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“How is my son” The noblewoman ignored the eunuch’s greeting completely, rushing to Zhu Yijun’s side. She trembled as she reached out and took hold of the ten-year-old child's hand, gently opening the wound.,The torrent of information in Zhu Yijun's mind finally ceased its influx. The images before him stopped flickering, and he understood the situation.,Zhu Yijun was playing to his greatest advantage; at only ten years old, he could feign innocence.。