Slow to mature after marriage

The gates of Muyan Garden require three unlocking methods: pupil, fingerprint, and facial recognition.

Unless Bo Yan was kidnapped, Mu Siwan couldn't think of any other reason why he couldn't open the door.

But she still went downstairs.

The door opened, and the smell of alcohol hit us.

Mu Siwan frowned. "You've been drinking?"

"I drank a little."

Bo Yan stared intently at her, his eyes misty with tears.

He suddenly reached out and pulled her into his arms. He buried his head in the crook of her shoulder, nuzzled her, and then stopped moving.

"Wife," the man's muffled voice escaped from her neck and shoulders, "don't be angry."

Mu Siwan was a little confused. What did she have to be angry about?

Since he was drunk, she patted his back perfunctorily. "I'm not angry."

Bo Yan remained silent for a long time, so long that she thought he had fallen asleep, before finally speaking, his voice hoarse. "Then why aren't you angry?"

"...Why should I be angry?"

"I was drunk and came home late, and I made you come downstairs to pick me up." He listed his "crimes" one by one, his voice muffled. "You should be angry, Mu Siwan."

Mu Siwan couldn't quite understand Bo Yan anymore.

So men can be this unreasonable when they're drunk?

But considering his incoherent state, she patted his back again.

"Fine, then I'll be angry."

The man suddenly chuckled, a short laugh, his breath tickling her neck. "Little liar."

Bo Yan hugged her tighter, his tone resentful, "You're not angry at all."

Mu Siwan: "..."

After finally managing to pull him off her, Mu Siwan dragged him towards the living room. Aunt Chen had already come home from work. She pressed him down on the sofa and turned to go to the kitchen to make a hangover soup.

-

Bo Yan leaned back on the sofa, tilting his head to look at the woman's busy back.

Slim, fair-skinned, and tall. The lamplight stretched her shadow long, all the way to his feet.

Bo Yan stared intently, his expression somewhat dazed.

Mu Siwan stood in front of the stove, stirring the soup in the pot. Ginger slices floated and sank in the hot water, the spiciness mixed with sweetness, slowly spreading.

As the scent of mint approached her, she was tasting something salty.

The man's arm wrapped around her waist from behind, his body pressing against hers, his chin resting on her shoulder. The smell of alcohol mixed with mint enveloped her. The dim light from overhead cast their shadows together.

"Mu Siwan," he called her, his voice deep.

Mu Siwan's body stiffened for a moment.

By now, she had grown accustomed to such occasional intimacy, but her heart still skipped a beat. She lowered her head and stirred the soup, without turning around.

"Go outside and wait; the hangover soup will be ready soon."

"I'm not drunk," Bo Yan said hoarsely. "I don't need to drink."

This little bit of alcohol wasn't enough to make him lose his mind.

Mu Siwan, however, believed that he was already completely drunk and unconscious. Bo Yan's current state was completely different from usual; he had even started talking nonsense.

"Hmm, you're not drunk," she replied perfunctorily, continuing to stir the soup.

Bo Yan turned his head to look at her.

The kitchen light was dim, casting a soft, yellowish glow that softened the contours of her profile. Her eyelashes drooped, casting a small shadow beneath her eyelids.

His gaze finally settled on her lips. They were deep red, steamed by the heat, and glistened with a hint of moisture.

Bo Yan reached out and turned off the heat. The soup in the pot bubbled softly and then fell silent.

The man suddenly grabbed her waist and lifted her onto the marble countertop. He squeezed one leg between hers, surrounded her, bent down, and kissed her.

Mu Siwan tilted her head back as he kissed her, her hands gripping his shirt tightly.

The aroma of whiskey spread between her lips and teeth, mixed with a hint of mint, burning from the tip of her tongue all the way to her throat.

After a long while, he released her lips, pressed his forehead against hers, gently brushed his nose against hers, and suddenly smiled.

"Mu Siwan, you've been drinking too." Bo Yan's breath fell on her face, warm and tinged with alcohol. "Mint-flavored milk beer, isn't it?"

Mu Siwan's heart skipped a beat. For some reason, she suddenly felt a little nervous and subconsciously explained, "I get sleepy easily when I'm making PPTs at home, so I just wanted to have some beer to perk myself up. I didn't specifically choose mint flavor—"

"Why explain so much? Just drink if you want to."

The man interrupted her, lowered his head, and kissed her again.

This kiss was more delicate and lingering than the last.

His tongue hooked around hers, slowly grinding and entwining, gradually sweeping away her minty taste and replacing it with the intensity of whiskey.

Only when she could no longer breathe did Bo Yan step back a little and stare at her.

"Mu Siwan," he said in a low voice, with a hint of accusation, "why didn't you call me?"

Mu Siwan's eyes were misty with tears, and she was a little dazed from the kiss. Perhaps the beer in that bottle was stronger than she had expected, because she was also a little drunk.

"I'm not on a business trip..." she gasped, her voice broken, "Do I still need to call and let you know?"

"No," Bo Yan said softly, his lips brushing against hers, his breath hot against hers. "Why didn't you call to check up on me when I came home so late?"

Mu Siwan was stunned. Those words were more intoxicating than any alcohol.

"We agreed not to—"

Bo Yan bit her. It wasn't hard, but the pain made her lip sting, and she swallowed the rest of her sentence.

He released her, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder. His arms tightened, holding her close. The kitchen was quiet, save for the bubbling of the soup in the pot. Bo Yan closed his eyes, his head resting on her shoulder, his warm breath falling on her neck.

Mu Siwan's heartbeat also followed this rhythm.

After a long time, the man spoke, his voice hoarse beyond recognition.

"Mu Siwan, you're so stupid."

Mu Siwan's eyelashes trembled slightly. Before she could even think about where she had gone wrong, Bo Yan suddenly spoke again.

"But I like you so much."

His voice was very low, and his speech was mostly mumbling.

Mu Siwan's heart skipped a beat.

She was taken aback, looked up and met the man's eyes, but quickly came to her senses.

but--

The probability of an adult talking nonsense after getting drunk is approximately 30% to 50%.

Bo Yan's words probably fall within that fifty percent.

A statement that is half true and half false.

Mu Siwan thought she couldn't take it seriously.

"Bo Yan, you're drunk." She calmed her wildly beating heart and replied softly, "Drink the hangover soup, then go to sleep, okay?"

Bo Yan stared into the woman's calm and clear eyes and fell silent.

This time, he neither denied nor refused.

-

Late at night, Bo Yan lay in bed, his arm around Mu Siwan's waist, pulling her into his embrace.

Mu Siwan waited until the man behind her had stopped breathing before carefully turning around and looking up at him.

In the darkness, his face was not clearly visible; only the outline of his brow bone, the line of his nose, and the slight curve of his lips could be vaguely discerned.

Mu Siwan remembered that he had a small mole on the tip of his nose, so small that it was almost unnoticeable unless you looked closely.

She raised her hand, her fingertips hovering above his nose, paused for a moment, and then gently lowered it.

That little mole is right here.

She touched it with her fingertip, then quickly withdrew it, as if she had done something she shouldn't have.

It was quiet in the darkness, except for the man's breathing, one breath at a time, falling on her forehead.

Mu Siwan stared at the blurry face, a look of confusion and helplessness rising in her eyes.

She spoke in a very low voice, it was unclear who she was trying to persuade.

"Bo Yan, we agreed not to talk about feelings."

Is it because you were too drunk that you forgot?