My Mother-in-Law and I Became the Internet's Hottest Power Couple-Chapter 83

The crisp sound of camera shutters was clearly audible, and the flashing lights lit up the scene as if it were broad daylight.

Yu Wanqiu could only see a blinding white light ahead, completely obscuring the path in front of her. Female actresses in the entertainment industry had long practiced how to face camera flashes; no matter the situation—whether it was a sea of cameras or even a row of knives ahead—they had to walk forward with a smile. No one wanted to leave behind any regrettable moments in such settings.

Over her many years in the industry, Yu Wanqiu had always managed her expressions impeccably. Apart from letting her excitement slip during the live broadcast of her group debut night—an incident that fans turned into a meme—she had never experienced a lapse in expression management.

The red carpet was lined with photographers, and Yu Wanqiu was the last actress to appear. Behind her was the director of *The Deep Sea*, and all the actresses ahead of her were meticulously dressed, adorned in custom haute couture, with even the smallest accessories screaming luxury.

The sound of relentless camera shutters prompted Xie Zheng, seated at the nearby awards ceremony venue, to glance back. Beside him, Chu Lingnan sniffled from the cold and muttered, "Glad I didn't walk the red carpet with her."

Xie Zheng chuckled, "Hey, don’t lump me in with you. I actually wanted to go. Imagine being her plus-one—just listen to those shutters."

Chu Lingnan shivered, his teeth chattering. "Will there even be headlines for me tomorrow? All my spotlight’s been stolen by that woman..."

Indeed, her look tonight was stunning.

Her dress was a voluminous gown, though the skirt wasn’t overly large. Her lower leg was exposed, revealing a sleek, snow-white ankle framed by black high heels adorned with rhinestones and pearls—a pair of dazzling princess shoes. The dress shimmered faintly, like a delicate layer of snow scattered over a dark night when seen from afar.

She paired the dress with a pearlescent blazer that extended just past her upper thighs. Normally, such a combination risked looking bulky, but Yu Wanqiu cinched it with a waist belt.

The belt instantly accentuated her waist, and the flared skirt, combined with the structured shoulder pads of the blazer, accentuated her impossibly slender figure.

Although the audience had seen Yu Wanqiu with short hair before, her look tonight still left them breathless. It gave off a commanding, femme-fatale vibe. If one word could encapsulate her aura, it would be: "striking." The length of her hair didn’t correspond to sweetness in any way, yet the pearl earrings brushing against her ears and the petite hair clip atop her head softened her image, adding a touch of grace.

Her entire outfit was black, with only her accessories and a flower pinned near her chest offering any contrasting pop of color.

It was a mix-and-match style, though not entirely so—it struck the perfect synergy with Yu Wanqiu’s makeup and aura, achieving harmony in every detail.

Her makeup was understated, with a matte dusty-rose lip color that exuded simplicity and elegance.

Elegance and boldness are not mutually exclusive traits.

People are always drawn to beauty, unable to resist taking a few extra glances.

On the red carpet, where female celebrities vied for attention with their extravagant looks, Yu Wanqiu’s grand finale appearance did not disappoint.

The weather had been cold lately, with constant overcast skies. Today, there was a hint of rain.

As Yu Wanqiu walked the red carpet, she suddenly felt a cool sensation on her face. Tilting her head slightly in response—careful not to make any exaggerated movements inappropriate for the red carpet—she realized snowflakes were falling.

It wasn’t quite snow, more like tiny ice crystals drifting down from the sky, mingled with thin raindrops. Snow was a rare occurrence in the southern city of Xiamen, and even this "snow" was a precious spectacle.

Within the camera’s frame, Yu Wanqiu stood alone, the background blurred into obscurity. A few tiny ice crystals clung to her lashes, giving her the look of a majestic black swan.

With the camera flashes illuminating her, Yu Wanqiu once again proved she never lost to anyone on the red carpet.

Walking past the second red carpet and arriving at the signing area, the host, as usual, posed a few questions. "Wanqiu, you look absolutely stunning in this outfit. I’ve finally seen what ‘iridescent black’ truly means. This marks the fifth time, doesn’t it, that you’re attending the Golden Bear Awards ceremony?”

