks to foster good rapport.

It wasn’t expensive, but food and drinks always lifted spirits. A little kindness smoothed things over.

On September 2nd, campuses nationwide buzzed with students hauling suitcases. Cars weren’t allowed inside, so they parked outside the gates. Lu Yicheng, carrying just a backpack, took charge of Jiang Lan’s luggage.

Boys couldn’t enter the girls’ dorm, so Yu Wanqiu went in with Jiang Lan. Room 318. As they approached, Jiang Lan texted Xu Xiang, who came sprinting downstairs.

“You’re here, babe!” Xu Xiang practically tackled Jiang Lan in a bear hug. Two months apart—they’d planned to meet over summer break, but then Jiang Lan joined the show.

Yu Wanqiu coughed lightly.

Xu Xiang froze. Yu Wanqiu?! The actual Yu Wanqiu?!

She snapped to attention. “Ahhh! Hello! I’m Xu Xiang, Jiang Lan’s best friend! She talks about you all the time—she’s a huge fan of your movies! And so am I!”

Yu Wanqiu was stunning. She didn’t look a day over forty—no wrinkles, flawless skin, and an aura of effortless grace. Like a fairy who’d discovered the secret to eternal youth.

Xu Xiang didn’t see Lu Yicheng. Her sweet little Jiang Lan had made a new best friend.

Wahhh.

Yu Wanqiu tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Really? Jiang Lan’s mentioned you too. I brought milk tea and cake for everyone—let’s head upstairs.”

Students passing by stole glances. Xu Xiang hurriedly led them up, heart pounding. Yu Wanqiu had brought treats—she was too good.

By extension, Xu Xiang was now friends with Yu Wanqiu too.

Yu Wanqiu is too famous. This summer, the show Mother-in-Law Is Coming has been incredibly popular, with many viewers following it until the final episode. Some wondered whether Jiang Lan would move into the dormitory when school started, rent a place to live with her boyfriend, or even move directly into the Lu family home. But in the end, Yu Wanqiu came to drop Jiang Lan off at school.

Their bond is genuinely strong—people initially thought it was just for the show.

Students at Tsinghua University only spared a few extra glances. During the busy enrollment season, everyone was preoccupied with settling in and attending classes, leaving little time for celebrity gossip. Most just found the whole thing sweet.

Jiang Lan’s life seems smooth sailing—she’s kept her high school boyfriend, met his parents, and even participated in the show, filmed promotional videos, and interned at Chen Ninglei’s studio.

But no one really compares themselves to Jiang Lan. Everyone has their own path, and these students are already top achievers in their own right—why envy others?

Those familiar with Jiang Lan greeted her, while others simply stared out of curiosity. After all, it’s not every day you see a celebrity up close.

There’s something different about Yu Wanqiu in person—her fame suits her. She’s fair-skinned, well-maintained, tall, and slender, with beautifully defined arms. Unlike her on-screen roles, she greeted everyone with a warm smile and a cheerful "Hello!"

No wonder she’s so popular.

Along the way, many people took photos and posted them online.

"Tsinghua’s back in session! Guess who I ran into! [Photo]"

"Before opening the picture, I already knew it had to be related to Jiang Lan. I thought it’d be the sweet couple happily starting school together—but Lu Yicheng’s name isn’t even mentioned!"

"LOL, I can’t even."

"Yu Wanqiu actually came to drop Jiang Lan off at school?"

"I’m shipping them so hard!"

"If this is how mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationships work, sign me up. Who else would escort their daughter-in-law to school?"

"Honestly, it’s easier to see them as close friends. Friends look out for each other, right? Hehe."

"Exactly! They’re not even officially mother-in-law and daughter-in-law yet. I can’t picture Yu Wanqiu as a traditional ‘mother-in-law’ with that face."

"Lanzhou Lamian (Jiang Lan x Yu Wanqiu) is REAL!"

"I’m gonna study hard and get into Tsinghua too!"

"Knowledge changes destiny—and I don’t mean Jiang Lan marrying into a wealthy family. It’s just that excelling academically opens doors to better circles and lets you meet extraordinary people."

In the sixth episode of the show, there was a segment where Jiang Lan revisited her alma mater, Jinhua No.1 High School. The camera panned over the honor roll, where Lu Yicheng’s photo was still displayed.

The halo of a college entrance exam top scorer is powerful—exceptional people naturally attract other exceptional people.

