My Mother-in-Law and I Became the Internet's Hottest Power Couple-Chapter 64

【Husband squad? Probably waiting at home for their wives to return [world-weary] [lights a cigarette]】

【Chen Hao is working overtime on set, Lu Yicheng is working overtime at someone else’s company, and Lu Shuangchen is working overtime at his own company】

【The above remarks are the actions of individual fans and should not be attributed to Lanzhou Hand-Pulled Noodles】

【Husband squad: Can’t you wish us well?】

【Husband squad: That’s right, we’re all working overtime. We have nothing else to do besides work】

【I’m dying of laughter, folks】

【I’ve decided to follow the wives’ lead! Whatever the wives watch, I’ll watch】

【Pretty brothers and pretty sisters! drools】

Ou Mingyang’s performance lasted four minutes and thirty-six seconds.

At the two-and-a-half-minute mark, she executed a high kick and flip, her braid slicing through the air with a sharp arc.

Her contrast was striking—fans had never seen this side of her before.

Many had tuned into the talent show just for Ou Mingyang. The audience held their breath, mouths agape, until she nailed a high-leg pose, at which point the entire crowd erupted in cheers.

Most of the fans chasing boy bands were girls, and this summer, Ou Mingyang became a ray of light in their lives.

Her stage presence was electrifying, shattering her usual sweet-girl image and setting the venue on fire.

After four minutes of intense singing and dancing, Ou Mingyang was slightly breathless but held her final pose steady. Her glittery eye makeup sparkled, a sheen of sweat on her forehead as she bowed to the audience. The lights dimmed, and the next performer, Song Xiaohan, took the stage.

As last year’s talent show champion, Song Xiaohan’s skills were undeniable.

Dressed in a lightweight azure performance outfit with ripped jeans and silver chains dangling from his waist, his hair tips dyed gray and dusted with glitter, he effortlessly commanded attention under the spotlight.

Song Xiaohan was lean, with slender, straight legs. His makeup followed the trendy "battle-damaged" style, featuring a deep red streak on his right cheek.

Jiang Lan gasped—this guy was seriously handsome.

His top wasn’t tucked in, revealing glimpses of his toned abs with every move.

The audience went wild.

If a random passerby had stumbled in, they might’ve mistaken it for a zoo or a mass human devolution event.

Song Xiaohan’s song was explosive—high-energy, with backbends and floor moves galore.

His routine was more challenging than Ou Mingyang’s, featuring two sky-piercing high notes.

Live performances were a different beast. Jiang Lan had interned at Chen Ninglei’s studio and knew that studio recordings allowed for retakes, but live shows had no room for error—no pitch correction, no do-overs.

Every second on stage was a testament to years of practice, and Song Xiaohan’s high notes were flawless.

The crowd chanted his name in unison.

Jiang Lan hadn’t come as anyone’s fan, but Song Xiaohan was just too captivating—his moves were fire, and that battle-damaged look? Perfection.

Five minutes later, Song Xiaohan exited under dimmed lights, making way for Xu Mochuan, who performed a soulful ballad.

Playing the piano while singing, he looked like a prince straight out of a fairy tale. His voice was heavenly—clear, resonant, as if the universe had hand-delivered his talent. It had an almost ethereal quality, like the song of a mermaid, mesmerizing to the core.

Jiang Lan found herself falling for Xu Mochuan too.

No wonder these three were mentor material—each of their performances could stand alone as a masterpiece.

The final act was Lin Xing, dubbed the "Human Metronome" by fans for his impeccable timing. His specialty? Robotic dance.

His futuristic look featured light-blue eyeliner, pale lips, blue contact lenses, and transparent oversized glasses, all complemented by a blue-dominated outfit.

The stage design outshone the previous acts, with digital screens, flashing number panels, and a tangle of red, yellow, and blue wires, creating a high-tech mechanical vibe.

The moment Lin Xing appeared, the crowd lost it.

Jiang Lan realized idol competitions were dangerous—she’d barely been here any time and already had a crush on four guys.

There was a reason the producers saved Lin Xing for last. His track was pure electronic, every beat electrifying, like a current surging through the audience’s nerves.

Jiang Lan couldn’t tear her eyes away. Lin Xing was beyond cool—he was legendary.

This was a solo dance—no singing—but it was no less demanding than a vocal performance.

It was as if precise code and mechanical wires controlled his every move, making him seem less like a performer and more like a visitor from the future.

Yu Wanqiu gripped Jiang Lan’s hand tightly. At over forty, she was admittedly more traditional compared to the younger crowd.

For instance, she didn’t quite grasp the appeal of talent shows—groups of boys and girls chasing a stage instead of education. Like Xie Zheng, who’d debuted as an idol only to start from scratch in the film industry, the path was far from easy.

Many people never get the chance to debut and end up returning to their companies as trainees, possibly never getting their shot at fame.

But now, she seems to understand a little—no matter what job you do, you have to go through this process. For that moment on stage, the years of hard work behind the scenes are worth it.

All the contestants aspire to be like Song Xiaohan, Xu Mochuan, or Lin Xing—to become a shining star on that stage.

