Slow to mature after marriage

Mu Siwan nodded.

"Such a wealthy family, you won't be mistreated if you marry into them, will you?" She lowered her voice, her speech quickening. "I recently watched a TV series, and that rich mother-in-law in it would throw checks at people and demand they break up with them, saying things like 'You're not good enough for our family'—Xiao Wan, you won't encounter something like that, will you?"

Looking at her teacher's wife's face, which was full of concern, Mu Siwan felt a warmth in her heart.

The teacher's wife wasn't from the Mu family; they had no blood relation and no legal obligations to each other. But at this moment, this middle-aged woman, wearing an apron and with flour still on her hands, was genuinely worried about her.

"Don't worry, Master's wife," Mu Siwan said softly, "Nothing like that happened. Bo Yan's family treats me very well, and I'm doing very well."

The master's wife breathed a sigh of relief, patted the back of her hand, and her eyes were a little red.

"That's good. I'm relieved that you're doing well. You're a child who carries a lot of worries, and sometimes your master and I want to help you, but we don't know how. If you've been wronged, don't bear it all by yourself. Talk to your master's wife and your master. Although we may not be very capable, we can still support you."

"...Okay." Mu Siwan forced a smile, her eyes a little red.

On the other hand, the atmosphere in the living room wasn't as lively.

Li Jiliang sat in a rattan chair, holding a teacup in his hand, the lid gently skimming the foam off the surface, the tea flavor neither salty nor bland.

"Business people are busy. They spend more time traveling abroad on business trips than others, sometimes for as long as three years."

Li Jiliang still harbors resentment over the fact that Bo Yanyi went abroad for three years.

He raised his eyes and said coldly, "In our field of forensic medicine, after three years, the body is reduced to bones."

It's harsh to say, but undeniable. For three years, he did indeed leave Mu Siwan alone in the country. Whatever the reason, the facts speak for themselves.

"You're right." Bo Yan didn't argue, his voice lowered, carrying a rare seriousness. "I didn't do well in the first three years. It was my fault for leaving Si Wan alone in the country. It won't happen again."

Li Jiliang snorted: "Of course it's because you did a bad job. What could my precious disciple have done wrong?"

However, the aggressive tone wasn't as strong anymore.

Having worked as a forensic pathologist for most of his life, Li Jiliang had seen far too many people. Some were all talk and no action, but their eyes were full of calculation; some were not good with words, but their eyes were clear. The young man in front of him had an extraordinary air about him, his eyes were calm and steady, he spoke without hesitation or evasion, and he admitted his mistakes quickly.

Coming from a prominent family, his upbringing is evident. As for his character—so far, he seems fairly upright.

During the meal, Mu Siwan sat down next to Bo Yan. She subtly reached out and shook his hand.

My palm was burning hot.

The temperature has risen again.

Mu Siwan's fingertips twitched slightly, but she quickly steadied them and asked in a low voice, "Are you alright?"

Bo Yan grasped her hand in return, gently rubbing his thumb against the back of her hand, smiling, his voice so low only the two of them could hear: "You can still hold on."

Mu Siwan glanced at him but didn't expose him.

After lunch, the two stayed a little longer before getting up to say goodbye.

-

I just closed the door.

Bo Yan's hand almost immediately landed on Mu Siwan's shoulder.

The tall man, nearly 1.9 meters, leaned in, and the straight-backed, composed man from before vanished instantly, replaced by a feverish, dizzy patient who was staggering as he walked.

Mu Siwan reached out and put her arm around his waist, supporting most of his weight.

"Weren't you putting on quite a show just now?" she whispered.

Bo Yan buried his face in the crook of her neck, his voice muffled: "...Stop talking, let's go."

The two of them moved downstairs step by step.

The stairwell was dimly lit, with motion-activated lights turning on and off intermittently. Mu Siwan walked slowly, Bo Yan leaning on her shoulder, his hot breath brushing against her neck, burning like a small ball of fire.

Walk to the corner on the second floor.

A figure walked up from below, carrying a briefcase, his steps unhurried.

Mu Siwan raised her head and met a pair of familiar eyes.

Meng Qing.

The three people stood still in the stairwell.

The motion-activated lights were on, illuminating everyone's faces clearly. Bo Yan leaned on Mu Siwan's shoulder, his eyes half-closed, his face flushed an unnatural red. Mu Siwan had her arm around his waist, their posture natural and intimate.

