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.,Feng Bao shouldn't be an eunuch, he should be an actor.,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.”。