Slow to mature after marriage

Y clear the bar.

Mu Siwan lay on the bar counter, her face buried in her arms, her consciousness floating and sinking as if soaking in warm water.

Someone walked over.

Without looking up, she first caught a scent. Minty, crisp, and familiar. Exactly the same scent Bo Yan always had when he was near her.

Mu Siwan raised her eyes.

The man stood before her, backlit, his features blurred, only his eyes visible, which always looked deep and bright when he gazed at her.

"Didn't you tell me you'd go straight to Muyan Garden after work?" Bo Yan leaned over, his hands resting on the bar counter, his voice low. "Little liar."

Mu Siwan stared at him, her brows furrowing.

Are you accusing me, Bo Yan?

Bo Yan paused for a moment, then smiled helplessly, "Do you think I dare?"

"What are you afraid of?" Mu Siwan's voice was muffled, with a hint of resentment at the end. "You hit someone in front of so many media outlets, and you said you could bring down someone's company without even consulting me. How powerful are you?"

Hearing her tone, Bo Yan sighed softly, "Are you still angry with me?"

Mu Siwan thought for a moment, then stretched out her thumb and forefinger, pinched them together, and made a small gap.

"A little bit."

Bo Yan looked at her gesture and let out a low chuckle.

"Then how can I avoid getting angry?"

Mu Siwan raised her eyes, her gaze falling on his face, and tilted her head.

"Unless you make me another drink."

"What?"

"Bloody Mary," she said. "I want the one you made for me."

Bo Yan stared at her flushed cheeks for two seconds, then nodded in agreement. After all, he was right beside her, so he didn't intend to restrict her too much.

He turned and went behind the bar, rolled up his sleeves to reveal a section of his forearm. He took vodka and tomato juice from the liquor rack, along with a few bottles of condiments, and laid them out in front of him. His movements were swift and elegant.

Mu Siwan leaned against the bar, staring intently at his hands.

Well-defined joints, long and slender fingers—beautiful hands.

An identical Bloody Mary was placed in front of her. The glass was slender, the liquid bright red, the rim of which was slicked with salt, and a slice of lemon was placed on it.

Mu Siwan didn't drink immediately. She propped herself up on her arms, looked at him leisurely, and said, "Your hands are so beautiful, I really want to make them into specimens and keep them as a keepsake."

Bo Yan: "..."

The man stared at her flushed cheeks and smiled. The bar lights cast multicolored light on his face, making his handsome features appear even more alluring.

"Is just collecting the hands enough?" he whispered enticingly. "The person is yours too, how about collecting them all?"

When Mu Siwan heard him suddenly laugh, her thoughts froze, and her human-machine brain completely shut down.

She abruptly lowered her head, as if to cover it up, picked up her wine glass and started gulping it down. This time, the taste was right, and she mumbled indistinctly, "The whole person... is a bit too greedy."

To possess Bo Yan entirely is too greedy. He's so wonderful.

"Too what?" The man didn't hear clearly and leaned closer.

Mu Siwan felt inexplicably flustered, reached out a finger to poke him away, and whispered, "I said I don't need it."

Bo Yan clicked his tongue lightly and obediently let her poke him away.

Suddenly, there was another person next to the bar.

A young woman with long, wavy hair, exquisite makeup, and a sweet, cloying perfume sat down on a high stool. She leaned over the bar counter, her gaze smiling as she swept over Bo Yan from head to toe.

"Hey handsome, can you mix me a drink too?" She tilted her head, her voice soft and sweet. "I'll have a Long Island Iced Tea."

Bo Yan suppressed his smile and reverted to his usual aloof and indifferent demeanor.

"I'm not a staff member here, I have no obligation to mix your drinks."

Old Zhao, who was standing nearby, quickly came over and said with a smile, "Little girl, you want a Long Island Iced Tea, right? Uncle Zhao will make it for you. Uncle Zhao's skills are no worse than this kid's."

The woman frowned, her gaze still fixed on Bo Yan, completely ignoring Lao Zhao.

"No, I saw you adjust it for that girl." She tilted her head slightly, a hint of arrogance in her eyes. "I want this handsome guy to adjust it for me. I'm not short of money."

The woman took a card out of her bag, held it between two fingers, and handed it over.

"One hundred thousand." She smiled. "How about you sleep with me one more night?"

Bo Yan coldly raised his eyes, about to speak—

"boom--"

Mu Siwan slammed her hand on the bar, raised her eyes expressionlessly, and swirled the wine in her glass.

"Didn't you hear him say that? He's not a staff member here. He doesn't drink with customers, much less sleep with them."

The woman paused for a moment, turned to look at her, sized her up, and sneered, "What business is it of yours if I hire a male prostitute? Why are you interfering?"

Mu Siwan expressionlessly grabbed Bo Yan's arm and pulled him to her side, forcefully asserting her dominance.

"He's my husband, not a gigolo."

"It's not a given that my husband mixes my drinks."

The woman stared at her for two seconds, then looked at Bo Yan, pursed her lips, and slid off the bar stool.

"You should have said he was your husband earlier. I don't sleep with married men."

As she turned to leave, she was still muttering to herself, "If he's dressed so provocatively, who is he trying to seduce?"

Mu Siwan stared at her departing figure, her lips pressed into a thin line, clearly unhappy.

Bo Yan looked down at his arm, which was being tightly gripped by the woman, and slowly the corners of his lips curved into a smile.

Has the little robot just... learned to be jealous?

Unable to stay in the bar any longer, Mu Siwan, with a stern face, pulled Bo Yan away from the place of trouble.

The bar door closed behind me, and a night breeze rushed in, carrying the cool dampness of early spring.

She opened the car door, shoved Bo Yan into the back seat, and then got in herself.

The driver glanced at the two people in the rearview mirror, paused his finger on the button, and skillfully raised the partition.

The back seat became a closed and ambiguous space.

The light from the streetlights slid in through the car window, brushing across the two people's faces again and again.

Mu Siwan unconsciously turned her head and stared at Bo Yan's profile, her gaze falling on the corners of his mouth that were still turning up, and her brows slowly furrowed.

What are you laughing at?

What's so funny?

He's about to be kept as a gigolo and slept with, and he's still laughing.

She stared at his face, growing increasingly annoyed, so she reached out, grabbed his tie, and pulled it down.

Bo Yan leaned closer, following the force of her movement. His gaze fell on her face, and the smile in his eyes deepened. Knowing full well what she meant, he asked, "Little android, what are you going to do to me?"

I'll sleep with you.

She sleeps with her own husband.

It doesn't even cost 100,000.

Mu Siwan thought to herself, then looked up and kissed him.

It wasn't a gentle, tentative kiss. Her lips struck his, quite forcefully, their teeth clashing, leaving a slight tingling sensation.

Bo Yan smiled with ease. He put his arm around her waist, gently lifted her up, and made her kneel on his lap.

Mu Siwan sat firmly as he lifted her, cupped his chin in her hands, pressed her palms against his hard jawline, lowered her head, and continued to kiss him with a hint of annoyance.

Bo Yan tilted his head back, matching her rhythm, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, giving her whatever she wanted. Her kissing skills were clumsy, with a stubbornness that refused to admit defeat, and the kisses were a mess, but he enjoyed it very much.

During the break, Bo Yan chuckled softly, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Are you angry?" Before she could deny it, he pressed her in a low voice, "Sweetie, think carefully about why you're angry."