With summer break over, many students had spent two months relaxing. Now, it was time to refocus, especially for high school seniors and ninth graders preparing for next year’s exams.

Many were determined to push themselves harder. While most of the "Lanzhou Lamian" fandom consists of older fans, there are still a few middle schoolers among them.

Work hard, attend the same high school and university as Jiang Lan—that’s the dream. Getting closer to your idol counts as a win.

Fans are thrilled with the duo’s post-show interactions. In fandom lingo, "just appearing together counts as sugar"—meaning even if a pair doesn’t explicitly interact, fans can still find moments to cherish.

But with Lanzhou Lamian, there’s no need to dig for crumbs—they serve it up directly!

The topic trended on Weibo. That evening, an entertainment insider posted:

"Rabbit Group: Fresh tea—a certain actress’s next project is Salute. She’s already auditioned. Awaiting official announcement."

About ten minutes later, Ming Yao posted a Weibo update—no caption, just a photo of her watching a movie on her iPad, with fruit on the table. Based on the dialogue, it was a patriotic film.

Combined with the insider’s post, it wasn’t hard to guess who the "certain actress" was.

"Is it Ming Yao? Landing Salute would be insane—that’s top-tier resources."

"Salute has had so many names floated—no guarantee it’s her."

"Just days ago, rumors pointed to Ou Mingyang, who quickly denied it."

With National Day approaching—and next year marking a major anniversary—directors are scrambling for the holiday box office, while actors are giving their all in auditions.

Salute, a tribute film, is one of the most coveted projects. Everyone wants a piece.

Last year, rumors circulated that director Chen Yi had begun casting, with nearly every actor or celebrity of note being linked to the project—even singer Lu Xingran’s name was thrown in.

For a film like this, even a minor role is more prestigious than leading other movies.

With over a year until next year’s National Day, filming should begin soon. While casting hasn’t been officially announced, it’s likely finalized.

If Ming Yao is involved, her resources are indeed impressive—and her acting must have won Chen Yi’s approval.

Salute consists of five stories helmed by five directors, with Chen Yi overseeing the overall production.

The film requires a large cast, so Ming Yao’s potential involvement isn’t shocking.

But the rumors escalated, with fans claiming Ming Yao would play Wu Qing, the "Poplar Woman" who spent her life planting trees to combat desertification in the Gobi Desert—a leading role.

Yu Wanqiu knew immediately it was fake. She had an audition for Wu Qing’s role that weekend. If Ming Yao had already been cast, Chen Yi wouldn’t have scheduled her audition.

While the role isn’t strictly based on seniority, Yu Wanqiu is an award-winning actress—Chen Yi wouldn’t make her audition just to prop up Ming Yao.

Xia Jing thought Ming Yao never learned her lesson. Ambition is good, but overconfidence isn’t. "Let me fan the flames. If she really lands Wu Qing’s role, I’ll eat my words."

Xia Jing contacted a few insider accounts and bought a trending hashtag: "Ming Yao to Star as Female Lead in Salute."

Among Salute’s five segments, Wu Qing is the only female protagonist. Other women in the film play supporting roles—important, but not central.

In The Poplar Forest, Wu Qing dedicates her life to her cause. Her husband resigns from his job to teach in the northwest, eventually collapsing from exhaustion at his desk.

Wu Qing is the lead in The Poplar Forest—and by extension, the lead in Salute.

With a total runtime of about three hours, each segment gets roughly thirty minutes to depict an entire lifetime—from youth to old age.

Xia Jing didn’t think Ming Yao could pull it off.

(No, let’s be honest—she knew Ming Yao couldn’t.)

"Oh my god, Yao Yao is killing it! Can’t wait to see her as Wu Qing!"

"These resources are next-level. Truly the best of the new generation."

"Debuted with a Best Actress nomination, now Salute? To everyone calling her a ‘nepo baby’—this isn’t something money can buy. Talent matters."

"Honestly, she’s been underrated since her debut."

"At this point, I suspect that ‘title’ was pushed by a certain award-winning actress’s fans to sabotage her. They didn’t want a newcomer outshining her."

"Ming Yao’s future is bright."

"The future is hers!"

Ming Yao was startled when she saw the trending search. She was involved in Salute—but as a minor supporting character, not the lead.

Getting this role wasn't easy. Chen Yi wouldn’t joke about important roles, but for minor, screen-filling parts, connections could still make it happen.

