Slow to mature after marriage

Mu Siwan looked up at him thoughtfully.

For some reason, perhaps due to the alcohol, she inexplicably felt that Bo Yan seemed to have grown a fox tail, swaying behind the man.

"What, you don't dare?" He raised an eyebrow, his tone carrying just the right amount of provocation.

What's there to be afraid of?

Mu Siwan shook her head and made a decision: "Let's play."

Bo Yan turned and went upstairs, returning shortly with a box. Inside was a folding Ludo board and several pieces.

Mu Siwan curiously leaned closer to take a look. The moment she saw the options, she blinked, her ears instantly turning red, and she looked up at Bo Yan.

Is his Ludo... a proper Ludo game?

Why is it different from what she imagined? Why are all the options in the grid like that...?

Bo Yan looked at her with his eyes crinkled, the smile not reaching his eyes, but the curve of his lips was very deep, like a real fox.

"Should you go first or me?"

Mu Siwan paused for a moment: "You go first."

Bo Yan nodded: "Okay, let's set the mood first and do something a little less risqué."

He casually tossed the die, and it rolled twice on the board before settling on a "5".

Bo Yan flipped over the corresponding card, glanced at it, and slowly leaned back in his chair, raising his chin slightly like a lord.

"Give her a passionate 30-second French kiss." He pushed the card towards her to show her. "Kiss me, Mu Siwan."

It was just a kiss.

Mu Siwan thought it wasn't difficult at all.

only--

"What is a French kiss?" she asked, looking up with eager curiosity.

Bo Yan paused for a moment when she asked him the question, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly: "What we usually exchange is a French kiss."

Mu Siwan thought about their usual kissing, nodded, and summarized in academic terms: "So it's... French kissing."

Bo Yan gave a noncommittal "hmm".

Mu Siwan looked up and asked again, "Can I drink the drink you made now?"

Bo Yan raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised that she would think about that glass of wine at a time like this.

"Can."

Mu Siwan picked up the Long Island Iced Tea and downed it in one gulp. The icy liquid slid down her throat, the sweetness of the cola, the intensity of the rum, and the sourness of the lemon all mixed together, exploding on her tongue like a stimulating premonition.

She put down her cup, bent down, cupped the man's thin chin, and kissed him.

First, their lips touched, gently, as if testing the waters. Then her tongue darted out, licking the outline of his lips, slowly tracing that curve. Bo Yan didn't move, letting her do as she pleased. Her hands rested on his shoulders, her breathing faltered for a moment, and her tongue slipped inside.

Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen...

The man's hand landed on the island counter, his knuckles tightening, veins bulging. He held back for a few seconds, but finally couldn't resist. He grabbed the back of her neck with his other hand, his palm against her jawbone, his thumb pressing behind her ear, pulling her towards him.

He took the initiative and became the host.

Eight, seven...

Bo Yan's kiss moved from her lips to the corner of her lips, from the corner of her lips to her chin, then circled back, capturing her lower lip and biting it lightly.

Mu Siwan's eyelashes trembled, and her breathing became erratic.

Three, two, one.

As the last number settled in her mind, Mu Siwan gently bit the tip of his tongue that was pressing against hers. Bo Yan thought she couldn't breathe, so he pulled back a little, and the two of them, nose to nose, were both breathing softly.

He wanted to kiss her.

Mu Siwan turned her head away, her voice low, her ears bright red.

"Time's up, Bo Yan."

Bo Yan stared intently at her, momentarily lost in thought.

"……Um."

He pushed the dice over.

"continue."

Mu Siwan took the die and tossed it casually. The die rolled twice and landed on a "2".

She opened the card and paused for a moment.

Touch the other person's most sensitive spot for forty seconds.

Mu Siwan's gaze slowly moved downwards.

Beneath the fabric of the man's trousers, there were already some reactions that couldn't be ignored...

She slowly looked away.

"I remember we were just..."

Bo Yan raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips: "What's wrong? Giving up? Trying to renege on your promise?"

"No." Mu Siwan bit her lip, her voice lowering, "It's not convenient here."

Bo Yan stared at her for two seconds, then stood up and reached out to lift her down from the bar stool.

"Then let's go to the sofa."

The two moved their game location.

We played the game several times.

The two of them nestled together on the sofa, their bodies pressed very close. Bo Yan's arm was draped over the back of the sofa behind her, as if he were half-embracing her. A chessboard lay open on the coffee table, dice were scattered to the side, and empty wine bottles lay askew on the floor.

Mu Siwan felt that she was starting to struggle against Bo Yan.

This man is too good at it. Every time he rolls the dice, every time he flips a card, he executes those ambiguous, transgressive instructions perfectly—not too much, not too little, just right at the critical point where her heart races but she won't turn on him and run away.

But strangely enough, she didn't want to end the game.

Because in this game, every intimate contact that doesn't conform to the "three principles" has a plausible reason. The card says to do it this way, not because she wants to, but because it's the game rule. She can accept his kisses, his touches, his gaze on her collarbone without having to think deeply about what these actions mean.

Compared to the occasional genuine feelings that surfaced during their interactions, leaving her feeling anxious and confused, she preferred things to be the way they were now. There were rules, boundaries, and the excuse of "having to."

A faint tingling and pain came from my chest.

Mu Siwan let out a soft moan of unbearable discomfort and looked down—Bo Yan was buried below her collarbone, his lips and teeth nibbling at a small piece of skin, grinding it gently.

Thirty seconds are up.

He slowly raised his head, a little moisture still glistening on his lips, and chuckled softly.

"Don't get distracted, sweetie. You have to be serious when you play games."

Mu Siwan's ears turned red, and she reached for the dice, looking away from his face.

It was her turn to throw.

The die rolled twice on the coffee table and landed on a "4".

She opened the card.

—Say the name of the person you like.

Mu Siwan's heart skipped a beat.

She stared at the words, a moment of panic crossing her face. Her fingertips gripped the card, her knuckles turning slightly white.

Bo Yan didn't urge her. He leaned back on the sofa, tilting his head to look at her, his gaze long and deep, like a hunter crouching in a corner, waiting for his prey to step into his trap.

Even just a little bit of liking it counts.

Bo Yan stared intently at her.

He wasn't greedy; he was content with just a little bit of her affection.

Mu Siwan could no longer meet his gaze. She hurriedly looked away, staring at some unknown corner of the coffee table. She didn't want to lie, but her mind was blank.

She frantically searched her mind.

The person she likes. The person she likes. Who has she liked?

When she was sixteen, someone appeared. He tutored her and was the only one who would come to see her when she was locked in the attic. He taught her how to do her homework and told her what the outside world was like. In that closed, dark house with no exit, he was the only window that let in light.

It symbolizes freedom.

"Meng Qing," Mu Siwan said hesitantly.