Slow to mature after marriage

Two weeks later, Mu Siwan's leg was almost fully recovered.

The two went to the old house.

The old lady took Mu Siwan for a walk in the garden.

The spring sunshine was lovely, and the roses in the flowerbed were in full bloom. A gentle breeze caused the petals to sway softly.

"Siwan," the old lady said, taking her hand as they walked slowly, "how have you been getting along with Xiaoyan these past few days?"

Mu Siwan thought for a moment and nodded.

"We are fine."

The old lady looked up at her, a thin layer of tears welling up in her eyes.

"Knowing you're all doing well puts my mind at ease." She patted Mu Siwan's hand. "After I pass away, I'll have given Hanzhang and Jingyan an explanation."

Containing wisdom and speaking quietly.

Mu Siwan knew that they were Bo Yan's parents.

Bo Yan's father, Bo Hanzhang, died twenty years ago. There has been much speculation about the cause of his death. Some say it was an accident at a construction site, while others say it's not that simple—the Bo family is a prominent family that attracts attention, and the possibility of a business feud has never been ruled out.

As for Bo Yan's mother, Xu Jingyan, the cause of her death was kept very secret. There was almost no information from the outside world.

Mu Siwan had no idea what had happened back then.

She only knew those two names. That was all.

The old lady didn't say anything more, but simply took her hand and continued walking slowly forward.

Instead, he started telling her about Bo Yan's past.

As she listened to each item, Mu Siwan silently pieced together all the memories of Bo Yan over the years.

Was he really this rebellious before?

In the old lady's words, "This boy was so rebellious back then that even Buddha couldn't control him."

It was only after he married her that his temper mellowed a little.

"Of course, it's not much better." The old lady put on a stern face, then changed the subject, "Leaving his wife in the country for three years without a word to her, this brat is only now starting to act like a decent person."

-

On the way back, Bo Yan had a few drinks with the old man, and they opened the car window to let the evening breeze in.

Mu Siwan stared at his wind-blown hair for several moments.

Her black hair swayed gently in the wind, not very clear in the darkness, but you could vaguely see the strands being blown about.

Bo Yan glanced at her sideways.

"What are you looking at?"

"Grandma said that you dyed your hair white when you were in high school. It was even whiter than her hair is now."

Bo Yan's forehead twitched.

"I have silver hair," he said helplessly. "Silver hair. This old lady always finds a chance to make fun of me."

"Do you have any photos?" Mu Siwan tilted her head. "I'd like to see them."

"No, I don't like taking pictures."

Mu Siwan gave a regretful "Oh".

"What?" Bo Yan tilted his head to look at her. "You really want to see?"

"Hmm." She nodded. "He should be quite handsome."

He chuckled.

"When am I not handsome?"

After asking the question as a matter of course, he added another sentence.

"Anything else? What else did the old lady say about me?"

Mu Siwan thought for a moment.

"She said you liked skipping classes, fighting, and flirting with girls in high school. And after you went to college..." She paused, "...liked dying."

Bo Yan choked a little.

"Cough cough cough—"

He paused for a moment, then realized how absurd it was.

"If I ever flirt with a girl," he said, turning his head to look at her, his tone serious, "I'll die."

Mu Siwan nodded, using the simplest process of elimination.

"Oh. So after you went to college, you really liked dying."

"It's not about dying," Bo Yan corrected her. "It's about extreme sports."

In his early years, or more precisely, the two years before their marriage, he was indeed obsessed with those things. Skydiving, rock climbing, surfing—the more thrilling, the better. At that time, he felt empty inside and always wanted to find something to fill that void.

The old lady thought he was going to die and was so worried that she couldn't sleep at night. Later, she came up with a solution—to find him a wife.

Three people a day, lining up to see him. If he doesn't go, the old lady will cry, make a scene, and threaten to hang herself.

He had no choice but to listen to her.

Mu Siwan turned her head to look at him.

"Then why did you choose me?"

Bo Yan glanced sideways, staring at her clean and earnest eyes.

Suddenly, the scene of the first time I saw her photo popped into my mind.

He frowned and remained silent for a long time.

-

To be honest, seeing Mu Siwan's photo was an accident.

Given the Bo family's background, countless photos of socialites and ladies would have to be screened, compared, and weighed repeatedly before finally being presented to the old lady. The Mu family, however, wasn't even among those options at the time.

He attended that party half-heartedly.

A man in his fifties was showing off photos everywhere, his words brimming with smugness. The photos showed a young face with delicate features and a slight curve at the corners of his lips—a mechanical, forced smile for the camera.

"See her? The Mu family's adopted daughter." The man lowered his voice, his tone carrying an ambiguous meaning. "Mu Cheng said that as long as I nod, she's mine, even if I tie her up and put her on my bed. She's pretty, but it's a pity she's a forensic doctor. That's an unlucky profession. I wouldn't even take her for free."

The photo was casually tossed aside.

Bo Yan frowned.

He looked down on such people, but he didn't intend to meddle in their business.

But my gaze inadvertently fell on that piece of paper.

Mu Siwan.

Twenty-two years old.

So young, and she's going to be given to a man in his fifties.

It might not be this one, it could be another. He'd seen plenty of wealthy families selling their daughters for personal gain.

He saw it and forgot about it.

Later, another accident occurred while skiing.

The old lady was so anxious that she laid out a row of photos of elegant ladies and forced him to choose one.

"Only after you get married can someone keep you in check."

In those photos, the socialites are all smiles and have exquisite features; they were clearly carefully selected.

Bo Yan glanced at it.

But another face inexplicably popped into my mind.

Mechanical, cold, even the smile on her lips seemed fake. Facing the camera, it was as if she were completing a forced task.

He looked away, his tone casual.

"If you really have to marry her," he paused, "the one from the Mu family."

-

The events of three years ago were brought back to mind.

Bo Yan originally thought he had long forgotten.

Staring at the woman's quiet and clear eyes, he found that those images, frame by frame, were like something that had been submerged under ice, suddenly breaking through the ice and surging up.

A belated feeling of stagnation welled up in my heart.

And there's something hard to suppress...

Distressed.

Who was that beast in his fifties again?

Which company?

And there's Mu Cheng.

He actually dared to...

What would have happened to her if he hadn't happened to see her?

And how did she get through those days and nights in the Mu family before she met her?

Bo Yan didn't even dare to think about it too deeply.

He pressed his lips together, his gaze sharp and cold, his eyes concealing an indescribable emotion. It was deep, icy, and even held a hint of suppressed murderous intent.

But in Mu Siwan's eyes, it was a different story.

Was he forced to marry her back then?

Why do you look...so angry?

Mu Siwan pursed her lips and asked softly, "Bo Yan, what's wrong?"

Bo Yan came to her senses and slowly exhaled.

I forced a smile.

"fine."

He turned his head and his gaze fell on Mu Siwan's face. He carefully traced her eyebrows and eyes—compared to the mechanical, cold girl in that photo who forced a smile for the camera, she was now quiet, clear-headed, and her eyes shone with light.

Bo Yan suddenly smiled.

"How did they choose you?"

He stared at her intently.

"Because of everyone, you are the most special."