Chapter 1: The Joint Petition to Depose the Emperor
“Your Majesty, I must report that our current Emperor has been wanton and unprincipled. We implore the Empress Dowager to depose him and appoint a wise and virtuous ruler!”
“We beg the Empress Dowager to depose the Emperor and choose a worthy successor!”
Great Ning Dynasty, Golden Throne Hall.
The Prime Minister led the assembled civil and military officials, all prostrating themselves upon the ground, presenting a list of one thousand one hundred and seventy-two charges against the Son of Heaven!
Each accusation was sufficient to depose an emperor; every count could justify regicide!
Yet, upon the dragon throne sat the young Emperor Ning Chen, only nine years old, his wide, innocent eyes clouded with confusion, staring at the scene before him as if questioning reality itself:
“What’s happening?”
“I’ve only just transmigrated to become this nine-year-old emperor, haven’t even had a day to enjoy it, and now the entire court wants me deposed?”
“And I’m already accused of over a thousand crimes?”
Even as these thoughts swirled in his mind, a torrent of memories surged into his head, nearly suffocating him under their weight…
Three years ago, the former emperor died suddenly. The original Ning Chen, then only six and a prince of Changyi, was raised to the throne by the Empress Dowager. Yet on the very day the decree arrived, his mother died unexpectedly.
For the next three years, in name, Ning Chen was emperor, but in truth, a puppet, his every move shadowed by the Empress Dowager’s watchful eyes.
A year ago, Ning Chen’s maternal grandfather conspired with the late emperor’s chief eunuch to stage a coup, hoping to help Ning Chen break free from control, but the plot failed.
Before Ning Chen’s very eyes, his grandfather was torn apart by five horses, the chief eunuch made into a living corpse, and over a thousand were executed as implicated traitors. The brutality of that day was seared into the heart of the original boy emperor, leaving wounds that would never heal.
From then on, the original soul lived in constant fear and confusion, barely surviving each day. Then, just now—upon hearing the court’s request for his deposition—the original, realizing his end was near, died with bitter regret.
Thus, the weak little emperor died as he had lived: powerless.
In his place awoke a new spirit—Ning Chen, a top mercenary leader from the twenty-first century, sharing the same name.
As he struggled to process these memories, he looked back at the Empress Dowager behind her beaded curtain. In his childish gaze, a shadow of cold calculation flickered.
From behind the curtain, the Empress Dowager’s voice drifted out, ethereal and measured: “Who among us is without fault? His Majesty is but a child. As the pillars of Great Ning, you should guide and support him—how can you speak so lightly of deposition?”
The officials pressed their case: “Your Majesty, in this year since you’ve refrained from overseeing state affairs, we have done our utmost to assist the Emperor. Yet he remains stubborn and unteachable. If he cannot change even now, what disaster would befall the realm once he rules independently? For the sake of Great Ning, for the people, we beg you to depose him and appoint a wise sovereign!”
“For the good of the dynasty, for the sake of all under heaven, we implore you to depose the Emperor and choose a worthy ruler!”
“We all agree—if he is not deposed, we will resign at once…”
Ning Chen looked at the gathered officials, and on his childish face appeared the faintest trace of a cold sneer: “So much concern for the dynasty and the people’s welfare. How noble indeed!”
“All of this is your design, isn’t it—my dear mother?”
He knew well that no emperor deposed in history had ever met a good end.
If he were deposed, he would not survive the night, not at the hands of this viperous woman who had already killed his mother and grandfather.
For a mere nine-year-old child, such a situation was a carefully laid death trap!
But now, inside this young body, the soul was no longer the weak original.
Ning Chen looked again toward the Empress Dowager behind the curtain. He understood her intention: to depose him while feigning reluctance, playing the innocent forced by her ministers’ will.
She wished to wear the mask of virtue atop her infamy?
Not in this lifetime!
Ning Chen pinched his thigh hard, until tears welled in his eyes, then slowly rose to his feet. On his innocent, childlike face, he wore the look of sorrow and guilt.
