After a night of spring breeze, fish and dragons danced. Meng Zhao had sampled a rather special kind of charm, one with a flavor all its own.
All he could say was that Chancellor Cao's particular preference was not without reason. He was already beginning to enjoy it.
Even when the sun had climbed high overhead, he was still lingering under the covers with Ji Rushuang. Though he could not go too far because of her condition, their feelings had indeed grown.
It was only natural. Once a man and woman had shared such intimacy, the distance between them easily closed.
Nor was it all bedroom secrets. They also discussed the Dan Chi Clan and the future. Meng Zhao had specifically asked Ji Rushuang to teach him a few phrases in the Dan Chi language, intending to use them to communicate with the five thousand warriors.
As for language, Ji Rushuang had given him some advice as well.
The Dan Chi language did not sound particularly similar to Great Yong's official tongue, but certain grammatical structures and contexts were interconnected. It simply had more local rural dialects and colloquialisms. So long as one grasped the knack, it was still possible to make breakthrough progress in a short time.
Meng Zhao was no fool—quite the opposite, he was exceptionally intelligent, with an eidetic memory. With Ji Rushuang's guidance, his understanding of Dan Chi speech made enormous strides. Listening to Dan Chi now, he could guess his way through and barely understand seventy or eighty percent. That was already remarkable.
At noon, Meng Zhao finally dragged himself out of the warm bed, washed and dressed, ate lunch, then went out to see Ji Rulin, prepared to honor their earlier agreement and spar with him.
As for Ji Rushuang, her body was heavy