My Wife Fishes For Me Every Day - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Why Haven’t You Bitten My Mouth Yet? — Unspoken Rules…

Ling Zhuo’s gaze followed the black sheath and landed on a face mostly hidden by a black bite inhibitor, and a pair of cold, icy gray eyes.

His whole body suddenly froze. He blinked dazedly, disbelief spreading across his face: “Mota…”

My human!

It’s really him! Am I dreaming?

Was he sent by the squad leader? Did the squad leader actually not lie to me?

Or… did he regret abandoning me back then, and he’s here to take me back?

Ling Zhuo stood dumbfounded, his mind in chaos. Just moments ago, he had been tense and alert, but now, facing Mota, his body instinctively relaxed. He completely failed to notice the two armed men in the room still aiming at him—one targeting the back of his neck, the other his head. All they needed was Mota’s order to end his life instantly.

Mota took in all his subtle changes without batting an eye. He calmly swept his gaze over the fox ears and tail, then at the claw-like hands hanging by his sides, and finally at the bloody severed head he was holding.

“Fox,” Mota’s tone was far gentler than his cold gaze, unhurried and calm. “Since you recognize me, you should know—I can execute you on the spot.” He glanced again at the head, then said to the stunned fox, “Explain.”

Explain? Explain what?

Ling Zhuo’s limited brain couldn’t process the question. He stared at Mota, the joy of seeing him again slowly overtaken by sadness.

Why didn’t he come over and pet my head? He used to always do that when he came home, crouching down to pat my head and tell me I was a good boy.

His tone wasn’t like this either. It wasn’t this unfamiliar…

He doesn’t recognize me?

The thought struck Ling Zhuo like a blow, and the light in his beautiful eyes dimmed. He slowly lowered his head and dropped the severed one in his hand, looking deeply aggrieved.

“He tried to f*ck me.”

This much was obvious. Mota didn’t react, simply pressed the sheath of his sword against the silver collar on Ling Zhuo’s neck, not moving it away.

An omega in heat—this reason wasn’t convincing. He needed a more accurate explanation.

Just as he thought that, the fox’s drooping tail suddenly perked up as Ling Zhuo looked up, honestly adding: “But I want it to be with you.”

Mota: “???”

Execution squad: 🤯

Since joining the team, this was the first time they’d seen someone dare to flirt with their captain. After all, there had long been a rumor in the Association: Captain of the First Execution Unit might be sexually frigid—his pheromones possibly smell like suppressants.

No one had ever seen him enter rut, nor seen him lose control around any omega. He was always calm and composed, like the blade in his hand.

That thought made the team glance at Ling Zhuo with admiration.

Lulu Hardy, a die-hard fan of the captain, snorted while keeping his gun raised: “Plenty of people want to sleep with our captain.”

He meant to say you’ll have to get in line, but to Ling Zhuo it sounded more like our captain has slept with plenty already. His heart shattered with a crack, and his tail tip drooped to the floor.

Mota… Mota has lots of other humans?

Ling Zhuo’s mouth parted slightly in surprise, his blue eyes instantly welling up with tears.

“…,” Mota hadn’t expected the fox to say something like I want to do it with you. His face stiffened for a brief moment.

But staring into those moist eyes, for some reason, his fangs behind the bite inhibitor began to itch.

His pale lashes fluttered as he blinked, regaining his stern expression. “Lulu, shut up.”

“Yes, Captain~” Lulu Hardy stood ramrod straight.

Lulu??

Ling Zhuo’s eyes narrowed, and his gaze instantly turned murderous. Mota’s never called me Zhuozhuo!

Sensing he was about to throw another tantrum, Mota lifted the sword sheath from his throat, tilted up his chin, and continued interrogating: “Fox, this was his house. Dressed like that, coming here—did you really not know what he wanted?”

As he spoke, his gaze flicked to Ling Zhuo’s outfit. Saying “dressed like that” wasn’t overly harsh—it was just a semi-sheer shirt and loose cream-colored lounge pants.

But the bl00d-soaked spots clung tightly to his body, making him appear especially seductive.

At this distance, Mota could clearly see the fox’s narrow waistline, a thin layer of abs, and the defined outline of his chest muscles. He also noticed a silver n1pple ring glinting there.

It matched the silver collar on his neck. The smooth ends of the piercing subtly moved with each breath, slowly becoming more prominent under Mota’s intense gaze.

“Tsk~”

Mota hadn’t even spoken yet when others around them gasped—several distinct pheromone scents began leaking from the team members’ glands.

“Captain, I believe him. This is the hottest omega I’ve ever seen~ He was definitely tricked into coming here!” Guang Bai’s voice was hoarse, and he couldn’t help but whistle.

Mota’s gaze darkened—he suddenly felt a twinge of irritation.

Without a word, he withdrew his blade and tossed his coat at the fox.

“Put this on first.”

Then he furrowed his brows and swept a cold look at his subordinates. “As for the rest of you—go take your suppressants and calm down. You can continue the search afterward.”

To show signs of entering rut during a mission was disgraceful for an alpha—especially when triggered by an omega who hadn’t even released a trace of pheromone.

It was abnormal—this omega was likely high-ranked.

The team knew this and quietly went to the terrace on the second floor to inject suppressants, while also checking on the child and servants downstairs.

In the living room, only the squad leader’s corpse, Ling Zhuo, and Mota remained.

Ling Zhuo was still sulking over the nickname, but the moment he received Mota’s coat, his mood instantly lifted.

He retracted his claws to avoid tearing it, cradled the coat delicately in his long fingers, and sniffed the lingering, faintly familiar scent—his tail whooshed upward and began wagging excitedly.

