Obsessive Young Master Wei: My Beloved Loses Control Every Night

The solid wood bookshelf behind her was digging into her spine, yet it couldn't support her constantly sliding body.

It's obvious that Wei Zixian also noticed this.

He walked closer to her, and before she could react, his hands firmly gripped her waist, lifting her up slightly.

She was forced to stand on tiptoe until she was level with him, her nose almost touching his jawline, before she could barely maintain her balance.

Wei Zixian lowered his head, and stray hairs fell down from his temples, brushing against her forehead. Their foreheads touched, and their breaths mingled.

"My first request," Wei Zixian began, "is to kiss me."

Before Bian Zhizhi could even process the meaning of those words, Wei Zixian's voice followed immediately: "Now."

She looked up abruptly, staring at him in disbelief.

What is he saying?

Kiss him?

Wei Zixian's eyes appeared even deeper up close. His long eyelashes drooped slightly, casting faint shadows beneath his eyes.

The shadow trembled slightly with his breathing, like some silent urging.

Wei Zixian did not speak again.

He simply stared at her, his gaze, so intensely focused it was almost frightening, sweeping over her eyebrows, the bridge of her nose, and finally settling on her trembling lips.

Time stretched out infinitely in the silence.

Bian Zhizhi felt the hand gripping her waist tighten slightly. It didn't hurt, but it was enough for her to realize that he was waiting for her.

Wait patiently.

In their contest, the loser is always Bian Zhizhi.

She is too easily swayed by soft hearts, too easily filled with guilt, and too easily defeated by those seemingly fragile yet sharp gazes.

Wei Zixian didn't need to do anything; he just needed to keep staring at her like this.

With those beautiful eyes, with that gaze that was a mixture of longing and obsession, staring intently at her would be enough to break her down completely.

The moment her gaze began to dart away, she dared not meet his eyes again, and her breathing became erratic, Wei Zixian had already won.

As he wished.

Bianzhi leaned forward slightly and pressed his lips against hers.

She didn't close her eyes, but lowered her eyelids, her gaze falling on a small mole below his collarbone, faintly visible in the shadow of his collar.

Her lips touched his slightly cool lips, the soft touch sending a jolt of sensation through her mind.

The kiss lasted only two seconds.

Just as she was about to back away, wanting to escape this overly ambiguous atmosphere, Wei Zixian made a move.

His hand, which had been resting on the bookshelf, slowly moved to the back of her neck, and he inserted his fingers into her hair, applying pressure gently but firmly.

This action forced her to tilt her head back even further.

The posture of her throat being completely exposed conveyed a sense of vulnerability, as if he could easily break her neck with the slightest force.

Bian Zhizhi's breathing quickened, and her fingers unconsciously gripped his collar, the fabric crumpling in her palm.

She could feel his other thumb gently circling her waist.

Through the thin knitted sweater, the temperature of his fingertips almost burned through the fabric, creating a tingling sensation on her skin.

The sensation around his waist gradually spread, first to his side, then to his back, sending shivers down his spine wherever it went.

Bian Zhizhi wanted to hide.

Her body wanted to shrink back, wanting to escape his control.

But the hand on the back of her neck held her in place, and the hand on her waist restrained her.

She had nowhere to escape.

As expected, a deeper kiss followed.

This time, Wei Zixian's lips were no longer satisfied with just a fleeting touch.

He pried open her tightly closed teeth and plunged in. His kissing skills weren't great, but they had an almost greedy, predatory quality.

This kiss was completely different from the one before.

If the previous one was a marker, then this one is possession.

Complete and utter possession.

Bian Zhizhi's brain began to lack oxygen.

A faint white light appeared before my eyes, and a buzzing sound filled my ears. All that remained were the sounds of our intertwined breaths and my own heartbeat growing faster and faster.

She was forced to endure it; her tongue was numb, her lips were chafed and stung, and she felt like a plant broken by a storm, only able to stand by clinging to him.

I don't know how much time passed.

Maybe it was only three minutes, maybe it was ten minutes; time lost its meaning in this kiss.

"That's enough."

Bian Zhizhi finally regained her voice and used all her strength to push the person away.

Her cheeks flushed red, and her eyes were slightly red.

She turned her head away to avoid his gaze, but accidentally pulled out a strand of silver thread, which shimmered in the light for a moment before breaking.

Wei Zixian obediently loosened his grip.

But his arm remained loosely around her waist, not fully withdrawn.

It was as if they had anticipated that she would slip and fall, and had prepared support in advance.

Wei Zixian raised his hand and wiped the corner of his lips with the pad of his thumb, the movement slow and deliberate, with an indescribable languor.

His gaze remained fixed on her face, never wavering.

His gaze fell on her swollen lips, still bearing the intense evidence of their recent kiss, glistening with desire.

He wiped the remaining moisture from the corner of his lips, then suddenly asked a completely nonsensical question: "Can you play the piano?"

Bian Zhizhi was stunned.

"...What?"

Her brain was still in a hazy, oxygen-deprived state, and her reaction was a beat slow.

She didn't even hear what he asked; she just stared at him blankly, her eyes unfocused.

Wei Zixian was very patient and repeated, "Piano."

As he spoke, he gestured with his chin toward the corner of the room.

Bian Zhizhi looked in the direction he indicated.

That was the innermost corner of the activity room, right next to the rarely opened floor-to-ceiling window.

There was a Steinway Fibonacci piano by the window, a piano she had seen many times.

From the very first day she stepped into the Wei residence and began healing Wei Zixian, it remained in that corner, its lid tightly closed and its stool empty.

She had considered whether to include the piano in her healing program.

Music therapy has a very good effect on the emotional regulation of autistic patients.

She had even researched the relevant information and was preparing to bring it up with Wei Zixian at a suitable time.

But Wei Zixian never showed any interest in the piano. In fact, when she first mentioned it, he looked away and expressed his rejection with silence.

So that piano became the only unused item in the room.

But now, looking closely, Bian Zhizhi noticed some details that had been overlooked before.

Although the lid of the piano was tightly closed, its surface was spotless and reflected a person's image, clearly indicating that someone had been carefully wiping it every day.

The piano bench is not the usual single-person model, but a large double bench, big enough for two people to sit down, clearly not intended for solo performances.

The strangest thing is the music stand.

The top was empty; there were no sheet music displayed.

However, the wooden edges bear creases and wear from repeated page turning, varying in depth.

Does anyone often look at sheet music here?

Do you flip it over frequently?

But what about the sheet music?

Where did the sheet music go?

Bian Zhizhi couldn't understand it or figure it out.

She shook her head subconsciously, her voice still unsteady from panting, barely audible: "I... I learned a little bit when I was in America, but I've long forgotten it."

Wei Zixian did not respond.

He simply took her hand, pulled her along, and led her through the activity room to that corner.