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.,In the span of just ten years, these kinds of things have happened at least three times.,Li Taizhi was immersed in grief, listening to Zhu Yijun speak like this, she finally stopped sobbing and asked in confusion, "Where did you get that from Why would mother blame her son"。