Possessive Madman Coaxes Him With a Hand on His Waist! The Cold-Hearted Host Starts to Feel Something - Chapter 77

Li Cheng nuzzled against Zhou Ci’s neck and shoulder.

His legs shifted forward, his body growing heavier with fatigue as he wrapped his arms around Zhou Ci, clinging even tighter.

The moment Zhou Ci realized what was happening, his large hand swiftly tugged down the edge of Li Cheng’s already-short shirt, pulling it over his waist and hips as he gathered the man into his embrace.

His palm brushed against bare skin.

Inside the Weapon Research Center, the group of staff froze mid-meeting, wide-eyed and speechless.

No one dared to show a reaction.

Everyone was doing their best to stay composed.

Forgive us, but… is our usually stoic boss like this at home?

Do the boss and his spouse really play around this wild and carefree?

And—wait—are we allowed to watch this for free?!

Is the boss going to gouge our eyes out later?!

Zhou Ci’s hand gave Li Cheng’s waist a light squeeze, signaling for him to get down.

But Li Cheng misunderstood and instead shifted closer.

Zhou Ci’s Adam’s apple rolled as he silently drew in a deep breath.

The meeting was at a crucial point—hanging up now would cause a delay.

So he reached over, grabbed a small blanket from the sofa, and wrapped it around Li Cheng.

“I’m in a meeting,” he said quietly, keeping his tone as calm as possible.

Li Cheng’s head moved slightly, as if reluctant to go.

Zhou Ci knew from experience that being stern never worked on him—gentleness always did. So his grip tightened, and he changed tactics:

“Then sit beside me,” he murmured after a pause, the words sticking to his lips like glue. “When I’m done with the meeting, I’ll hold you.”

Li Cheng thought for a moment, frowning slightly, then reluctantly let go of Zhou Ci.

Still clutching the blanket, he sat down right next to him—so close their bodies brushed.

Resting his head against Zhou Ci’s shoulder, Li Cheng closed his eyes, exhaustion washing over him.

On the other side of the video call, the researchers had already eaten their fill of “dog food”. Their lips twitched, struggling not to laugh.

Zhou Ci suddenly slammed a hand against the holographic screen in front of him, his voice sharp: “Where do you think you’re looking?!”

The atmosphere in the research center instantly dropped several degrees.

Every head lowered at once.

They all silently repeated the same mantra—as long as we don’t make eye contact, he’s not talking to me.

Li Cheng, seemingly uncomfortable with just leaning on him, looped both arms around Zhou Ci’s arm and began to doze off again.

Halfway through the meeting, one of the braver staff members hesitantly spoke up.

“Boss…”

Zhou Ci’s gaze remained cold and distant. “Did I ask you to speak?”

The man scratched his head nervously, his eyes flicking up for a split second. “Boss, uh… your spouse—he seems to have fallen asleep.”

Zhou Ci turned his head—and sure enough, Li Cheng had dozed off against him.

A faint blush tinged Li Cheng’s sleeping face, the light casting a soft, warm glow across his features, making him look unbearably gentle.

Zhou Ci tugged the blanket up higher over him.

But the sofa was clearly uncomfortable for sleeping.

So he abruptly ended the meeting. “Give me two minutes.”

With that, he stood, scooping Li Cheng up into his arms.

After carrying him to the bedroom, Zhou Ci adjusted the temperature to a comfortable level and was about to leave—

—when a hand caught his.

Li Cheng’s dazed eyes blinked open, unfocused but warm, his fingers moving in sign language to spell out Zhou Ci’s name: “Zhou Ci…”

Even without words, Zhou Ci understood.

He turned his hand over, holding Li Cheng’s. “Are you scared?”

Li Cheng nodded, his gaze filled with quiet pleading.

Zhou Ci gently brushed his hair. “I’ll leave the light on, and I’ll come back to you as soon as I finish.”

He adjusted the lamp to a soft, warm glow.

Li Cheng released his hand, signing again: “Then if I’m waiting here alone that long, shouldn’t you reward me first?”

“Huh.” Zhou Ci’s dark eyes flickered, his voice carrying a low, teasing lilt. “A reward? Now you’re bargaining with me?”

“Then tell me,” he continued, before Li Cheng could respond, “what do you want?”

Li Cheng pointed at his own face and signed: “A kiss.”

Zhou Ci frowned slightly. Seriously? Just a kiss? That simple?

He despised physical contact—especially something like a kiss.

But seeing the disappointment flicker across Li Cheng’s eyes, watching him toss aside the blanket and turn away to face the wall, clutching a pillow to his chest—Zhou Ci felt something twist in his chest.

In his movement, the edge of Li Cheng’s shirt lifted slightly.

A slender waist, soft curves, and bare feet tinted with faint red from the cold—all revealed beneath the gentle light.

Even his long legs glowed faintly beneath the amber hue.

The sight made Zhou Ci’s breath catch.

Suddenly, he felt a strange warmth at his nose.

When he raised a hand to touch it—

…he was bleeding.

He was actually having a nosebleed!

Seriously?!

Was this really happening to him, of all people?!

Mortified, Zhou Ci bolted from the room like a man fleeing defeat.

He’s going to be the death of me.

He splashed water on his face in the bathroom, finally managing to stop the bleeding, then forced himself to return and finish the meeting with great effort.

When it was finally over, he leaned back, massaging his forehead.

But all he could see in his mind were those flashes of skin, those long legs, that soft expression.

He’s not human, Zhou Ci thought grimly. He’s a disaster waiting to happen.

He strode toward the bedroom—only to see Li Cheng already up, standing by the door with a pillow in his arms as if about to leave.

“W–What’s wrong?” Zhou Ci stammered, his words catching awkwardly in his throat.

Li Cheng shot him a glance and signed: “Move aside.”

“I’m going to sleep with Weiwei.”

“…Huh?” Zhou Ci blocked his way. “Who are you going to sleep with?”

There was no one else in the house. The moment he asked, Zhou Ci remembered—Weiwei was the little friend Li Cheng had just brought home.

Li Cheng tried to brush past him, but Zhou Ci’s hand pressed firmly against his shoulder, pulling him back and pinning him to the door. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Li Cheng rolled his eyes and tried again, but Zhou Ci only tightened his grip.

Locking eyes with him, Li Cheng flung the pillow hard against Zhou Ci’s chest, his face full of anger—and a hint of hurt.

He pressed his lips together, hands moving sharply in sign language: “Mr. Zhou, I’ve decided.”

“Oh?” Zhou Ci’s expression shifted slightly, confused by Li Cheng’s sudden defiance. “Decided what?”

Li Cheng took a deep breath, clenching his fists before signing slowly, clearly—

“Mr. Zhou.”

“I want a divorce.”