My Mother-in-Law and I Became the Internet's Hottest Power Couple-Chapter 91

The Arctic glaciers are home to many animals—Arctic wolves, Arctic foxes, rabbits, and the like—most of which are carnivorous. For this reason, the staff had warned Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu from the outset to prioritize their safety.

Nighttime is when these animals hunt, and the rescue station workers rarely venture out after dark.

Two pairs of glowing eyes flickered to life in the darkness, like four tiny lanterns. Jiang Lan’s blood ran cold, fearing they might belong to Arctic wolves.

But upon closer inspection, the eyes seemed small—perhaps due to the distance—resembling those of some animal’s young.

Jiang Lan looked again, only to find the eyes had vanished. Yet in the dark, she could still make out the silhouettes of two creatures. They must have noticed her gaze and hidden again.

The rescue team and the camera crew were already packing up their equipment. Though night had fallen, it was still early, and there was no rush to return for dinner. Back at the station, they’d check the internet connection to see if they could send the footage back for preliminary editing.

“Wrap it up,” the team leader said, disappointment evident. They had been tracking a polar bear for some time, discovering she was pregnant. After monitoring and caring for her, she suddenly disappeared. When they found her again, the cubs in her belly were gone, and the mother bear was severely injured.

The rescue station took her in, and the staff had been searching for the cubs ever since—with no luck.

The Arctic is a harsh environment. Without hunting skills, the cubs might have already fallen prey to other wildlife or frozen to death in the wilderness.

Jiang Lan rubbed her gloved hands against her cheeks and glanced back in the direction of the mysterious eyes—now gone.

She couldn’t identify the creatures, but the animals here were intelligent. Unless provoked, they wouldn’t attack humans.

Food was scarce in the Arctic, and over the past few days, Jiang Lan had spotted several gaunt-looking animals.

With the equipment packed, the group began their trek back.

The sled dogs pulled the gear, racing tirelessly across the snow.

Walking beside Yu Wanqiu, Jiang Lan whispered, “Yu, guess what I just saw?”

Yu Wanqiu raised an eyebrow, playing along. “What?”

Jiang Lan: “Two little animals. I wonder if they’re still there.”

She turned around—and there they were again. Two pairs of gleaming eyes. They had already walked a fair distance, yet the creatures were still following.

Yu Wanqiu followed Jiang Lan’s gaze and froze. The sudden confrontation with wild animals sent an indescribable thrill of fear through her. This was the first time in days something like this had happened. Why were these animals trailing them?

The night was too dark, and the creatures’ fur—like most Arctic animals—was nearly white, blending perfectly into the icy landscape.

Yu Wanqiu said, “We should inform the team leader. They might need rescuing.”

The station had operated for years, rehabilitating countless wild animals. Creatures here had their own ways of sensing danger. If these two needed help, there was no time to waste.

The staff had binoculars. The small animals followed at a distance, pausing now and then. Whenever someone looked back, they’d duck behind ice or snowdrifts.

After nearly half an hour of observation, a worker gasped. “They look like polar bear cubs!”

The revelation was staggering.

Finding two polar bear cubs meant two more lives could be saved.

Cubs lacked hunting skills and were vulnerable to predators. Though polar bears thrived in the Arctic’s brutal conditions, that was only true for adults with thick layers of fat. These cubs were far too small.

No mother bear followed them. She was likely gone.

The cameraman unpacked the equipment again as three staff members huddled to strategize.

Approaching directly would scare the cubs away, and they might never find them again. For the sake of capturing footage, the team hoped Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu could participate in the rescue.

After discussion, a worker proposed, “We have two options. First, set a trap to catch them. Second, use food to lure them step by step into a cage. The second method seems better.”

The cubs looked emaciated—likely starving for days. The sooner they were rescued, the better.

Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu had trained for scenarios like this. Polar bears hunted fish and seals in the ocean, but the station only had frozen fish, which needed thawing before being used as bait.

The process took over half an hour.

The cubs hadn’t left but remained hidden behind snowdrifts, occasionally peeking out. Animals had keen senses—especially night vision far surpassing humans’.

They seemed ready to bolt at any moment, but the group merely fiddled with some equipment before leaving.

Once the humans were gone, the cubs followed again.

A camera disguised as an ice block recorded everything. On-screen, two frail polar bear cubs sniffed the air as they trailed the team. Based on the station’s decade-plus of data, these cubs were underweight, their fur dull and yellowish, their bodies as scrawny as kittens—making their eyes appear enormous. Their dirty coats hinted at a grueling life on their own.

A piece of fish lay on the snow, but the cubs didn’t eat it immediately. They circled cautiously, sniffing, waiting to ensure no other animals were around before finally licking at it hungrily.