Yu Wanqiu had twice come close to winning the Golden Bear Awards for Best Actress but was left just short of the title.

Yu Wanqiu tipped her head slightly. “It’s an honor to attend this year’s Golden Bear Awards ceremony.” freēwēbηovel.c૦m

The host continued, “So, in your heart, who deserves the Best Actress award?”

This question had already been posed to many people before her— to anyone walking down the carpet, really. The actresses who had been nominated were all asked the same question.

Some answered diplomatically, saying every nominee was great. Others chose to name someone else. Deng Chen said her favorite actress was Yu Wanqiu and that if she lost to her, she would accept it willingly.

Ming Yao responded that everyone’s performance was exceptional and, in her eyes, all the nominees were worthy of being called Best Actress.

Wang Yue, on the other hand, half-jokingly said, “I’ll cast a vote for myself.”

It was a question that was both easy and tricky to answer. Easy, because there was already a template—just praise everyone, and you’re good. Tricky, because it could easily reveal your personal ambitions.

Meanwhile, the livestream audience was buzzing with excitement.

["Here we go! It’s time for another Golden Bear iconic moment."]

["Whether or not Yu Wanqiu wins, I live for this segment."]

["This is the fifth time! Finally, it’s happening. I’ve practically memorized this scene."]

["Queen vibes only."]

["Hahaha, I've already rehearsed my response: 'I think I did pretty well myself. If I don’t take Best Actress this year, I'll wait two more years.'"]

["KO with that confidence, haha."]

The host handed the microphone to Yu Wanqiu, waiting for her reply.

Yu Wanqiu said, “In my heart, the Best Actress is definitely me. I’ve already met my own expectations. Isn’t everyone here aiming for the award? If I win, it will be an honor. If not, I’ll keep trying in the future.”

She then picked up the pen and found an empty spot on the signing board to write down her name.

The host asked, “Is there anything you’d like to say to your fans—or perhaps to someone else?”

Yu Wanqiu replied, “I’ll save those words for the end.”

Naturally, “the end” referred to the potential acceptance speech if she were to win. If not, her comment could simply be ignored.

The host chuckled helplessly. Yu Wanqiu was confident, but her confidence was well-earned. “Alright then. Please head into the awards ceremony.”

In the media interview area, a swarm of reporters awaited. Yu Wanqiu walked over to stand beside Chu Lingnan and Xie Zheng, waiting for the director Zhang Po and screenwriter to arrive before conducting group interviews.

Chu Lingnan clicked his tongue. “Ah, actresses get to wear dresses and suits. Is there anything left for us male actors to compete with?”

Xie Zheng seemed taken aback by how radiant Yu Wanqiu looked that day and remarked, “Ms. Yu, you look amazing.”

Yu Wanqiu smiled, “Thank you.”

When someone younger paid her such sweet compliments, she couldn’t help but feel a little cheered up. How could anyone resist such charming sincerity?

When Zhang Po arrived, the main creative team of the production gathered together for an interview. The content of the interview was much like what had been discussed during the premiere, filled with questions about the film. The interview ended at precisely 7:55 PM.

The awards ceremony was scheduled to begin at 8 PM. Outside, the sky was pitch black, with white frost spread across the red carpet. Zhang Po, now in his fifties, wasted no time hurrying into the event venue.

Yu Wanqiu glanced at the audience, immediately locking eyes with Jiang Lan, who playfully winked at her.

Yu Wanqiu’s seat was in the third row, an excellent spot for viewing the stage. The first two rows required craning your neck, while further back was too far from the action. Jiang Lan sat with Lu Xingran on her left, and Yu Wanqiu on her right.

In front of Lu Xingran sat the cast and crew of the film *Autumn Blade, Bright Moon*.

Lu Xingran had been chatting with Jiang Lan for quite some time. He spent two minutes praising Yu Wanqiu, then two minutes complimenting Jiang Lan, before leaning in to speak in a low voice: "Director Chen Yi reached out to me; he wants me to work on the OST for *Tribute*. I don’t know which of the short films in the series it’s for, though."

Opportunities like this were not easy to come by, and Lu Xingran was visibly thrilled.