Ming Yao was afraid the trending topic might ruin her chances for that role. She never actually intended to play Wu Qing—she just wanted to ride the wave to gain more fans.

Back then, she had debuted under Yu Wanqiu’s name, but now that she was nominated for the Golden Bear Award for Best Actress, she naturally wanted to erase those old ties.

Fans admired talent.

Ming Yao told her agent to take down the trending topic. "What’s wrong with these fans? They’re just making things worse! Get rid of it now!"

The agent agreed, but after a while, he called back and said the topic couldn’t be removed.

Ming Yao: "Why not? Did someone else buy it? Or is someone trying to sabotage me?"

The agent sighed. "No idea yet. The other side’s keeping tight-lipped. If we can’t remove it, we either wait for the hype to die down, push another topic to the top, or—if the first two options don’t work—issue a statement like Ou Mingyang did."

Pushing another topic up would cost way more. Ming Yao’s team was familiar with these tactics—they’d done it plenty of times before.

It was obvious someone was targeting her behind the scenes.

But what could she do? Take Ou Mingyang, for example—he’d spent years acting in fluffy idol romances. How could he suddenly land a role in Tribute?

After weighing her options, Ming Yao finally released a statement:

[Ming Yao: With National Day approaching, I’ve been rewatching a few films. I’m deeply grateful to the pioneers who contributed to our nation’s progress—you are my inspiration.]

Effectively denying the rumors about her starring in Tribute.

Ming Yao was fuming. "Who’s behind this? Did I offend someone?"

Her agent wanted to say, You’ve offended too many people—who even knows which one you’re talking about?

After a long silence, Ming Yao muttered, "Do you think… it could be Yu Wanqiu?"

After the fashion week incident, Ming Yao had been on edge for days. She hadn’t dared to release any promotional material, afraid someone might leak photos from that day. And then there was Lu Xingran—his words had been downright vicious.

The Lu family had influence. Ming Yao knew better than to provoke them.

Agent: "Don’t jump to conclusions. Yu Wanqiu might not care, but Lu Shuangchen definitely would."

Ming Yao sighed. How could someone be so lucky—talented in acting, married into wealth, as if all the good things in life belonged to her.

She was just speculating, though. Since Yu Wanqiu wasn’t even in Tribute, it probably wasn’t her.

Xia Jing glanced at the Weibo post and showed it to Yu Wanqiu. "With nerves like that, just ignore her. Focus on preparing for the audition."

That evening, after returning home, Yu Wanqiu did two hours of yoga. She and Jiang Lan had eaten braised chicken with noodles from a restaurant near campus.

The dish was delicious—the noodles soaked in the rich, spicy broth, coated in red oil, with tender chunks of chicken and soft potatoes. But Yu Wanqiu didn’t dare eat too much.

Lu Shuangchen wasn’t back yet. Xia Jing wanted to contact Madam Wu Qing, but Yu Wanqiu said to wait until after the audition.

Xia Jing: "Fine. But are you planning to lose even more weight?"

Yu Wanqiu had weighed 94 pounds before. After staying home for four or five days post-filming, she was now down to 92.

She aimed to drop to the 80s within a week. If she got the role, she’d likely lose even more.

"Yeah, being thinner fits the character better." Yu Wanqiu flipped through the script. "Alright, I’ll keep studying this. You can go. I’m thinking of having Jiang Lan accompany me to the audition."

Xia Jing didn’t object. "Just take care of yourself. You’re already slim enough."

Yu Wanqiu smiled wryly. The script described Wu Qing as so thin that her pants billowed in the wind. She couldn’t show up with thick legs.

If she landed this role, any amount of weight loss would be worth it.

Around 9 p.m., Jiang Lan and Lu Yicheng were strolling around the campus track to aid digestion.

Yu Wanqiu had eaten little, so most of the meat had ended up in Jiang Lan’s stomach. Aside from the two days back in her hometown, Jiang Lan’s meals had been pretty ordinary lately.

Lu Yicheng: "Should I buy you some digestive tablets?"

Jiang Lan: "I’m not you! Not everyone has your stomach."

Lu Yicheng eyed the slight bulge of her stomach. Just how much had she eaten?

After a few more steps, Jiang Lan relented. "Actually, maybe get some digestive tablets. Or yogurt."

"Yogurt and ice cream? Is that really for digestion?" Lu Yicheng bought the tablets from the campus clinic, and they sat on a bench by the artificial lake.

