Possessive Madman Coaxes Him With a Hand on His Waist! The Cold-Hearted Host Starts to Feel Something - Chapter 93

Li Cheng’s tone wasn’t loud, but his voice carried a chilling weight—low and eerie, like something crawling out from the depths of hell.

“You have no reason to suspect me.”

His foot pressed down harder.

White Si felt as though his ribs were being crushed, pain lancing through his chest with every breath.

Li Cheng’s voice continued, calm but sharp as a blade.

“You insulted my husband.”

“You used beast-specific sedatives on an ordinary human. That violates the coexistence laws of the False Realm.”

“Because of you, I’m in a bad mood right now. So I kicked you. That’s not a problem, is it, Dr. White?”

“You…” White Si gasped, chest rising and falling violently, sweat breaking out across his forehead.

He didn’t believe for a second that Li Cheng was human—no ordinary man could kick with that kind of force!

But at this moment, he had no choice but to retreat.

Because he had no proof.

White Si panted heavily, forcing his words out through the pain.

“My behavior just now… was inappropriate… I only wanted Mr. Li to sign the document… the one that was missed earlier…”

Li Cheng finally lifted his foot.

He crouched down beside White Si, voice almost polite. “My apologies, Dr. White. When I use my hands, I tend to misjudge my strength.”

Then he brushed the dust from White Si’s chest where his shoe had left a faint mark.

Perhaps he patted too hard—White Si’s body tilted to the side, coughing uncontrollably.

“Cough… cough, cough… cough—”

Li Cheng’s gaze fell on the file folder scattered beside him.

He calmly picked up White Si’s pen, flipped open the folder, and scrawled a few harsh, impatient characters across the page: Read. Disagree.

It was just a formality anyway—nothing that truly mattered.

After signing, Li Cheng tossed the file back onto White Si.

“Get out.”

White Si knew he’d lost this round. His hand curled into a trembling fist as he forced himself to stand.

Li Cheng stood above him the entire time, his cold gaze filled with open contempt and disgust.

White Si straightened, collected the file, and steadied his breathing.

Then he looked directly at Li Cheng and—still forcing a thin smile—spoke with brittle civility. “Sorry to disturb you today. Until next time, Mr. Li.”

“No need.” Li Cheng’s lips curved faintly. “I don’t like dealing with dogs.”

He arched a brow, voice turning cold again. “Oh, and do hire a good lawyer. I plan to sue you.”

White Si’s eyes flickered. Embarrassed and seething, he turned toward the door.

His steps were unsteady, face pale from the pain he tried to hide.

Behind him came the sharp slam of the door closing.

Outside, White Si’s nails dug into his palms, the sting grounding his fury. He glared back at the closed door with pure malice.

A beast always slips up eventually.

All he needed was that one flaw.

No one could protect a half-human, half-beast forever.

He took out his communicator, voice low and venomous.

“Send the blood sample we just took to the High Bureau. Keep a copy for the official records. The rest—deliver to my private lab.”

—

Once White Si was gone, the room fell into utter silence.

Even the faint tick of the clock sounded deafening.

Zhou Ci just stared at Li Cheng, jaw slack in disbelief.

Who was that just now?

Who was the man who’d kicked White Si across the room with a single blow?

Who had spoken so coldly, every word laced with authority and threat?

And who had calmly declared, “When I fight, I never know my own strength.”

That was Li Cheng, right?

His Li Cheng?

It had to be—

Right?

Ahhh!

Where did his obedient little spouse go?!

He was losing his mind.

All that “too delicate to lift a finger,” all that “soft, fragile little wife”—nonsense!

Li Cheng could take on eight men at once!

Zhou Ci glanced sidelong at him.

Li Cheng looked away, guilty, scanning the room as if he could pretend nothing had happened.

They stared at each other for a long, tense moment.

Finally, Zhou Ci dropped onto the sofa, legs spread casually, voice low but commanding. “Come here.”

Li Cheng didn’t move.

