The commotion outside his room woke Zhu Yijun, who was drowsy. He opened his eyes in a daze and saw a large bed with three-sided screen walls around it. The sandalwood bed frame was dark with a purple tinge, appearing ancient and profound, emitting an elegant sheen. In the candlelight, one could discern carvings of several five-clawed golden dragons.,He slowly stood up, looking around. Above him were intricately carved beams and painted pillars, beneath his feet lay a floor of golden bricks. Behind a screen depicting five-clawed golden dragons was a long writing desk. On either side of the desk were two crane-shaped palace lamps, their flickering light casting swirling smoke. The cold air of late autumn, scented with sandalwood, blew across his nose.,The atmosphere had reached its peak. Emperor Zhu Yi, with great effort, squeezed out a few tears and comforted her: "My son is the emperor of the Ming Dynasty. My son is not afraid, nor does he need his mother to fight desperately. When my son grows up, I will fight them myself. Mother, please don't cry. If you cry again, your son will cry too."。