It was dark now, and couples passed by all around them.

They used to come here often—back when they saw each other every day. They’d counted the wild ducks on the lake, the trees on campus. Jiang Lan would sometimes mimic him, driving him up the wall.

Too bad those memories existed only in his mind now.

After taking the tablets, Jiang Lan felt better. "Lu Yicheng, have we been to all these places before?"

Three years of dating in college hadn’t felt like much during filming, but back on campus, it seemed like every corner held traces of them.

They must have done all the typical couple things—holding hands while walking, hunting for cheap but fun spots, attending classes together, eating meals side by side.

Lu Yicheng’s breath hitched before he nodded. "Yeah, we’ve been everywhere."

"You once counted the ducks and said you wanted roast duck. Saw pigeons and craved pigeon soup." His voice softened. "You compared your height to trees, did all kinds of silly things."

Lu Yicheng had done plenty of silly things with her—things he’d never normally do. Like that trip to Jiang Lan’s family home. Looking back, he couldn’t believe how ridiculous he’d been.

He pulled a black hair tie from his pocket. "You gave me this, too."

Jiang Lan examined it—just a simple black elastic. Wearing one signaled you were taken.

Jiang Lan: "I gave this to you? Then why aren’t you wearing it?"

Lu Yicheng answered honestly, "It’s too tight. Hurts my wrist."

He held his wrist next to Jiang Lan’s—his was much thicker. Hers was too slender.

Jiang Lan couldn’t help but laugh. "Want a new one?"

Lu Yicheng nodded. "Got any other colors? Just not too tight. Though, we’ve already been on TV together—everyone knows about us. You’re so possessive."

Still making him wear a hair tie.

Jiang Lan: "Fine, don’t take it then!"

Lu Yicheng quickly backtracked. "No, no, I want it. Give it to me—I’ll put it on right now."

He wished he’d worn it when meeting Teacher Xie. Slipping on the new hair tie, he remembered Jiang Lan’s schedule. "Want to go running tomorrow morning? I’ll take you."

Lu Yicheng had no morning classes, but Jiang Lan had one. "After the run, I’ll go to your lecture with you. Can also help you study for those three exams."

Jiang Lan wasn’t keen on running. "How about I just watch you run?"

Lu Yicheng: "Then why can you do yoga with my mom but won’t even run with me?"

"Because Yu Wanqiu does yoga. If you did yoga with me, I’d do it too," Jiang Lan said matter-of-factly. "You don’t get it—I’m terrible at sports. I avoid moving whenever possible."

Lu Yicheng: "I know."

Does Lu Yicheng have a problem? How could someone like him have a girlfriend? Jiang Lan: "Huh? What do you know?"

That she’s terrible at sports?

Lu Yicheng suppressed a laugh. "Ahem, my bad. Ask me again, and I won’t say it like that."

Jiang Lan refused. Who would admit they were terrible at something? "Can’t be bothered with you."

"Just say it one more time, please…"

Since Lu Yicheng was practically begging, Jiang Lan repeated herself.

Lu Yicheng said, "Mhm, go on, sweetheart. Tell me how exactly you’re terrible at sports?"

Jiang Lan smacked him several times—this guy really deserved it.

Lu Yicheng took the hits without complaint. The next day, Jiang Lan went to the track field.

At seven in the morning, the campus was bustling with people—some reading, others jogging—the academic atmosphere was lively.

Jiang Lan didn’t run. Instead, she practiced her violin at the track for an hour before rushing to her first class.

Xu Xiang had already saved her a seat and waved when she saw Jiang Lan. "Over here, sweetheart!"

Xu Xiang also spotted Lu Yicheng. His height made him stand out, and she blinked in surprise. "This isn’t a computer science class, is it?"

Lu Yicheng had never spoken to Xu Xiang before, but since he was here for a legitimate reason, he ignored her jab. "Just auditing. Later, I’ll have lunch with Jiang Lan and study together."

Jiang Lan sat beside Xu Xiang and quietly explained why Lu Yicheng was there.

She wanted to join the Marine Animal Protection Association as a volunteer, but first, she had to pass an exam. Since Jiang Lan wasn’t the best at studying, she needed Lu Yicheng’s help to review.

Xu Xiang: "That’s great! Will you be working with Professor Yu?"

Jiang Lan nodded. "Probably during winter break."

There were still six months to go. Xu Xiang said, "Study hard."

Lu Yicheng was incredibly sharp—learning from him would be a huge advantage.

