Obsessive Young Master Wei: My Beloved Loses Control Every Night

Wei Zixian did not answer.

My fingers gently caressed the profile I had drawn.

Lu Fangchi's Adam's apple bobbed as he suppressed the bitterness in his throat: "She didn't leave you anything? A note? A letter? Not even a single word?"

"No," Wei Zixian said hoarsely. "She deleted my number. Before she left, she blocked all my contact methods."

He paused for a moment, then said, "I changed my number and sent her a message, but she blocked me again."

Lu Fangchi muttered a curse under his breath and slammed his fist into his thigh: "Where's your sister? What did she say? Why did she let Bian Zhizhi leave?"

"She said she was doing it for my own good." Wei Zixian suddenly laughed, a twisted and ugly laugh. "Fang Chi, sometimes I think, if I had just died during those five hours in the cellar back then, would it have been better for everyone?"

Your parents won't feel guilty and leave, your sister won't have to give up on her life, and you won't have to always protect a burden.

Now even she... doesn't have to be dragged into this mess by me.

"Shut up." Lu Fangchi's voice hardened, his eyes instantly reddening. "If you dare say that nonsense again, I'll really beat you up."

"I'm telling the truth." Wei Zixian closed his eyes. "I've ruined so many people's lives. Now even she..."

"Wei Zixian, listen carefully." Lu Fangchi grabbed his shoulder and forced him to turn around. His shoulder was so thin it hurt his hand. "Bian Zhizhi is gone. Yes, it hurts. I understand."

Do you think you're the only one in pain?

Your sister has been crying so much these past few days that she's almost gone blind!

I was so angry on the plane I wanted to jump out and swim back!

"But you are not alone. You have me, your sister, and so many people who worry about you."

"You must survive first. Only by surviving will you have a chance to find her, ask her why she left, if she had any difficulties, and whether she wants to come back."

"Once you're dead, you've lost everything, understand? Do you think Bian Zhizhi will come back if you starve and thirst to death here? She'll just think it's a good thing she left early, otherwise she'd have to collect your corpse!"

Wei Zixian looked at him, her eyes still empty: "She won't be coming back."

She left because she was afraid. Afraid of me, afraid of my sister, afraid of this relationship. I scared her.

His tone was so calm that it sent a chill down Lu Fangchi's spine.

"Then go apologize to her! Go explain! Screw kneeling down and begging for her forgiveness! But first, you need the strength to stand up!"

Lu Fangchi practically roared, "Look at yourself now! If Bian Zhizhi saw you like this, she'd run even further away!"

Who would want a useless person who threatens suicide at the drop of a hat?!

The word "waste" pierced Wei Zixian's pupils like a needle, causing his body to tremble almost imperceptibly.

Lu Fangchi knew he had spoken too harshly, but he couldn't stop: "Wei Zixian, back then you could walk back to the teaching building even with a bloody head, but now you're acting like you're going to die for a woman?"

Who the hell do you think you've done right? Do you think you've done right by all the worry your sister has caused you over the years? Do you think you've done right by me flying all the way back?

"I'm tired, Fang Chi." Wei Zixian shook her head, curled up again, buried her face in her knees, and said in a muffled voice, filled with utter exhaustion and resignation, "You can leave now. Leave me alone."

"Wei Zixian—" Lu Fangchi wanted to say more, but seeing his unyielding and completely closed-off demeanor, all his words stuck in his throat.

He knew that some hurdles could only be overcome alone.

He stood in the room for ten minutes, watching the figure huddled in the corner, clutching the painting, and finally said nothing before turning and leaving.

Before leaving, he looked back once.

Wei Zixian remained in that position, motionless.

On her tenth day in Yantong City, Bian Zhizhi's life began to take on a rough outline.

The surgery on my father, Bian Wenbo, was successful. He was transferred from the ICU to a regular ward on the third day after the operation.

The mass in the throat was completely removed, and the pathology report ultimately confirmed it to be a benign polyp with no signs of malignancy.

This is the best news we've had in days.

Director Chen carefully examined the wound during his rounds.

"The recovery is going well, but the vocal cords need absolute rest. You can't speak for at least a month, and you should avoid loud talking and prolonged use of your voice for three months."

Whether he can resume lecturing depends on his recovery, but he should be able to maintain normal daily communication.

Bian Wenbai couldn't speak, he just nodded vigorously, his eyes moist.

Lin Suxin held her husband's hand, laughing and crying at the same time, and thanked him repeatedly.

Bian Zhizhi stood in front of the ward window, watching the patients and their families strolling in the garden outside.

The sun was shining brightly, and the golden ginkgo leaves had fallen to the ground.

She spent a considerable sum from that card on her father's surgery, hospitalization, and subsequent rehabilitation costs, but the remaining balance was still substantial.

The apartment Su Wan helped her rent was not far from the hospital; it was in a quiet neighborhood and had two bedrooms and a living room.

Bian Zhizhi used the remaining money to pay a year's rent and buy some necessary home appliances.

She didn't touch those pieces of jewelry; she kept them at the very bottom of her suitcase.

After her father was discharged from the hospital, he needed to rest, so Bian Zhizhi started looking for a job.

Her academic qualifications and major are not particularly outstanding in Yantong, and her experience as a therapist lacks formal certification, but she has a solid background in psychology and practice in art therapy.

Su Wan used her connections to help her contact several organizations.

Finally, Bian Zhizhi chose a private children's psychological rehabilitation center to work as an assistant therapist.

The main job is to work with the lead therapist to help children with emotional disorders or traumatic experiences express themselves and process their emotions through methods such as drawing and sandplay.

On the day of the interview, the center director looked at her resume and portfolio and asked, "Ms. Bian, did you work in the north before? Why did you choose to come to Yantong?"

Bian Zhizhi was silent for a few seconds: "It's due to family reasons. I need a change of environment."

The director didn't ask any further questions and nodded: "Most of the children here have experienced some unpleasant things. They are not good at expressing themselves, or they refuse to express themselves."

You need to be patient, and also protect yourself; don't take all their emotions on your shoulders. Can you do that?

"I will do my best," she said.

She was hired.

The salary isn't high, but the atmosphere is relaxed.

On her first day at work, she was faced with a seven-year-old boy who had become taciturn and refused to communicate with anyone because he had witnessed domestic violence.

The lead therapist asked Bian Zhizhi to take him to the sandplay room.

The boy's name was Xiaoyu. He was very thin, with big, dark eyes, but his gaze was evasive. He didn't look at people or the sand table; he just stared at his toes.

Bian Zhizhi didn't force him.

She first squatted down by the sand table, gently stirred the fine sand with her hands, piled up a small mound, and then flattened it.

She took a small blue doll from the shelf and placed it in the center of the sand tray.

"This can be any world you want to create. You can put anything in it, or nothing at all. I'll be here with you."

Xiaoyu didn't move.

Bian Zhizhi wasn't in a hurry. She sat quietly with him, occasionally adjusting the position of the doll, or taking a small house or a tree from the shelf and putting it on.

Time passed, and sunlight streamed in through the window, slowly shifting across the sand table.

Until Xiaoyu finally moved.

He reached out and took a black, distorted monster model from the shelf, carefully placing it in a corner of the sand table, far, far away from the blue doll.

He then quickly withdrew his hand and returned to his original posture.