Slow to mature after marriage

The car was parked in front of the appraisal center.

Xiao Qin, with her sharp eyes, spotted the black Bentley parked in the setting sun at a glance. "Master, your grandmaster has come to pick you up!"

She clutched Mu Siwan's sleeve, her voice barely audible, but her excitement was palpable, "Master is so handsome!"

Mu Siwan followed her gaze. The car window was half-rolled down, and Bo Yan was leaning back in the driver's seat, looking down at his phone. A well-tailored dark gray suit vest clung to his upper body, outlining his shoulders and waist. The cuffs of his white shirt were rolled up twice, revealing a section of his wrist, and his new watch gleamed in the setting sun. He was slumped in the seat, his posture languid, yet exuding an indescribable air of nobility.

Mu Siwan withdrew her gaze, picked up her survey kit, and said, "I'm leaving now."

"Come on, come on, hurry up!" Xiao Qin pushed her out, whispering teasingly behind her, "Master, don't walk so fast, it looks like you're in a rush—"

Mu Siwan paused for a moment, then subtly resumed her original pace.

She was trying to prove that she wasn't in a hurry.

-

Mu Siwan opened the car door and got in. Bo Yan was about to send a message when he looked up and saw her. A hint of surprise flashed in his eyes. "So early today?"

"Hmm, no one died today."

His tone remained flat and slightly lifeless.

Bo Yanle exclaimed, "Thank God, I sincerely hope for world peace in the future."

Why?

"That way, my wife will have time to spend with me every day."

Mu Siwan lowered her head to inspect the survey kit, then looked up at him upon hearing this, hesitating to speak, "Bo Yan."

"Um?"

"That's too oily."

Bo Yan: "..."

The car drove out of the appraisal center.

After a moment's thought, Mu Siwan finally spoke, "Don't you have anything to say to me?"

"Explain what?"

"My rumored relationship with Meng Qing."

The man tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and said calmly, "No need."

Bo Yan didn't want to hear her mention other men, especially since that man genuinely had feelings for her. Besides, the internet was full of unpredictable people; everyone had their own opinion, and you could take anything they said seriously—life would be unbearable.

Mu Siwan nodded and didn't ask any more questions.

She assumed he didn't care about the matter.

After all, they had agreed not to interfere with each other.

After driving for a while, Mu Siwan noticed something was off about the street scene outside the window and turned to look at him: "Where are we going?"

Bo Yan's lips curved slightly, and he deliberately said, "I'll remove the grease for you."

The car was parked in front of a quiet bar.

The storefront is small, hidden behind sycamore trees, with only a simple letter Y on the sign—overly understated. But pushing open the door reveals a completely different world inside. The bar counter is made of old elm wood, its edges worn smooth, and the wall-mounted liquor cabinets are crammed full. The dim lighting illuminates the bottles and jars, making them seem as if they've just been pulled from the past.

"Did you drive it?" Mu Siwan asked, looking up.

Is Y the inkstone in "thin inkstone"?

Bo Yan took her hand, their fingers intertwined, the white rings on their ring fingers touching lightly with a soft sound.

"No, it's my mother."

He paused for a moment, then slowly uttered a name, "Xu Jingyan."

Mu Siwan was stunned for a moment.

It turns out it's Xu Jingyan's "Yan".

This was the first time he had mentioned his mother's name in front of her.

A man in his early forties, wearing a white shirt and black vest with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, came out from behind the bar. He was wiping a glass. When he saw Bo Yan, he smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkling together.

"Xiao Yan? What brings you here today—" His gaze fell on what was behind him and paused. He put down his cup, walked around from behind the bar, looked Mu Siwan up and down, then looked at Bo Yan and smiled mischievously.

"girlfriend?"

"Wife." Bo Yan placed his hand on her waist and pulled her closer to him. "Mu Siwan."

The man froze. "Wife? When did you get married?"

Three years ago.

"You got married three years ago, and you're only bringing him here now?" He laughed, patting Bo Yan on the shoulder. "Not very brotherly, you have to drink a penalty shot."

He turned and walked back behind the bar, took a bottle of whiskey from the shelf, and poured two glasses. He pushed one towards Bo Yan, picked up the other, and drank it down in one gulp. Bo Yan also drank, put down his glass, and pushed the menu towards Mu Siwan, "Look, what would you like to eat?"

Mu Siwan glanced down at the menu; the handwriting was neat and tidy, and it read, "Creamy Spaghetti."

The man took the menu and smiled. "Young lady, you have good taste. Creamy pasta is our signature dish."

He placed the menu on the bar, wiped his hands, and said, "Oh, right, I haven't introduced myself yet. My name is Zhao Xu. You can call me Lao Zhao, just like Bo Yan does."

He moved closer to Mu Siwan, lowered his voice, and made faces.

"Just between you and me, you're the first person he brought here. That kid's got guts."

Mu Siwan's heart skipped a beat, and she looked up in surprise at the man sitting to the side.

Bo Yan picked up her water glass and took a sip; the tips of her ears turned slightly red. The light was dim, making it difficult to see clearly. "You talk too much."

"Okay, I'll let you know." Old Zhao slapped his mouth, laughed, and stepped back. "I'll go backstage to make pasta. You guys chat."

The bar lights were warm and gentle, shining on the two of them.

Bo Yan handed her the wine list, leaned against the bar, and turned to look at her. "What would you like to drink?"

Mu Siwan took it and glanced at it before finally ordering a Bloody Mary.

The man turned around, took vodka and tomato juice from the liquor shelf, and then took a few bottles of condiments, lining them up in front of him.

Mu Siwan looked at the row of bottles, a hint of surprise in her eyes. "You can mix drinks?"

"Your husband is good at a lot of things." Bo Yan flicked his wrist, pouring tomato juice into a glass with swift, precise movements, each turn carrying a certain nonchalant accuracy. "You'll find out eventually."

Mu Siwan stared intently at his swaying fingertips. His knuckles were distinct, his fingers long and slender; when he gripped the cocktail shaker, his knuckles slightly tightened, the pressure light but steady.

These are truly a pair of hands perfectly suited for making into specimens.

Mu Siwan stared at him for a long time, only reluctantly turning her gaze away when Bo Yan stopped and poured the wine into his glass.

"Why did you suddenly bring me here?"

Bo Yan looked up, meeting her gaze. His long, narrow eyes curved slightly, like those of a patient hunter. "I can tell you, but are you sure you really want to know?"

Mu Siwan's heart skipped a beat. She slowly looked away, somewhat evasive, "I don't want to, so don't say it."

He chuckled helplessly, "Coward."

But in the end, he didn't say it.

The drink was ready, and I pushed it in front of her.

The glass was slender, the wine was bright red and clear, and there was a ring of salt around the rim and half a lemon slice on it.

Mu Siwan picked up her wine glass, about to bring it to her lips. But Bo Yan reached out and grabbed the rim of the glass first.

The woman's lips brushed unintentionally against the protruding knuckles of the man's fingers.

With a very slight movement, both of them froze.

Bo Yan's Adam's apple bobbed slightly as he explained, "Once the noodles arrive, let's eat something to line our stomachs first. This wine is high in alcohol, and drinking it on an empty stomach is bad for our digestive system."