Jiang Lan could actually read Xu Xiang’s expression. How absurd.

From Monday to Friday, Jiang Lan buried herself in books and notes. Even her dates with Lu Yicheng were relocated to study halls, libraries, the track field, and the cafeteria.

But her progress was undeniable. In just a week, Lu Yicheng had helped her cover half the material. He highlighted the key points, and all she had to do was memorize them.

Sometimes, she chatted with Yu Wanqiu. Their progress was similar, but Yu Wanqiu also had scripts to review. Jiang Lan didn’t want to fail the volunteer exam, so she pushed herself relentlessly.

Meanwhile, Shen Xingyao and Zhang Lin had started filming.

After the opening ceremony, the director split the crew into two groups. Shen Xingyao played the female lead’s rival, while Liang Yun took the lead role.

Though many mocked Liang Yun for starring in a romance drama at her age, her looks and acting were flawless.

Time truly spared no beauty.

The director had put thought into the casting. Shen Xingyao was a big name, and while she didn’t mind, fans and netizens would hold the female lead to high standards. After much deliberation, Liang Yun was the only choice.

Fortunately, her acting could carry the role. With these two onboard, the drama was bound to be a hit.

Zhang Lin’s scenes were front-loaded. She brought only one assistant to the set and kept to herself, quietly studying her script after filming. Most of her takes were done in one go.

Shen Xingyao occasionally struck up conversations with her.

Zhang Lin: "Xingyao, Xu Chaoyang and I finalized our divorce last Friday afternoon."

She hadn’t told anyone else, but since Shen Xingyao had helped her and they were working together, Zhang Lin shared the news.

Shen Xingyao paused, then smiled. "Congratulations! Now you can focus on yourself—stay far away from trash men!"

Zhang Lin chuckled. "Yeah. Xu Chaoyang probably fought with his mom. Right now, he’s taking care of Little Xu at the apartment. I got custody."

Though the methods hadn’t been entirely fair.

Zhang Lin was genuinely happy for Shen Xingyao—her husband was considerate, and her mother-in-law supported her. She was truly fortunate.

She hoped Shen Xingyao would stay that way.

At lunch, Zhang Lin ate a specially prepared meal for expectant mothers, while Shen Xingyao retreated to her trailer.

After eating, Zhang Lin returned to her script. Every night, she video-called Xu Yi. The boy was well-behaved, and Xu Chaoyang always sat nearby, listening quietly.

Sometimes, Zhang Lin’s thoughts would drift, but only for a moment.

She had no plans to remarry after the divorce. Some things, once lost, couldn’t be reclaimed. With her son and another on the way, Zhang Lin was content.

The baby would take her surname, Zhang. She hadn’t settled on a formal name yet, but for now, she’d call it Yangyang.

Du Wanzhou had ordered food from a five-star restaurant. She hadn’t even received her first paycheck as an assistant yet—so far, she was just spending money.

Shen Xingyao: "Mom, you don’t have to get me such fancy meals!"

Even in September, the heat was relentless. Shen Xingyao’s heavy costume and makeup were melting under the sun.

Filming in this weather was exhausting enough—she didn’t need extravagant meals on top of it. Du Wanzhou’s heart ached watching her.

The food was aromatic and beautifully plated, but Du Wanzhou stuck to her fitness diet—a small portion of brown rice, vegetable salad, and a slice of grilled steak. She didn’t even glance at Shen Xingyao’s meal.

"Eat up. Look how thin you’ve gotten," Du Wanzhou said, perfectly content with her own meal. Four days into her assistant role, she’d already bonded with the crew and found the work fascinating.

Watching Shen Xingyao act gave her a whole new appreciation for her daughter’s talent. She felt proud.

Du Wanzhou weighed herself daily—once in the morning, once at night. She was now 158 pounds, having lost three more.

Since starting her weight loss journey, she’d shed eight pounds. Imagining how much space eight pounds of pork would take up, she realized her old clothes no longer fit—they hung loose around her waist and legs.

Shen Xingyao promised to take her shopping for new ones.

Du Wanzhou didn’t lack money, but clothes bought by her daughter held special meaning.

She even noticed her complexion had improved. Back when she was heavier, she avoided standing whenever possible and tired easily. Now, she darted around the set without fatigue.

Du Wanzhou said, "If we can help Zhang Lin, we should. Raising kids alone isn’t easy."

