Lu Yicheng, taking advantage of his long legs, caught up to Jiang Lan in just a few strides and easily pinned her down. "So, who's the pig here?"
Jiang Lan burst into laughter, coughing between giggles. "Me, me, alright? I'm the pig."
Lu Yicheng slowly loosened his grip.
The moment he let go, Jiang Lan darted away again. "Just kidding—you're the pig!"
With one hand, Lu Yicheng restrained her effortlessly. "Last chance. Say it—three words."
Jiang Lan, her neck pinned under his strong hold, couldn't possibly overpower him. "Which three words? 'You're a pig'? Or... 'I like you'?"
Her voice was soft, but the words rang clear in Lu Yicheng's ears. She was always like this—teasing, then backing down when things got serious, surrendering only to take it back again. When she realized defiance was futile, she’d switch to sweet nothings, launching a full-on sugar-coated assault.
And Lu Yicheng was utterly defenseless against Jiang Lan’s sugar-coated assaults.
He had hoped she’d say those three words, but instead, she called him a pig. When he tried to make her admit she was the pig, she refused—only to follow it up with "I like you."
Lu Yicheng couldn’t stay mad at her.
"Fine," he relented, taking her hand. "Let’s go home and make some pickled fish."
Lu Yicheng was an excellent cook, with pickled fish and braised pork being his specialties.
Jiang Lan helped out, washing rice, prepping vegetables, and doing the dishes. They prepared two meat dishes and one vegetable dish—stir-fried green beans.
She blinked at him playfully. "I’m a great cook too, you know. Teacher Yu loves my food."
Lu Yicheng had seen her cooking instant noodles on the show. "Cut down on instant noodles. They’re not healthy."
Even Teacher Yu didn’t complain about them being unhealthy—why did he have to?
No wonder he never got to taste his girlfriend’s cooking.
"Sure, sure, your food is the healthiest. Who said I only know how to make instant noodles?" Jiang Lan retorted. "Want me to show off my skills?"
She could also whip up a mean vegetable salad.
Lu Yicheng glanced at the clock—11:30. Would they even eat before midnight if she cooked? "Go ahead. What should I do? Just watch?"
"You do yours, I’ll do mine." Jiang Lan wasn’t about to skip the braised pork. "I’ll learn a thing or two so I can impress my mom when I go home. The food on the show was amazing, but at home..."
She thought Xie Yunzhen’s cooking couldn’t hold a candle to hers.
She’d be home for a few more days—school started on September 2nd, a Tuesday.
"Teacher Xie’s cooking must be amazing," Lu Yicheng said with unwavering faith.
Jiang Lan couldn’t be bothered to argue. "You’ve never even tried it—no right to judge. Let me put it this way: I can eat two bowls of Teacher Yu’s food, but with my mom’s, I barely manage two."
Lu Yicheng kept his head down as he sliced the fish. "I don’t believe you. Not unless you let me try it myself."
"Ah, you’re just too naive." Jiang Lan decided she’d need to call Xie Yunzhen. Lu Yicheng was her boyfriend, and even if he was just dropping her off, it still counted as meeting the parents.
As he worked, Lu Yicheng thought about meeting Teacher Xie—he wanted to see the kind of person who raised someone like Jiang Lan.
When he was young, Yu Wanqiu and Lu Shuangchen were always busy with work. The housekeeper did most of the cooking, and his parents rarely had time for him.
He was a good student, so they never had to worry. But sometimes, he envied Jiang Lan.
Xie Yunzhen was busy too, but he’d seen her bring food to Jiang Lan at school—some of which he’d even tasted, handed over as "tutoring fees" from Jiang Lan. It was delicious.
That was the taste of a mother’s love.
---
Earlier that morning, Yu Wanqiu had gone to her studio to meet with the representatives from Enjoy Milk.
Enjoy’s previous spokesperson was veteran actor Zheng Qiu, but after his contract expired, he chose not to renew. The brand had been searching for a new face, and Yu Wanqiu was the perfect choice.
With her high popularity and spotless reputation, choosing her meant never worrying about scandals affecting the brand.
Selecting a spokesperson was serious business—any negative publicity could severely damage a product’s image.