Obediently, he knelt before the beaded curtain, choking with sobs, trembling: “Mother, your son knows he has erred, that he has disappointed your hopes. But I do not wish to die. Mother, please do not kill me, I beg you—please spare me…”
At these words, many among the officials were instantly shocked, whispers breaking out:
“The Empress Dowager wants to kill His Majesty?”
“Wasn’t it only about deposition, not murder?”
“What is truly happening here?”
But among those led by the Prime Minister, their faces were more conflicted than ever.
Behind the curtain, the thirty-year-old Empress Dowager’s expression darkened with embarrassment. She slapped the armrest, furious: “Speak no nonsense! When have I ever wished you dead?”
Catching herself, she composed her features and spoke with gravity: “Child, the ministers are only discussing the imperial succession. Some are fit to rule, some are not. You are of royal blood—deposed or not, no one would dare harm you!”
Ning Chen wiped away his tears and managed a childish grin, as if he had just been given a sweet and all troubles were forgotten: “Thank you, Mother—thank you for sparing me…”
At this, the Empress Dowager smirked in contempt: So he’s just a frightened child after all. A little pressure and he collapses. Worthless. I may not kill you myself, but don’t imagine you’ll live long!
The Prime Minister and his faction cast scornful glances at Ning Chen, as if to say: Still a useless little wretch!
Yet, throughout the scene, the seemingly ignorant Ning Chen was quietly observing every official’s reaction, searching for any true loyalist within the court—however few.
He trusted none of the Empress Dowager’s words, but he believed that even in a court under her and the Prime Minister’s sway, there must be some loyal to the dynasty. Even if there was only one.
And his performance just now was the perfect test.
Ning Chen turned, his face the very picture of childish innocence, sweeping his gaze over the assembled ministers.
“You are all the pillars of Great Ning, yet today you have joined forces to pressure the Empress Dowager into deposing the Emperor. Such conduct will earn you the condemnation of history for treason and impiety…”
At this, the court exploded with uproar!
No one had expected that the puppet emperor, who moments before was sobbing and trembling, would dare to utter such a rebuke to the ministers.
Indignation surged: This useless, muddle-headed child dares to lecture us?
Even the Prime Minister and the Empress Dowager behind the curtain were stunned: What is going on? Why does this useless child seem so different today?
Ning Chen did not stop, his large, seemingly harmless eyes turning again to the crowd as he continued in a guileless tone, “Truly, I know I am not suited to be emperor. Nor do I wish to be. Since you will not grant me a chance to redeem myself, I will issue an edict of self-condemnation. After Mother’s birthday, I shall abdicate of my own will. This way, none of you will bear the stigma of treason.”
With that, Ning Chen glanced one last time at the gathered ministers, then turned once more to the Empress Dowager: “I beg Mother’s assent. In this way, you will not be placed in a difficult position, and you will have time to choose the next sovereign. More importantly, I wish, as emperor, to present you with one final birthday tribute in thanks for all you have done for me over the years!”
“I beg Mother’s permission!”
So saying, Ning Chen knelt once more, the picture of a child desperately begging his mother, every feature pleading for mercy.
But no one could guess his true thoughts at that moment: No matter what, he must buy time. Today, he must not be deposed!
A storm of voices thundered through the hall.
No one could have foreseen that this nine-year-old boy, so maligned as wanton and incapable, would declare his intent to abdicate through a self-condemning edict, to spare the ministers from infamy, to relieve the Empress Dowager of hardship, and to offer her one last birthday tribute.
Such selflessness, such wisdom, such filial piety.
Could this truly be the little emperor so scorned as useless?
Could this really be the hopeless, feckless ruler they had all dismissed?
At that moment, a voice rang out from among the ministers:
“Your Majesty, I must speak! To know one’s faults and amend them is a virtue beyond compare. Since His Majesty has spoken thus today, ought we not grant him another chance?”
“I second the motion—let His Majesty have one more chance!”
“I concur…”