The small portion vanished quickly. After eating, they continued forward, pausing behind ice blocks to check for observers before moving again.

What should have been a short journey took them half an hour. The fierce winds made their steps unsteady.

One piece of fish, then another… the last was placed inside a cage.

The cubs inspected the area thoroughly, sniffing every corner before finally venturing in to eat. Suddenly, the cage door slammed shut. The cubs abandoned the fish, clawing desperately at the bars.

Even as youngsters, they were still wild beasts—with sharp teeth and claws.

They looked downright ferocious.

Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu sighed in unison, stepping out from behind the ice to carry the cage back.

At the station, the cubs underwent examinations—blood tests, checks on their eyes, noses, and ears. The bloodwork would take time, but initial results showed no injuries. Still, the two were terrified in their new surroundings.

They refused meat. They refused water.

Without cooperation, the rescue couldn’t proceed.

Fifteen minutes later, the staff reviewed the results. “Severely underweight, deficient in multiple micronutrients. Estimated age: just over a month. It’s a miracle they survived.”

The team speculated the cubs had scavenged leftover fish from other animals’ meals to stay alive.

Animals like Arctic wolves leave behind skeletons when they hunt, with bits of meat still clinging to the bones. These two little ones are so small that even a little food is enough to barely fill their stomachs—they probably survive by scavenging leftovers from other animals.

Jiang Lan frowned worriedly. "But they can't go without eating. Could the mother bear nearby take care of them?" Since they were also polar bears and even related, letting a polar bear nurse them would be better than humans trying to.

The staff member thought for a moment before shaking his head. "They're not her cubs—she won't take them. If we send these two over, they wouldn’t even be enough to fill her teeth."

...

If neither humans nor the mother bear could feed them, what could they do?

Yu Wanqiu suggested, "Didn’t you say the mother bear had cubs when she was first observed? Could these two be hers?"

The staff member considered it unlikely, but not impossible.

When they had examined the cubs, they had worn protective suits to avoid leaving human scent on them. If these really were the mother bear’s cubs, it was worth a try. The rescue station couldn’t conduct DNA tests, so they could only attempt reintroduction.

The mother bear, An'an, had mostly recovered from her injuries and was set to be released in a few days. But if these two were her cubs, she’d have to stay longer.

An'an was gentle. She knew who had saved her, never making noise or fussing, spending her days healing and eating meat in her assigned room.

All creatures have souls.

Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu placed the two cubs in the room next to An'an. Polar bears have a keen sense of smell—if they were hers, she would react.

But An'an remained calm until evening, when a staff member brought her food. Then, she began sniffing intently at the worker’s clothes.

She bared her teeth, pawing at the staff member’s pant leg, visibly agitated.

Low growls rumbled in her throat. When the worker set down the fish and tried to leave, An'an blocked the door with her paw, refusing to let them go.

She even seemed ready to bite but ultimately retracted her fangs.

This ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‍behavior was unusual. The staff member checked himself and radioed the others. "I might have the cubs’ scent on me. An'an won’t let me leave. Should we bring the cubs over?"

An'an was the mother bear’s name. The staff member was nervous—polar bears were carnivores, and if provoked, they could attack.

The station’s buildings were designed for wind and snow resistance, tightly sealed. It made sense that she couldn’t smell them through the wall.

If these really were An'an’s cubs, it would be wonderful.

Soon, Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu brought the cubs over.

The two cubs waited outside while An'an paced anxiously inside her enclosure, separated by bars.

The cubs gnawed at the cage, but their teeth were too small—they could only whimper helplessly.

Judging by An'an and the cubs’ behavior, they were almost certainly hers.

The staff member’s eyes stung. Nothing was more moving than a family reunited.

Still, for the cubs’ safety, they had to be cautious.

When the cubs were brought into An'an’s room, she pressed her paws and tongue against the bars, while the little ones cried out.

Once released, An'an licked them from head to tail, and the cubs squinted under the long-awaited maternal care.

No one knew what had happened before, but the outcome was all that mattered now.

Jiang Lan went to fetch fish and goat milk while Yu Wanqiu stayed behind. An'an gazed softly at the staff member, occasionally nuzzling her cubs and rubbing her head against the worker’s leg.

After a month of care, An'an was sleek and healthy, but the two little ones looked like they’d been wandering the streets, surviving hardships on their journey to find their mother.

Their eyes were watery as they licked An'an’s fur in return.

Finally, the cubs ate.

But fish alone wasn’t enough—An'an had no milk left. The cubs needed essential nutrients, and milk was the quickest, simplest solution.

Babies should drink milk, after all.

