Slow to mature after marriage

Bo Yan pushed the wheelchair into the bathroom.

He first placed the anti-slip mat, secured the wheelchair, then squatted down and carefully put the blue waterproof cover on the cast, zipped it up, and pressed the edges.

The man stood up and adjusted the showerhead's water temperature. Hot water poured down, steam slowly spreading, and the mirror began to fog up.

Mu Siwan looked at him.

He lowered his head, his profile softened by the mist, and his movements were delicate and considerate.

The water was ready, and he turned to look at her.

"Alright, Miss." He patted the water off his hands. "Go wash up."

In his entire life, Bo Yan had never served anyone like this.

Mu Siwan pursed her lips and subtly withdrew her gaze.

"You... turn your back."

She sat in her wheelchair, staring at him, her face expressionless, but the redness at the base of her ears hadn't faded.

"no."

Why?

"What if I fall?"

"I won't fall," she said. "I'll wash myself while sitting in my wheelchair."

Bo Yan didn't move.

She looked at him.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds.

The man clicked his tongue softly.

"It's not like we haven't showered together before."

Mu Siwan's ears burned even hotter.

The scene from that night flashed through her mind—the heat of the bathroom, the coolness of the tiles, his hard, burning chest pressed against her back.

"...That's different."

That night... was considered a marital obligation.

"……OK."

Bo Yan nodded, turned around, and faced away from her.

"Go wash up."

There was silence behind me for a few seconds.

Then came rustling sounds—the rustling of fabric as clothes were being taken off, and the occasional soft creak of a wheelchair.

The sound of rushing water filled the air.

Bo Yan stood still, staring at the foggy mirror in front of him.

Nothing could be seen in the mirror except a blurry white mist. But behind the mist, a shadow could be vaguely seen—slender, soft, appearing and disappearing in the steam.

Her skin was white, but the steam gave it a faint pink hue.

He closed his eyes.

The sound was clearer.

The sound of water flowing over her skin, the soft creak of her wheelchair as she raised her hand, and the faint sound of her breathing in the steam.

That image suddenly popped into my head—

That night we showered together. She was pinned against the cold tiles, her back chilled, her front burning, her whole body limp. Her eyelashes drooped wetly, the light in her eyes unfocused.

His Adam's apple moved.

He took a deep breath.

The sound of water is still ringing.

Bo Yan slowly opened his eyes, staring at the blurry white mist in the mirror, his temples throbbing.

I'm starting to regret my decision today.

He really wants to be an animal right now.

I don't know how much time passed, but the sound of water finally stopped.

The rustling sounds started again, much slower than before.

He waited for a while.

Instead of hearing "It's done," there was silence afterwards.

"...What's wrong?"

His voice was so hoarse it didn't sound like his own.

There was a moment of silence behind him.

"I... find my clothes uncomfortable."

To die.

Bo Yan closed his eyes briefly.

Take a deep breath.

He turned around.

She sat in her wheelchair with her back to him, her hair wet and dripping, soaking a small patch of fabric on her back. Her skin was flushed a pale pink from the steaming water, and the contours of her shoulder blades rose and fell gently with her breath.

Her fingers hooked behind her back, clumsily struggling with the rows of tiny buttons.

Light blue.

The lace trim was delicate and clung to her skin.

He picked it out himself.

Sure enough, she looked beautiful in it.

He walked over and stood behind her.

Reach out.

Her shoulders trembled slightly when her fingertips touched the row of buttons.

Bo Yan's fingers trembled as well.

He pinched the two pieces of fabric, aligned them, and fastened them.

My fingertips inevitably brushed against her skin. Warm, delicate, and damp from her recent shower.

His breath fell on the back of her neck.

She remained motionless.

After finishing the last one, he withdrew his hand.

"alright."

-

After finally getting dressed, Mu Siwan had just finished showering, but she felt sweaty all over again.

Bo Yan carried her back to bed and turned to get the hairdryer.

A warm breeze fell from above, and his fingers ran through her hair, the movement very gentle.

Halfway through playing the flute, there was a knock at the door.

Mu Siwan assumed it was Aunt Chen bringing dinner and casually said, "Please come in."

The door opened.

Curly-haired man stood at the door, holding a large bouquet of red roses, their vibrant colors obscuring half his face. Behind him followed a cameraman carrying a video camera, the lens pointed directly into the ward.

"Teacher Mu—"

His voice was stuck in his throat.

Bo Yan stood by the bed, one hand still holding the hairdryer, the other tucked into her damp hair. He wore the same wrinkled shirt he'd worn all day, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exuding a慵懒 yet aloof air. The light fell on his profile, highlighting his features sharply.

He looked up and gazed at the doorway.

His gaze slid over the bunch of red roses and then returned to the curly-haired face.

"Who are you?"

His voice was very flat, and you couldn't tell what emotion he was expressing.

Curly-haired creature opened its mouth.

"I...I'm an intern on the show, mentored by Teacher Mu..."

Bo Yan put down the hair dryer and looked down at Xiang Mu Siwan.

"Which program team?"

"It's a documentary-style variety show that's dedicated to popularizing forensic science," Mu Siwan explained. "I mentioned it to you before. Filming started two weeks ago, but because I got injured, it... couldn't continue."

Bo Yan nodded to show that he understood, and then looked at Juanmao.

"What's up?"

Curly hair instinctively hid the bouquet of flowers behind his back.

"No, it's nothing serious, I just... came to see how Teacher Mu is recovering."

Bo Yan didn't speak.

His gaze fell again on the bunch of red roses that hadn't been properly hidden, and he narrowed his eyes slightly.

He was away on a business trip for two weeks.

Where did all these monsters and demons come from?

One Meng Qing wasn't enough, so they're sending another one?

Curly Hair felt a chill run down his spine from his gaze, and awkwardly took the bouquet of flowers out from behind him and placed it on the bedside table.

"Um... Teacher Mu, please take good care of your injury, I won't bother you any longer."

He turned to leave.

"etc."

The curly hair froze.

"Take the flowers away." The man's voice was very low. "My wife is allergic to pollen, especially red roses."

Mu Siwan sat on the bed, raising her eyes in confusion.

When did she become allergic to pollen?

But when she met Bo Yan's gaze, she swallowed her words.

Curly paused for a moment, nodded, and awkwardly picked up the flowers again.

"Well, I'll be going now."

He clutched the bouquet of red roses and slunk away, wishing he could bury his face in them.

Honestly, he thought Teacher Mu was single and wanted to create a CP (couple pairing) with her on the show.

It turns out she not only has a husband, but he's also incredibly handsome.

The photographer followed behind, his lens wobbling slightly. He aimed at Bo Yan for two seconds, but was immediately moved away after being glanced at by him.

The door closed.

The ward fell silent.

Bo Yan picked up the hairdryer again and continued to dry her hair.