Chapter 1
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: No Child Welfare Law in the Imperial Palace
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"Ugh..."
"Your Highness the Prince, have you caught a cold? His Majesty awaits you in the audience hall."
Irritation flared up at those words, and I kicked off the blankets before sitting up.
It was just after 5 a.m., the end of the fifth watch and the start of the Mao hour. The world outside the window was still pitch black, yet a massive eunuch loomed before me like the grim reaper.
This is insane. Doesn't he ever sleep?
Summoning a five-year-old at dawn. I'd report it as child abuse, but the perpetrator—the emperor—is also the one taking reports. No justice here.
I splashed water on my face half-heartedly as they dragged me along, racking my brain. My mouth had run away with me yesterday, blabbing about embezzlement and fines. Why?
Let me sort this out.
The emperor's fixated on me now. He clearly thinks I'm a 'smart one.'
My goal is a peaceful life.
To return to quiet days in some forgotten corner of the palace, I need to kill this interest.
How?
Play dumb? Too late—I already spoke up. Fail.
Act crazy? If he thinks I'm mad, my head rolls. Too risky.
Be boring?
Yes, that's it. The emperor strikes me as a martial type. Not stupid, but he hates complicated talk.
For administrative matters, summaries are standard in reports. I recall hearing that rumor. So if I drone on beside him with bureaucratic jargon and procedures, the dullest way possible?
"Bah, boring fool. Get lost!"
I can picture it perfectly. Good. Operation: No-Fun Bureaucrat. This is my way out.
With resolve, I stepped through the doors of the audience hall.
"You've come, Jui-an."
Emperor Juwon. I'd counted on one hand the times I'd even glimpsed his face, let alone seen him smiling now.
Shocking. My determination to escape somehow deepened.
The emperor grinned at me amid a mountain of petitions, his eyes brimming with expectation. Like a predator eyeing prey.
"I greet you, Your Majesty."
I greeted him in the driest, most clerical tone possible. The soulless timbre of a civil servant—my life's specialty. But despite my best act, he showed no reaction.
Instead, he nodded toward a small table before me. A yellowed stack of documents sat there.
"I need to verify what you yapped about yesterday. Bravado or real skill—let's see."
"Th-this is...?"
"A land ownership dispute from Hubei Province. Unsolved for ten years. Read it and give me an answer."
A test. Most five-year-olds couldn't even read this much.
But no panic needed. Land disputes, civil suits—my lifelong grind.
Now, think.
I can't solve it straightforwardly. That'd be disastrous.
I need to answer with the most convoluted, yawn-inducing explanation imaginable.
I slowly picked up the stack. No need to read every page to grasp it. I'd seen fragments like these thousands of times before. Flipping through dozens of sheets took less than a quarter-hour. I got the gist.
Then I rubbed the paper's texture between my fingers and sniffed the ink seals. Evidence checked.
I sorted the key dispute pages.
Party B (): Claims ownership based on a ten-year-old IOU.
The crux was here.
Verification done, but I needed to stall more. As I dragged it out, a tiger-like roar hit my ears.
"So? What is it?"
Busted. No more time. Resigned, I lowered my voice to a monotonous drone, like reciting the dullest statute book.
"Father Emperor, this case needs no deep procedural debate. It meets the elements of document forgery under the Great Ming Code's criminal provisions."
"Forgery?"
"Yes. Look at Party B's IOU. The paper's too smooth. I'm no expert, but it seems like the bleached glossy paper that's all the rage now. Ten years ago, they used rough hemp paper for contracts like this."
Explaining, I got carried away, tapping the documents emphatically.
"Decisively, the ink still smells fresh. Ten-year-old seals wouldn't be this vivid. This IOU's at most a year old. Missing such basic evidence checks is bad enough, but a one-year forgery means it was slipped in midway. Dragging this out for ten years? The handling officials are either incompetent or bribed."
I explained as pettily and stiffly as possible, nitpicking paper and ink like a cheap clerk.
His interest must've crashed. This makes me look like any run-of-the-mill minister, right?
Worried it wasn't enough, I opened my mouth for more boredom, but the emperor cut in.
"Enough."
I smirked inwardly. Hooked. Back to my quiet room soon.
"So?"
