Slow to mature after marriage

"Hmm." She pointed to the other side of her neck, "There's another shallow cut here, it must have been from strangulation first, then with a rope. Two tools, two levels of force."

He stared at the spot where she was pointing for a few seconds.

"The technique was very skillful," he said.

She didn't reply, and continued pointing to the corpse's wrist.

"There are binding marks here, but the knots are no longer visible. Let's go back for further examination; we should be able to extract skin tissue from under the fingernails."

The police officer taking notes nearby quickly jotted them down.

The male police officer looked up and his gaze fell on her face.

She was wearing a mask, only her eyes were visible, which shone brightly in the flashlight beam.

"What should I call you?" he asked.

"Her surname is Mu." She stood up, took a step back, and let the forensic team lift the body onto a stretcher. "I'll submit the report to the city bureau tomorrow."

She turned and walked towards her colleague.

Meng Qing squatted down, watching the departing figure.

His surname is Mu.

They also happen to share the surname Mu.

A junior officer leaned over and asked, "Brother Meng, do you know him?"

He looked away without answering.

"Let's go."

-

"The sample from under the fingernail will be sent for testing tomorrow. I'll check the data again when I get back and include the shape of the ligature marks in the report tomorrow."

The young police officer next to her nodded: "Take care, Sister Mu."

She turned and walked to the side of the road.

After walking a few steps, she looked down at her phone.

3:10 a.m.

The on-site work is finished; the rest is all in the lab—we'll do it tomorrow.

The most important thing right now is that she can't get a taxi home.

Mu Siwan opened her phone and sent a message to her colleague: Have you left?

My colleague replied instantly: I just got on the bus. Where are you? Should I give you a ride home?

She looked up, about to reply to the message, when she suddenly saw the black Bentley not far away.

It remains in the same position.

It's the same car.

Bo Yan leaned against the hood of the car, his hands in his pockets, and looked up at her. The streetlights cast long shadows of him.

Mu Siwan stopped in her tracks as she walked toward her colleague.

She lowered her head and typed: No need, someone will answer.

She put away her phone and walked towards him.

-

"Why haven't they left yet?"

The wind was strong in the suburbs, making her hair disheveled, with a few strands sticking to her face.

Bo Yan stared at the stray strand of hair, recalling that night—he raised his hand to brush away the stray hairs near her lips, his fingertips accidentally brushing against that soft spot.

He looked away.

"I bet you'll be doing dissections late," he said. "At this hour, you might not be able to get a taxi."

He paused, then added another sentence.

"I can't just leave my wife at the autopsy site in the middle of the night and go back to sleep."

Mu Siwan opened her mouth, as if to say that a colleague could deliver it.

But when he met Bo Yan's eyes, deep in the night, he suddenly couldn't say what he was saying.

"Thank you," she said. "That's exactly what I needed."

Bo Yan's lips curled slightly.

"Get in the car."

-

The car drove smoothly into the night.

Mu Siwan leaned back in the passenger seat, her head slightly tilted towards the window, her breathing even. The refreshing scent of mint slowly filled the car, masking the faint, fishy smell she had brought back from the scene.

Bo Yan held the steering wheel with one hand and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

She was sleeping soundly. Her hair was a little messy from the wind, and a few stray strands fell across her cheeks, trembling gently with her breath.

He turned the air conditioner temperature up a little more.

The car was parked at the entrance of Muyan Garden.

Mu Siwan did not wake up.

Bo Yan turned off the stove and turned to look at her. She was curled up in the chair, fast asleep, her brows slightly relaxed and a slight smile still lingering at the corners of her mouth.

He got out of the car, walked around to the passenger side, and opened the car door.

The man leaned down, supporting her back with one hand and slipping the other under her knees.

Pick her up.

Her body was soft, and she snuggled closer to him, rubbing her face against his chest.

It's very light.

It was completely unlike his usual aloof and unapproachable demeanor.

When they carried Mu Siwan inside, Grace was curled up on the living room sofa. Hearing the noise, she raised her head and flicked her tongue.

Bo Yan ignored it and went straight upstairs.

He pushed open the bedroom door and placed her on the bed.

When she landed on the bed, her brow twitched, she turned over, and curled up in her usual position.

Quiet, obedient, and motionless.

He stood by the bed and stared at the silhouette for a while.

Realizing he had been staring for too long, he twitched his brow slightly, then turned and went to the bathroom.

-

Bo Yan walked out of the bathroom and found that Mu Siwan had already woken up.

She sat on the bed, wrapped in a blanket, her gaze fixed on something, as if lost in thought.

He paused in the act of drying his hair.

"woke up?"

Mu Siwan turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were a little unfocused, as if she wasn't fully awake yet.

The kind of half-dreaming, half-awake state.

She stared at him for a while, then suddenly spoke.

"don't want."

Bo Yan looked at her.

"Don't want what?"

She lowered her eyes, curled herself up, and shrank into a small ball.

"Don't lock me up," she said. "I'll be very obedient."

The hand that was drying her hair froze in mid-air.

Bo Yan stared at her.

"Who's going to lock you up?"

Mu Siwan did not continue the topic.

She lowered her eyes and sniffed her cuffs. The faint scent she had brought back from the river still clung to her skin, becoming even more pronounced after being steamed by the hot water.

She frowned.

"Smelly."

After uttering that one word, she threw off the covers, got out of bed, and walked barefoot towards the bathroom.

The door closed.

The sound of water could be heard.

Liu Boyan stood there, staring at the door.

Thoughtful.

-

The next morning, sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the bedroom.

Mu Siwan opened her eyes, stared at the ceiling for two seconds, and slowly regained her senses.

This time there was no sound of water in the bathroom.

She sat up and glanced to the side—the other side of the bed was empty, and the blankets were neatly folded.

She got out of bed, changed her clothes, and went downstairs.

-

Inside the restaurant, Bo Yan was already seated at the table.

He was wearing a light gray, thin cashmere sweater today, the fabric soft, the neckline loose, revealing a glimpse of his collarbone. The sleeves were casually rolled up to his forearms, and there was a coffee in front of him, but he didn't drink it, just staring at her.

Mu Siwan sat down opposite him and picked up her chopsticks.

"How did you sleep last night?" he asked.

She paused in her porridge-drinking motion, seemingly surprised that he would ask that.

"Not good." She thought for a moment, "I had a bad dream."

Bo Yan lowered his head and scooped up a spoonful of porridge, but didn't put it in his mouth.

"What kind of dream? Did you dream that you were locked up?"

Mu Siwan looked up at him.

How did you know?

She paused for a second, then suddenly remembered the floating corpse from last night—the ligature marks were pointing upwards, the hands were bound, and there was skin tissue left from the struggle under the fingernails.

That person was also imprisoned before he died.

Unable to break free, unable to struggle.

She looked up at Bo Yan, her usually cold eyes suddenly brightening.

"Thanks."

She put down her chopsticks, got up, and ran towards the door.

"I'm going to write a report."

Bo Yan leaned back in his chair, watching the figure disappear through the door. Half a bowl of porridge and a single untouched dish remained on the table.

Dumbfounding.

It's fine if it's just a dream.

The man looked away and gestured with his chin towards Aunt Chen.

"Aunt Chen, please pack this up and give it to Madam."