Blurb：
Linda Scott and David Carter's wedding night turns into a nightmare when mother-in-law Lilian Warren bursts in with a blue timer. She interrupts their intimate moment, claiming it's damaging David Carter's health. Linda Scott, horrified and humiliated, confronts the absurdity of Lilian Warren's feudal mindset. David Carter, caught between his wife and controlling mother, struggles to defuse the tension. This shocking scene reveals deep family conflicts in a marriage that began with love at the university architecture department. Will Linda Scott tolerate this invasion of privacy? Can David Carter stand up to Lilian Warren's manipulation? A dramatic tale of modern love versus traditional interference.Content：
The red candles from our wedding night hadn't yet burned down.David and I were embracing when suddenly the door slammed open with a thud.
In came the mother-in-law, Lilian Warren, clutching a blue timer in her hand, her eyes fixed coldly on us.
Terrified, I quickly pulled the blanket over myself, while David Carter, still naked, froze completely.
Lilian ignored David's embarrassment and simply reached out to drag him off the bed.
I screamed muffled beneath the blanket, my voice filled with panic and shame.
"Time's up!" Lilian's voice was sharp and cruel. "This is taking too long—it's damaging my son's health!"
She turned and glared at me, her eyes sharp as knives: "Linda Scott, you're married to David Carter now—you should think about his health."
"A man's strength is meant for great deeds, not wasted on trivial nonsense like this!"
I pulled back the corner of the quilt, staring at her self-righteous face, and couldn't help but feel how ridiculous it all was.
David Carter and I met in the university's architecture department.
He was a poor student sponsored by my dad's company—tall, handsome, and even had an eight-pack; back then, many girls liked him.
His family lived deep in the mountains, dirt poor; he said that as a child, one steamed bun had to be split in half—half eaten in the morning, half at night.
I felt sorry for him, and after we got together, I begged my dad to hire him in the company.
David truly had talent; within a few years, he achieved results, and with my dad's deliberate promotion, he rose all the way to project director.
We planned to have two wedding celebrations: one in his hometown, and one in the City.
Lilian Warren's family was especially warm to me. They started cleaning the house half a month early and even prepared new sheets and quilts for me.
David and I are usually busy—he handles design, I manage projects—and we rarely have time to be together properly.
After finishing the wedding banquet back home and sending off the last batch of relatives that night, David and I had barely stepped into the bridal room before we eagerly embraced.
Who would've thought that just as things were heating up, Lilian stormed in holding a timer.
She boldly pulled the quilt off David, grabbed his arm, and started dragging him down to the floor beside the bed.
I was so scared that I hid under the quilt and let out a scream, my face burning hot.
Lilian Warren stared at the timer in her hand and said matter-of-factly, "It's already been half an hour. If this drags on any longer, my son's body will give out!"
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