The contract was for one year, covering Enjoy’s main milk products. Subsidiary products like yogurt and formula didn’t require her endorsement.
The commercial would be filmed in M Province’s grasslands, the source of the milk, tentatively scheduled for October, with flexibility for changes.
Everything was negotiable.
The Enjoy representatives were extremely courteous, even joining her for lunch. Meeting her in person, they found her down-to-earth and approachable, without any diva airs.
Initially, they’d considered having Jiang Lan co-star in the ad, but after deliberation, they decided against it. Jiang Lan wasn’t a celebrity, and after this season of the show, their "mother-in-law/daughter-in-law" dynamic might fade.
Ultimately, they prioritized Yu Wanqiu’s star power and widespread appeal.
Plus, adding Jiang Lan meant doubling the endorsement fee—a tricky balance.
The representatives gifted her a carload of Enjoy products—milk, yogurt, formula, and more.
Yu Wanqiu left half at the studio, took some home, and set aside the rest for Jiang Lan to bring back.
Lu Yicheng couldn’t show up empty-handed when he took Jiang Lan home on Friday. Yu Wanqiu agonized over what to bring.
She believed gifts weren’t about price tags but thoughtfulness. Jiang Lan’s handmade hats, bracelets, and even hair ties meant more to her than Lu Shuangchen’s million-dollar diamonds.
Sentiment mattered.
Normally, Lu Yicheng should handle this himself, but this was Jiang Lan’s mother. Given how close Yu Wanqiu and Jiang Lan were, their last meeting had been casual—this one needed to be proper.
Back home, Yu Wanqiu asked Jiang Lan what Xie Yunzhen liked.
Jiang Lan couldn’t recall. Xie Yunzhen remembered her love for roast chicken, but she couldn’t name a single preference of her mother’s.
Her family probably preferred practical gifts.
"Rice, flour, cooking oil… stuff like that. Oh, and throat lozenges—she lectures all day at school." Jiang Lan shrugged. "Honestly, Lu Yicheng doesn’t need to bring much. Milk, fruit, and some lozenges would be enough."
It was just an introduction, nothing formal.
Yu Wanqiu nodded thoughtfully. She’d been influenced by Lu Shuangchen—part of her wanted to gift diamonds too.
When in doubt, expensive was safe.
Now she understood why Lu Shuangchen always defaulted to jewelry.
---
The next day, Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu returned to the studio to meet with representatives from the Marine Animal Protection Association.
The association had no prior experience collaborating with celebrities and wasn’t sure how to proceed.
Ideally, they’d film a PSA, submit it for review, then broadcast it on national TV and online platforms to maximize outreach.
Yu Wanqiu’s studio and social media would also promote it.
The person in charge hoped to receive some assistance, such as contacting a director or writing a script, as they had no prior experience in these areas.
"The primary work of the Marine Animal Protection Association is to safeguard the marine environment and rescue marine life. Our volunteers participate in protection and rescue efforts worldwide. We want more people to understand the importance and challenges of this work."
The association has rescued stranded whales, injured dolphins, and sea turtles or fish whose heads or throats were trapped by plastic bags or discarded bottles.
There is a lot of rescue work, but many remain unaware of it.
The person in charge said, "You may need to participate in the protection efforts yourselves so that the footage captured feels more authentic."
The requirements from the person in charge were mostly laid out.
The payment was minimal—not even a fraction of what a luxury endorsement would bring—but the significance was different.
Yu Wanqiu remarked, "Domestic promotional videos range from a dozen minutes to an hour, while documentaries are longer. Personally, I believe filming a documentary would carry greater meaning."
This wasn’t like making a movie, where a carefully crafted script could tell a complete story in two hours.
But the Marine Animal Protection Association’s work had no script, and a few hours of filming couldn’t possibly capture the full scope of their rescue efforts.
Thus, Yu Wanqiu leaned toward shooting a documentary.
The person in charge breathed a sigh of relief. Initially, they had worried that Yu Wanqiu might act like a diva—after all, she was a star, an award-winning actress who might have her own demands.
But surprisingly, she was quite easy to work with.
Yu Wanqiu shared the WeChat contact of a documentary director named Chen Yifan, a man in his thirties who had dedicated himself to filming documentaries.