Zhou Ci’s tone hardened. He lifted a hand and repeated, louder, “Come here.”

Li Cheng hesitated, then obediently walked over and sat down across from him.

He sat perfectly upright, knees together, hands on his lap—a picture of well-behaved composure.

Zhou Ci frowned. “Sit next to me.”

Li Cheng immediately stood and scooted over, settling beside him.

“Tsk.” Zhou Ci’s gaze roamed over him, equal parts exasperated and amused. “So tell me, were you professionally trained?”

Li Cheng blinked. “I graduated from Tianhua Academy of Drama.”

Zhou Ci almost choked on a laugh.

“Are you kidding me?” His voice was low, equal parts disbelief and helplessness.

He’d thought he was the one manipulating Li Cheng, but now it was clear—he’d been the one wrapped around that sly fox’s finger all along.

“I didn’t…” Li Cheng said softly, eyes darting away.

“Didn’t, huh?” Zhou Ci’s mouth tightened. “Didn’t, yet you’d twist off a bottle cap and hand it to me like you couldn’t manage it yourself?”

Behind the act, he’d probably sliced through the glass with a single flick of his claw.

Li Cheng lowered his head, mumbling, “I was too fierce… I was afraid… you wouldn’t like it.”

What kind of reason was that?!

“You think liking someone depends on whether they’re fierce or not?” Zhou Ci’s voice rose several notches.

Li Cheng instinctively shifted away.

Zhou Ci leaned closer. “Are you afraid of me?”

“No.” Li Cheng turned his head slightly, answering without hesitation.

“Then be yourself.”

“Stop pretending to be obedient.”

Li Cheng’s eyes flicked nervously. “I’m not pretending.”

Then, under his breath, he muttered, “I’ve always been obedient.”

“Heh.” Zhou Ci grabbed the glass on the table and took a long drink. “Obedient, huh? You’ve got some nerve saying that.”

Li Cheng suddenly looked up at him, gaze calm but defiant.

“I’m sorry, Zhou Ci. I lied to you. If you’re angry, you can send me to the lab right now. Let White Si dissect me—split open my chest, dig out my heart and brain—if that’ll ease your resentment.”

Zhou Ci froze. His chest tightened painfully.

This little fox really knew how to get under his skin.

He rubbed his temples, trying to suppress the ache.

“That little fox is your true form?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you suddenly shift and run off last time?”

“To play.”

Zhou Ci sighed. “You sure play wild.”

Li Cheng shook his head quickly, all sincerity.

“And marrying me—was that for some ulterior motive?” Zhou Ci asked.

“No motive.” The reply was crisp, without hesitation.

“Be honest.” Zhou Ci tapped his fingers against the sofa arm, his eyes sharp enough to pierce through pretense.

Li Cheng met his gaze. “Because I like you. That’s why I married you.” His voice softened, lashes lowering as if to prove the truth in his words.

After a pause, he added quietly, “Even knowing your intentions, I still wanted to be with you.”

Zhou Ci’s heart sank.

So the little fox had known from the start that his motives weren’t pure… yet had married him anyway.

“Are you stupid?” Zhou Ci’s voice roughened. “If I hadn’t protected you today, do you even realize what could’ve happened? What if I’d decided to dissect you myself?”

“Then what would you do?” he demanded, anger tinged with fear.

Li Cheng’s hands twisted in his clothes.

Zhou Ci grabbed his wrist. “Don’t pretend. I’m not falling for that anymore.”

Li Cheng’s movements stilled. His voice dropped low. “Would you really?”

His eyes shimmered with fragile hope—expectant yet tinged with quiet sadness.

Zhou Ci’s heartbeat sped up.

That question pierced straight through him.

The answer was already carved into his bones.

Before he could speak, Li Cheng leaned closer, lips curving faintly.

His voice was soft, sinuous, brushing like silk against Zhou Ci’s ear.

“You wouldn’t, Zhou Ci.”

Zhou Ci’s hand trembled.