Possessive Madman Coaxes Him With a Hand on His Waist! The Cold-Hearted Host Starts to Feel Something - Chapter 87

Li Cheng was just about to step back when Zhou Ci suddenly leaned in and licked the tip of his finger.

Startled, Li Cheng shuddered—so much that even his other hand trembled.

Zhou Ci caught his hand and let his gaze linger tenderly on Li Cheng’s face.

Without another word, Zhou Ci scooped him up and carried him back into the room.

Li Cheng’s head buzzed from the sudden motion. Crossing his arms defensively in front of him, he gestured clumsily: “My foot hurts. I can’t move.”

Zhou Ci lifted Li Cheng’s injured foot for a look. The bleeding had already stopped, and the wound was carefully bandaged with several layers of medicine.

“It’s fine.” Zhou Ci’s palm slid to rest against Li Cheng’s lower abdomen, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Lean on my shoulder.”

–––

Li Cheng had been running around all day and was completely worn out.

Afterward, Zhou Ci took him to the bathroom, bathed him, and began drying his hair. Halfway through, Li Cheng had already fallen asleep against his shoulder.

Zhou Ci listened to the soft, tired rhythm of his breathing. When he looked down, he realized Li Cheng had been asleep for quite a while.

Carrying him back to bed, Zhou Ci gathered him into his arms.

He brushed his fingers over Li Cheng’s eyebrows, hair, and the curve of his neck. Every inch of the man in his embrace seemed unbearably beautiful.

Zhou Ci lowered his head and bit him twice, unable to resist.

Just then, a message notification chimed.

It was from Bai Si, a geneticist stationed at the Weapon Research Center—dispatched directly by the highest authority of the Illusory Realm.

Zhou Ci opened the hovering holographic projection.

Three unread messages appeared from Bai Si:

[Mr. Zhou, I’ve made all the preparations. When will you bring the experimental subject over?]

[Mr. Zhou, the demon race is intelligent and adept at bewitching minds. If you still can’t determine his nature, I’ve mailed you a new injection formula.]

[This serum works on any demon beast within the entire Illusory Realm. It rapidly amplifies latent genes. Please, Mr. Zhou, give it a try.]

Zhou Ci had once told Bai Si about his suspicion that Li Cheng might be half-demon.

Having spent a lifetime studying demon beasts, Bai Si’s interest in Li Cheng was far from ordinary.

Now, he was so impatient that he had come to press Zhou Ci directly for results.

Zhou Ci glanced down at the sleeping Li Cheng and replied curtly: “I’ll handle this myself. Don’t ask again.”

He closed the projection with an annoyed flick and muttered softly to himself, “If he really is a demon, he must be a fox spirit.”

For the first time, Zhou Ci found the phrase born to seduce fitting for a man.

Not feminine—but alluring in a way all his own.

Just as he reached to pull the blanket up over Li Cheng, he heard the man mumbling faintly in his sleep.

Zhou Ci instinctively leaned close to listen.

A whisper, soft as wind, brushed his ear: “Yan Jin…”

So quiet—

But Zhou Ci heard it clearly.

His expression froze. The moment he registered the name, his heart erupted in fury.

His gaze went dark and still, like stagnant water disturbed by a storm.

The light in his eyes vanished, replaced by a hollow, lifeless chill—like a flame of joy that had been snuffed out by a cold gust.

No warmth remained. Only silence.

The little mute can talk?

Why would he lie to me!

And worse—he had called out another man’s name!

Who the hell is Yan Jin?!

Zhou Ci’s chest heaved, his hands curling into fists so tightly that veins stood out along his arms.

His first thought was disturbingly simple—kill Yan Jin.

Just then, Li Cheng’s fingers twitched, brushing against Zhou Ci’s hand. Still half-asleep, he instinctively grabbed hold of it.

This time his voice was clearer, softer—

“Zhou Ci…”

The tension in Zhou Ci’s brow eased slightly.

At least now, he was calling his name.

He could speak—so why pretend to be mute?

When Li Cheng frowned and murmured again, Zhou Ci caught him by the nape and kissed him hard.

It was a kiss of anger and possession—a silent declaration that this man belonged to him.

