Slow to mature after marriage

Mu Siwan nodded, not thinking about it any further.

"Are you going to take care of him now?"

Meng Qing shook his head and began to unpack the breakfast bag.

"No need, he's tough and can move on his own."

He handed over the porridge, then took out some steamed buns and placed them on the bedside table, his movements unhurried and deliberate.

"By the way," Meng Qing suddenly spoke, trying to keep her tone casual, "your husband doesn't know about your injury?"

"It's been so long, why haven't you come back to visit your country?"

Mu Siwan opened her mouth, as if to say something—

"Her husband knows."

A cold voice came from the doorway.

Mu Siwan suddenly looked up.

Bo Yan stood at the door of the ward, still wearing the dark coat he hadn't had time to change out of, his eyes showing the weariness of having flown back overnight.

He was carrying a breakfast bag, and his gaze passed over Meng Qing, landing directly on Mu Siwan's face.

Mu Siwan stared at the person who suddenly appeared at the door, even thinking that he was still dreaming from last night.

She opened her mouth.

"Bo Yan? Why are you back?"

Bo Yan didn't move; he just stood there watching her.

"What?" he asked, his voice hoarse from flying back overnight. "I've come back at the wrong time. Should I say I've disturbed you?"

He walked in, his steps slow yet carrying a gust of wind. The hem of his dark coat brushed against the foot of the bed, and he didn't stop as he passed Meng Qing, only stopping when he reached her bedside.

The breakfast bag in her hand fell onto the bedside table, right next to the bowl of porridge that Meng Qing had brought.

He reached out and pushed the bowl of porridge to the side.

Then he turned his head to look at her.

"Oh, right." He gestured with his chin, pointing to Meng Qing who was still standing by the bed, "Who's this? Aren't you going to introduce him?"

Mu Siwan followed his gaze and looked back.

"This is Meng Qing." She paused, "He's from the Municipal Public Security Bureau's Criminal Investigation Division, my colleague."

Bo Yan nodded and turned his gaze to Meng Qing.

"Then who am I?"

That question was directed at her.

Mu Siwan met his gaze, and her throat tightened.

"You are Bo Yan." She paused, "...my husband."

Those two words were uttered slowly and laboredly, as if they were being forced out of the throat.

Bo Yan's lips curled into a smile.

He reached out his hand to Meng Qing.

"Nice to meet you."

Meng Qing looked down at the hand and grasped it.

"I've heard so much about you."

The two hands are separated at the touch of a finger.

Meng Qing withdrew his hand and looked at Mu Siwan lying on the bed, a hint of bitterness in his eyes.

"You guys chat, I'm leaving now."

He turned and walked out, the door closing behind him.

-

The ward fell silent.

Bo Yan stood by the bed, looking down at her.

She tilted her head back, her gaze shifting from the closed door to his face.

"When did you—"

Are you hungry?

He interrupted her and bent down to open the breakfast bag.

The bag contained porridge, steamed buns, and the kinds of food she usually liked to eat.

Bo Yan pushed the bowl of porridge on the bedside table further away until it was almost touching the edge. With a cold face, he pulled out the tabletop from the hospital bed, set it up, and took out the food containers from the bag one by one.

He poured the millet porridge into the bowl, lifted the lid, and steam rose up. He took the steamed bun out of the bag and placed it where she could easily reach it. He then took apart a pair of chopsticks, carefully inspected them for any splinters, and only placed them beside the bowl after confirming they were in good condition.

Mu Siwan watched him finish doing all this before picking up the bowl of porridge and taking a sip.

The porridge was cooked just right, neither too thick nor too thin, and it was warm. She swallowed it spoonful by spoonful, and the only sound in the ward was the occasional sound of the spoon hitting the side of the bowl.

Halfway through her drink, she couldn't help but look up at him.

"Am I... bothering you?"

Bo Yan's expression was even colder than before.

He took a deep breath, suppressed his rising temper, and gritted his teeth as he spoke.

"Shut up and drink your porridge."

Mu Siwan lowered her eyes and said, "Oh."

To her, this meant he was annoyed with her.

She continued to drink her porridge with her head down.

He took two sips and then looked up.

Aren't you going to drink?

Bo Yan stood by the bed and sneered.

"Drink my ass, I'm full of anger."

Mu Siwan: "..."

-

After finishing breakfast, Bo Yan put the trash into a bag, tied a knot, and placed it by the door. He walked back, sat down beside her bed, and his expression was more relaxed than before.

He looked up and stared straight at her.

"Why didn't you tell me immediately after you got injured?"

He asked directly, his gaze never leaving the room.

"Mu Siwan, do you even consider me your husband? Even an ordinary colleague has the right to know, but I don't, do I?"

"Or perhaps, in your heart, he's more than just an ordinary colleague?"

Mu Siwan put down the bowl of porridge, composed herself, and explained things to him one by one.

"Meng Qing knew because he happened to be there." She paused. "As for not telling you, it's because I didn't want to upset you."

She looked at him.

"We agreed not to interfere with each other."

No interference.

What a fine example of non-interference!

Bo Yan stared into her calm and clear eyes, the rest of his words stuck in his throat, unable to come out.

The phrase "no interference" made his trip back, which involved flying for more than ten hours straight, seem like a joke.

Yes, he was eager to interfere with her.

She hasn't changed at all; she guards that red line very tightly.

Bo Yan suddenly didn't know what to say. All the words he had prepared—"Are you in pain? How did you get hurt? Why didn't you tell me?"—were now stuck in his throat, and he couldn't stand or sit still.

He stood up and didn't look at her again.

"Fine, do as you please."

He left those words behind and pushed open the door.

The smell of disinfectant wafted through the corridor. He leaned against the wall, closed his eyes, and felt a throbbing in his temples.

He needs to go out for some fresh air.

-

The park benches were so uncomfortable that my back ached.

Bo Yan sat there, watching the sky change from gray to bright, watching the joggers pass by one by one. A breeze blew by, carrying the coolness of early spring, blowing away some of the jumbled thoughts in his mind, slowly helping him to sort them out.

My phone vibrated several times.

He picked it up and looked at it.

Wang Jin's phone call.

When I answered the phone, the voice on the other end was cautious.

"Mr. Bo, what should we do about this emergency meeting? What about those partners you arranged to meet with..."

Bo Yan closed his eyes briefly.

"Have another vice president replace me." He paused. "I have some things to take care of here and can't leave for the time being."

Wang Jin responded and hung up.

There are several unread messages on WeChat.

Bo Yan stared at one of them, his gaze hardening.

It was sent yesterday evening.

Bo Yan had been on a plane for over ten hours straight yesterday afternoon, finally arriving at the county hospital at four in the morning. At that time, Mu Siwan was curled up in bed, pale-faced, her brow furrowed, sleeping restlessly. He leaned closer, gently stroking her forehead, wiping away her cold sweat, and heard her mumble something—

"Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you."

He wondered who she was talking to in her sleep, making her sleep so restlessly.

Now he stares at the screen, at that line of text.

[Mu Siwan]: I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you.

Another group of joggers passed by, and a gust of wind blew, dimming the screen of his phone.

Bo Yan slowly closed his eyes, his expression weary.

But it turned out that it was meant for him.