"Dear Mom" each episode focuses on a different theme.
The preview introduced the guests to the audience, while the first episode centered on three mother-daughter pairs getting to know and adjust to each other.
This second episode, however, aimed to showcase the guests' everyday home life, so filming began in their own houses.
The livestream was split into three perspectives, each corresponding to a pair of guests, with an additional main feed controlled by the director for scene transitions.
When the crew arrived at Ning Fei's home, she was already dressed in an elegant, understated makeup look, her smooth black hair pinned back with a blue crystal clip, exuding grace and charm.
[How does my goddess manage to look so stunning all the time? I'm dazzled!]
[Ning Fei never fails to amaze me with her beauty every time she appears. So gorgeous!]
Some viewers were looking for Ning Yuxuan.
[Where’s Ning Yuxuan? Is she not here?]
[Yeah, where is she? Still getting ready, maybe?]
The crew was also searching for her.
This episode emphasized authenticity, so no prior styling or tasks were assigned to the guests.
Only when the livestream officially began did the team enter the homes with their equipment.
After a quick search, a staff member had to ask Ning Fei, "Ms. Ning, where’s Yuxuan?"
Ning Fei cleared her throat. "I called her earlier. She should be out soon."
The staff nodded. "Is she touching up her makeup? Can we go in and film?"
During the preview shoot at Ning Fei’s home, Ning Yuxuan had appeared completely bare-faced, without even foundation.
It would make sense if she wanted to refine her look this time, maybe to surprise the audience with a fresh image.
Ning Fei hesitated, about to respond, when footsteps sounded from the staircase. The cameraman quickly aimed the lens in that direction.
There stood Ning Yuxuan, still in her pajamas, one hand clutching her long hair at the back of her head while the other waved casually at the camera. "Morning."
The crew: "..."
So, she wasn’t doing her makeup—she’d just woken up?
[It’s past 10 AM! Ning Yuxuan just rolled out of bed?]
[Living the dream with that natural wake-up time! The perks of being a full-time daughter, huh?]
Ning Fei apologized on her daughter’s behalf. "Sorry about this. I meant to wake her up earlier, but she said—"
Ning Yuxuan, now tying her hair into a loose ponytail, chimed in, "I heard this episode was all about keeping it real, showing our actual daily routines. If I forced myself up early, wouldn’t that defeat the purpose?"
[...Is this just an excuse for sleeping in?]
[Gotta admit, though, Ning Yuxuan’s complexion looks great—rosy and fresh. Is this the power of good sleep?]
[Or is it fake 'no-makeup' makeup? Trying to pull off the effortlessly beautiful vibe while secretly layering on foundation, blush, and contour...]
[Uh, have you seen her messy hair, the water droplets on her brows, and that zit on her chin? Does that look staged to you?]
[LOL, she really does have a pimple. That’s some next-level realism.]
Both Ning Yuxuan and Ning Shiyue inherited Ning Fei’s flawless complexion—naturally fair with a rosy undertone.
Back when Ning Shiyue competed in that idol survival show, the network aired a dorm-life spinoff. Among dozens of young men in their twenties, his skin stood out as the best.
Ning Yuxuan’s skin was just as enviable, rarely breaking out.
But last night’s spicy feast and a whole bottle of soda had backfired, leaving her with an unmistakable blemish by morning.
As she spoke, Ning Yuxuan secured her hair into a low ponytail—though her haphazard technique left a strand loose and flyaways framing her face.
Ning Fei studied her daughter’s hair, frowning slightly. "Want me to redo it for you?"
She rarely interfered with Ning Yuxuan’s habits. Whether it was sleeping late or skipping makeup, as long as it didn’t harm her health, Ning Fei didn’t push for changes.
But that stray strand was testing her patience.
In modern terms, she might have a touch of OCD.
Ning Yuxuan blinked. "Sure."
Obligingly, she pulled out the hair tie and handed it to her mother.
The crew seized this perfect mother-daughter moment, with the cameraman angling for a profile shot of the pair.
Ning Fei stood at nearly 165 cm—tall for actresses of her generation—while Ning Yuxuan was a few centimeters taller.
Their side profiles were even more strikingly similar, with nearly identical forehead and nose contours.
[Frantically screenshotting! This side-by-side is a masterpiece!]
[How do I get this level of genetically blessed beauty? The jealousy is real.]
[Too bad Ning Shiyue isn’t here, or it’d be triple the visual impact.]
With practiced ease, Ning Fei twisted her daughter’s hair into a loose braid in just a few motions.
Even the crew, accustomed to professional stylists, marveled at her skill. "Ms. Ning, you’re as good as our hairstylists!"
Ning Fei smiled. "Haven’t done this in a while. Glad the muscle memory’s still there."