Although he had already contributed to many film OSTs, *Tribute* was in a league of its own—a dream opportunity coveted by countless artists. That he was chosen wasn’t due to Yu Wanqiu’s influence; this was purely his talent shining through.

Jiang Lan offered her heartfelt congratulations, saying, "That’s fantastic news!"

Lu Xingran waved dismissively. "Ah, it’s a mix of skill and luck. I might just need your help when the time comes."

With the same instrument, different hands can produce entirely unique sounds.

Jiang Lan reassured him that she’d be happy to help. When Yu Wanqiu rejoined them, Jiang Lan draped a small blanket over her lap. While the temperature outside was below freezing, it was much warmer indoors—although it took some time to adjust to the change.

Yu Wanqiu looked around. The venue was packed—not just with the nominees, but also with many other distinguished guests invited to witness the ceremony.

Among them were several veteran Best Actor and Best Actress awardees. Yu Wanqiu even spotted Shen Xingyao in the crowd.

The hosts for the Golden Bear Awards that evening were none other than legendary actor Zheng Qiu and last year’s Best Actress winner, Chen Cheng.

Before the ceremony officially began, there was a musical performance by the guests. Xie Zheng and Lu Xingran took the stage to duet on *Autumn Blade, Bright Moon*. Lu Xingran’s vocals were strikingly beautiful, and his performance in the traditional style further cemented his reputation. Truly, when fans say he’s a man of many talents, they aren’t exaggerating.

Once Zheng Qiu and Chen Cheng had exchanged their opening remarks and introduced the evening’s honored guests, the unveiling of the award for Best Feature Film began.

Wearing a gentle smile, Chen Cheng spoke: "It has been my privilege to witness the blood and tears woven into *Autumn Blade, Bright Moon*. I’ve shared in Little Anan’s anticipation on the road *Home*. I’ve yearned to see the light amidst the apocalypse and dreamed of living with every survivor *Under Halo*. I’ve walked through *Passerby* moments in this world, letting so much slip away. And I offer my deepest respect to those who protect us in *The Deep Sea*."

As Chen Cheng spoke, the large screen behind her began showcasing highlight reels from the five nominated works. Each film received only a few seconds of spotlight.

Zheng Qiu set his cue cards aside and announced, "Behind every great film, there is inevitably a great story. Please join me in welcoming Chen Wanning to reveal the winner of the Best Feature Film category."

Chen Wanning, a national-level actress in her sixties who had appeared in countless productions, stepped forward onto stage.

She was dressed in a cheongsam, her hair styled in the retro curls from the Republican period, and wore silver-framed glasses. In her hand was a white envelope as she gracefully walked toward the audience.

The camera cut to various people in the crowd; the Best Film award carries significant weight, serving as a testament to the collective effort behind a movie.

Every film has its flaws here and there, and the jury’s standards vary.

Chen Wanning opened the envelope. Until the announcement, no one but the jury themselves knew who the winner was.

A surprised expression appeared on Chen Wanning’s face. She glanced at the audience, where smiles adorned everyone’s faces.

This was the tensest moment. The Best Film award isn't won by an individual but by everyone’s joint contribution. An actor might win Best Actor or Best Supporting Actor, but Best Film reflects the achievement of the entire team.

Despite Zhang Po’s outward smile, the tightly clenched hand resting on his lap, hidden from the camera’s view, betrayed his nervousness.

Yu Wanqiu was also on edge. She was, naturally, hoping that *The Deep Sea* would win this award.

Chen Wan’s voice was gentle, "Some hold light in their hands, while others are buried deep beneath the sea. I hope everyone gets to see the light someday. The Best Film award goes to—*The Deep Sea.* Please welcome director Zhang Po to accept the award."

Zhang Po wiped his face, stood up from his seat, and Yu Wanqiu exhaled in relief. Chu Lingnan extended his hands to applaud as Zhang Po, overwhelmed with emotion, didn’t know how to react. Chu Lingnan pulled Zhang Po into an embrace, saying, “Amazing!”

Zhang Po hugged the two lead actors and straightened his suit before heading up to the stage.

