He arrived at the Reception Room.
Xuandou slid open the door and saw Mikoto's graceful figure kneeling primly at the table.
She wore a deep purple kimono.
The soft fabric hugged her body, tracing the full curves unique to a mature woman.
Her collar lay slightly open, revealing a small patch of snowy skin.
The sash at her waist cinched her slender middle just right.
Below her waist, her curves grew abruptly fuller, filling out the kimono's fabric and outlining a plump, rounded silhouette.
With her lowered lashes and gentle profile, she exuded the distinctive charm of a mature woman.
It was precisely the perfect fullness and allure that only a young married woman possessed.
Xuandou looked at Mikoto, a hint of appreciation flashing in his eyes.
Although he had seen the enticing sight of Mikoto bathing many times, even now, with her clothes on, he could imagine the scenery beneath the fabric.
But Mikoto's beauty had never been merely about her graceful figure.
It was a mature allure that only a married woman possessed.
The charm of a mature young wife was simply beyond comparison with an inexperienced girl like Kurenai.
An unromantic woman like Pakura could not even come close.
The more Xuandou came to understand Mikoto, the more he understood why Cao Cao had been so obsessed with married women.
All he could say was: question Cao Cao, understand Cao Cao, become Cao Cao, surpass Cao Cao!
Somewhat to his surprise, a child was also kneeling beside Mikoto.
The child was about eight or nine, with delicate features and a composure beyond his years in his expression.
He sat upright, his back straight, his face largely expressionless and his eyes dark.
It was Mikoto's eldest son, Uchiha Itachi.
Seeing Xuandou enter, Mikoto bowed slightly and spoke softly: