Slow to mature after marriage

"I received a scholarship to attend university. And..." Mu Sigui said urgently, eager to prove her worth, "I can support myself through school. I've been trying to invest and start my own business, and although I don't earn as much as my brother-in-law, the income is quite substantial, and I can support myself."

"Sister, wait until I earn more, wait until I'm a little older—"

He paused, the ugly smile still lingering on his lips, and tried to pull it upwards again.

"They can become your family, they can become your support."

Mu Siwan stood there, looking at the boy in front of her who was a head taller than her.

A gust of wind blew, causing the shadow of the sycamore tree to sway, landing on his shoulder before sliding off. Standing there, he resembled a newly grown tree, not yet strong enough, but already striving to reach greater heights.

"Sister," he said, "you don't need to support me. I'm all grown up now."

Mu Siwan finally regained her voice.

"...Who said I was going to take care of you?" she said, her voice a little muffled. "You're all grown up now, I can't afford to take care of you."

Mu Sigui understood her subtext and genuinely smiled, "Then I'll take care of you."

"You're still in school, what are you raising?"

"I won't be attending anymore soon."

"All done."

"……good."

-

Two months later.

The nationally sensational "City Construction Group Case" opened in the First Intermediate People's Court of Beijing.

Mu Cheng stood in the dock, his hair mostly white, his facial injuries long since healed, but his once spirited appearance seemed hollowed out, leaving only a shriveled shell. The prosecutor's voice echoed through the courtroom as he read the indictment, each charge like a heavy hammer blow—illegal demolition, major accident, falsifying financial statements, fraudulently obtaining bank loans, illegally absorbing public deposits…

Multiple offenses will be punished concurrently.

Death penalty, suspended for two years.

The moment the judge struck the gavel, Mu Cheng's shoulders slumped. He slowly turned his head, his gaze sweeping across the gallery.

It's empty.

No one came for him.

Xu Ruolin didn't come. Meng Wan didn't come. Mu Sigui didn't come.

The "substitute daughter" he raised for over a decade will not come either.

He suddenly smiled, a very unpleasant smile, a twitch at the corners of his mouth, something swirling in his eyes. He lowered his head, staring at the cold handcuffs on his wrists, his shoulders beginning to tremble.

Of course, this is a story.

At this moment, Bo Yan was sitting lazily in the police station, as relaxed and at ease as if he were at home.

He stared intently at Meng Qing.

He was trying to find something about that cold face that might appeal to Mu Siwan—her eyebrows and eyes? Not particularly striking. Her demeanor? Cold and aloof, like a stone. Her character? Tsk, she looked more like a homewrecker trying to steal someone else's boyfriend.

I searched for a long time but couldn't find it.

Meng Qing felt a chill run down his spine from his gaze. He finally looked up and said expressionlessly, "You can leave now."

As Bo Yan said, he has a very capable team of lawyers who can turn black into white.

The charge of intentional injury brought against him by Mu Cheng is completely irrelevant given his own unclear innocence.

Just as he finished speaking, Bo Yan's phone rang. He glanced down at it—it was a work call. But he waved his phone, a slight smile playing on his lips, and said slowly, "I have to go. I've been out too long; my wife's been nagging me."

Yanhe International.

The complete collapse of the Urban Construction Group has sent shockwaves through the business world. The Mu family and the Bo family used to have close and intertwined ties. Now that Mu Cheng has fallen, the ripple effects are like dominoes falling – Yanhe International's stock has fallen for three consecutive days, wiping out hundreds of millions in market value.

Those uncles, who were always eager to cause trouble, finally caught him red-handed. The meeting room was filled with shouting and spittle flying. Some were slamming their fists on the table, others were throwing documents, and still others were pointing their fingers at him and yelling that he was "young and impetuous and didn't know his place." Each of them was louder than the last.

Bo Yan leaned back in his chair, his expression remaining unchanged throughout, only saying at the end, "Finished?"

The meeting room fell silent.

"The meeting is adjourned after that."

He stood up and walked out first.

-

After leaving the conference room, Bo Yan leaned back in his office chair with a somber expression and rubbed his temples.

The image of those old men spitting wildly is still swirling in my mind, buzzing like a swarm of flies.

"Am I really getting old, that's why they're taking advantage of me like this?"

"...Huh?" Wang Jin looked up in bewilderment. "President Bo, you're joking. You're only twenty-eight years old. Of course, you can't be considered 'old'."

Bo Ning said I'm getting old.

Wang Jin fell silent.

If you insist on comparing yourself to a twenty-year-old girl, then of course you're old and withered. He dared not say that.

Bo Yan clicked his tongue lightly, annoyed: "Spending every day with that bunch of old geezers, I feel like I'm being tainted by their old-fashioned smell."

He paused for a moment, and a thought suddenly popped into his mind—when Mu Siwan and Meng Qing met, one was sixteen years old and the other was eighteen.

Bo Yan scoffed inwardly. Truly, she was at the prime of her youth.

My phone vibrated.

[Bo Ning]: Bro, can you transfer me some more pocket money? My idol needs me!

Bo Yan stared at the line of text for two seconds, then twitched the corner of his mouth.

[Bo Yan]: How old is your idol?

[Bo Ning]: Forever 18~

[Bo Yan]: Are there any idols who are 28 years old?

[Bo Ning]: Twenty-eight years old is old, and he's still secretly supporting his sister-in-law behind my back. Who would like an old person?

Bo Yan stared at the screen and typed a line of text with a blank expression.

[Bo Yan]: You've lost all your allowance this year.

[Bo Ning]: !!! Brother!!! I was wrong!!! You'll always be eighteen!!! Forever!!! Eighteen!!!

Back at Muyan Garden.

Mu Siwan nestled quietly on the sofa, a book spread across her lap, her hair cascading over her shoulders, edged in a warm yellow by the floor lamp. Grace coiled at her feet, its tail occasionally swishing lazily.

Bo Yan changed his shoes and walked over. He leaned over from behind the sofa, wrapped his arms around her, and rested his chin on her shoulder, gently rubbing against her.

"What are you looking at?"

Mu Siwan closed the book, turning the cover towards him—"Atlas of Forensic Pathology." Second edition, so thick it could be used as a brick, with a few lines of small print and a diagram of skeletal structure printed on the cover.

She looked up at him, raised her hand, and slowly smoothed the furrowed brows of his face. Tilting her head, she didn't mention Mu Cheng, but only asked him, "You froze Bo Ning's card again?"

Bo Yan's lips tightened: "Yes. She deserves it."

He paused, then added, "Did she message you to complain?"

"No." Mu Siwan shook her head. "She sent me pictures of the boys she likes, wanting me to—"

She pondered for a moment, and in Bo Ning's words, it was—

"Pick him, invest in him."