Shen Xingyao would if she could, but she doubted Zhang Lin needed it—the woman had pride.

After years of marriage and seven years of serving the Xu family, Zhang Lin remained humble.

Du Wanzhou sighed. "Well, everyone has their own path."

Shen Xingyao agreed. Choices, right or wrong, were personal.

Her focus was on acting. The director, whom she’d worked with before, praised her improvement.

It made her happy.

But Chen Hao’s calls and messages had dwindled. He’d taken on a new project and was busy too.

Shen Xingyao figured Chen Shuyun had returned to work. Her son must have started school—whether he was boarding or commuting, Aunt Zhao would take care of him at home. The household atmosphere was probably fine.

Jiang Lan was back in school, and Yu Wanqiu likely had her own work.

On Friday, Yu Wanqiu took Jiang Lan to an audition.

The location was in City B, scheduled for 8 a.m. the next morning. They booked a hotel nearby for the night.

Jiang Lan noticed that Yu Wanqiu had lost a significant amount of weight, becoming gaunt to the point where her face had lost its fullness.

Yu Wanqiu now weighed only 85 pounds, and at her height of 168 cm, any doctor would undoubtedly say she was underweight.

Jiang Lan knew it was for the sake of her role, but her heart ached for her nonetheless. "Teacher Yu, after the audition tomorrow, we can’t go for hot pot or anything heavy. Let’s find a place that serves nourishing porridge instead."

After starving herself for so many days, she couldn’t just jump into rich food—what would that do to her stomach?

Yu Wanqiu nodded. "It’s fine. I can gain the weight back later. A few days of porridge will help me recover."

Jiang Lan: "...Teacher Yu, your chest is practically gone."

Yu Wanqiu used to have such a stunning figure.

Yu Wanqiu: "Such insolence... It’ll come back eventually."

Yu Wanqiu sighed, and Jiang Lan sighed along with her. "Drink more milk. You still look beautiful now—the most beautiful."

Yu Wanqiu replied, "Beautiful? Health is the most beautiful. Get some rest early—no, wait, I need to go over the script one more time."

She had already memorized the entire audition script, though there would likely be revisions if she landed the role.

The next day, Yu Wanqiu dressed in simple clothes and went to the audition.

The chief director was Chen Yi, while the director of The Poplar Forest was Liu Qingyun, a female filmmaker.

Her films often featured actresses with deeply compelling stories. Liu Qingyun had met Yu Wanqiu a few times but had never collaborated with her—she had always wanted to.

Still, this movie would ultimately come down to acting skill.

The audition scene depicted the moment Wu Qing’s husband quit his job and resolutely traveled to the northwest to be with her.

The couple hadn’t seen each other for over half a year. When they reunited, Wu Qing had cut off her long hair, her face reddened by the desert winds, her complexion sallow and bitter, her hands covered in cuts.

Her husband’s heart ached for her, and hers for him. Tears welled up in her eyes but never fell.

The bitterness in her heart was momentarily dispelled by long-awaited sweetness—a feeling that couldn’t be conveyed by mere crying.

The performance in the eyes was crucial.

Yu Wanqiu slipped into character effortlessly.

Liu Qingyun kept her gaze fixed on Yu Wanqiu’s eyes as she acted opposite a crew member standing in as the husband.

Yu Wanqiu stared at the person across from her, her eyes misty. After years of enduring the desert winds, her eyes were dry and stinging.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to cry—she simply couldn’t.

Yu Wanqiu smiled faintly. She parted her lips, but none of the words she wanted to say came out. Instead, she murmured softly, "Fool."

In that moment, a storm of emotions swirled in her eyes. Finally, she tilted her head back slightly—but the tears never fell.

Liu Qingyun’s own tears did. "Cut."

She removed her glasses. "How much do you weigh now? You didn’t look this thin in your shows."

Yu Wanqiu eased out of character. "85 pounds."

Liu Qingyun: "Here’s the thing—in the script, after Wu Qing goes to the northwest, she cuts the long hair she’s kept for years. It needs to be a real cut, up to the chin. Are you okay with that?"

Yu Wanqiu’s hair was long and beautiful. To Liu Qingyun, cutting it seemed a shame.

Her weight was close enough, and the fact that Yu Wanqiu had slimmed down this much for the role was no small feat.

A wig could technically be used, but Liu Qingyun personally disliked anything artificial.

"I can cut it."

Yu Wanqiu repeated, "I can cut it."