Slow to mature after marriage

In the living room, the old lady invited them to sit down, her eyes sweeping over the two of them before she spoke with a smile.

"The designer has finalized the pattern for the wedding dress; all that's left is the final measurements." She paused, then added, "You two go upstairs and take each other's measurements, making sure to be careful."

She handed over the measuring tape.

Bo Yan reached out and took it.

The old lady's gaze swept around again, and she smiled meaningfully.

"Take your measurements first, no rush."

-

The two went upstairs one after the other.

At the end of the second-floor corridor is a small hall, usually used for drinking tea and entertaining guests, and occasionally as a place for taking measurements and making clothes. The old lady had it tidied up; a soft couch was placed by the window, and a full-length mirror stood in the corner. Sunlight streamed in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting warm light on the floor.

Bo Yan pushed open the door and stepped aside to let her go in first.

Mu Siwan went inside, stood by the window, and looked at the artificial hill and pond outside.

The door closed behind him.

Bo Yan leaned against the door frame, twirling the soft ruler in his hand, but didn't go inside.

Until Mu Siwan turned around and looked at him.

"I know your measurements, there's no need to measure," she said. "You can just measure me."

She's always very accurate at spotting living people.

Moreover, she had not only visually assessed Bo Yan's work.

Bo Yan didn't say anything, but walked over.

I stopped in front of her and looked down at her.

The sunlight shone from the side, turning her eyelashes a light gold.

"Turn around," the man said calmly.

Mu Siwan turned around, her back to him.

The measuring tape came around from behind and touched her waist.

The man's fingers held the ends of the measuring tape, bringing it together at her waist. Through her thin spring clothes, Mu Siwan could feel the warmth of his fingertips.

The room was very quiet.

It was so quiet that they could hear each other breathing.

His breath fell on the back of her neck. Hot, burning, it brushed against her skin again and again.

A thin layer of red uncontrollably appeared on the side of her neck.

Move the measuring tape upwards.

Broad shoulders. Her shoulders were much narrower than his; as the measuring tape passed over her collarbone, his fingertips brushed against that protrusion.

He paused for a moment.

His gaze lingered for a moment on the spot where he had touched it.

Then continue as if nothing had happened.

Arm length. He stood behind her, his arm encircling her side, from her wrist to her shoulder. They were so close, close enough to feel the warmth of his chest against her back through the fabric.

The only sound in the room was the occasional rustling of a measuring tape against fabric.

The last item.

chest circumference.

Bo Yan stood behind her, the soft ruler coming around from the front, circling her side, and gathering in front of her chest.

Mu Siwan paused for a moment.

His arm was around her, as if loosely embracing her from behind.

The back of my fingers brushed against the tape measure as it was being retracted.

It's very light.

Both of them stopped in their tracks.

The air seemed to freeze for a second.

"……Feel sorry."

The voice was low, falling into her ear.

Mu Siwan was still trying to remain calm.

As those two words fell, my ears burned uncontrollably.

"fine."

She replied as casually as possible.

The measuring tape was finally put away.

Sunlight shone between the two people, casting their shadows on the floor, where they overlapped.

"Grandma arranged an afternoon flight," Bo Yan suddenly said. "To Austria, to take wedding photos."

She paused for a moment, then turned to look at him.

He stood there, still holding the soft ruler in his hand, looking down at her.

"afternoon?"

"Hmm." He paused, "A private jet, it'll only take a few hours."

She nodded.

"it is good."

She turned around and walked past him.

He pushed open the door and left.

Bo Yan stood still and glanced down at the numbers on the measuring tape.

Eighty-four.

The man gently traced the numbers with his fingertips, his eyes darkening.

He remembers more than just numbers.

-

The private plane was parked on a small helipad on the east side of Chengyuan.

The fuselage was pure white, with the Yanhe logo painted on the tail, gleaming faintly with a metallic sheen in the afternoon sunlight. The gangway was in place, and the cabin door was open.

Bo Yan walked in front, with Mu Siwan following half a step behind him.

As she climbed the gangway, she glanced inside—off-white leather seats, dark wood trim, and a round table by the window. The cabin was spacious and quiet, and there was no one else there.

Bo Yan sat down by the window, casually unbuttoning a button on his collar. Mu Siwan sat down opposite him and fastened her seatbelt.

A slight push-back sensation came during takeoff, and the clear sky outside the window grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared beneath the clouds.

Mu Siwan originally just wanted to close her eyes for a while.

After the plane stabilized, she leaned back in her seat and stared at the drifting clouds outside the window for a while.

My eyelids gradually slumped down.

I don't know when I fell asleep.

When I opened my eyes again, the clouds outside the window were still white, and the sunlight was still dazzling.

She moved and realized that she was covered with a thin blanket.

Light gray, soft and thin.

She paused for a moment, then looked up at the other side.

Bo Yan leaned back in his chair, holding a magazine in his hand, his gaze fixed on the view outside the window.

She folded the blanket neatly and placed it aside.

"Thanks."

Bo Yan turned another page of the magazine without changing his expression, not looking at her at all.

"Of course."

-

It was already evening when the plane landed in Salzburg.

The setting sun bathed the entire city in gold. The car that picked us up drove through the old town, up the mountain road, and finally stopped in front of a castle.

Mu Siwan got out of the car and looked up.

The castle stands halfway up the mountain, its stone walls bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. Its towering towers and intricately carved window frames make the entire building look as if it had been cut from a fairytale book.

She stared at the castle for a few seconds.

She knew the Bo family was wealthy.

But he's so extravagant...

She turned her head to look at Bo Yan.

"This," she paused, "was it rented specifically for taking wedding photos?"

Bo Yan was getting out of the car when he heard this and paused for a moment.

He looked at her, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes.

"rent?"

The tone was as if they were hearing an unfamiliar word.

"It's under my name." He looked away, strode forward, leaving only his back view. "If we can maintain this relationship, according to the agreement, you also own half."

-

The makeup artist and stylist were already waiting inside the castle. Wedding dresses hung in a walk-in closet covering an entire wall—white, champagne, lace, satin—rows of them neatly arranged.

The photographer was a Frenchman named Pierre, in his forties, with a full beard and a warm smile. He directed the staff to set up the lighting and equipment, and his eyes lit up when he saw Bo Yan and Mu Siwan enter.

"Belle!" he exclaimed in French, then switched to English, "Tonight's night scene shoot, with the castle lights on, will be absolutely magical."

Mu Siwan was pushed into the dressing room.

An hour later, she came out wearing her first dress.

The dress was white, simple in style but exquisitely tailored. It was fitted at the waist, off-the-shoulder, and the skirt trailed on the floor, making her appear slender and graceful. Her hair was styled in an updo, revealing the curve of her neck and collarbone.

She walked out, lifting her skirt, and stood under the light.

The makeup artist was adjusting the hem of the dress from behind.

Pierre looked up and immediately whistled.

"Magnifique!" He turned to Bo Yan and said in English, "Sir, don't you think your wife is stunningly beautiful? Compliment her!"

Bo Yan leaned against the window, already dressed in a black suit that perfectly matched her white dress.

His gaze fell on her.

From her hair to her exposed collarbone, to her incredibly slender waist.

Fix your gaze.