What must an emperor do after ascending the throne? There is so much to be done.

Qichuan said that the first, most urgent, and most crucial step His Majesty must take is to ascend the throne before the coffin.

In other words, it was exactly what he had done after carrying Wen Maomao all the way from the North Three Palaces to Changle Palace—establishing the new emperor’s status before the imperial coffin of the late emperor, amidst the ministers’ humble acts of submission.

This is not the formal enthronement ceremony, but in a certain sense, this step is far more important than the subsequent ceremonies—which are largely a formality and place greater emphasis on ritual—because it establishes the new emperor’s immediate possession of the supreme imperial authority to issue commands, allowing him to smoothly proceed with the handling of state affairs and funeral arrangements.

The cloth tiger 666 thoughtfully translated it for the little one: 【Simply put, you’ve entered your personal information with the company, so you can officially clock in and start working now.】 

His Majesty Maomao, now five years old and about to start his career, looked completely bewildered: “Today? Do I have to start working today?” 

Yes, Little Tiger solemnly delivered this grim news to the host: whether you’re five years old or just opened your eyes on the assembly line, it all starts today.

The whole world is waiting.

His future uncle, Huo Qichuan, personally guided the young child on how to use the Imperial Seal to affix his first edict since ascending the throne to the decree already drafted by the Imperial Decree Office under the Cabinet system—a proclamation to the realm, issuing a mourning edict to the entire Great Qi and its vassal states, announcing the passing of the late Emperor and confirming that, in accordance with ancestral tradition, he, the new Emperor, had been formally enthroned.

Before pressing the imperial seal onto the document, Wen Maomao looked up and asked a question that Huo Qichuan would make sure to record as a highlight in his family annals even in his old age: “I…”

“You should address yourself as ‘Zhen,’ Your Majesty.”

“Oh, all right, ‘I’.” The young emperor nodded obediently and spoke again, “Shouldn’t I take a look at what’s written here first, before deciding whether to affix the seal?” 

“Otherwise, it would be extremely irresponsible of you.” The old woman, hunched over, said this to Wen Maomao, who could be kept quiet for ages just by giving him a few chestnuts to play with. 

Overnight-stored chestnuts are hard to peel, but they’re really cheap, and Xiao Langjun is incredibly patient. 

With the aroma of chestnuts filling his mouth, a five-year-old isn’t quite ready to grasp the weight of a contract, but he understands that putting his stamp on something means telling others, “This is what I said.” Instinctively, he felt he needed to figure out exactly what he was about to declare to the whole world. 

Huo Qichuan finally believed what his younger sister had said: Maomao was an exceptionally bright child.

It wasn’t the kind of intelligence that allowed him to remember everything at a glance or solve the Nine Chapters on the Mathematical Art in his head, but rather a natural ability to think independently. He wouldn’t casually become a fool who gets taken advantage of—someone who counts the money for the other party even after being sold out—simply because someone was more powerful than him, seemed close to him, or because others claimed: “that’s how it’s always been done.” Just like his little bow, fitted with an eccentric wheel. 

Minister Huo remarked with satisfaction that even if he were to select ten thousand children, at that very moment, all ten thousand would simply follow his lead and press the jade seal to the paper in a daze.

Only Wen Maomao—the one in ten thousand—would bring his action to a sudden halt.

The timing of Wen Maomao’s question was also crucial. Earlier, when he had explained to the child the reason for his rise to power, there had been only the two of them in the hall; but now, at this momentous occasion when His Majesty was affixing the imperial seal to the first chapter of his life, there were many witnesses present.

Take Empress Pei, for example, or Consort Huo, or Eunuch Bi Fang of the Office of Ceremonial Rites, as well as the eunuchs of the Office of Imperial Treasures who were responsible for safeguarding the imperial seal on a daily basis, as well as the elderly Prince of Wei, a member of the imperial clan who served as Director of the Grand Temple of Ancestors, and the cabinet ministers who had drafted the imperial edict in advance for His Majesty. 

It could almost be said that all the various factions had gathered, each keeping the others in check, so that no one could easily act on their own authority.

When the emperor asked this—even though he was only five years old—one of the people around him—or, to be precise, Eunuch Bi Fang, who had seized the opportunity—stepped forward with a bow and began reading the edict to His Majesty, enunciating each word clearly, while thoughtfully explaining the meaning of every single character in the edict. 

Wen Maomao didn’t need to worry that Bi Fang would take advantage of his young age to deceive him, because he had the little tiger he kept beside the brush holder on his desk to verify the contents.

Once he confirmed that the contents of the edict were correct, Wen Maomao rolled up his somewhat cumbersome, wide sleeves and, with great solemnity, used the massive dragon-shaped seal—which he could barely hold with both hands—to stamp a perfectly square seal bearing the phrase “The Mandate of Heaven, and those of virtue shall prosper*.” 

Little Tiger also played an AI-generated explanatory animation at just the right moment: 【If you think the emperor has only one imperial seal, you’re completely wrong. Different matters require different seals, and each seal bears different characters on its reverse. For example, if you want to send a letter to a client or submit documents, using an invoice stamp definitely won’t work. The Qin Dynasty had six seals, the Tang Dynasty had the Eight Treasures, and later dynasties kept adding to the list. Your Great Qi Dynasty is still better off—you only have nine—but in later dynasties, the number could balloon to over thirty at its peak.】

Wen Maomao’s take on this was, “I don’t like this little-people movie. It’s dry and boring. I’d much rather go save the world with the Paw Patrol.” 