Curious, a staffer asked, "Did you pick this up on set?"
She nodded. "Learned some tricks from the hair and makeup team, and practiced others on my own. Yuxuan loved elaborate hairstyles as a kid, so I’d study between takes to try them out on her later."
[Between filming, she still made time to learn this for her daughter. That’s dedication.]
[True love means carrying someone in your thoughts no matter where you are—just like Ning Fei.]
With hair sorted, the crew encouraged them to proceed with their usual weekend activities.
Ning Yuxuan pondered for two seconds. "So... whatever I’d normally do now?"
The staff confirmed, "Exactly."
She checked the wall clock. "Well, on Saturdays at this hour... I’d still be asleep. Should I go back for a nap?"
The crew: "..."
Ning Fei sighed, patting her daughter’s back. "Yuxuan."
Filming someone sleeping wasn’t exactly riveting content.
The staff redirected, "Ms. Ning, what do you usually do on weekends?"
After a pause, Ning Fei replied, "If I’m not out, I might watch movies, arrange flowers, or work on jigsaw puzzles."
The staff member's eyes lit up: "I remember in the last episode of the show, Ning Yuxuan gave Teacher Ning a lot of jigsaw puzzles. Why don't we work on a puzzle together?"
As long as Ning Yuxuan didn’t go back to sleep, anything was fine.
The morning’s activity was settled.
Ning Fei let her daughter choose, and Ning Yuxuan picked out a 1,000-piece landscape puzzle from the ones she had bought earlier.
When alone, Ning Fei liked working on puzzles by the bay window at home, where the sunlight was plentiful.
But since the production crew was filming, Ning Fei placed the felt board in the living room, where the open space made it easier for the crew to set up their equipment.
Ning Yuxuan and Ning Fei sat side by side on the floor, surrounded by acrylic sorting boxes, and began categorizing the puzzle pieces by color.
Ning Fei was a patient person—otherwise, she wouldn’t have taken up a hobby like puzzles.
Ning Yuxuan, however, was completely different. Especially today, having been woken up by an alarm, she started feeling drowsy after just a short while.
Ning Fei glanced at her daughter: "Xuanxuan, why don’t you go find some music to play?"
Ning Yuxuan, as if granted amnesty, quickly stood up: "Yes, ma’am!"
Ning Fei smiled helplessly.
Her daughter’s restless nature—she wondered who she got it from.
There was a Bluetooth speaker in the living room. Ning Yuxuan connected her phone to it and opened a music app.
She hadn’t listened to much music lately, and when she opened her playlist, it was filled with heartbreak songs she had added long ago.
Ning Yuxuan suddenly remembered—these were the songs she used to play when she was upset after fights with Gu Yunhao, locked alone in her room.
Thinking of Gu Yunhao, Ning Yuxuan wrinkled her nose and decisively swiped back to the previous screen.
After a moment’s thought, she opened the search bar and typed in "Ning Shiyue."
Sure enough, the app pulled up songs by Ning Shiyue—live performances from his talent show days, group songs after his debut, and a few of his solo tracks.
But the group had disbanded after just a year, and since then, Ning Shiyue had focused more on acting. Apart from singing two OSTs for his own dramas, he hadn’t released any new music in a long time.
Ning Yuxuan selected the first song on the list, and the high-end speaker system in the living room immediately played one of Ning Shiyue’s solo tracks.
The volume was so loud it startled even Ning Yuxuan herself.
The live-stream audience was instantly wide awake too.
["Isn’t this Ning Shiyue’s song? Even though he’s not here, his spirit is always with his mom and sister!"]
["LOL, the way you said that makes it sound like Ning Shiyue is no longer with us."]
["Wow! As a fan of Ning Shiyue’s music, I’m thrilled! His voice is so distinctive and youthful—it’s a shame he doesn’t release new songs anymore."]
["And I remember his singing was actually pretty good. The judges back then said he had a lot of potential, just lacked professional training."]
By the time Ning Shiyue debuted, Ning Fei had already retired from the entertainment industry.
But she had followed her son’s career closely, watching the entire talent show from start to finish.
Just a few seconds into the song’s intro, Ning Fei recognized it.
She looked up at her daughter: "Is this Shiyue’s 'You and the Umbrella'?"
Ning Yuxuan glanced at her phone: "Yeah. You recognized it after just a few seconds?"
Ning Fei smiled faintly: "I listened to it a lot before."
Ning Yuxuan sat back down beside Ning Fei, and the two continued working on the puzzle with the music playing.
Meanwhile, the live streams from two other perspectives were also running.
Jiang Ning'an was in the study with her mother, reading scripts.