Perhaps it was seeing how hard those kids worked, or maybe it was reflecting on her own struggles since debut, but Yu Wanqiu suddenly felt like crying.

The most out-of-place one there was Aunt Zhao. At over sixty years old, she was watching young men sing and dance—kids who could almost be her grandsons.

Next to Aunt Zhao was a girl around the same age as her grandsons, cheering wildly, her face flushed from excitement.

Aunt Zhao worried she might lose her voice. "Oh dear, take it easy!"

The girl caught her breath. "Thanks, sis—wait, no, thanks, Grandma..."

Aunt Zhao really could be her grandma, but... why did she look so familiar?

"Aunt Zhao!" The girl kept her eyes on the stage while glancing at Aunt Zhao. It really was her! She craned her neck further and spotted Chen Shuyun sitting nearby.

The row included Aunt Zhao, Chen Shuyun, Zhang Lin, Yu Wanqiu, Jiang Lan, and Du Wanzhou.

Everyone ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‍was here except for the one she disliked the most, Li Jia. Even Shen Xingyao had come, so it made sense the others were here too.

The girl shrank back slightly, unable to tear her eyes away from the stage. Her mind was a mess—she actually liked these mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law now, and she didn’t even dislike Aunt Zhao anymore!

Especially Yu Wanqiu and Jiang Lan—she was a die-hard "Lanzhou Noodles" shipper.

Fangirling over other guys in front of her favorite CP felt like getting caught cheating by the main wife!

But then she noticed Yu Wanqiu and Jiang Lan were cheering just as loudly. They had taken off their masks, their faces flushed from shouting, glowing like peach blossoms.

Even Zhang Lin had brought her baby to watch the handsome performers.

Why shouldn’t she cheer too?

"Lin Xing, I love you! Go for it! You’re the best!"

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!"

Jiang Lan: "Lin Xing, I love you! Go for it! You’re the best!"

Lin Xing’s performance lasted nearly five minutes—an intense, physically demanding routine that left him slightly breathless.

The stage lights dimmed briefly before brightening again as crew members cleared the props.

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Shen Xingyao and Xie Zheng stepped onto the stage, followed by the other three mentors. Lin Xing took off his glasses. "Hello everyone, I’m Lin Xing."

The four greeted the audience in turn. Ou Mingyang teased, "Lin Xing, you’re way too handsome today—leave some room for the contestants, will you? This is their debut night, not yours."

Lin Xing caught his breath. "Says the one who stole the spotlight before the show even heated up. But are you sure you should be complimenting me like this in front of Xie Zheng?"

Xie Zheng and Ou Mingyang had been playing up their CP dynamic all summer, but with the season ending, their partnership was about to dissolve. Xie Zheng raised an eyebrow. "No objections here."

Shen Xingyao laughed. "I’m just jealous of Mingyang—this place is basically heaven for him. Let’s not argue—all four of you are handsome, but Mingyang’s the best, right? Still, tonight belongs to STAR9’s debut. Let’s leave the stage to them."

Xie Zheng added, "No matter if your path ahead is thorny or smooth, don’t forget your original intentions. Remember the theme song you learned when you first joined the group? That was your first stage."

Xie Zheng also had a performance—he would join the trainees in dancing the theme song one last time.

The production team brought back all the members of "Because of You We Form a Group" for a final rendition of the theme song.

All 108 of them, dressed in school uniforms, stood on stage with tears in their eyes. Some had made it this far, while others had already left in disappointment.

Fans jokingly called them the "108 Male Idol Group"—all undeniably handsome, with the shortest member at 178 cm (the cute type, currently ranked eighth). The average height was over 181 cm, each with their own unique charm.

When the eliminated contestants appeared, some fans burst into tears.

It was like raising a child—seeing your "baby" fail to debut, unsure of what their future held. Many had trained for years in singing and dancing, and if they missed this opportunity, there might not be another.

The theme song performance was flawless—no missed steps, no forgotten moves, no off-key notes. They had practiced this routine more than any other.

Jiang Lan clutched her glow sticks. They really were all so handsome, each with their own appeal. Even if they didn’t debut, their paths ahead would surely be bright.

As the theme song ended at 8:40 PM, Xie Zheng announced the latest ranking changes. With only an hour and twenty minutes left before voting closed, the final results—debut or elimination—were now set in stone.

Fans scrambled for last-minute votes.

["One vote from you, one vote from me—let’s get Qin Lu to debut!"]

["Please, just one vote for Zhang Mingyang!"]

["I’m crying…"]

["Did anyone else catch Yu Wanqiu in the crowd? She was crying too."]

["Guess only fellow artists truly understand."]

Yu Wanqiu has her own studio, and I hope my favorite can make it through.

Sigh, I don’t know why, but I’m laughing and crying at the same time. On one hand, I feel sad that the person I like didn’t debut, but on the other, I can’t help but feel bad for the husbands watching from the audience.

Yeah, even someone like Lu Shuangchen has his own struggles, and he’s already in his fifties...

I suddenly feel like I can do anything again!