*The Deep Sea* boasted an initial Garlic Score of 9.2, which continued to rise over time, with its box office earnings surpassing five billion yuan. The film wasn’t just a commercial success—it was much more.

On stage, Zhang Po gave Chen Wanning a brief hug before delivering a five-minute long acceptance speech, which we’ll skip here for brevity (it was mostly filler).

The subsequent awards included Best Opera Film, Best, and other categories before moving on to the highly anticipated individual awards.

The singles awards featured Best Actor and Actress, Best Supporting Actor and Actress, Best Director, and Best Screenwriter.

They were here to win awards—Yu Wanqiu’s famous remark couldn’t be truer.

No one wants to be the runner-up, yet each award can only have one winner.

The Best Screenwriter award went to Xu Xiyuan for *Coming Home*, while Zhang Po clinched the Best Director prize. Chu Lingnan was awarded Best Actor for his role.

It was Chu Lingnan's first time winning the Golden Bear for Best Actor. Naturally, he was thrilled, but the number of awards *The Deep Sea* had won so far was staggering.

Best Film, Best Director, and now Best Actor. Although Chu Lingnan believed *The Deep Sea* deserved its acclaim, the sheer number of awards significantly lowered Yu Wanqiu’s chances of winning Best Actress.

Chu Lingnan glanced at Yu Wanqiu. She stood up and gave him a hug, “Congratulations.”

Chu Lingnan didn’t feel as happy as he thought he would—there was a lingering discomfort in his heart. “Thank you.”

After filming for half a year together with Yu Wanqiu, Chu Lingnan had witnessed her hard work and dedication firsthand. He sincerely hoped she’d win the award.

Yu ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‍Wanqiu celebrated Chu Lingnan, “Go on up.”

Following Best Actor was the announcement for Best Actress. Jiang Lan gently touched Yu Wanqiu’s hand—it was slightly cold to the touch.

Jiang Lan reassured her, “The results aren’t out yet.”

If there’s no conclusion yet, there’s still hope. Until the very last moment, you can’t give up.

Yu Wanqiu nodded slightly. She cared deeply about this matter, and pretending that the award didn’t matter to her would be insincere. Even Yu Wanqiu couldn’t achieve such composure. Still, she gave herself a bit of psychological preparation: if she didn’t win, there was always next time.

She was forty-six years old. If she lived another thirty years, she could act for another thirty years.

Chu Lingnan returned with the heavy trophy in his arms. Xie Zheng reached out to touch it, knowing his own chances of winning were almost non-existent.

Being nominated was already quite an honor. He was still young and had plenty of opportunities ahead. Xie Zheng genuinely hoped Yu Wanqiu would win the award—after all, she was his idol, and who wouldn’t wish for their idol to win?

Following the Best Actor segment, a five-minute stage performance was arranged featuring a veteran artist singing Kunqu opera.

Jiang Lan, however, was not in the mood to enjoy it. She held onto Yu Wanqiu’s hand tightly. Yu Wanqiu maintained a calm expression, though in truth, she had already mentally prepared herself for the outcome. After all, others were just as talented.

This was Deng Chen’s third nomination. Her performance in *Autumn Blade, Bright Moon* had been outstanding, a film Yu Wanqiu had seen and greatly admired. Deng Chen’s portrayal was truly remarkable.

Even those whom Yu Wanqiu didn’t particularly like, like Ming Yao, had acted quite well.

Since the award show was being broadcast live, the screen was flooded with comments from viewers in a barrage of messages.

[*The Deep Sea* has this in the bag.]

[You can always count on Chu Lingnan.]

[Chu Lingnan’s journey has been tough—it’s touching.]

It’s a pity about Yu Wanqiu.]

[Don’t call it quits just yet—the Best Actress winner hasn’t been announced.]

[Even though it’s not official, it probably isn’t Yu Wanqiu. *The Deep Sea* has already scooped up three awards. While I admit it’s an exceptional film, would it be fair for other movies to merely trail along? Why not just give *The Deep Sea* an all-encompassing award?]

[My bet's on Deng Chen. Her performance was really brilliant.]

[Ming Yao seems unlikely, though I feel bad for Wang Yue. And my dear Li Xiaofeng... sigh, a bit of a letdown.]

