Slow to mature after marriage

Bo Yan's forehead twitched.

"Who do you pick?" he enunciated, emphasizing each word, "An eighteen-year-old boy?"

Mu Siwan nodded, completely unaware of the sarcastic tone and jealousy in the man's voice.

"You know what, his body is still—"

"What?"

"Quite elastic." Mu Siwan carefully recalled the videos Bo Ning sent her and commented, "The muscle fibers are very elastic, the subcutaneous fat is thin, and the bone structure is well-proportioned. From a forensic perspective, this body type has excellent impact resistance—"

Bo Yan didn't let her finish speaking.

He pulled her from the sofa into his arms, lowered his head, and bit her lower lip. It wasn't hard, but it carried a hint of punitive force; his teeth rubbed against her soft lips, and he licked them with his tongue.

Mu Siwan winced in pain, let out a muffled groan, and raised her hand to push his shoulder.

Bo Yan didn't loosen his grip; instead, he held her by the back of her neck, pressing his thumb against the hollow behind her ear, pulling her closer to him.

"Do you prefer an eighteen-year-old's body?" The man's voice was low, close to her lips, his breath hot. "Hmm?"

Mu Siwan blinked, finally realizing that his emotions were off again.

"...I'm talking about the elasticity of his muscles."

"I'm asking you," Bo Yan persisted, "Do you prefer someone eighteen?"

Mu Siwan stared at him with a slightly bewildered look, then reached out and cupped his face, her thumb stroking the small, hard bone at the jawline as she patiently explained to him.

"From an objective point of view, eighteen years old is indeed the golden age of human physical development."

"Muscle elasticity, soft tissue water content, and metabolic rate—all these are advantages for eighteen-year-olds." Mu Siwan paused, then added, "This is common sense in physiology."

Bo Yan stared at her, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"Mu Siwan".

"Um."

"You did this on purpose, didn't you?"

Mu Siwan blinked, looking completely innocent: "I'm just stating the facts."

Bo Yan lowered his head and gently bit her lip, not hard, with a hint of helplessness, before pulling her into his arms.

"What a blockhead." The voice was helpless and muffled. "Blockhead, can't you tell I'm jealous?"

Not right.

Her relationship with Bo Yan is really strange right now.

Mu Siwan was completely enveloped in his embrace, and for a moment her heart skipped a beat.

She should push him away. She should reiterate those three principles. She should say, "Bo Yan, what we're doing is against our agreement."

But she didn't.

She simply nestled quietly in his arms, listening to the strong heartbeat in his chest, hugged him back, and slowly closed her eyes.

-

bedroom.

When Mu Siwan came out of the shower, her hair was still wet, and water droplets dripped from the ends of her hair onto the shoulder of her pajamas, leaving a small dark stain. She sat down at the dressing table, picked up a towel to dry her hair, and her phone screen lit up.

A series of messages popped up next to Bo Ning's profile picture, the last one accompanied by a video.

The video cover features a silver-haired boy standing in the center of a stage.

[Bo Ning]: Aww, sister-in-law! Let me show you my newest idol's stage performance! It's amazing!

【Bo Ning】: An eighteen-year-old's body looks beautiful, hehe.

Mu Siwan originally didn't want to watch it.

But... at eighteen, with silver hair. She remembered that Bo Yan had mentioned before that he had also dyed his hair silver when he was eighteen.

As if possessed, Mu Siwan clicked the button.

The video begins to play. A silver-haired boy dances on stage, his movements nimble and precise, each turn exuding the lightness and exuberance unique to youth.

As Mu Siwan dried her hair, she casually glanced around and couldn't help but wonder: Did Bo Yan look like this when he was eighteen?

Most likely not, he's probably very arrogant and wicked.

Mu Siwan was staring intently at the screen when a hand reached out from behind her, pinched the edge of the phone with two fingers, and pulled it from her palm.

The screen was still lit, and the silver-haired boy made a heart shape with his hands towards the camera.

Tsk.

What's with the slut?

Bo Yan tossed his phone aside, then expressionlessly pressed the lock screen button, unlocked his phone, and sent a voice message to Bo Ning. His voice was low and clearly impatient.

"Bo Ning, try sending another random card to your sister-in-law. I'll donate all your allowance for this year, next year, and the year after."

Send voice message. Power off.

He placed his phone face down on the dressing table, turned around, braced his arms on either side of the chair, and wrapped Mu Siwan between the chair back and himself.

The man had just finished showering and was only wearing pajama bottoms. Water droplets were still dripping down his collarbone. The light fell on his shoulders and back, outlining the smooth lines of his muscles—not the thin, underdeveloped lines of a teenager, but the contours honed by the years and self-discipline of an adult man. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, and the curve of his shoulder blades when his arms were outstretched resembled a fully drawn bow.

Pleasant to the eye.

"Silver hair, eighteen years old," the man leaned down to look at her, speaking softly, his gaze lingering on her face, "Do you like her? She's pretty?"

"Prettier than me?"

Bo Yan's kiss landed, with an irresistible force. Mu Siwan was stunned by his kiss, her fingers gripping his collar until her knuckles turned white.

"certainly--"

Mu Siwan slowly opened her mouth, wanting to say, "Of course not." But Bo Yan had already misunderstood her pause. He thought Mu Siwan still liked eighteen-year-old boys, so the light in his eyes completely darkened, his hand slid down from her waist, scooped her up from the chair, turned her around and pressed her onto the bed.

The mattress sank in. Wet hair lay on the pillow, water droplets seeping into the light-colored pillowcase, spreading into a small dark stain.

He released her lips, his kisses traveling down her body, slowly and deliberately grinding against her with control—he knew where she was most sensitive, what kind of pressure would make her breathing heavy, and when to stop and when to go in.

This is a skill that only comes with age 28.

"Mu Siwan".

"Hmm..." Mu Siwan's voice was already unsteady.

"You just said that an eighteen-year-old's body is better."

Mu Siwan ran her fingers through his hair, her breathing becoming erratic.

"That's... common sense in physiology."

"Common sense?" Bo Yan chuckled softly, his voice muffled in the crook of her neck, tinged with a hint of gritted teeth. "Then I'll teach you a lesson."

The man's kisses continued downwards until they landed on a certain spot.

Mu Siwan's heart skipped a beat.

"Thin inkstone—"

She tried to stop it.

"Calling my husband doesn't work."

The man pinched her thigh and lifted her up. Her black hair was wet and soft, and Mu Siwan couldn't help but grab it, her erection becoming unbearable.

The man's voice was muffled.

Tonight I'll let you compare the common sense of an eighteen-year-old with the practical experience of a twenty-eight-year-old—which is better?