His sense of framing was excellent, and his documentaries carried a strong narrative quality—they had depth and a storytelling charm.
The person in charge brightened. "That’s wonderful..."
After a brief pause, they added, "But there’s one thing I must clarify in advance—rescue work is exhausting. It’s nothing like visiting an aquarium."
The dolphins and seals seen in aquariums had been rescued, nursed back to health over months of care, and only then did they appear so endearing. Actually participating in rescue efforts might drastically diminish one’s fondness for marine animals—this had to be made clear beforehand.
Moreover, animals like penguins lived in the polar regions. The coldest parts of China, such as the northeast, could drop to minus forty degrees Celsius, but the poles were even harsher.
They had to emphasize that this wasn’t a vacation—Yu Wanqiu and Jiang Lan would have to actively engage in the rescue process, undergo systematic training, and pass the association’s volunteer exam.
Yu Wanqiu asked Jiang Lan, "Are you up for it?"
Jiang Lan nodded. "No problem."
The association had drafted a contract in advance, but a few clauses needed revision. Once the amended version was reviewed and approved by the studio’s lawyers, they signed it.
Jiang Lan suddenly felt a sacred sense of duty, as if she had been entrusted with a solemn mission.
Yu Wanqiu had never taken on this kind of work before either—even when filming movies, she had never shot scenes at the poles.
This new endeavor excited her.
It wasn’t just about playing the role of a volunteer—it was about fully immersing herself in the experience.
"Jiang Lan, we’ll be working together again," Yu Wanqiu said, estimating that the collaboration would likely be scheduled for October or during the winter break, depending on their availability.
Becoming a volunteer required passing an exam first, and they still had a lot to learn. Yu Wanqiu hadn’t even touched high school textbooks yet, but now...
She had to start with this.
Jiang Lan found it particularly challenging—she really wasn’t fond of studying. The person in charge had given them three books to study. They had to pass both theoretical and practical exams, scoring at least ninety to qualify as volunteers.
Fortunately, as a senior in university, Jiang Lan had fewer classes. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to manage.
The sooner they passed the exam, the better. Back at the villa, the two of them each opened a book and began studying.
Yu Wanqiu had an excellent memory and could quickly memorize the material, but Jiang Lan kept getting distracted.
After reading for a while, her mind would wander—thinking about last night’s game, where the player using the hero Han Xin had been incredibly cool, or recalling how Lu Yicheng’s pickled fish dish had been so delicious that she had eaten two bowls of rice.
"Teacher Yu, I’m a little hungry. Let me grab a snack first, then I’ll keep reading."
Yu Wanqiu: "..."
She was already three pages ahead. "Sit down. You’ve barely been at it for long. The volunteer exam is tough."
Jiang Lan: "Then I’ll push through for another half hour."
Thirty minutes was Jiang Lan’s limit. Summer vacation was supposed to be a break, yet here she was, studying. Were Yu Wanqiu and Lu Yicheng both demons?
Why were the Lu family members all so smart? They could memorize things after just one glance, while she needed to repeat them ten times.
After half an hour, Jiang Lan took a ten-minute break. They studied until nine in the evening before finally turning to their own activities.
Jiang Lan still hadn’t practiced her violin today. An hour of playing brought her to ten o’clock.
Her head was buzzing.
Even during her phone call, all she could talk about was marine conservation.
Lu Yicheng noticed Jiang Lan’s exhaustion. "What’s wrong? Weren’t you just signing a contract today? Did something else happen?"
Jiang Lan: "I think I might be a little dumb. The contract’s signed, but we have to become volunteers first, and that means passing their exam. Teacher Yu studied for over four hours and memorized most of it already, while my efficiency is about a quarter of hers."
Lu Yicheng chuckled. "You are a bit slow. There’s a perfectly good teacher right here, yet you insist on struggling on your own. Isn’t that just foolish?"
Jiang Lan: "But you haven’t even read these books. How are you going to tutor me?"
Lu Yicheng replied, "Even if I have to learn it from scratch, I’ll still pick it up faster than you. Give me the books—I’ll teach you."
The next day, Wednesday.
Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu traveled to Yunnan Province to shoot promotional posters.
Their flight departed in the morning, and they arrived a little past three in the afternoon. By nine, staff from the Yunnan provincial government had arrived to discuss the poster shoot.
They brought several sets of traditional ethnic minority attire—Miao and Yi styles.
The Miao outfit consisted of a blue top adorned with intricate embroidery and batik patterns, primarily geometric designs and floral motifs.
The long skirt was more vibrant, featuring red and yellow hues alongside the same embroidery and batik techniques.
The headpiece was a silver crown, cylindrical in shape, decorated with silver plates and tiny bells.
The Yi clothing was dominated by red, black, and yellow. The dress itself was red, with embroidered patterns along the cuffs, collar, and hem. The headpiece was either a black or red turban.
Accessories like earrings and necklaces were also made of silver.
Many elderly women in the region still wore traditional ethnic attire while picking tea leaves, foraging for wild mushrooms, or digging up bamboo shoots.
The income wasn’t much, and the work was hard, but the government aimed to boost tourism.
Both outfits were stunning. Local Yunnan grandmothers styled their hair and adorned them with headpieces, making them look indistinguishable from the ethnic minority girls of the region.
One of the grandmothers smiled. "So beautiful. A touch of eyebrow makeup would make it even better."
Yu Wanqiu examined her reflection in the mirror. The last time they visited Yunnan, they had bought a set of ethnic clothing as a souvenir, but they had rarely worn it.
Now, dressed head to toe in traditional attire, she truly looked the part.
The photoshoot is scheduled for tomorrow morning, primarily for promotional posters, with two locations: Erhai Lake, where Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu will ride a bamboo raft, and a small forest in a nearby town.
Tonight, the two should rest well to conserve their energy and ensure the shoot goes smoothly tomorrow.
The next day dawned clear and bright. Though autumn had arrived, Yunnan’s climate remained pleasantly mild, as if it were perpetually spring.
The production crew followed along to Erhai Lake to capture footage for the show’s editing.
The local government was quite eager for the program to include this segment—after all, it was free publicity.
Once the posters were shot, the official announcement could be made, with the first filming event tentatively set for the Mid-Autumn Festival.
The Erhai Lake promotional shoot required riding a bamboo raft on the water.
Originally, the organizers had considered having the two "cross the river on a single reed"—a local technique where one balances on a single bamboo pole and glides across the water. However, this demanded exceptional balance, and even among locals, few could master it.
Since it proved too difficult, they settled for the bamboo raft instead, with the cameraman shooting from a boat.
The crew asked Jiang Lan if she could play the flute, as they envisioned a shot of her standing on the raft, playing, while Yu Wanqiu simply gazed into the distance, appreciating the scenery without any elaborate poses.
The focus was meant to highlight Yunnan’s natural beauty rather than the people.
A staff member explained the concept of "crossing the river on a single reed":
"Legend has it that Bodhidharma crossed a river by standing on a single reed. Here, we can’t use reeds, but bamboo works just as well—it’s truly impressive."
Yu Wanqiu said, "I’d like to try."
With her extensive experience in action films, she had the physical training to maintain balance. She wasn’t afraid of falling—she could swim, wasn’t scared of heights, and was willing to attempt it. If it didn’t work out, she could always switch to the raft.
Jiang Lan: "!"
She knew her limits. She’d stick to learning how to steer the raft properly.
But standing on a single bamboo pole? That was next-level impressive.
A skilled local woman was brought in to teach Yu Wanqiu how to balance on the bamboo pole while letting it drift with the current.
It was undeniably difficult—standing on the bamboo while holding a pole not just for balance but also to paddle and steer.
The crew hadn’t expected Yu Wanqiu to master it, but after an hour and a half, she actually managed to glide across the water on the bamboo.
This time, they were genuinely awed. There was a reason she was an award-winning actress—how many stars today would dare attempt such a stunt without wires or special effects? Yu Wanqiu could.
The shoot proceeded smoothly. The photos would still need post-processing—adjusting lighting, color saturation—but that was the editing team’s job, unrelated to Yu Wanqiu and Jiang Lan.