That woodsmoke scent—he hadn’t smelled it since Mota left. Though the scent had changed somewhat: before, it was warmer and rich with pine resin; now it smelled more of ash.

Sensing something was off, his tail slowed down, and his bright eyes lifted to Mota. He asked softly, “Are you not happy now?”

As he spoke, he instinctively leaned in, wanting to nuzzle Mota like before for comfort.

But Mota turned away coldly, unwilling to let his emotions be read: “If it’s not relevant, don’t say it. Just answer my questions. Understood?”

“…Okay,” Ling Zhuo’s fluffy ears drooped into his hair, and he nodded quietly. “The squad leader said if I came here, he could get me into the Execution Unit.”

Unspoken rules? Mota raised a brow, amused by how easily the fox had fallen for such nonsense. His right eye suddenly trembled, and the pale gray iris began to split down the middle, soon forming two pupils.

With the strange double pupils fixed on Ling Zhuo, he asked:

“If you wanted in through that route, didn’t you pick the wrong guy? Wouldn’t I be a better choice?”

His voice was still soft, but there was a seductive edge to it now. Those icy gray eyes turned wicked and predatory—he seemed like a different person entirely.

Ling Zhuo’s tail puffed up—he instinctively sensed danger. But since it was Mota, he was still hopeful: “Really? Right now?”

“Tch,” Mota suddenly pressed a hand over his right eye and growled, “Get lost!”

Fox: “Huh?”

“Sorry, not talking to you,” Mota relaxed and his eyes returned to normal.

Silence hung heavy.

He bent down and picked up a folded piece of paper from the body on the floor. Most of it was stained with bl00d, but he could still make out that it was a voluntary application form.

So this fox really did want to join the Execution Unit.

The living room was a mess. Mota glanced at the adjacent study and tilted his head slightly: “Come with me.”

“Is it a date, Captain?” Ling Zhuo still hadn’t moved on from the previous topic and asked eagerly.

He’d heard from his younger siblings that when humans invite someone somewhere, it’s usually a date, and on dates you’re supposed to be with someone you like, and bite each other’s mouths.

Just the chance he needed for the trade he planned—a kiss exchange!

His younger siblings were smarter and went to human schools. The school wouldn’t lie!

He happily followed. Mota led him into the study, shut the door, and with a quick, practiced move, easily tossed the defenseless fox into the chair. He flicked the fox’s face and said coldly, “What are you thinking, fox? This is an interrogation. Be serious. And I’m not your captain.”

Official and stern, Mota released his oppressive alpha pheromones. The room instantly filled with a burning ash scent.

Most people subjected to such pressure would drop to their knees, struggling to breathe and answer every question—but the fox just frowned.

Ling Zhuo: Why hasn’t he bitten my mouth yet?

Mota: This fox… is more dangerous than I thought.

As he observed, Mota withdrew his pheromones, then sat atop the desk across from Ling Zhuo, one long leg propped against the wall behind him.

The desk was L-shaped. One end touched the wall, the other side was blocked by Mota’s leg, restricting Ling Zhuo’s movement. At this height, his gaze was directly level with Mota’s crotch.

The lights were off, and Mota seemed unaware how domineering—and downright lewd—his pose looked. Nor did he know this was a real fox with excellent night vision.

He turned his head, finger pressed to his earpiece, giving orders to his subordinates to search the basement. When he looked down again, he saw the fox staring at… that area.

“You’re not still thinking about unspoken rules, are you? I was joking earlier,” Mota said quietly, tapping the mechanical chameleon on his wrist.

Its skin changed color rapidly as it grew larger. By the time it climbed to his shoulder, it was three times its original size. Standing on its hind legs, its tail wrapped around Mota’s shoulder strap, it opened its mouth toward Ling Zhuo—snap—a beam of harsh light burst out.

Mota’s cold, deep voice followed: “Name.”

Ling Zhuo squinted under the bright light and obediently replied: “Ling Zhuo.”

“Omega rank?”

“Haven’t tested yet…” he paused halfway, remembering that the Execution Unit only accepted alphas, then quickly corrected himself: “Wait, no, I’m not.”

Mota’s lips twitched subtly beneath the bite inhibitor. His tone softened a bit: “You want to join the Execution Unit—do you know what they do?”

“I do.” He’d memorized this part.

With a sense of accomplishment, Ling Zhuo confidently recited what his younger siblings had helped him prepare: “It’s a place where you get to kill bad guys freely. You don’t have to pay when eating out, you get a nice big house to live in, and… you’re there.”

And news about my brother.

“Who taught you—never mind.” Mota gave up explaining and continued: “Then do you know what a mutation subject is?”

“Yep!” Another thing he memorized!

“A mutation subject is a human who undergoes abnormal secondary differentiation, resulting in altered gene sequences. This process usually involves gland transplantation or catalyst use. When alphas or omegas are pushed into second differentiation by such means, they can also mutate.”

He went on to explain the classifications, from C–D grade (low IQ, uncontrollable, stuck in beast form) to B+ grade (high intelligence, controllable transformations, potential special abilities).

This time, his answer was surprisingly accurate. Mota recalled seeing his moves on surveillance and asked: “So you already knew your squad leader was a mutation subject, which is why you destroyed his gland first—stopping him from transforming?”

Once mutated, a subject’s strength and regeneration rise sharply. Only mercury-laced weapons or special abilities can kill them.

But Ling Zhuo squinted against the bright light, shaking his head in confusion: “He badmouthed you. I got too mad and didn’t think that far.”

He’d mentioned Mota several times now. Mota couldn’t ignore it.

His gaze drifted to those fluffy ears under the light. He thought of the little fox he once picked up long ago and wondered—

Could he really be… that fox?

Then instantly scoffed at himself—what a ridiculous idea.

Still, he asked: “Did you know me from before?”