Lu Shuangchen: ?

The live finale was so amazing, I’m seriously—

Jiang Lan also thought it was incredible—full of youth, passion, and most importantly, so many handsome guys.

Aunt Zhao was completely mesmerized. Watching these young men dance reminded her of her own square dancing days, though it had been a long time since she last danced.

Zhang Lin found these boys charming, as if she could see her younger self in them.

She hoped Xu Yi would grow up to be like them one day.

Zhang Lin didn’t think being an entertainer was anything to look down on. After all, these boys worked so hard.

After the theme song performance came two collaborative stages, the final test of teamwork in "Because of You We Form a Group." The 23 remaining trainees were split into two groups, their skills vastly improved after three months of training.

One stage had a traditional Chinese aesthetic, evoking the spirit of ancient martial arts. Yu Wanqiu loved it. "Look at how solid their foundations are—every move is so powerful."

Jiang Lan, on the other hand, preferred the modern Western-style dance. "Don’t you think they’re even cooler, Yu Laoshi? So youthful, like high schoolers, full of energy."

Zhang Lin thought both were great—excellent dancing and singing. Even though she didn’t know any of them personally, that didn’t stop her from cheering them on.

After the two stages, the 23 trainees introduced themselves. One of them had debuted before, having trained overseas, which drew criticism from fans who felt it was unfair to the other contestants.

When it was his turn, he said, "I don’t know where I stand now, but thank you to everyone who supports and loves me. And thank you to my past self for being so brave. I hope my creators will cast their precious votes for me."

Jiang Lan voted for her favorite—since she was here, why not?

Shen Xingyao announced, "We follow the stars on our journey, with the lighthouse in the distance and the road ahead. The stars do not disappoint those who chase them. Past stages tested teamwork, but tonight’s stage belongs to you alone."

Next up were the solo performances.

Some trainees chose to sing, others to dance.

On the vast stage, each stood alone—no special effects, no elaborate sets, just them.

The audience grew quiet. Some cried silently, while others waved their glow sticks fiercely.

Each three-minute solo might not have matched the four mentors’ performances, but in Jiang Lan’s eyes, they were already perfect.

At 10 PM, the solo performances ended. The trainees went backstage to change, and the voting closed.

At the same time, Episode 7 of "Mother-in-Law is Coming" had just been released.

Zhang Tian glanced at the ratings—1.58, not much of a drop—and quietly put away his emergency heart pills.

While Qiyue Video didn’t display real-time view counts, the ratings on Fruit TV held steady. Most idol competition fans were young girls, rarely someone like Aunt Zhao.

But this group was the loyal audience of "Mother-in-Law is Coming."

Plus, it was summer break. With everyone at home and TVs on, they’d definitely tune in.

This episode, once again, had very little of Li Jia.

Out of the four families on the show, only Li Jia was missing, leaving viewers puzzled. Where was she?

How could a living person, still part of the show, have no screen time at all?

Had something happened between Li Jia and Zhang Lin?

Or worse—had Zhang Lin and Xu Chaoyang’s marriage hit a rough patch?

Fans refused to believe it. Zhang Lin’s Weibo was still active, full of loving posts and photos of her child. The earlier episodes had been fine—how could things suddenly go wrong?

Some fans sent private messages asking, but they went unanswered.

This episode did feature Xu Yi, and paparazzi had snapped photos of Xu Chaoyang driving into the villa area, even holding Xu Yi’s hand. Yet, Xu Chaoyang didn’t appear in the episode at all.

There were two possibilities: either Xu Chaoyang didn’t want to appear on camera, or their marriage was in trouble.

Since he’d given interviews when they got married, the first option seemed unlikely, leaving only the second.

For now, netizens didn’t know what to say.

In the first six episodes, Zhang Lin and Li Jia combined only got about 30 minutes per episode, and their weekly livestreams were always separate. With so little interaction, what could anyone really tell? It was all just speculation.

In contrast, the other families were still sweet as ever.

Shen Xingyao and Du Wanzhou worked out and did yoga together—a rare mother-in-law and daughter-in-law duo with no drama, as close as real family.

Chen Shuyun mentioned she might go back to work after the show ended, while Aunt Zhao spent her days cooking and cleaning, living a pretty carefree life.

What netizens envy most is the friendship-like dynamic between Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu. However, this is largely because Jiang Lan and Lu Yicheng aren’t married yet. Once they tie the knot and face the trivialities of daily life, things might not stay so idyllic.

But that doesn’t stop fans from daydreaming.

Zhang Tian noticed a significant drop in bullet comments on Penguin Video. He reassured himself—everyone must be watching the finale of Because of You We Form a Group. The engagement would pick up once the livestream ended.

The live event reached its most thrilling and electrifying moment.

The mentors and guest judges announced the nine members of STAR9, the final lineup walking the flower-strewn path to debut.

Xie Zheng revealed the last spot: "Ninth place—Zhang Mingyang!"

Zhang Mingyang was the trainee who had trained overseas, endured harsh criticism from netizens, and barely clinched a spot in the debut lineup.