Second, Meng Zhao had six concubines. By his own account, they were either formidable martial artists or young ladies from distinguished families. Even discounting the boasting, there was probably some truth to it.
That further verified that what he had said before—about his background and his marriage alliance being with a great Yanzhou noble house—was not false.
That was impressive. Even though Ji Zhenyun was the patriarch of a branch of the Ji Clan, he still held a considerable degree of awe toward such great aristocratic clans and mighty households that stood at the pinnacle of Great Yong.
Under such circumstances, for his daughter—who had already been married once and was carrying a posthumous child—to marry this man as a concubine truly was not much of a sacrifice. Perhaps she could even bring fresh powerful support to her clansmen, yielding endless benefits.
He was considering matters from the bigger picture, pondering as a clan patriarch rather than merely as a daughter's father. From this, it was clear that although this fellow cherished his daughter, he was by no means a doting daughter-slave.
Ji Rushuang perhaps carried great weight in his heart, but not more than the entire clan. Her influence was limited.
"Fine. Let us assume everything you said is true. My daughter may marry you as well. What do you want from me as her dowry?"
A qualified superior, a qualified leader, might need many admirable qualities. One of them would certainly be vigilance toward others, regardless of who they were.
Ji Zhenyun had known Meng Zhao for less than the time it took to drink a cup of tea, and they had exchanged only a few words. Yet he had already vaguely sensed that this young man was difficult to deal with, even terrifying, and not someone who