Slow to mature after marriage

Mu Siwan returned to her workstation and circled next Saturday on the calendar.

It's my teacher's 60th birthday, I need to buy a gift.

She stared at the date, then suddenly remembered something else.

She hasn't given Bo Yan the gift yet.

Mu Siwan turned her head to look at Xiao Qin, who was slacking off next to her.

"Xiao Qin".

Xiao Qin sat up straight with a start.

"Master, what is it?"

"I have a question for you."

Xiao Qin blinked and waited.

After a moment's thought, Mu Siwan carefully asked, "What kind of gift should I buy for a 28-year-old man who is around 189cm tall, has well-symmetrical shoulder blades, and a waist-to-hip ratio of 0.85?"

Xiao Qin's eyes lit up instantly.

"For whom? Master?" Xiao Qin shrieked, "So Master has such a great figure!"

Master?

Mu Siwan was taken aback when she heard this address.

That seems to be the name.

Xiao Qin leaned over, looking quite gossipy.

"Why did you suddenly decide to give your master a gift?"

Mu Siwan answered truthfully, "He gave me gold."

Xiao Qin's lips twitched.

"Give me gold... alright."

The tastes of the wealthy are truly different.

It seems that Master doesn't not love, but rather he loves in a different way.

Xiao Qin rested her chin on her hand, thought carefully for a moment, and then her eyes lit up. "Give myself to him, bandage myself up, and when my master comes back tonight, I'll jump out of the gift box to surprise him. That's how people do it online."

Mu Siwan disliked this approach, frowning as she corrected, "I am not a gift; I cannot be given away casually."

"……All right."

Xiao Qin was speechless at her serious demeanor.

"Okay, you're right." She cleared her throat. "So what does your master do for a living? That way I can help you think of something to send him."

Mu Siwan mentally searched through the name of Bo Yan Company.

"Starting a company."

"What company?"

"Yanhe International".

Xiao Qin was stunned.

"Yanhe International?" Her eyes widened. "That Yanhe International? The internet company? The legendary international giant?!"

Mu Siwan nodded.

Xiao Qin gasped.

The big shot was right next to me.

After discussing it with Xiao Qin for a long time, Mu Siwan decided to buy Bo Yan a suit.

The standard for domineering CEOs.

A few days later, the case of the floating corpse was closed. Mu Siwan went to the mall and, without much hesitation, picked out the most expensive suit for Bo Yan according to his size.

Mu Siwan had no idea how much money had increased in her bank account in the three years since she married Bo Yan.

In short, enough bones for her to buy an entire estate.

-

Mu Siwan had originally wanted to give him the suit.

But Bo Yan seemed particularly busy those days. He would only come back when she fell asleep, and he would be gone when she woke up. Only the creases on the other side of the bed proved that he had been back that night.

On Friday night, she decided to wait for him to come back.

The next day, she didn't have to go to work. She sat cross-legged in the living room and opened her sketchbook. Grace slid down from the sofa armrest, circled around her ankles twice, and finally sat cross-legged beside her, resting her head on her knees, quietly flicking her tongue.

Only one floor lamp was on in the living room, its dim light blending her and the snake's shadows together and projecting them onto the wall.

This is the scene that Bo Yan saw when he pushed the door open and came in.

My bones, which had been tired all day, suddenly felt a little looser.

He stood in the entryway, motionless.

Mu Siwan heard the noise and looked up.

"I'm back."

Her tone was flat; she was probably just stating the fact that he had returned.

Like warm water flowing over parched sand, Bo Yan's Adam's apple bobbed slightly, and he hummed in response.

-

Mu Siwan looked away and continued painting.

He casually hung the suit jacket he was carrying in the entryway, loosened his tie, walked over, and sat down cross-legged beside her.

Grace lifted her head from her lap, glanced at him, and then lazily lay back down.

He looked down at the sketchbook in her hand.

It's a drawing of a snake.

A coiled black-browed rat snake, its scales delicate and its posture languid, is Grace. Beside it, another small, slender snake is wrapped around a flower branch.

Both snakes were covered in strange patterns—not scales, nor a background, but as if they were growing out of their bodies.

Like vines, or some kind of ancient totem, it meanders along the snake's body, extending all the way to the edge of the paper.

"What is being drawn?"

Mu Siwan's pen never stopped.

"Grace and Xiaoqing."

Bo Yan looked at the small green snake, which was thin and small, wrapped around the flower branch, and its posture was a little restrained.

"What about the patterns?"

Mu Siwan paused with her pen, pointing to the patterns.

"This is another form of bone." She said seriously, "If bones could grow through the skin, this would probably look like it."

She pointed to the vine-like patterns wrapped around Grace's body.

"Grace is a mandala. Her spine bends vertebra by vertebra, and a flower blooms in each vertebra."

He then pointed to the fine cracks on Xiaoqing's body.

"Xiaoqing's is bamboo. When her broken ribs healed, they left these marks—segments, like bamboo joints."

She looked up at him, her eyes shining.

"Every wound has its own unique pattern. You can't see it after a person dies, but I want to draw it out."

With his hands casually resting behind him, Bo Yan glanced at the woman's serious profile and suddenly stopped resisting the strangely shaped bones in the house.

"And what about me?"

he asks.

She turned her head to look at him, a hint of doubt in her eyes.

He met her gaze, his tone casual, but his eyes held a hint of seriousness.

"If you were to draw me, what would my bones look like? And what kind of flower would bloom from them?"

Mu Siwan thought for a moment and then shook her head.

I still don't understand you.

She paused.

"So I don't know what kind of flower you'll bloom."

and--

Mu Siwan's brow twitched slightly.

She doesn't need to understand him.

As for what kind of flowers to bloom, that's his own business.

Bo Yan understood.

We don't talk about feelings, we don't interfere with each other, and we treat each other with respect.

He should be thanking his lucky stars for marrying such a well-behaved wife.

But the dissatisfaction in my heart was something I couldn't suppress.

His eyes dimmed slightly as he asked, "Finished drawing?"

Mu Siwan hummed in agreement and was about to get up to get the gift.

My wrist was suddenly grabbed.

She looked up and saw the man leaning down, his breath close to hers.

"Then, Mrs. Bo," he said slowly, his voice falling on her ear, "it's time to fulfill your marital duties."

The moment Mu Siwan's wrist was grabbed, she froze for a second.

She glanced down at the hand, then looked up at him.

Bo Yan's face was very close to hers, close enough that she could see something indescribable in his eyes.

It wasn't his usual casual smile, nor the occasional seriousness he showed, but a deep, dark color that she couldn't understand.

"Now?" she asked. "It's not Sunday."

"I didn't make it last time," Bo Yan said, "so I'm making up for it today."

As soon as he finished speaking, he put his hand on her waist and pulled her closer. His breath warmed her earlobe.

Her ears were burning.

He tilted his head and kissed that burning hot spot.

Mu Siwan's breath hitched, and the little logic in her mind began to tangle.

Bo Yan didn't give her time to sort things out.

He leaned down again and kissed her lips.