Slow to mature after marriage

Three days later, at John F. Kennedy International Airport in New York.

Bo Yan sat in the VIP waiting room, scrolling through his tablet, the screen displaying an unfinished financial report. Wang Jin sat opposite him, holding his phone and making a call, a forced smile playing on his lips.

"We've arrived, we're about to board... Okay, I know, I brought it for you... Okay, you can check it when you get back."

After hanging up the phone, Wang Jin looked up and met Bo Yan's gaze.

"My wife," Wang Jin said with an awkward laugh, "is urging me to go back."

Bo Yan didn't speak, his gaze returning to the tablet.

Wang Jin hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Mr. Bo, should we tell your wife in advance that you're going home today?"

Bo Yan looked up at him.

"There's no need."

He looked down and continued reading the financial report.

Wang Jin wisely shut up.

The waiting room quieted down, with only occasional announcements.

Bo Yan stared at the numbers on the screen for a long time, but none of them went in.

As if possessed, he picked up his phone and opened the chat window.

The last message was a video call record from three days ago.

He typed a few words: I'll be home at nine o'clock tonight.

I stared at that line of text for a few seconds.

Delete it.

Retype: I'm going home tonight.

Deleted again.

He tucked his phone back onto his lap and leaned back in his chair.

Forget it.

Although it is a husband's duty to inform his wife of his whereabouts.

However, his wife was a human bot.

She would only complain that he was delaying her dissection.

An announcement came over the loudspeaker, informing passengers of boarding.

Bo Yan stood up, picked up his coat, and walked out.

Wang Jin followed behind, secretly glancing at Bo Yan's profile, which exuded indifference even in the strands of his hair. Remembering the old lady's instructions to him, he sighed quietly in his heart.

It seems that even after spending several weeks together in the country, President Bo and his wife... are still not very familiar with each other.

-

By the time Mu Siwan arrived home, it was already very late at night.

Today's case is a bit strange. The deceased was a middle-aged man living alone, who had been dead for three days when his neighbors found him. There were no external injuries or signs of poisoning at the scene, and the body was in a natural position with a calm expression—it appeared to be a sudden death.

But when she opened her chest cavity, she discovered a problem.

There were several extremely fine burns on the surface of the deceased's heart, as if it had been burned from the inside. She took a sample and sent it for testing. When the results came out, she stared at the report for a long time—the deceased had been using a pacemaker, and the pacemaker malfunctioned, causing an electrical overload that directly led to cardiac arrest.

The killer didn't need to get close to him; he just needed to tamper with his pacemaker before he left on his long trip.

She stood in front of the autopsy table, facing the already stitched-up body, and remained silent for a long time.

-

Rinse with hot water to gradually wash away the smell of disinfectant.

Mu Siwan stood under the shower with her eyes closed, her mind still replaying the case—pacemaker, electric shock overload, cardiac arrest. Who was the killer? How did they do it? What was their motive?

I can't think of anything.

She opened her eyes and turned off the water.

I dried myself off, changed into my pajamas, and went outside.

-

Mu Siwan lay down on the bed and closed her eyes.

My body is tired, but my mind is still working.

As I spun around, my consciousness began to blur.

Just as she was falling asleep, she suddenly realized something was wrong.

There was another person breathing in the bed.

Very light, very close.

Before she could even open her eyes, her wrist was grabbed.

In the darkness, my waist was embraced, and warm lips pressed against mine.

Mu Siwan's mind cleared instantly, and her memories rewound—the corpse from that afternoon, the sudden cardiac arrest, the silent death.

Instinct precedes reason.

She raised her foot and kicked him hard.

Ankle was firmly held by a hand.

A low laugh, tinged with helplessness, came from the darkness.

"Is this an attempt to murder her husband, Mrs. Bo?"

The refreshing scent of mint wafted into my nostrils.

A familiar scent.

Mu Siwan's tense muscles relaxed inch by inch.

