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The ten-year-old emperor walked on eggshells, suspected by the ministers of being too young to rule. Unable to govern personally, he had little to do with the affairs of state.,The imperial physician hurriedly bowed and said, “Your Majesty’s pulse is between four and five beats per breath. It is neither floating nor sinking, neither fast nor slow, neither strong nor weak, neither large nor small. The rhythm is regular, calm and unhurried, and there is no major problem. You just bumped your forehead, it will…in a day or two, you will recover fully.”,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."。