What beautiful words—said aloud, they could move a person to tears. Unfortunately, the three people present did not quite believe them.
Ji Rushuang was someone who had truly spent time with Meng Zhao. From the moment he rescued her at the eleventh hour to her return to the Dan Chi tribal lands, she had come to understand him deeply and knew full well what kind of man he was.
This man was not a good person in the usual sense, and the kindness in him was limited.
Still, hearing him say that he wanted to marry her and take care of her made her very happy.
She knew that perhaps she would never receive Meng Zhao's love, but she would certainly receive his good care. That was already enough; she did not need too much.
Perhaps someone might ask: now that she had returned to the tribal lands and had people to rely on, she had no need for Meng Zhao's care at all. She could still live well and raise her child to adulthood, so why do this?
The reason was simple. Meng Zhao's appearance had greatly broadened Ji Rushuang's horizons. She had become immersed in him, to the point that she was almost forgetting her husband, who had not been dead for long—let alone anyone else.
Call her love-struck if one wished, or say that when she had been most alone and helpless, she had been conquered by the sense of security Meng Zhao gave her.
In short, if Meng Zhao was willing to have her, then she would definitely choose to follow him rather than remain among her people and casually find some man who could never compare to Meng Zhao to live with.
Ji Rulin did not believe Meng Zhao's words, not because he understood Meng