She didn't open her eyes, but raised her hand and touched the back of the man's neck. Her fingertips touched warm skin, where the pulse beat strong and steady.

Live.

And it's very healthy.

"Why are you back so soon?" Mu Siwan's voice was still hoarse from just waking up. "Weren't you supposed to be back in half a month?"

Is it because they think he came back too early?

Bo Yan did not answer.

The next second, he leaned down and bit her lip in retaliation.

It wasn't a kiss, it was a bite.

It carried a hint of viciousness.

Mu Siwan winced in pain, frowned, and tried to push him away, but he gripped her wrist even tighter.

He released her lips, his voice low and clear in the darkness.

"What's wrong? Is there some other man hiding in the house? Can't I come back?"

Mu Siwan was stunned for a moment.

"No," she said, "it was just too sudden, I was startled."

Bo Yan leaned over her and stared at her face for a few seconds.

Were you scared?

He had been traveling all day and landed close to ten o'clock. He opened the bedroom door, took a shower, lay down, and was fast asleep when he felt a familiar breathing rhythm beside the bed—the smell of disinfectant, steady breathing—it was his wife.

Bo Yan instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her.

Then she almost kicked him to death.

Bo Yan reached out and turned on the bedside lamp.

The warm yellow light spread out and shone on Mu Siwan's face.

Her hair was messy, her eyes were still dazed from just waking up, and her lips were a little red from being bitten by him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Bo Yan spoke, his tone softening considerably, tinged with a hint of helplessness. "I was exhausted after a long day, and had just fallen asleep when I sensed someone returning. I didn't think much of it, and then..."

Bo Yan paused, looking at her with a half-smile.

"I should be the one who was scared, right? If I hadn't dodged quickly, I would have lost my manhood."

Mu Siwan fell silent.

"Sorry, it was just an instinctive reaction," she said. "When someone suddenly approaches, my body automatically goes to defend itself."

Bo Yan stared at her for a while.

"Okay." He nodded, then asked, "Why don't you turn on the lights when you shower?"

The first night he came back, the man was already in bed, but she was too oblivious to notice.

It's okay if it's him, but if it were someone else...

Bo Yan frowned deeply.

"I'm used to night vision," Mu Siwan explained to him.

"Excellent night vision?"

She nodded.

"Unusual."

Bo Yan reached out and turned the light off again.

Darkness enveloped her again, and Mu Siwan's pupils adjusted in an instant.

She could see him clearly.

The man leaned over her, his features hidden in the shadows, a faint glint in his eyes as he stared intently at her. His shirt collar had come undone from her earlier tug-of-war, revealing a glimpse of his collarbone and the scratch she had left behind.

"Then let me see," Bo Yan said softly, his breath tickling her ear, "just how good is it?"

Before she could answer, the man's kiss landed on her lips.

It wasn't the angry bite from before, but a genuine kiss—warm, moist, with the lingering coolness of a mint. He kissed her slowly, gently rubbing her lips together.

Mu Siwan's breathing began to quicken.

He felt it, and his thumb gently caressed her waist, as if to soothe her or to tease her.

"It's not Sunday today." Mu Siwan turned her head away, squeezing out a few words with unsteady breath.

Bo Yan paused for a moment.

"I went on a business trip and missed two Sundays," he said, his lips close to her earlobe, his voice husky. "I have to make up for them."

She grabbed his collar.

"I have to go to work tomorrow..."

"Just once." Bo Yan interrupted her, his kisses sliding down her earlobe, onto her chin, her neck, and onto her clean collarbone.

She tightened her grip on his collar, her knuckles pressing against his chest, but she didn't push him away.

His breath was incredibly hot.

The man's rough palm rested on her side, his fingertips tracing patterns on her skin as if he were tracing something.

Mu Siwan's body tensed up involuntarily, but softened inch by inch in his tender kisses.

"Don't be nervous," he whispered, his lips brushing against the corner of her lips. "It's not night vision, okay? Then look at me."

"Look at your husband, Mu Siwan."