Slow to mature after marriage

The doctor gave a few more instructions and handed over the prescription.

Meng Qing reached out and took it.

"I'll go get the medicine."

She looked up, intending to say no, but he had already turned and left.

Mu Siwan leaned back in the chair in the emergency room and took out her phone to contact the program crew.

After a brief exchange, the details of her injury and subsequent arrangements were settled. She signed a contract for the entire season, but the production team didn't say much, only telling her to focus on recovering and that filming would be postponed for the time being. The cameraman who was filming her also left.

She put down her phone and leaned back in her chair.

At the other end of the corridor, Meng Qing walked over with the medicine.

He stopped in front of her and handed her the medicine bag.

"The doctor said that I can be discharged after about a week of observation in the hospital, and if my condition does not worsen."

Mu Siwan took the medicine bag and nodded.

"Thanks."

Mu Siwan placed the medicine bag on the chair next to her and looked up at him.

"You'll need to go back and handle things there afterwards, right? I've called the housekeeper over. If you have something to do, you can go now."

Meng Qing stood in front of her, looking down at her with a restrained and steady gaze.

"Where's your husband?" he asked, his voice low. "He's injured. He only called your housekeeper?"

Mu Siwan paused for a moment.

"He..." she lowered her eyes, "...went on a business trip."

The corridor fell silent.

There were voices coming from the nurses' station, the sound of a wheelchair being pushed, and the soft clinking of medicine bottles, all coming through something.

Meng Qing stared at her profile for a long time before nodding.

"Okay." He looked away. "I'll wait for Auntie to come before I leave."

He sat down in the chair next to her.

-

At the end of the corridor, the elevator doors opened, and Aunt Chen hurried out.

She spotted Mu Siwan sitting in the chair, her expression changed, and she quickly walked over.

"Madam! What happened?"

Mu Siwan looked up.

"It's nothing, I just tripped and fell."

Meng Qing stood up and handed the medicine bag to Aunt Chen.

"The admission procedures are complete, and the ward is on the sixth floor. The doctor said I need to stay for a week for observation." He paused, "The instructions are in the medication packet; just take them on time."

Aunt Chen accepted it and thanked her repeatedly.

Meng Qing glanced down at Mu Siwan.

"Then I'll be leaving first."

Mu Siwan nodded.

"Thank you for your help today."

Meng Qing shook his head: "It's nothing, get some rest."

-

Aunt Chen pushed the wheelchair into the ward.

On the sixth floor, in a private ward, the sky outside the window was already beginning to lighten. She moved the wheelchair to the bedside, helped Mu Siwan lie down, then went to pour water and put out medicine. After being busy for a while, she finally sat down on the accompanying chair next to her.

Aunt Chen hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"Madam, should we tell the master?"

Mu Siwan stared at the ceiling.

"Need not."

Aunt Chen opened her mouth.

"But……"

"It's nothing serious," she interrupted. "There's no need to bother him."

She paused, then turned her head to look at Aunt Chen.

"I'll be troubling you to take care of me these next few days. I'll charge you extra for the care."

Aunt Chen paused for a second, then waved her hands repeatedly.

"What are you saying, Madam?" Her voice lowered, tinged with urgency. "Taking good care of you is simply my duty. Don't mention money to me."

Her lips moved, as if she wanted to say something more, but when she met Mu Siwan's calm eyes, she swallowed her words back.

The ward fell silent.

The sunlight from outside the window filtered in little by little, falling on the snow-white sheets. The medicine dripped down the IV tube, drop by drop, as rhythmically as a pendulum.

Mu Siwan closed her eyes.

Her foot still hurt, one thud after another, like someone was hammering nails into the gaps between her bones.

-

For the next few days, Mu Siwan rested in the hospital.

Meng Qing and Juanmao both came to check on her once during the journey.

Bo Ning also called to invite her out, but she declined, citing work as the reason.

On the morning of the third day, the doctor came to make rounds.

He looked at her feet, then flipped through her medical records, and nodded.

"The recovery is going well. Observe for a few more days, and you can be discharged if there are no problems."

Mu Siwan nodded.

"it is good."

The doctor gave a few more instructions and then left with the nurse.

The ward fell silent. She leaned against the bed, staring blankly at the sliver of light filtering in from the window.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated.

Mu Siwan picked it up and glanced at it.

Bo Yan's video call request.

Her eyes flickered slightly.

The name on the screen was flashing, and the dialog box that hadn't been lit for two weeks suddenly came to life.

She glanced down at herself—the blue and white striped hospital gown, her left foot in a cast, and the unsightly crutch by the bed.

Press to hang up.

Open the dialog box and type.

"Is there something you need?"

There was no reply from the other side.

The phone rang again.

Mu Siwan hung up and continued typing.

"It's not convenient for me to video chat from here."

I had just sent it when the phone rang again.

Mu Siwan stared at the name on the screen for a few seconds, then took a deep breath.

He pulled the blanket up to cover the cast on his left foot. Then he bent down and tugged at the collar of his hospital gown to make sure the camera only captured his shoulders and above. He adjusted the angle; behind him was a white wall, so it wasn't obvious that it was a hospital.

Press the answer button.

The opposite side was completely dark.

All that could be seen was the man's handsome silhouette. He was very close to the camera, his features hidden in the shadows, his eyes slightly narrowed as he looked at her. His breathing was heavy, coming from the other end of the receiver.

He didn't speak.

Mu Siwan waited a few seconds and then called his name.

"Thin inkstone".

After a long while, just when she thought it was just a mistake, Bo Yan finally spoke.

"Mu Siwan, my tie is crooked."

-

The apartment in London was quiet.

Bo Yan leaned back on the sofa, feeling drowsy. He had drunk a little tonight at a business dinner—not much, but the aftereffects were kicking in, and his head was spinning.

He shouted.

"Grace".

No one answered.

Yes, he left that stupid snake in Muyan Garden.

The apartment was empty, and outside the floor-to-ceiling windows was the gray London night.

After a long time, he called out again.

"Mu Siwan".

Still, no one answered.

Yes, she stayed at Muyan Garden as well.

Bo Yan closed his eyes briefly, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly.

Very strange.

She was always almost invisible when she was around. She would sit quietly cross-legged on the sofa, sketching bones in her sketchbook. He would push the door open and come in. She would glance up at him, say in a flat tone, "You're back," and then lower her head to continue drawing.

So light, so faint, like a wisp of air.

But now that wisp of air is gone, the apartment seems too big.

Bo Yan stared up at the ceiling, an image flashing through his mind—a woman standing in front of a mirror, head down, fingers fiddling with his tie. She'd tried several times, but it still wasn't straight enough. She'd untie it and start over again and again, finally straightening it, taking a step back, and looking up at him.

"Bo Yan, welcome home."

Bo Yan glanced down at his tie.

is correct.

It's uncomfortable being constricted.

He reached out and pulled it askew.

Then pick up your phone and open that chat window.

The last message she sent was two weeks ago—her reply was "Okay".

He dialed the number.

hang up.

She sent him a message. He lowered his eyes and didn't read it.

I dialed again.

On the third try, the call finally went through.

The screen was bright, with a white background. Her face appeared on the screen; she looked thinner than two weeks ago, but her eyes remained calm as she stared at him.

He leaned closer to the camera, staring at the face he hadn't seen for half a month.

"Bo Yan," she called to him.

He didn't respond.

He just tugged at his crooked tie again.

In a daze, emboldened by the alcohol, Bo Yan finally spoke.

"Mu Siwan".

She looked at him, her gaze still calm.

His Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice lowered.

My tie is crooked.