Obsessive Young Master Wei: My Beloved Loses Control Every Night

Wei Zixian turned around.

His gaze immediately fell on her face.

She wasn't wearing makeup today, so her sickly appearance was probably quite obvious.

He saw that Bian Zhizhi was obviously happy, but seeing her struggling to bring him food, Wei Zixian still had some indescribable emotions.

His brows furrowed, and his lips pressed into a straight line.

Bian Zhizhi pretended not to see the change in his eyes, and also pretended not to notice her terrible state at the moment. She forced a smile.

Even though she knew that smile must have been forced.

He pointed to the tray.

"I heard the young master hasn't eaten? I brought some porridge, would you like to share?"

She had barely finished speaking.

Wei Zixian suddenly stood up, walked a few steps to her, and grabbed her wrist without saying a word.

His fingers were long and slender, and he gripped them with considerable force, making the tips of his fingers ache.

He didn't say anything, but simply pulled her towards the sofa.

It wasn't the single sofa he usually sat on, but the larger velvet sofa next to him, big enough for two people to sit side by side.

He pressed her shoulder and made her sit down.

After doing all this, he finally let go of her hand and sat down beside her.

Bian Zhizhi was still a little confused. She looked at him, not understanding what he was going to do.

Then, Wei Zixian did something that completely surprised her.

He silently picked up one of the bowls of porridge on the tray, took a spoon, scooped up a spoonful, and brought it to her lips.

His movements were somewhat stiff, and his hand holding the spoon was trembling slightly as it hovered in mid-air.

It was as if she was afraid, what if Bian Zhizhi refused?

But he didn't put his hand down.

Bian Zhizhi was stunned.

She looked at his face, which was so close to hers.

Those eyes, always veiled in a thin mist of aloofness, now clearly reflected her image.

Inside was an awkward yet stubborn concern she had never seen before.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something to refuse, but gave in the instant she saw those eyes.

She leaned forward slightly, and with his hand in hand, opened her mouth and took the spoonful of porridge.

The porridge was warm and cooked to a perfect soft and sticky consistency.

But swallowing was still a torment for her swollen and painful throat.

Wei Zixian saw it.

He paused in his action of handing out the porridge.

The empty spoon was still hanging in the air. He pursed his lips, looked at her, then at the spoon in his hand, seemingly unsure of what to do.

Fearing he might misunderstand, Bian Zhizhi quickly swallowed the mouthful of porridge, forced a smile, and her voice was still hoarse.

"It's nothing... just a sore throat."

Wei Zixian didn't say anything, but he took back the spoon and put it back in the bowl.

He pushed the bowl of porridge towards her, while he picked up another bowl for himself.

He lowered his head and began to eat the porridge in his bowl, bite by bite.

He ate quickly, but not roughly; his movements were simply hurried, as if he were completing a task.

Bian Zhizhi looked at the bowl of porridge in front of her, her stomach churning, and she had absolutely no appetite.

The high fever consumed all her energy and also took away her interest in food.

But she knew that if she didn't eat, the person next to her probably wouldn't move either.

She picked up the spoon, scooped up a small spoonful, and put it in her mouth.

Tasteless and bland.

I forced myself to swallow it.

I managed to eat about half a bowl, but the nausea in my stomach grew stronger and stronger, and I broke out in more cold sweat on my forehead.

She couldn't hold on any longer, so she put down the spoon, leaned back into the sofa, and closed her eyes.

Dizziness, nausea, headache, sore throat... all the discomfort surged back after a brief distraction.

She curled up, hugging herself with her arms, trying to fight off the waves of cold.

Wei Zixian quickly finished his porridge and put down his bowl and spoon.

He turned his head and looked at Bian Zhizhi's distressed expression.

Her brows were furrowed, and her lips were chapped and pale.

She was huddled in the corner of the sofa, looking so small and fragile.

He was completely different from the therapist who always spoke softly and guided him with a gentle smile.

His hands, resting on his knees, unconsciously curled and then relaxed their fingers.

He looked at the beads of sweat on her forehead, hesitated, and then reached out his hand.

When his fingertips touched her burning skin, Wei Zixian flinched from the heat and whispered, "I'm sorry."

Then he stood up, walked straight to the door, and opened it.

As expected, Butler Li was still waiting at the corner of the corridor not far away, ready to serve at any time.

Wei Zixian looked at him, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Take her home. Let her rest."

Butler Li was clearly surprised, but he immediately bowed and said, "Yes, young master."

After Wei Zixian finished speaking, he didn't look at anyone else, turned around and went back to the activity room, closing the door behind him.

Bian Zhizhi was half-supported by Butler Li and a maid who rushed over, and sent back to her room in the annex.

As she lay back in bed, enveloped in the soft blankets once more, she almost burst into tears.

It's not that I feel wronged, but rather... I can finally let go of all the fatigue and relief I've been putting on.

As Wei Zixian requested, the maid poured a glass of warm water for Bian Zhizhi and placed it by the bedside.

"Ms. Bian, please get some rest."

The maid finished speaking and quickly left.

Once again, Bian Zhizhi was left alone in the room.

The physical discomfort persists, but in a corner of my heart...

But because of that brief scene in the activity room just now, it no longer felt so cold and empty.

He saw her distress.

He brought her back.

Bian Zhizhi fell asleep amidst her various thoughts.

In the activity room, Wei Zixian sat back down on the sofa.

He looked at the bowl of porridge on the table, which Zhizhi had only touched a few times and was now completely cold.

He silently picked up the bowl, took the spoon, and ate it all, bite by bite.

Bian Zhizhi's illness dragged on intermittently for nearly a week.

The high fever subsided on the second day, but the symptoms of a severe cold persisted.

She spends most of her time in her room, either sleeping in a daze or staring blankly at the ceiling.

Wei Yanqiu did not let her force herself to "comfort" Wei Zixian any further.

Perhaps because Butler Li reported on Bian Zhizhi's terrible condition and Wei Zixian's reaction that day, the young lady also realized that forcing a seriously ill person to endure might backfire.

However, the outer branches were not completely isolated.

Butler Li would appear at a fixed time every day and briefly inform her of Wei Zixian's situation through the door.

His tone remained flat, and the content was extremely concise, as if he were reporting a work log.

Every time she heard "Young Master asked about you," Bian Zhizhi's heart would flutter slightly.

She knew that for someone like Wei Zixian, who was used to closing himself off and rarely expressed concern, a simple inquiry could carry considerable weight.

She would also pass on some simple messages to Wei Zixian through Butler Li.

These trivial, everyday conversations, conducted through a third party, are like a thin thread connecting two people separated by physical space.

Although they didn't actually meet, a tacit understanding was quietly growing between them.

He is no longer the "patient" who passively accepts healing.

He began to have proactive emotions and actions directed towards her.

This change made her feel vaguely uneasy.

Dependence is deepening, and boundaries are blurring.