However, even before the Paw Patrol set off, officials had already received the imperial decree and, dividing into several groups, sprang into action immediately to perform the ritual sacrifices on behalf of the new emperor to Heaven and Earth, the ancestral temples, and the realm.

Wen Maomao understood this: “It means going in my—the Emperor’s—name to speak to Heaven, to the ancestors, and to all the people under Heaven.”

Being emperor is really great—all you have to do is tell others what to do. Wen Maomao asked happily, “So, are we done?” Feeling like he’d accomplished something big, the little boy clapped his hands and got ready to go play with his friends, just like he always did.

Then, His Majesty Maomao heard a demonic whisper he would never forget for the rest of his life. Standing beside him, dressed in plain robes and wearing a black horned headband, Minister Huo smiled and said, “Your Majesty is joking—this is only the beginning.”

Wen Maomao：“！！！”

“It’s a tough hurdle to clear, Your Majesty,” Eunuch Bi Fang soothed from the side.

The young emperor instinctively chimed in, “Then let’s soothe these hurdles.” 

Everyone couldn’t help but chuckle.

Ahem. In any case, they still had to establish the procedures for the late Emperor’s funeral, discuss his posthumous title, select an era name for Wen Maomao, decide on his residence and the relocation of the palace, and most importantly, grant a general amnesty so that all might share in the Emperor’s grace. 

The cloth tiger stood beside a purple-hair brush taller than itself. Chinese-to-Chinese: 【In other words, to avoid giving people ammunition, to give the former leader a dignified send-off, to choose an auspicious sign for oneself, and most importantly, to grant promotions and wealth to everyone around him—so that everyone’s efforts in this endeavor would be recognized.” 

The child had an epiphany.

—The first two matters aren’t important.

Even if the adults in front of him seemed ready to beat someone’s brain into a dog’s just over a single character, he could pretend he hadn’t heard a thing. No one would really ask for his opinion anyway—after all, as a five-year-old, he was still illiterate, so asking him would be pointless. 

The little one is still so young; for now, all he needs to do is sit like a Buddha on the throne in the warm chamber next to the council hall. To his left is Empress Pei, and to his right is Aunt Huo.

Empress Pei was quite actively involved in these discussions—partly because she placed great importance on propriety, and partly because she wanted to begin asserting her influence. As for Huo Hanguang…

Meanwhile, his younger sister and nephew have long since snuggled up together on the throne, fast asleep and oblivious to the world around them.

The little boy’s face was plump, still retaining the baby fat he’d gained since arriving in the capital; his small mouth was slightly parted, and his breath came in long, steady gasps. The Imperial Consort beside him was equally radiant, her plain hairpin, worn at an angle, having slipped down half an inch—yet she remained oblivious, instinctively wrapping one arm around the boy’s shoulder, as if afraid he might fall. 

While the two were fast asleep, the ministers exchanged bewildered glances. 

Only Minister Huo stepped forward naturally. First, he respectfully asked Empress Pei to move to the seat of honor at the front, so they could “argue” more easily. Then he drew the beaded curtains of the warm chamber over his sister and nephew, shielding them from everyone’s gaze and ensuring they could sleep more soundly and peacefully. 

That was just the kind of man Huo Qichuan was. He might call his younger brother a fool or disparage his sister as clumsy, but he would never tolerate a single word of criticism from others. Not even a disapproving glance would be tolerated. 

“They really have been through a lot,” Minister Huo thought to himself. His sister hadn’t been able to fall asleep until so late last night, and today she’d gotten up at the crack of dawn and had been busy ever since… What’s wrong with taking a little nap? As for the child in her arms, little ones just need plenty of sleep—getting enough rest is essential for their growth. 

As for whether this so-called “Great Emperor” should be called Emperor Yingzong or Emperor Gaozong, it’s such a tricky question that it’s hard to decide—it’s definitely worth arguing over. 

He’s a master at arguing—let him handle it! 

As the sun began to set and the orange-red twilight filtered through the window lattice onto Wen Maomao on the throne, the little one—who had slept all afternoon soundly—finally stirred.

Come here.

Freshly awakened, Wen Maomao was always a bit slow to react. His eyes, dark as black grapes, were filled with the bewilderment of “Where am I?”, and the imprint of Consort Huo’s clothes still lingered on his face. He didn’t know when it had been left there; he only knew that when he woke up, Auntie Huo beside him had also just woken up. 

The two sleepy-eyed figures yawned widely in unison and stretched comfortably, like a fern gradually unfurling all its green fronds—lazy yet refreshing. 

The little boy’s memory finally began to return bit by bit, and he recalled the first truth of life he’d learned from Consort Huo—that the sleep you get during meetings or classes is the most comfortable.

— Author’s Note —

*”By Heaven’s Mandate, the Virtuous Shall Prosper”: This inscription was engraved on a jade seal from the Tang Dynasty. You’re probably more familiar with the phrase “Receiving the Mandate from Heaven, May We Enjoy Longevity and Everlasting Prosperity,” which was inscribed on the Imperial Jade Seal of Emperor Qin Shi Huang. That seal was eventually lost, but even before its disappearance, subsequent dynasties generally kept it in storage rather than using it to affix seals; its symbolic significance far outweighed its practical use.

*“Guan Guan is hard to pass, but with a little coaxing, Guan Guan is passed”: A pun-based inside joke—I can’t remember where I saw it.