Yu Wanqiu’s fans were incredibly tense, to the point where those who shipped the “Lan Zhou Noodles” fan pairing couldn’t even focus on their usual excitement.

In the fan group, everyone’s nervousness matched what Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu were feeling.

[I'm willing to give up ten pounds of fat if Teacher Yu wins her third Golden Bear trophy!]

[I’d gladly stay single for ten years if Teacher Yu wins this award.]

[I’ll wish eternal singledom upon my ex so Teacher Yu can bring home the Golden Bear!]

[Please, please, please, we're begging here!]

Even if the odds were just one in ten, they didn’t want to give up hope.

Who wouldn’t want the trophy?

The five-minute performance ended quickly, and Chen Cheng and Zheng Qiu stepped onto the stage.

Chen Cheng said: “These women have brought us countless touching and heartfelt stories. They embody the softness and resilience unique to women. In *Autumn Blade, Bright Moon*, Zhang Mingyue wielded a spring blade so masterfully it left audiences in awe. In *Coming Home*, little An’an’s mother moved viewers to tears. Some say that wherever Sheng Xiaoxiao stands, there’s light, and wherever Zhu Wei goes, there’s the spirit of the martial world. And then there are those who dedicate themselves to playing villains that audiences love to hate, showing us what it truly means for a role to be beyond size or morality.”

Zheng Qiu continued: “Now, let’s welcome the 29th Golden Bear Awards Best Actress winner, Chen Cheng, to announce the recipient of this prestigious honor.”

Chen Cheng smiled slightly as she took the envelope from the staff member's hand. Opening it, her expression briefly turned surprised.

Quickly, she masked her emotions, lowered her head, and announced, "She has twice narrowly missed the Golden Bear award. Now, with unstoppable momentum, she has received her third nomination. She makes us believe that all our hard work and dedication will not go to waste. Even if there's no harvest today, one day in the future, the seeds we've sown will bloom and bear fruit. Let us welcome the winner of the 30th Best Actress Award... Deng Chen!"

The camera turned to Deng Chen, whose eyes welled with tears. She had thought the opportunity was no longer hers.

Two nominations, two missed chances. She had questioned herself countless times, wondering just where she fell short.

In the livestream chat, the comments exploded with congratulations, all agreeing that Deng Chen was truly deserving of this award. Covering her mouth, Deng Chen bowed deeply toward her film crew's director, the male lead, and the camera.

In the live broadcast, the camera panned over Li Xiaofeng, Ming Yao, and Wang Yue before finally landing on Yu Wanqiu.

Yu Wanqiu was clapping, as was Jiang Lan.

Chu Lingnan, however, had a faint glimmer of disappointment in his eyes. This result was within expectations, but somehow, those very expectations only made the outcome sting more.

For every winner, someone else must miss out. Such is life.

Deng Chen walked up to the stage to accept her award. Her makeup was smudged from crying, her cheeks flushed, and her excitement was impossible to conceal.

Clearly overwhelmed, Deng Chen held onto the microphone tightly, saying, “I... I would like to thank…”

Chen Cheng interjected, “Don’t rush into your acceptance speech just yet. There is... one more person.”

Her words caused a hush to fall over the room.

Even Deng Chen froze, repeating Chen Cheng’s words in disbelief. “...One more person?”

Chen Cheng gave a small nod. Zheng Qiu appeared visibly puzzled, and Deng Chen instinctively glanced toward Yu Wanqiu’s direction. The online chat paused for two seconds, then erupted like a volcano.

["What?! No way, is this what I think it is? A tie?"]

["Are you serious? A double winner?"]

["Two Best Actresses?!"]

["Who’s the other one? Oh my God, what is the Academy planning to do? My heart is racing!"]

Chen Cheng, still looking at the letter in her hand, continued, "Someone once said, 'Without her, the film industry would be plunged into eternal night.'"

["I KNOW who it is! It’s Yu Wanqiu!"]

["It’s her—it’s my favorite actress! I really thought she didn’t stand a chance!"]

["I’m literally in tears right now!"]

["Oh my God, are they really doing this? This is unbelievable!"]