Huh? Confusion showed on my face. Not what I expected.
"Just the conclusion. Whose land?"
His eyes sparkled. Far from bored—he looked like a kid with a fascinating toy. Flustered, I blurted the answer.
"Arrest Party B for fraud. Return the land to original owner Party A. Confiscate B's assets for A's compensation. Dismiss the handling officials for dereliction. That's the proper resolution."
Silence. The emperor stared blankly, then slammed the table.
"Yes!"
What?
"I had the eunuchs check this deliberately. Those idiots fixated on 'Party B's backers' or 'Party A's pity case.' The local officials dragged it ten years, but you sliced it clean from one scrap of paper!"
The emperor shot to his feet.
"One man's martial prowess fells a single foe, but one man's administration guides millions. I like it!"
Eh? That's what he thinks?
Then my premise was wrong. I'd just boasted my competence before him.
Damn. Should've muddled through. Old habits died hard—I worked like before.
Excited, the emperor tossed another stack.
"This too. Southern province tax ledgers. Three years of deficits, no clue why."
Wait, I'm five.
I wanted to say it, but his face brimmed with anticipation—almost menacing.
Mess up, and my head might fly. Time to work properly. No survival instincts, and I wouldn't last five years in the palace.
I swallowed a small sigh and opened the ledgers.
Flip. Flip.
Numbers danced as pages turned. Ledgers don't lie. To hide lies well, miscellaneous or special activity expenses are perfect.
I pointed to a corner.
"Here, the figures don't match."
"Where?"
Suddenly, the emperor loomed close, peering over. Too close for a prince—lese-majeste territory. But no one minded, not the watching eunuchs or guards. Face inches away, I panicked and answered instantly.
"Thirty thousand taels for flood control, but no laborer meal expenses even in miscellaneous. Building dikes without feeding workers? Impossible without ghosts."
I flipped the next page.
"Also, top-grade timber went to the provincial inspector's residence repairs in the same period. Supplier name matches the inspector's wife's clan."
"..."
With corruption rampant, no fixing deficits.
"Blatant embezzlement. Giving contracts to kin."
I snapped the ledger shut and tossed it lightly. Explaining riled me into arrogant gestures. Regretted it, but no one cared.
"Dismiss the inspector, confiscate assets to the treasury—not extermination. That should cover most deficits."
His smile deepened watching me, but it looked like a tiger's grin. Terrifying.
"Such a monstrous child..."
Praise or curse? Still your son. Are you the monster?
Ignoring my thoughts, he settled back on the throne, staring intently. Beyond interest—conviction. Ominous.
"Grand Eunuch."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Issue an edict at once."
He pointed at me declaratively.
"Enfeoff the seventeenth prince, Jui-an, as crown prince."
Wait. What? Hey, you!
They say shock silences you. True—I gaped speechlessly as he thundered on.
"Establish the Crown Prince's Residence for his education."
"...What?!"
I knew it was irreverent, but shock made me blurt it. No, this can't happen.
"Submit candidates for his tutors. Education includes not just classics, but practical affairs. I'll teach personally too."
Wait. Work for the crown prince? A five-year-old? But first—my idle palace life vanishes before my eyes. No. Don't go.
"Father Emperor! I'm only five! I just learned to read. Lacking ability, how dare I be crown prince..."
"Silence. I've decided."
No firmness in his expression. Instead, a wicked grin—like a shady boss snagging a lifetime slave.
"Dare question my decision? Who'd try? Speak up—I'll behead them now."
Tyrannical words, yet no one reacted. Of course—he's always been a tyrant.
Chopped heads from rumors alone numbered plenty.
Argue with him? Only if your family craves suicide.
Ah. Ruined. Truly ruined.
Honey-sweet retirement? Quiet seclusion? All wrong. A mad schedule looms. I'm now the empire's busiest five-year-old.
And I sensed it: once word spreads, hyena brothers and witch consorts would swarm.
'Died without severance pay last life—overwork death this time?'
Legs buckled; I collapsed. Still, he ignored me, berating eunuchs. Hurry the edict, gather ministers.
"Bring my imperial seal quick!"
Turning the hall to chaos—a tyrant's textbook. Unbelievable.
Regardless of my despair, the palace dawn broke mercilessly bright.