The goat milk was fortified with nutrients, and Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu each fed one cub.

This time, they drank eagerly, clinging to their bottles with loud gulps.

Jiang Lan watched, charmed by how adorably they suckled. Yu Wanqiu had rarely fed Lu Yicheng as a baby, yet here she was, bottle-feeding polar bear cubs.

The Lu household had no pets, so Yu Wanqiu had no experience raising animals. The cubs, starved from their ordeal, drank until the bottles were empty. When the bottles were taken away, they licked the last traces of milk from their mouths, reluctant to stop.

Yu Wanqiu sighed. "These little things… I don’t know how they survived."

An'an must have been heartbroken seeing them like this.

Watching An'an groom her cubs, Yu Wanqiu felt deeply moved. "Thank goodness they reunited. It would’ve been unbearable otherwise."

It was fulfilling—finding them, bringing them to the station. Despite the Arctic cold, the trip had been meaningful.

Yu Wanqiu said, "Since we saved these cubs, Brother Zhao said we can name them. What’s yours called?"

Brother Zhao was a staff member at the rescue station. Ideally, the mother bear should name them, but even An'an’s name had been given by the station.

Naming the cubs…

Jiang Lan hesitated. Her first act of naming wasn’t for her own child but for a polar bear.

Jiang Lan said, "Look at how it’s grinning—let’s call it Lele (Happy). What about yours, Yu Laoshi?"

Yu Wanqiu smiled. "If yours is Lele, then this one will be Kuaikuai (Speedy). Together, they’re ‘Happy and Speedy’—may they grow up joyfully under their mother’s care and learn to hunt soon."

Polar bears couldn’t stay with their mothers forever, just as humans couldn’t remain by their parents’ sides indefinitely.

One day, these cubs would become formidable rulers of the ice.

For now, they stayed at the rescue station—eating, sleeping, playing with their mother, and undergoing regular health checks.

Their improvement was visible: their fur, once dry and yellowish, grew whiter and thicker, their bodies stronger.

An'an, nearly healed, occasionally went outside to roam, returning at night with fish or seal meat for her cubs. As a full-grown polar bear, she could provide for herself and her young.

On the cubs’ tenth day at the station, Jiang Lan and Yu Wanqiu conducted a second health check. Though their condition had improved, they weren’t yet ready for release.

But with An'an fully recovered—her healing abilities surpassing humans’—she could now hunt and raise her cubs.

If returned to the wild, An'an could care for them. They couldn’t live with humans forever.

After all, An'an had been meant to raise cubs from the start.

They had recorded extensive footage—polar waste, endangered species, and An'an and Kuaikuai-Lele as the documentary’s central figures.

The rescue station decided to release An'an and her cubs back into the wild.

An'an licked her cubs' heads, then glanced back at the rescue station where they had stayed for nearly two months. Clenching one cub by the scruff of its neck, she kept checking to ensure the other was following closely behind. Slowly, the family of three disappeared into the snowy wilderness.

The camera captured this moment forever—a frozen landscape where a group of people watched as the polar bears departed.

They hoped to see them again someday, grown into skilled hunters.

With the filming work concluded, Jiang Lan and the others would leave at dawn the next morning. Yu Wanqiu planned to rest for a while after returning. Though the work here hadn’t been exhausting, the bitter cold was no good for her leg injury, and she needed proper recovery time. Jiang Lan, on the other hand, would head straight back to school.

The weak signal from the local base station left their phones constantly disconnected. The freezing temperatures drained their batteries quickly, rendering them useless except for taking photos and jotting down notes.

On their final night, Jiang Lan sculpted two little snow figures—one of herself and one of Lu Yicheng. After more than two weeks without being able to call him, she missed him terribly.

She asked Yu Wanqiu if she missed Lu Shuangchen. Yu Wanqiu said no.

Jiang Lan grinned. "So was that the truth or a lie?"

Yu Wanqiu paused, then shrugged. "A lie."

Jiang Lan burst into laughter, swallowing a mouthful of icy wind in the process. So it had been a lie!

Yu Wanqiu had no trouble admitting it. After so many days away from home, it was impossible not to think about Lu Shuangchen. Unlike filming, where she could immerse herself in a role and forget everything else, the downtime here made his absence all the more noticeable.

Jiang Lan nudged Yu Wanqiu’s arm. "Do you think they’ve missed us? Or maybe they haven’t even noticed we’re gone."

"Lu Yicheng is probably out there feasting—hot pot, barbecue, cake, skewers, fried chicken, burgers, washing it all down with cola and milk tea. Who knows if he even remembers these are my favorites."