Unlike Ning Fei, Qin Man was still active in the entertainment industry, even in her fifties.
But compared to her younger, career-driven days, she had become much more selective with scripts, only taking on one project every year or two.
In the first half of last year, a film starring Qin Man had topped the box office during the summer season.
But since then, she hadn’t found a script she liked enough to join another production.
Now, Qin Man and Jiang Ning'an were reviewing several scripts recently sent over by her agent.
One in particular, a film adaptation of a novel, caught both of their attention.
Most movies nowadays were told from a male perspective, and middle-aged male actors had far more opportunities than their female counterparts.
But this script, titled The Misaddressed Letter, centered on two middle-aged women.
One of the protagonists was Zhao Wanyi, a 47-year-old mother.
On the surface, Zhao Wanyi had an enviable life—her husband had a stable, well-paying job, and her son had just been admitted to a prestigious university the year before.
But after her son’s college entrance exams ended, Zhao Wanyi suddenly found herself lost, as if her life had no direction anymore.
Her husband had long stopped connecting with her emotionally, looking at her with impatience and disdain every day. Her son only replied to her messages perfunctorily, never initiating contact.
When relatives heard Zhao Wanyi express dissatisfaction with her life, they dismissed her as ungrateful, thinking she was just bored and making problems out of nothing.
No one understood her feelings, so Zhao Wanyi could only pour her frustrations onto paper, continuing to play the role of the perfect wife and mother in others’ eyes.
But by a twist of fate, one of her letters was mistakenly sent to another city—into the hands of a woman around her age.
The two became pen pals, confiding in each other…
Of all the scripts on the table, Qin Man had spent the longest time reading this one.
Jiang Ning'an noticed her mother’s interest and asked, "Mom, do you like this story?"
Qin Man seemed hesitant. "Yes, but…"
In this script, the two female leads had equal screen time, making it a true dual-lead film.
If she took on this role, the chemistry with her co-star would be crucial—otherwise, the final product could fall flat.
But the subject matter wasn’t exactly mainstream. Audiences nowadays either preferred feel-good comedies, romance films, or male-driven stories about ambition and perseverance.
A film about the struggles and careers of middle-aged women, with no romantic subplot, would be a hard sell.
Though the live-stream audience couldn’t see the script details, some who had read the original novel chimed in.
["The story is interesting, but the theme is too niche—it might not be well-received or profitable."]
["True. Dual-lead films are rare to begin with, and when they exist, they’re usually love stories. This one focuses on middle-aged women’s careers—it’s a cold, risky subject. Big-name actors probably wouldn’t touch it, afraid of wasting their effort."]
It was clear that Qin Man really liked this script, but finding the right co-star must be difficult. Right now, I can't think of a suitable actress who fits all the criteria.
Jiang Ning'an, however, didn't overthink it as much as Qin Man did. She simply felt that the script had a well-developed storyline and compelling character arcs, making it perfect for her mother.
She persuaded, "Mom, since you like it, why not consider it for now? If you're worried about the co-star, you can always ask the production team to carefully select someone."
Qin Man smiled at her daughter. "Mm."
In reality, she wasn't holding out much hope. The phrase "carefully select someone" sounded simple, but putting it into practice was far from easy.
Capital chases profit, and a niche film like this might struggle to secure funding, making it even harder to attract top-tier actors.
Even if she herself was willing to take a pay cut for the sake of the script, there was no guarantee the co-star would feel the same.
As Jiang Ning'an flipped through the script, a sudden idea struck her. "Mom, I just thought of the perfect person!"
Qin Man raised an eyebrow slightly. "Who?"
...
In Cen Meng's livestream, she was giving viewers a "room tour" of the villa alongside Qiao Yazhen.
The previous teaser had only shown the first floor, failing to fully showcase the opulence of this mansion in Jinshui Bay.
As one of the most luxurious residential areas in Beicheng, Jinshui Bay spanned 70,000 square meters but contained only twenty-six buildings.
In other words, the homeowners here were undoubtedly among the wealthiest in Beicheng.
Cen Meng had crafted a persona for the show—someone from a scholarly family, cultured and understated, wealthy yet never ostentatious.
Thus, she never explicitly emphasized the value of this house, instead subtly letting viewers catch glimpses of its lavish interiors and priceless furnishings.
She was confident that discerning viewers would recognize just how extraordinary this place was.
A week had passed since the "mistress" scandal, and online discussions had died down considerably.
Although Cen Meng's claim of complete ignorance hadn't been entirely convincing, it had at least placated her fans.
Now, whenever someone on social media accused Cen Meng of being the "other woman," her fans would immediately counter with responses like, "The clarification’s already out," or "Rumors spread fast, but the truth takes effort."
