“Shen Xing,” Lin Yao said, poking her head into the bathroom while I was shaving, “what are your thoughts on death?”
I froze, razor mid-stroke. “…What?”
“Hypothetically. If a person were to, say, fake their death, how expensive is a casket rental?”
I wiped the foam off my face and stared at her. “What did you do?”
She gave me a sheepish grin. “Okay, so. My mom’s coming over. In like… twenty minutes.”
I blinked. “You mean our mom?”
She pointed at me. “Don’t get bold. My mom. You’re just the poor soul legally attached to me.”
I sat down slowly on the bed. “You invited your mother without telling me?”
She nodded like a child admitting she drew on the walls. “It was either that or she was going to show up unannounced. I picked the lesser evil. You’re welcome.”
I closed my eyes. “What’s she like?”
Lin Yao took a dramatic breath. “Imagine me… but older. Smarter. Meaner. More suspicious.”
“Oh good,” I muttered. “A boss-level version.”
Ten minutes later, I was in a clean shirt, panicking as I stared at the tiny mountain of socks and chips we forgot to hide in the living room. Meanwhile, Lin Yao was busy humming and applying lipstick like this was a casual coffee meetup and not a pre-battle ritual.
When the doorbell rang, I stopped breathing.
Lin Yao opened the door. “Hi Mom!”
The woman who walked in wore a sharp coat, carried a tote bag full of judgment, and had the kind of expression that could make a CEO cry.
“So this is him?” she said, looking at me like I was a dented tin can.
I stood up and bowed politely. “Nice to meet you, Aunt—”
“Mother-in-law,” she corrected immediately.
“Yes, mother-in-law,” I replied.
She sat down, crossed her legs, and surveyed the room. “Not bad. Though I expected fewer action figures in a married couple’s home.”
I glanced guiltily at the Gundam on the shelf. Lin Yao didn’t help. She added, “He cried when it lost an arm.”
“I did not cry.”
“There were sniffles.”
Her mother turned to me. “Do you have a stable income?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you drink? Smoke? Gamble?”
“No, ma’am.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Have you ever made my daughter cry?”
“…Define cry.”
Her voice dropped a degree. “Shen. Xing.”
“No! No, never.”
She nodded slowly. “Alright. Show me your fridge.”
“…What?”
“I need to see if my daughter’s being fed or if you two are living off soda and regret.”
To my horror, Lin Yao cheerfully led her to the kitchen.
As they inspected the fridge—her mother muttering things like “You call this vegetables?”—I stood in the hallway, considering climbing out the window.
—
After a thorough house inspection and an interrogation that would make the FBI proud, she finally stood up and announced, “Acceptable.”
Lin Yao beamed. “That’s basically a blessing.”
Then her mother turned to me again. “One final thing.”
“Yes?”
“If you hurt my daughter…”
I nodded seriously. “You’ll kill me.”
She leaned in closer.
“No,” she whispered. “I’ll make you live… in regret.”
I gulped.
—
After she left, I collapsed face-first onto the couch.
Lin Yao dropped beside me. “You did good.”
I groaned into a cushion. “I aged ten years.”
“She likes you.”
“That was liking me?!”
“She didn’t insult your eyebrows. That’s her way of saying ‘welcome to the family.’”
I sat up slowly and looked at her. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
She shrugged, smirking. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I gave her a long look. “You are… the worst.”
She leaned forward, her face close to mine. “And yet… you married me.”
“Against my will.”
She smirked. “Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that.”
Before I could reply, she kissed me on the cheek, quick and warm.
Then got up like nothing happened. “Anyway! Wanna watch that terrible cooking show again tonight?”
I blinked, stunned. “Uh… yeah. I guess.”
As she walked away, humming, I touched my cheek and realized—terrifying mother aside—I was smiling like an idiot.
And that was even scarier than her mom.