The two were truly remarkable. Despite Jiang Lan’s initial fear of water, she learned to steer the raft and even stood on it playing the flute, her melody enchanting. Together, they looked like spirits of the mountains and waters.
Many shots were taken. Yu Wanqiu, as a seasoned actress, could pose effortlessly, but Jiang Lan was more stiff with deliberate poses, so she was allowed to move naturally.
By the time they wrapped, it was already past one in the afternoon. The crew treated them to a mushroom hotpot. Jiang Lan didn’t dare eat too much—she was terrified of ending up in the hospital again.
...But it was undeniably delicious. The broth was incredibly rich, far superior to ordinary mushroom soups.
After lunch, Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu didn’t linger. They’d be back for the Mid-Autumn Festival, and with the show’s final episode wrapping up tomorrow, they needed to pack.
Jiang Lan missed home dearly. The first thing she did upon returning to the villa was call Xie Yunzhen.
Xie Yunzhen was on break—high school seniors had been given a week off after two months of intensive classes. By their final year, holidays were scarce, so she cherished the time.
She knew Jiang Lan would be back soon—only one episode remained.
Jiang Lan: "Mom, I’ll be home by noon tomorrow."
Xie Yunzhen: "What time exactly? What do you want to eat?"
Having just had the mushroom feast, Jiang Lan wasn’t hungry, but she couldn’t say that outright. "Anything you make is fine, Mom. But there’s one more thing… Lu Yicheng is bringing me back."
Xie Yunzhen: "…………"
She switched the phone to her other hand. "Don’t you have legs? Can’t you come back on your own? If you’ve got too much stuff, I’ll pick you up tomorrow."
Jiang Lan sighed. Then sighed again. And again. One sigh after another.
Xie Yunzhen was thoroughly annoyed. "Keep sighing like that and you’ll chase away all your good luck!"
What could Jiang Lan do? "Mom…"
Xie Yunzhen was fuming. She didn’t mind Jiang Lan dating, but did it have to be broadcast on TV?
Jiang Lan’s grandparents kept asking what was going on. Xie Yunzhen didn’t even know how to explain.
Her uncle thought the match was unsuitable—Jiang Lan might suffer if she married into that family.
Xie Yunzhen’s impression of Lu Yicheng wasn’t great. Him bringing Jiang Lan back? If Jiang Lan hadn’t mentioned it, she might not have even let him through the door.
Xie Yunzhen: "Fine, he can bring you. But make it clear—he’s only coming in for tea. Once he’s done, he leaves."
Jiang Lan remembered a video she’d seen: What to do if your mom won’t let you keep a cat? Bring it home anyway and let the cat do the rest.
But making the trip just to drink tea and leave at noon? That was just pitiful.
"Mom, can’t we—"
Xie Yunzhen hung up.
She checked the time—6:30 PM. Raising a daughter from infancy to adulthood—who’d willingly send her off to another family?
Xie Yunzhen considered herself an open-minded parent. She hadn’t stopped Jiang Lan from dating, but now that it was real, her heart ached.
Jiang Baoguo usually returned from work by six, but today he was early, arriving at 5:50.
He changed the sheets in Jiang Lan’s room and mopped the floor.
"Lanlan’s coming back tomorrow? What time?" He planned to buy roast chicken—her favorite.
Xie Yunzhen huffed. "Around noon. Her boyfriend’s bringing her."
Jiang Baoguo paused. "I’ll go get her. We’ve already inconvenienced the Lu family enough these past two months. Now that filming’s over, why trouble them further? I’ll handle it."
Xie Yunzhen: "Her loyalty’s already shifted to her future in-laws. I give up."
Noticing her husband’s expression, she softened. "Fine, fine. We’ll meet him. Our Lanlan’s already met Yu Wanqiu. You go buy the roast chicken for tomorrow. If work’s not too busy, take the afternoon off."
Jiang Baoguo grumbled inwardly. Roast chicken? As if that kid deserved it.
Xie Yunzhen added, "He’s from a wealthy family. Hope he doesn’t find my cooking beneath him."
Jiang Baoguo: "He can take it or leave it! Did we beg him to come? Roast chicken, my foot…"
But Jiang Lan really loved roast chicken. So in the end…
He went out and bought one.
