Obsessive Young Master Wei: My Beloved Loses Control Every Night

"No need," Wei Zixian said.

Xiao Mei stopped in her tracks, looking at him helplessly.

Wei Zixian's gaze finally shifted from Bian Zhizhi's face to the fragments on the ground.

"Get out of here and call someone to clean up."

"But Miss Bian, she..." Xiaomei looked at Bian Zhizhi's pale face.

"Get out." Wei Zixian repeated, his tone turning colder.

Xiaomei dared not say anything more, hurriedly went out to call for help, and looked back one last time as she closed the door, her eyes filled with complicated emotions.

Bian Zhizhi looked at Wei Zixian in disbelief.

His logic was so clear, his instructions so explicit, that he could even maintain control amidst chaos.

This is not the Wei Zixian who needed her guidance and careful treatment at all.

This is someone who has complete control of the situation.

A normal person?

No, they are more terrifying than normal people.

Because a normal person would at least show surprise or agitation in such a sudden situation, but Wei Zixian was too calm, as if he had expected this moment.

Soon, two male servants came in, carrying cleaning tools.

They had clearly learned about the situation from Xiao Mei, and they moved quickly without giving Bian Zhizhi a second glance, simply keeping their heads down to tidy up.

Broken porcelain was swept into a dustpan, the wet carpet was rolled up and carried away, and tea stains were carefully wiped dry.

In less than ten minutes, the mess was gone, replaced by a clean carpet of the same color.

Throughout the entire process, Wei Zixian remained silent, and Bian Zhizhi did not move.

She stood beside the floor where tea had once been spilled, watching the servants wipe away the last traces of water, leave the room, and close the door behind them.

The sound of the door lock snapping shut was very soft, but to Bian Zhizhi it sounded like a verdict.

Now, only the two of them are left in the room.

Quiet.

A terrifying silence.

The sunlight still slanted in, dust still floated in the beams of light, the books on the bookshelves were still neatly arranged, and the clock on the wall still ticked.

Business as usual.

Except for Bian Zhizhi's heart, which was about to leap out of her chest.

She wanted to speak, to explain, to salvage her professional image, even if it was just by saying, "Young Master, I'm sorry, my hand slipped."

But Wei Zixian made the first move.

He stood up from the sofa and walked towards her at a leisurely pace.

His steps were steady, even somewhat leisurely, unlike Wei Yanqiu's approach which was sharp and aggressive.

He's more like lukewarm water.

It heats up slowly, gradually robbing you of your ability to resist. By the time you realize it's hot, it's too late to escape.

Bian Zhizhi instinctively stepped back.

One step, two steps.

Her back pressed against the bookshelf.

There's no way out.

The bookshelves were very tall, reaching from floor to ceiling, and densely packed with books.

She could smell the faint scent of pine on Wei Zixian, the incense he often used, but now it made her heart pound like a drum.

Wei Zixian stopped in front of her.

too close.

It's dangerously close.

"Young Master..." she finally found her voice, terribly hoarse, "I'm so sorry about earlier, I..."

"Hand." Wei Zixian interrupted her.

Bian Zhizhi was stunned.

Wei Zixian's gaze fell on her hands hanging by her sides: "You've been burned."

Bian Zhizhi then felt a sharp pain on the back of her hand.

Looking down, she saw that the few drops of hot tea that had splashed onto her hand had left faint red marks on the back of her hand, with the edges slightly swollen.

Before she could react, Wei Zixian had already reached out and grabbed her wrist.

His palms were warm, even a little hot.

The moment their skin touched, Bian Zhizhi felt an electric shock and wanted to pull away.

This is going too far. There shouldn't be such contact between a therapist and a patient, especially after she has just messed everything up.

But Wei Zixian held it very firmly.

His fingers were long and strong, and his thumb was positioned right on the inside of her wrist, where she could feel his pulse pounding.

"Don't move," he whispered.

He did something that completely shut down Bian Zhizhi's brain.

He lowered his head, took her hand, turned the back of her hand towards him, and gently kissed the red burn marks above them.

It's not a kiss on a burn.

Instead, he kissed the knuckles on the back of her hand, a spot that was almost reverent and possessive.

The warm touch on my lips didn't last long, only about two seconds.

But for Bian Zhizhi, it felt like an eternity.

She shuddered, as if struck by an electric current; every inch of her skin screamed, from the back of her hands to her spine and scalp.

"Young Master! Please let go!"

She finally realized what was happening and tried to pull her hand back forcefully, her voice filled with terror.

Wei Zixian did not release it.

Instead, he gripped her tighter, his fingers sliding between hers to intertwine with hers.

This is an extremely intimate gesture.

His palm completely enveloped her hand, their knuckles pressed tightly together, their pulses resonating beneath their touching skin.

"You..." Bian Zhizhi's voice trembled, whether from anger or fear, it was hard to tell.

"Do you know what you're doing? Let me go!"

She tried to use force, but Wei Zixian's hand was like an iron clamp.

"Be careful," Wei Zixian suddenly said.

Bian Zhizhi then realized the awkwardness of her position.

She leaned against the bookshelf, while he stood on the outside.

If she struggles, he only needs to step back slightly to bump into the protruding wooden corner of the bookshelf.

That angle was right in front of his lower back.

She couldn't let Wei Zixian get hurt.

This is her responsibility as a therapist; the patient's safety is always the top priority.

It was also that damned, irreplaceable attachment she couldn't completely let go of.

She didn't want to see him in pain, even though he was doing something outrageous right now.

Therefore, she could not struggle.

At least you shouldn't struggle too hard.

Wei Zixian clearly understood this as well.

He watched the struggle and compromise flash in her eyes, and a triumphant smile curled at the corner of his lips.

He took a small step back, giving her some breathing space, but their intertwined hands remained tightly clasped, even more tightly.

Then he began to rub the back of her hand with his thumb.

one more time.

Rhythmically rub along the contours of the knuckles, from the base of the index finger to the little finger.

The suggestive gesture sent shivers down Bian Zhizhi's spine, goosebumps spreading from her arms to the back of her neck.

"Young Master," Bian Zhizhi's voice was pleading, and also carried the last bit of dignity she was trying to maintain.

"What exactly... do you want?"

This was the first time in days that she had let down her guard and asked him with genuine exhaustion and helplessness.

She lost control, broke the glass, and now he's treating her like this.

She didn't know what to do anymore.

Wei Zixian raised his eyes and his gaze fell on her face.

His gaze moved slowly, as if he were carefully sketching a painting.

Finally, his gaze lingered on her lips.

His gaze was so direct, it was like he was kissing her with his eyes.

Bian Zhizhi felt a sense of suffocation.

"Young Master..." she called out again, her voice even weaker.

Wei Zixian spoke, his voice low and deep, carrying a long-suppressed desire: "I want you to kiss me."

Bian Zhizhi opened her eyes wide, thinking she had misheard.

"W-what?"

Wei Zixian leaned forward, his breath brushing against her ear, repeating each word clearly and distinctly: "I want you to kiss me."