Jiang Lan had finished all the snacks she brought. No matter how good vacuum-sealed food was, it couldn’t compare to fresh meals from outside. The smartest decision she’d made was packing chili sauce—it made even plain noodles or rice taste amazing.

Yu Wanqiu had been fine until Jiang Lan started listing foods. Now, every cell in her body screamed with craving.

"Stop, stop! I’m drooling just listening to you," Yu Wanqiu groaned. "We’ll be back tomorrow. Once we reach E Country, first thing—calls and messages."

But Jiang Lan had taken so many beautiful photos—adorable polar bear cubs, little seals—and Lu Yicheng hadn’t seen any of them fresh. She longed to show him.

He’d definitely gasp in awe.

Gazing up at the star-studded night sky, Jiang Lan suddenly spotted a shimmering blue-green glow, like a fairy’s ribbon unfurling. "Yu Wanqiu! The northern lights! It’s the aurora!"

They’d waited half a month for this, checking every night in vain. And now, on their final evening, the sky had gifted them a spectacle.

"It’s breathtaking," Jiang Lan murmured. "Do you think the cubs sent this to us?"

If Lu Yicheng were here, he’d probably explain it scientifically—charged particles from the sun colliding with Earth’s magnetic field, creating this luminous phenomenon. Maybe you could say the universe gave it to you, but definitely not the bears.

But Yu Wanqiu simply nodded. "It’s from the cubs."

A grand aurora, their thank-you for the care they’d received.

Jiang Lan pulled out her phone to record it. The signal bar flickered weakly—two measly bars. She tried calling Lu Yicheng. The call went through, but he didn’t pick up. Just as she was about to hang up, the line connected.

"Yu Wanqiu, it worked!" Jiang Lan showed her the screen, though the video was already freezing into a slideshow.

Lu Yicheng’s voice crackled through. "I just stepped away for a second—almost missed you..."

Jiang Lan spoke quickly. "The connection’s terrible, so I’ll be fast. Look—aurora above us! We rescued polar bear cubs and released them today. Right after they left, this appeared. It’s so beautiful."

She tilted the phone upward, capturing the swirling colors dancing across the sky.

Many people never get to see the northern lights in their lifetime. Jiang Lan felt it took courage (and some external push) to come to the Arctic, but witnessing the aurora? That required pure luck.

"Are you at home? Show Lu Shuangchen too," she said.

Lu Yicheng thought the aurora was stunning, but he’d rather look at Jiang Lan.

"I’m at school, not home," he replied, but the call cut off before he could say more.

She tried redialing—no answer.

Jiang Lan sighed. Barely two minutes. At least she’d spoken fast.

Yu Wanqiu attempted calling Lu Shuangchen but couldn’t get through. "Well, his loss. Let’s enjoy it ourselves."

Science could explain the phenomenon, but to human eyes, it was pure magic.

Jiang Lan rested her chin on her hand, glancing at Yu Wanqiu. "Hey, beautiful—want a photo? This backdrop is too perfect to waste."

The rescue team’s photographer joined them. Originally, the documentary’s closing shot was meant to be An'an leading her cubs away, but the aurora would make an even more breathtaking finale.

The professional camera captured them in crisp, vivid detail—far better than any phone could.

The next day, the group boarded a sled back to E Country. In this snowy border town, the signal was stronger, making calls effortless.

Yu Wanqiu sent Lu Shuangchen a message. Within minutes, his call came through.

He had a meeting in half an hour but could postpone it until the afternoon.

Yu Wanqiu’s hair had grown past her chin. Lu Shuangchen looked exactly the same—unchanged after more than two weeks apart.

For a moment, husband and wife simply stared at each other in silence.

Finally, Lu Shuangchen spoke. "Coming back soon? I’ll pick you up."

Yu Wanqiu smiled. "Mission accomplished. Our flight lands in B City tomorrow at ten."

He nodded. "Everything go smoothly? Lu Yicheng mentioned the aurora. I wasn’t home last night, so I missed it."

He was learning—asking questions, keeping the conversation alive, just like Jiang Lan did.

Yu Wanqiu stepped outside with the phone. Meanwhile, Jiang Lan sent Lu Yicheng a few messages. She’d be back tomorrow, and as much as she’d loved this adventure, reality awaited—graduation, thesis writing, job hunting.

Lu Yicheng had been back at school for five days. While Jiang Lan was away, he split his time between the company and campus, visiting Xie Laoshi and Uncle Jiang on weekends. Every night, he recorded a video.

February 22nd. Four more months until their fourth anniversary. Seven more until Jiang Lan’s birthday.

Not long now.

Half an hour later, Yu Wanqiu returned, waving her phone. "Zhang Lin had her baby—a girl. She asked if we’d like to visit."