This livestream was split into three perspectives, and most of the viewers tuning into Cen Meng's stream were her fans, so the chat remained relatively harmonious.
At the moment, the comments were filled with praise from her supporters.
[Wow, Mengmeng’s home is so beautiful! The decor is so elegant—you can tell it’s a family with deep roots.]
[That’s our Mengmeng for you—never flaunting her wealth, even though she’s loaded.]
[Exactly, unlike some people who go crazy buying luxury goods the second they get money, acting like total nouveaux riches.]
After recent events, Cen Meng’s fans had grown to despise Ning Yuxuan and never missed a chance to take digs at her.
Cen Meng first guided everyone through the first floor before leading the crew to the second-floor library.
This was the room she had put the most effort into renovating, investing a fortune and nearly two months to perfect it.
During the teaser shoot, the recording time had been too short for her to properly showcase it to the audience.
This time, despite the risk of angering Gu Yunhao, she had insisted on staying here with her family for a few extra days—just so all her hard work wouldn’t go to waste.
As the curtains were drawn back, a towering bookshelf, over three meters high, came into view.
Even the crew members, seeing it for the first time, couldn’t hide their amazement.
Cen Meng, pleased by their reactions, feigned surprise. "Oh my, does everyone find this bookshelf impressive? Camera crew, feel free to get closer so the audience can see it properly."
The cameraman obliged, capturing the massive bookshelf from multiple angles, eliciting waves of admiration in the chat.
[This is insane! It’s like a real library!]
[Cen Meng is next-level—just collecting all these books must’ve taken forever!]
But some viewers noticed something off.
[Wait, the books all look brand new? Even with regular cleaning, they shouldn’t look this untouched.]
[Looking closely, the arrangement is all over the place—foreign classics next to Ming Dynasty literature, and then suddenly self-help books?]
[From a distance, it’s aesthetically pleasing, but it seems like Cen Meng arranged them by color just for looks.]
[Would someone who actually reads organize books by color? Wouldn’t grouping them by genre make more sense?]
Her fans immediately clapped back.
[So what if Mengmeng likes things neat? And she’s obviously well-off—she probably has staff to maintain the library.]
[Who says books have to be sorted by genre? This is her house, not yours—she can arrange them however she wants!]
Once the cameraman finished filming the bookshelf, Cen Meng directed the crew toward the floor-to-ceiling windows nearby.
"The lighting here is perfect," she said, her face glowing. "I love sitting here to read—bathed in sunlight and immersed in beautiful words. It’s pure bliss."
The camera then panned to the view outside.
Lush green lawns stretched out, dotted with sculptures of various designs, alongside a rectangular pool and fountain.
[Wow, the surroundings are stunning! This estate looks way bigger than the Ning family’s.]
[Our Mengmeng just doesn’t flaunt her wealth—it doesn’t mean she’s less rich than Ning Yuxuan! Only nouveaux riches feel the need to show off.]
[Does anyone know where this is? I need material for my daydreams.]
[No idea. Cen Meng never says—probably to keep random people from snooping around.]
As viewers speculated about the mansion’s location—some guessing a suburban estate, others a newly developed elite enclave—one comment stood out.
[I know this place. I passed by it once when visiting a friend for afternoon tea.]
Cen Meng’s fans wasted no time mocking it.
[LOL, you must be mistaken. This isn’t the kind of place you just "pass by"—unless your friend’s on Beicheng’s rich list?]
[Let me educate you, sweetie—a mansion like this has top-tier security. Regular folks can’t even get close enough to peek.]
[Girl, you’re killing me. Just because Mengmeng seems down-to-earth doesn’t mean her mansion is open for sightseeing! LOL.]
The comments moved quickly, and these remarks soon got buried.
But the original commenter, who claimed to have seen the place, frowned in frustration.
Her friend's parents are literally on the rich list—what's so funny about that?
The girl was still in high school, at that fiercely proud age, and immediately snapped a screenshot of the live stream to send to her friend.
"Qianqian, look. Isn’t this place right next to your house? I don’t think I’m mistaken, am I?"
She got a reply almost instantly.
["Yeah, it should be the house next to mine."]
["See? I knew I wasn’t wrong! That celebrity Cen Meng is so annoying, and her fans are even worse!"]
["What happened?"]
["I mentioned once that I passed by Cen Meng’s place, and her fans didn’t believe me. They even mocked me!"]
["Cen Meng’s house?"]
In a luxury mansion in Jinshui Bay, a girl dressed in designer loungewear pulled back the curtains curiously. Her gaze traveled across the sprawling garden, landing on a distant house.
During last year’s homeowners’ banquet, she’d met the family next door.
She was pretty sure their surname wasn’t Cen.
