Slow to mature after marriage

Mu Siwan felt the burning heat on her cheeks and tried to justify it to herself—the dilation of capillaries and the increase in facial temperature were normal physiological reactions to alcohol metabolism.

It has nothing to do with what Bo Yan said, absolutely nothing.

Sure enough, once outside, the late spring breeze calmed Mu Siwan's chaotic thoughts considerably. The heat on her cheeks gradually subsided; her ears were still red, but the wind cooled them down.

While she was still in a daze, Bo Yan appeared beside her without her noticing, carrying a coat and draping it over her shoulder. "Put it on."

"I'm not cold."

Mu Siwan pulled her coat down a little. Her face had just cooled down, and she was afraid that putting the coat back on would make her fever rise again.

Bo Yan stared at her for a while, then frowned. "Wear it, you'll catch a cold."

"I won't wear it."

"Alright." The man took a step forward, raised his arm, and made a gesture as if to drape his coat over her shoulders, a half-smile on his face. "It seems Mrs. Bo wants me to help you put it on herself."

Mu Siwan is now somewhat allergic to Bo Yan.

She reflexively took two steps back, snatched the coat from her, and said in a conciliatory tone, "Fine, I'll wear it myself."

The coat was draped over his shoulders, still warm from his body, and seemed to carry the distinctive minty scent of a man.

Mu Siwan awkwardly adjusted her collar and walked forward without looking back.

Bo Yan noticed the woman's obvious avoidance, but he wasn't in a hurry. Instead, he smiled with unusual pleasure.

You only run away if you care.

If you don't care, it'll be like when you first met; you're just a little liar.

-

Since the bar wasn't far from Muyan Garden, and both of them had been drinking, they decided to walk back.

Throughout the journey, Bo Yan followed closely behind her, neither too close nor too far, neither too fast nor too slow. When she walked fast, he walked fast; when she slowed down, he slowed down. Like a shadow, he couldn't shake him off.

Back home, Mu Siwan changed her shoes, walked straight to the sofa, and leaned back, sinking into the soft cushions.

Grace slid over from the corner, circled her ankle twice, and then craned her head up to nuzzle her palm. She scooped it up, held it in her arms, squinted at it for a moment, and then suddenly frowned.

"Grace, why do you have two lines?"

Bo Yan was changing his shoes in the entryway when he heard this and paused. He turned around and glanced back—Mu Siwan was lying on the sofa, holding the snake up to her eyes, her other hand trying to grab the non-existent "other snake." Grace flicked her tongue, looking completely innocent.

He went over, freed the snake from her grasp, and set it aside. Grace, now free, slid away in a flash.

Bo Yan squatted down beside her, poked her cheek, and found it amusing. "Mu Siwan, you're already drunk? Your alcohol tolerance is so low?"

"No." Mu Siwan glanced sideways, poked his cheek in return, and said seriously, "It just turned into two on its own."

Bo Yan looked at the woman's flushed face and hazy eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"I told you before that you're cute."

The moment she finished speaking, the man grabbed her chin, leaned down, and kissed her.

The taste of the liquor spread between my lips and teeth, the intensity of the whiskey mixed with the spiciness of the Bloody Mary, making me dizzy.

Mu Siwan was being kissed so hard she could hardly breathe, feeling like she was about to faint. She tried to push him away, but he didn't budge and instead became even more aggressive.

Mu Siwan got angry and subconsciously raised her hand—and slapped him.

"Snap—"

Both of them stood there, stunned.

Mu Siwan stared at her hands, a hint of confusion and panic appearing in her eyes.

Dead Hand, what did you do?

Bo Yan rubbed his cheeks, a slight tingling sensation spreading from the corners of his mouth, and he chuckled.

That smile, when it fell into her eyes, seemed inexplicably dangerous.

Mu Siwan looked at him cautiously, her voice trembling, "Um... when you suddenly kissed me, I was a little breathless."

Mu Siwan slowly raised her hand and gently rubbed his cheek, her fingertips touching his soft, cotton-candy-like skin. "Are you alright?"

Bo Yan didn't dodge, letting her massage his face. Her hands were soft and her strength was light, making it feel like a kitten kneading his milk.

He looked down, then suddenly laughed, his voice low and hoarse, "Of course something's wrong."

Mu Siwan met his smiling eyes, a sense of unease flashed through her heart, and her hand stopped on his cheek.

Bo Yan's large hand covered hers at the same time, holding her hand and slowly rubbing his thumb on the back of her hand. His eyes curved into a smile. "So good, wife."

He leaned down, his lips almost touching her palm, and said, "Slap me again."

"you……"

Mu Siwan stared at Bo Yan, completely dumbfounded.

This face, these words, this person—she was certain she was truly drunk, to the point of having this absurd hallucination.

Mu Siwan lay back on the sofa, closed her eyes peacefully, lying like a corpse, and muttered softly, "I really drank too much, I even started hallucinating."

As soon as he finished speaking, Bo Yan leaned down and pressed her onto the sofa, kissing her forcefully. The smell of alcohol mixed with mint burned from the tip of her tongue to her throat. Mu Siwan gasped for breath, her hands gripping his collar tightly, unable to push him away. After a long while, Bo Yan pulled back slightly, looked into her hazy eyes, and chuckled.

"It's not a hallucination, honey."

He pleaded in a low voice, "Slap me again."

-

The next morning, Mu Siwan overslept again.

She opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling, feeling as if she were a specimen that had been disassembled and reassembled. Every bone was in its original place, yet somehow not quite.

The absurdity of last night played out frame by frame in her mind, making Mu Siwan's ears burn red again.

The chest behind her was still pressed against her back, burning hot, and the palm was on her waist, encircling her whole body in his embrace.

Mu Siwan stiffened and slowly moved away. She had only moved a little when the hand tightened and pulled her back.

"Sleep a little longer, honey." The man's voice was hoarse as it came down from above.

Mu Siwan hesitated for a moment, then came up with a reason: "I need to... go to the toilet."

"..."

Bo Yan finally loosened his grip.

When Mu Siwan broke free from his embrace, she practically fled into the bathroom.

She stood in front of the mirror, quickly glancing at the marks on her body. Her ears turned red, and she hurriedly looked away, then lowered her head to turn on the faucet and put her hand under the running water.

Mu Siwan squeezed out some hand soap, the foam overflowing from between her fingers and sliding into the sink. Staring at her hands, she suddenly remembered Bo Yan's last words to her last night—"Good baby, fan yourself here too."

How could Bo Yan... let her slap that spot?

Moreover, she was drunk last night and not thinking clearly, yet she still agreed?

That's... absolutely insane.

Mu Siwan rinsed her hands under the running water for a long time. The foam was rinsed away, and the back of her hands were red from rubbing, but she was oblivious and continued rinsing.

Then, a man's voice, tinged with resentment, came from behind her: "Mu Siwan, do you despise me that much?"