Slow to mature after marriage

Bo Yan glanced at her with his eyes down, then turned around and went to the bathroom.

The door was ajar, and no one was inside.

I pushed open the door; the steam hadn't completely dissipated. The air still carried the faint scent of shower gel—just like her.

The edges of the mirror were fogged up. On the sink sat the pink bone-shaped soap dish, the "die-hard fan's" soap inside still wet, as if it had just been used.

Bo Yan stared at the soap box for two seconds.

Look away and turn on the shower.

Rinse it down with cold water.

He closed his eyes, his breathing becoming heavier.

But the image from just now was still in her mind—she was standing under the dim light, blowing her hair, her loose pajamas hanging down, revealing her slender waist.

He had gently stroked it not long ago.

It's very soft and thin; he can hold it in half a palm.

Bo Yan poured cold water over his head, trying to clear the image from his mind.

However, it was no use.

That collarbone, that waistline, the way she stood under the light slowly blowing her hair—it was like a slow-motion scene from a movie, playing back over and over again.

Bo Yan turned off the water, leaned against the wall, and took a breath.

Depend on.

He glanced down at himself and cursed under his breath.

What kind of nonsense is this?

Mrs. Human Machine.

He was actually messed up like this by a robot.

-

When he came out of the bathroom, he had changed into some loungewear and his hair was already dry.

The same dim bedside lamp still shone in the bedroom.

Mu Siwan remained curled up in the corner of the bed, breathing evenly, oblivious to everything.

Bo Yan gently lifted the blanket and lay down.

The bed was large, with half a meter between the two of them. In the previous two times they shared a bed, Bo Yan had hardly been able to sense her presence.

This time, however, the woman's even breathing sounded as if it were right next to his ear.

Bo Yan stared at the ceiling, pinching the bridge of his nose with a headache.

He has already figured it out.

He is a man with a normal physiological structure. When he shares a bed with his wife, it is difficult for something not to happen if it is not out of affection but solely out of physical impulse.

Tomorrow, he might need to have a good talk with his android wife about normal sexual relations between husband and wife.

-

The next morning at 7:30, Mu Siwan got up on time.

The faint sound of water could be heard coming from the bathroom.

She sat on the edge of the bed, lost in thought for a while, until she was fully conscious.

The sound of water stopped.

After a while, the bathroom door opened, and Bo Yan came out.

He only casually draped a bath towel over his lower body, his upper body was naked, his hair was still dripping wet, water droplets slid down his neck, over his collarbone, over his chest, over his firm abdominal muscles, and finally disappeared into his waistline.

Mu Siwan's gaze fell on him.

From top to bottom.

From bottom to top.

Like a CT scanner, it scans very seriously.

Bo Yan paused in the act of drying his hair.

"What are you looking at?"

Mu Siwan didn't answer, her gaze fixed on the man's back.

There's a snake tattooed there.

The snake's body was long and slender, with delicate scales. It snaked down from its right shoulder blade, wrapped around its waist, and finally disappeared into the edge of the bath towel. The snake's head was slightly raised, its tongue flicking, as if it were about to attack at any moment.

It is a black-browed krait.

Mu Siwan recognized her.

"Black-browed Rat Snake," she said calmly. "Non-venomous, but highly aggressive. Adults are typically around two meters long; your tattoo is of an adult."

Bo Yan raised an eyebrow.

"Class is in session, Forensic Doctor Mu."

Mu Siwan ignored him, her gaze continuing to wander over him.

"The scapula is symmetrical and without deformities. The trapezius muscles are well-developed but not excessive, indicating a regular exercise routine, but not professional fitness. The pectoralis major has a good attachment point and a clear outline, and the body fat percentage should be below 15%."

She paused, then looked down.

"The abdominal muscles are symmetrical, eight-pack, and neatly arranged. The rectus abdominis sheath is well-developed, with no obvious deviation of the linea alba. If an abdominal dissection is performed on this type of person, the incision suturing will be very easy."

Bo Yan: "..."

He glanced down at his abs, then looked up at her.

"Mu Siwan".

"Um?"

"Are you praising me, or writing my autopsy report?"

Mu Siwan raised her eyes and met his gaze.

"I'm complimenting you," she said, "from a forensic perspective."

Bo Yan stared at her for two seconds, then suddenly smiled.

"Okay." He tossed the towel aside, took a step forward, and said, "Then continue. From a forensic perspective, how would you rate my physique?"

Mu Siwan thought about it seriously.

"Nine points."

"Where is the last point deducted?"

"The snake tattoo on my back," she said. "Although the drawing is very good, it will take a little more time to make incisions that avoid the tattoo if I were to do a back dissection."

"And also—" Mu Siwan paused, her gaze returning to the slithering snake, "What's the name of this snake? Is it your pet?"

"Yes, a pet," Bo Yan said. "Its name is Grace."

"Is he/she dead?"

Bo Yan: "...That's rather impolite, Mrs. Bo."

The man opened his mouth, wanting to say a few more words to her, but then he remembered who this person was—it was perfectly normal for him to ask such a question.

"He's still alive," he said. "He just came back from the United States with me, and he's having trouble adjusting to the new environment. He's currently being fostered at a pet hospital."

"I'll pick it up in a couple of days."

He glanced at her, paused, and seemed unsure.

Are you scared?

"I'm not afraid," Mu Siwan replied earnestly. "Welcome home."

Welcome home.

Bo Yan pondered the four words for a moment, then suddenly said, "Why didn't you say these four words to me?"

"What?"

"Welcome home," Bo Yan said.

Mu Siwan: "..."

Mu Siwan didn't want to answer such a boring question.

She put on her slippers, got up, and walked straight to the dressing room.

Bo Yan chuckled lightly, not paying any attention.

I was just teasing her.

-

Mu Siwan went into the dressing room and began to change her clothes.

Bo Yan lingered outside for a while before slowly strolling in.

She had already changed—a military green parka with a fluffy, soft fur collar that made her pale face appear even more stark. Black skinny jeans, work boots, and her hair still tied in a low ponytail, she was bending over to tie her shoelaces.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching her.

She tied her shoelaces quickly and efficiently, her fingers flying across the paper, and she finished in no time.

As she stood up, she looked up at him.

"What are you looking at?"

Bo Yan raised an eyebrow: "Look at my wife."

Mu Siwan paused, didn't reply, and walked past him.

"Mu Siwan".

He spoke, his tone lazy, as if it were just a casual remark.

She stopped and looked back at him.

Bo Yan thought for a moment. Since they were already husband and wife, it was better to be direct. They were both adults; beating around the bush was pointless.

"I thought about it last night," he said. "Given our relationship, shouldn't we start doing things that need to be done?"

Mu Siwan looked at him with a flat expression, waiting for him to finish speaking.

"Sexual life," Bo Yan said bluntly. "Since we're already married, I think we should reach an agreement on this first. What do you think?"

Mu Siwan recalled the three conditions that Bo Yan had set for her before the marriage.

Let's not talk about feelings.

No interference.

Be a respectful but unfamiliar couple.

This does not include not having sex.