“Hh—”

Li Cheng’s breath hitched in his sleep. Suffocating, he jolted awake, eyes flying open.

He pushed at Zhou Ci’s shoulders, but the man seized both wrists, pinning them above his head.

Li Cheng couldn’t make sense of why Zhou Ci was suddenly angry—furious, even.

The confusion left him dazed, and in the chaos, he was bullied several more times before he could react.

Curling under the blanket, Li Cheng shot Zhou Ci a wary look.

He was about to sign a question—why are you angry?—

But before his hands even rose, Zhou Ci’s expression darkened further.

“Still pretending? You can talk, can’t you? Why did you lie to me?!” Zhou Ci’s tone was sharp, his gaze cold as ice.

Li Cheng blinked, his eyes darting.

【You’ve been exposed, Fox Host.】

Li Cheng: Exposed how?

【I called for you earlier, but you blocked me in your sleep! You were talking in your dreams—you said Yan Jin! Zhou Ci’s obviously mad now.】

Li Cheng’s fingers trembled. So he’s jealous of himself?

He stole a glance at Zhou Ci’s frosty eyes, shrinking instinctively.

His gaze reddened, rimmed with tears.

Pulling the blanket tighter around himself, Li Cheng turned his back on Zhou Ci, silent.

Watching his trembling shoulders, Zhou Ci frowned.

He thought at first it was just an act to earn pity.

But as the muffled sobs grew louder, Zhou Ci’s irritation melted into panic.

He reached out to pat Li Cheng’s shoulder.

Li Cheng flinched, scooting away a few inches.

So Zhou Ci moved to face him directly instead.

By now, Li Cheng’s tears were streaming silently. The sight of him trying not to cry but failing anyway made Zhou Ci’s heart twist with guilt.

“Stop crying.” Zhou Ci grabbed a tissue and gently wiped away the tears. His voice was low, unsteady.

“I… I wasn’t really mad at you.”

He brushed his thumb along Li Cheng’s wet lashes, his tone softening into a coaxing murmur—deep and lazy, entirely at odds with his usual demeanor yet strangely tender. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

A pause. Zhou Ci blinked.

Why was he—the angry one—now the one doing the comforting?

Li Cheng looked up at the sound of his voice.

Tears clung to his lashes, his eyes unfocused and hazy.

Seeing an opening, he slipped into Zhou Ci’s arms on his own, though his body still shook with soft sobs.

“Tell me then—why did you lie to me?” Zhou Ci’s tone was completely different now.

Earlier, it had been: If you don’t talk, I’ll make you.

Now, it was: If you don’t talk, I’ll still find out—but I’d rather you tell me yourself.

Li Cheng’s arms circled Zhou Ci’s waist. He hesitated, stammering, “I… didn’t lie to you.”

The voice was just as Zhou Ci had imagined—clear as spring water, with a faint rasp that made it all the more entrancing.

“Didn’t lie?” Zhou Ci repeated.

“You can speak, but you’ve been signing to me every day. You call that not lying?”

“Why pretend to be mute?” He fired off the questions in quick succession.

Li Cheng lifted his gaze timidly, voice trembling.

“Because… when I was little, we couldn’t afford a proper school. The only one I could attend was one for demon beasts, run by the highest authority. Disabled students didn’t have to pay tuition. My father told me if I wanted to study, I had to figure it out myself, so…”

Zhou Ci frowned, anger simmering again. “So you pretended to be mute?”

Li Cheng nodded. “Mm.”

His eyes flickered away. “My record’s listed under their sponsorship program. If I talk now, they’ll think I faked my disability to get funding. That’s fraud. I could be imprisoned for it.”

So that was why.

Zhou Ci exhaled, then pulled Li Cheng into his arms.

His voice was low, rough with guilt and tenderness. “I’ll pay the money back for you.”

“From now on, speak freely.”

Li Cheng looked up, startled and bright-eyed. “Really?”

“Of course.” Zhou Ci nodded firmly.

After a moment, he caught Li Cheng’s chin between his fingers, his tone shifting into something sly. “But I have one condition.”

Li Cheng stared at him warily. Zhou Ci’s expression was the very image of a cunning old fox.

“W-what condition?”