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.,The little emperor Wanli could endure it, but Zhu Yijun absolutely couldn't.,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."。
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