Chen Cheng went on, “Some call her a living textbook, others say she is an unsurpassable peak of the Chinese film industry. Some have even described her as a milestone in cinema. For me, she is amongst my most beloved actresses—my senior, my inspiration. Without her, who else could it be? Please welcome our second winner of the 30th Golden Bear Award for Best Actress, the lead actress of *The Deep Sea*... Yu Wanqiu!”

The statement was grand, but it fit Yu Wanqiu perfectly.

These words had come from Yu Wanqiu's fans when she accepted her second Golden Bear trophy. If the world did not have Yu Wanqiu, the Chinese film industry would have lost a brilliant star.

The audience erupted into thunderous applause. Jiang Lan clapped so hard her hands nearly turned red.

Seated beside her was the Best Actress winner who now held her third Golden Bear trophy.

Yu Wanqiu looked utterly stunned.

In that moment, she seemed adorably clueless, and Jiang Lan, nearly moved to tears, nudged her with a smile, "Ms. Yu, hurry up and take your award!"

Yu Wanqiu slowly stood up. She bent over and wrapped her arms around Jiang Lan.

Zhang Po also stood up. “Congratulations, congratulations!”

Chu Lingnan patted Yu Wanqiu on the shoulder. “Not bad, you’ve worked hard for this!”

Xie Zheng hurriedly shook Yu Wanqiu’s hand. “Let me borrow some of your good luck.”

Yu Wanqiu felt a lump in her throat, as if she were about to cry. She turned back and hugged Jiang Lan again. “I’m going to accept my award now.”

Jiang Lan nodded. “Go, Best Actress.”

Lu Xingran withdrew his outstretched hand. “Eh, why won’t you hug me? You used to hug me when I was little.”

Jiang Lan responded, “I don't know—maybe she just simply doesn’t want to.”

Yu Wanqiu stepped onto the award stage. Deng Chen walked forward with a few steps, taking Yu Wanqiu’s hand, and the two stood side by side on the platform.

Deng Chen was nearing forty and no longer young.

She gave Yu Wanqiu a hug, her emotions surging as countless thoughts flooded her mind. She didn’t know where to start, but once she held the trophy adorned with the little gold figure, her heart finally calmed down.

Deng Chen had so much to say: “Thank you to Director Zhou, to the crew members, to my family for their unconditional support…”

Deng Chen said a lot. As she went on, her emotions grew deeper until she couldn’t help but shed tears.

She passed the microphone to Yu Wanqiu, who smiled.

“I’m so happy. Thank you to my fans and supporters for your love and encouragement. I also want to thank someone I’ve met this year—Jiang Lan. Thank you for helping me discover a different side of myself.”

Yu Wanqiu kept her acceptance speech short. “I’ll keep working hard.”

The Golden Bear Award for Best Actress turned out to be a tie, sharing the spotlight and teasing the audience a little. Next, the Best Supporting Actor award went to an actor from *Under the Wheel of Light*, and the Best Supporting Actress came from the team of *Tales of Wandering Storytellers*.

Lu Xingran later went on stage to accept the Best Music Award. He had won several awards since his debut, but the Golden Bear’s Best Music Award was undeniably one of the most prestigious.

Initially, Lu Xingran planned to let Jiang Lan play around with the trophy, but she already had one of her own.

Chu Lingnan finally understood—the truth was, Jiang Lan wasn’t even his fan.

Meanwhile, in the livestream chat, the shippers had patiently held back all night but were now finally letting loose in celebration.

[Let me summarize tonight’s highlights for everyone.]

[Before they revealed the Best Actress award, the two held hands the entire time.]

[Yu Wanqiu hugged Jiang Lan twice before going on stage to accept her award.]

[In her acceptance speech, she specifically gave a shoutout to Jiang Lan. Not even Old Lu got a mention, let alone Old Six.]

[The Golden Bear trophy was later handed to Jiang Lan for safekeeping. *shrugs*]

[Outfits: black tuxedo and a white princess dress.]

[Lu Xingran extended his hand for a hug, but Yu Wanqiu didn’t acknowledge him. Poor hapless nephew—isn’t this classic?]

[The Lu family has always had a penchant for unlucky ones.]