Meng Qing's gaze lingered on them for a moment before shifting away.

Is my godfather home?

Mu Siwan paused for a moment before realizing that he was calling for Li Jiliang.

"Yes," she said. "I just finished eating."

Meng Qing nodded: "I've come to ask him about a case."

Bo Yan slowly opened his eyes, stepped aside to make way for him to go upstairs, and subtly pulled Mu Siwan closer to him.

"Then you should go quickly." His voice was muffled and nasal, but his tone was polite in a somewhat deliberate way. "Don't waste your time chatting idly."

The footsteps rose higher and further away.

Bo Yan buried his face in Mu Siwan's neck again, his hot breath spraying onto the skin above her collarbone, making her flinch slightly.

"Meng Qing calls your master 'godfather'?" His voice was muffled, with a sticky, feverish quality.

"Hmm." Mu Siwan reached out and touched his forehead, her mind uneasy. "His parents and master were comrades-in-arms."

"He's got a godfather now," Bo Yan snorted, a hint of sourness in his voice. "You've been by your master's side for so many years, and you only just ran into him this year?"

"Yes, he didn't work in Beijing before."

Bo Yan's heart was burning with jealousy, which seemed to be seeping from every pore. He gave a cold snort, the sound muffled coming from the crook of her neck.

"What a tragic love story of lovers missing each other."

Mu Siwan frowned, feeling the man's body growing increasingly hot, and finally lost patience to argue with him about these trivial matters.

"Stop talking nonsense." Her tone was harsh. "Your temperature is too high; you seem a bit dead."

Bo Yan: "..."

He looked up at her in disbelief.

died?

He was angered by his love rival.

wood.

Mu Siwan is such a blockhead.

Bo Yan highly suspects that if he were ever angered to death by his love rival, his wife would probably just touch his stiff corpse and say indifferently, "Bo Yan, you seem to be getting a little hard."

There's really no other way.

-

hospital.

Bo Yan leaned against the hospital bed, an IV drip in the back of her hand. Her temperature had slowly dropped from 39.2 to 37.8. The fever hadn't completely subsided, but she was mostly conscious.

Mu Siwan sat on the edge of the bed, holding a book titled "Atlas of Forensic Pathology" and flipping through it intently. Occasionally, she would glance up at the IV drip level, calculating how much longer it would take to finish.

Bo Yan's phone vibrated.

One message after another popped up, all "friendly greetings" from those cronies. I don't know who leaked the news, but they said that President Bo had been burned into a stupor and was lying in the hospital.

Zhou Shen: [President Bo, I heard you have a fever of 40 degrees Celsius? Will you still recognize me?]

Bo Yan rolled his eyes but didn't reply.

Xu Qishan's message was mixed in with a bunch of gloating greetings, and the tone was obviously different - this guy had recently gotten back together with Lin Qing and was riding high, even the tone of his message had a saccharine sweetness that made him want to punch someone.

Xu Qishan: [Yan-ge, I heard you have a fever? Is your wife taking care of you? Tsk tsk, being sick is good, at least you have someone to look after you.]

Bo Yan stared at the line of text for two seconds, then suddenly remembered that on White Valentine's Day, Xu Qishan cried his eyes out in the club, saying that Lin Qing treated him as a substitute for her white moonlight.

White Moonlight, Substitute, how did Xu Qishan deal with that White Moonlight?

After a moment's thought, Bo Yan opened the private chat window with Xu Qishan.

[Bo Yan]: Has your girlfriend forgotten her white moonlight?

The reply came very quickly.

[Xu Qishan]: No. But what woman doesn't have a white moonlight in her heart? I've decided to be magnanimous and not hold a grudge against a dead man.

Bo Yan's eyelids twitched when he saw the words "dead people".

He thought for a moment, then typed another line.

[Bo Yan]: What if the white moonlight is not dead and keeps hanging around in front of her?

The other end sensed something was wrong.

The message "The other party is typing" flashed several times before a single line of text finally appeared at the top of the dialog box.

[Xu Qishan]: Brother Yan, why are you asking this? You haven't encountered this situation before, have you?

Bo Yan typed without expression.

[Bo Yan]: No, just asking.

[Xu Qishan]: Don't give me that. When have you ever proactively asked me about my love life? What's going on? Does your wife have someone else in her heart?

Bo Yan stared at the words "My sister-in-law has someone else in her heart," his knuckles tightening slightly.