Obsessive Young Master Wei: My Beloved Loses Control Every Night

The jolt of the plane's landing gear hitting the ground finally pulled Bian Zhizhi out of her half-asleep state.

Outside the window, the morning light of Sheng'an City was hazy, with low-hanging clouds like a wet rag.

She squinted, her gaze piercing through the mist on the porthole, trying to make out the outline of the city.

Seven years.

She spent seven years in the United States, from her undergraduate to her master's degree.

Now, returning to this familiar land, I feel a strange mix of trepidation and unfamiliarity, like being close to home.

The hatch opened, and hot, humid air rushed in.

Bian Zhizhi was in the middle of the queue, moving with the flow of people.

She didn't have much luggage, just a 28-inch suitcase and a backpack.

Besides three sets of clothes, the rest of the box was full of books.

The backpack contained my master's degree certificate and the gold-plated "International Art Healing Competition Emerging Talent Award" trophy, the edges and corners of which were wrapped in clothes to prevent damage.

They are her future support.

As the taxi entered the city, the driver, a chatterbox, talked non-stop from the airport expressway all the way to the Second Ring Road renovation.

Bian Zhizhi responded with "uh-huh" and "ah," but her eyes were fixed on the view outside the window.

The streets were indeed wider than I remembered, the newly paved asphalt was shiny black, and the plane trees along the roadside were neatly trimmed.

But she still felt something was wrong.

Perhaps it was too early, there were too few pedestrians on the street.

The car turned into Wutong Lane and slowed down noticeably.

The old street hasn't changed much, except that the exterior walls have been repainted. The new pink and white paint makes the old street look even more dilapidated.

Bian Zhizhi's heart began to race, pounding against her eardrums.

She reached up and pressed her hand to her chest.

We've arrived at our doorstep.

The dark red security door had its paint peeling off even more badly, revealing the grayish-white base coat underneath.

The patina on the doorknob was so dark it looked black, like it had a skin condition.

Bian Zhizhi took out the key, inserted the metal teeth into the keyhole, and made a dry "click" sound.

The door opened.

The living room is still the same, only older.

The fabric sofa where my father, Bian Wenbo, often sat had a fist-sized hole worn into the right armrest, hastily covered with a piece of floral fabric patch, the stitches as thick as a centipede's leg.

My gaze shifted to the display cabinet against the wall.

There used to be a Jingdezhen blue and white porcelain vase that my mother, Lin Suxin, loved the most. It was part of my grandmother's dowry. Now the place is empty, with only a circular mark left, which is particularly glaring.

The display cabinet also had fewer other small ornaments, making it look empty and covered in a layer of dust.

"Who is it?" came her mother's familiar voice from the kitchen.

Immediately afterwards, Lin Suxin, wearing an apron and holding a spatula, peeked out from the kitchen.

When she saw Bian Zhizhi standing at the door, she was clearly stunned, then her face lit up with surprise and her eyes instantly reddened.

"Zhizhi? It's my Zhizhi back? You silly child, why didn't you tell me? I could have come to pick you up!"

Lin Suxin walked over quickly, forgetting to put down the spatula.

"mom!"

Bian Zhizhi loosened her suitcase and hugged her mother tightly.

A lump formed in my throat, and the tears I was trying so hard to hold back almost spilled out.

My mother has lost weight; her once plump figure has become thin, and when I hold her in my arms, the bones in her shoulders hurt.

My mother still had that familiar, faint scent of soapberry.

"It's good that you're back, it's good that you're back..." Lin Suxin said repeatedly, her voice choked with emotion, but she tried her best to maintain a cheerful tone. "Are you hungry? Mom will make you a bowl of noodles, your favorite tomato and egg noodles."

She turned to walk towards the kitchen, but before she could take a step, her phone rang. A call was coming in.

Upon hearing the phone ring, Lin Suxin froze, the color draining from her face instantly.

She glanced at the caller ID, her eyes darting away, and forced a smile as she said to Bian Zhizhi, "Go wash your face, it'll be ready soon."

Then he almost ran over to answer the phone, his back to Bian Zhizhi, his voice extremely low.

Bian Zhizhi stood still, without moving.

She heard her mother's voice emerge from that thin, retreating figure, carrying a humility she had never heard before: "...Manager Wang, please grant me a few more days, just a few more days...Next month, I'll definitely pay back a portion next month...I know, I know the interest is accumulating...I beg you..."

All self-comforting thoughts about "the family's financial difficulties being only temporary" were shattered at this moment.

She silently turned around and dragged her suitcase into her former room.

The room was tidy, and the sheets were old, washed sheets that smelled of sunshine.

The old computer she used in high school was on her desk. The screen was cracked and had obviously not been repaired for a long time. It was just placed there as a decoration.

This home is truly different now.

She recalled their last video call three years ago, when her mother said everything was fine at home and her father had been promoted to associate professor. Her mother smiled and told her daughter to focus on her studies.

It was all a lie.

Bian Zhizhi clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, the pain was real.

That evening, Bian Wenbai, the father, returned home.

Hearing the sound of a key turning in the lock, Bian Zhizhi came out of the room.

The moment she saw her father, her heart sank again.

She almost didn't recognize her.

Bian Wenbai was wearing the gray jacket he had worn for over a decade. His shoulders were slumped, and his temples were covered in white, like they had been frosted over.

He saw his daughter, and his eyes lit up for a moment, but that glimmer of light was quickly obscured by even thicker clouds.

"My darling daughter is back."

"Dad." Bian Zhizhi walked over and took the briefcase from his hand; it felt very light.

Bian Wenbai said, "You've lost weight."

"You too."

The meal was plentiful, consisting of four dishes and a soup, all of which were Bian Zhizhi's favorites.

Lin Suxin kept putting food on Bian Zhizhi's plate, saying, "Eat more, nothing tastes as good as home cooking abroad."

"Mom, that's enough." Bian Zhizhi stopped her mother's chopsticks. "You should eat too."

Bian Wenbai silently ate his rice, barely touching the vegetables with his chopsticks.

Bian Zhizhi looked at his thin face, gritted her teeth, and slammed her chopsticks down on the rim of the bowl.

"Dad, Mom, how much do we owe now?"

"Why are you asking this as soon as you get back?" Lin Suxin forced a smile, her voice so fake even she couldn't bear to listen to it. "Mom and Dad can handle it..."

"Mom!" Bian Zhizhi interrupted her, glancing at her parents in turn.

"I'm 26 now, not a little kid who needs to be protected anymore. Tell me, and we'll face it together. If the sky falls, our whole family will hold it up together."

A long silence.

Only the old clock on the wall ticked away.

Finally, Bian Wenbai sighed, took off his glasses, and rubbed his temples vigorously.

A long time passed, so long that Bian Zhizhi thought he wouldn't speak again, before he finally uttered a number.

Five million seven hundred and eighty thousand.

Despite being mentally prepared, Bian Zhizhi's heart still sank suddenly.

For a family consisting of a university professor and a high school music teacher, this is an astronomical sum.

To support her studies in the United States, the couple had already spent most of their savings, helping her complete her undergraduate and master's degrees. By the time she returned to China, their savings were almost gone.