Being an emperor can be very easy—James Foster does nothing at all, yet the court continues to function and the realm remains stable. But being an emperor can also be very complicated—every action, no matter how small, can directly affect anywhere from a handful to tens of thousands of people. Ascending the throne is a rare and momentous event, with especially significant impact. Thousands of people are busy running about for it, and the Ministry of Rites is the most important executor among them.

The Minister of Rites will personally explain the rituals and protocols of the enthronement to the emperor, and David Williams's risky plan is to be used on this person.

“The ministers have always supported the emperor and opposed interference from the inner palace. What’s the name of the Minister of Rites again…Benjamin Carter? Tomorrow, secretly issue him an imperial edict, instructing him to rally all the civil officials to come to your rescue.”

James Foster shook his head with a smile. “I don’t think that’ll work. Last time, when the ministers surrounded the empress dowager’s bedchamber and the ancestral temple, it didn’t seem to have much effect.”

“That was different. Last time, the ministers acted on their own, without an imperial edict, so no one took the lead. That’s why, even with several hundred people, they only dared to speak, not act. With your edict, opposing the empress dowager will be justified and legitimate.”

“How… do I issue an edict? Do I just talk to the Minister of Rites directly?” James Foster was a little tempted.

“Of course not. There are definitely people watching you. It has to be a secret edict.”

“A secret edict?”

“Yes, the kind I read about in books, called a ‘belt edict.’ You write the order on your belt and quietly hand it to Benjamin Carter. He’ll understand immediately.”

“Has any emperor done this before?” James Foster was very surprised, and his interest in the idea grew.

“Do you only learn to write, but not read?”

“My mother has told me many stories.”

David Williams stifled a laugh, snorted, glanced back at the door, and whispered, “This is a story from the previous dynasty, recorded in the history books. The first belt edict of this dynasty will be written by you.”

“What should I write?”

“I don’t have to teach you everything, do I? Just write that you’re under house arrest and demand that the ministers depose the empress dowager and rescue you from the palace immediately.”

“Depose the empress dowager?”

“Shh, keep your voice down. The palace is full of the empress dowager’s spies.” Footsteps sounded outside again. David Williams returned to his own cushion and hissed, “Write the belt edict tonight and give it to Benjamin Carter tomorrow. In at most three days, the ministers will succeed. Then you’ll abdicate the throne to me. If you dare go back on your word, I’ll have the Cui family kill you. Also, it has to be written on clothing reserved for the emperor to gain their trust—paper won’t do.”

James Foster still had many doubts, but the door opened and Samuel Clark walked in, knelt at the doorway with nothing under his knees, and said nothing, clearly intending to stay with them to the end.

For the rest of the day, James Foster and David Williams had no further chance to speak, only occasionally exchanging glances. David Williams grew more and more determined, while James Foster’s confidence waned. But he wanted so badly to leave the palace and return to his mother’s side that he was willing to take any risk.

Writing a belt edict was not easy. Except during the fasting period, James Foster was never without people around him. Even at night, someone slept on a couch in the same room—sometimes a eunuch, sometimes a palace maid—who would wake at the slightest sound.

By the time he got up at dawn the next day, James Foster still hadn’t found a chance to write on his belt.

On the eleventh day of fasting, James Foster’s daily routine gained a new step: after getting up, he had to pay respects to the empress dowager.

The attendant Henry Clark personally came to escort the emperor. After the standard kneeling and bowing, the young eunuch began to show his uniqueness. Other eunuchs and palace maids always tried to avoid interacting with the emperor, not even making eye contact, but Henry Clark smiled kindly, like a friendly uncle or older brother, and his tone carried the warmth and admonition of an elder.

“Of all virtues, filial piety comes first. As emperor, you must set an example of filial piety for all the people. Your Majesty, are you willing to fulfill your filial duty to your mother?”

“I am.” James Foster missed his birth mother, who was kept outside the palace, every moment of every day.

“Who is Your Majesty’s mother?”

James Foster did not answer.

Henry Clark waited a moment, then smiled and said, “Your Majesty’s mother is the current empress dowager, with the compound surname Shangguan. You may call her ‘Mother Empress’ or ‘Empress Dowager.’”

“My mother is… the empress dowager.” James Foster really couldn’t bring himself to say the words “Mother Empress.”

Henry Clark did not press him, and continued, “The empress dowager is Your Majesty’s only mother. Aside from the gods and the ancestors, only the empress dowager in all the world may receive Your Majesty’s kneeling bow. It’s not because her status is higher, but because Your Majesty must demonstrate filial piety to the world.”

“Mm.” James Foster replied.

“Anyone other than the empress dowager, no matter how old or senior, is Your Majesty’s subject and must never stand as your equal—not even the imperial consort Shangguan or David Williams.”

“Mm.”

“Does Your Majesty have any other mothers?”

James Foster nodded, then quickly shook his head, and said softly, “I have only one mother, the current empress dowager.” But in his heart, he was still thinking of his birth mother outside the palace.

Henry Clark was satisfied. “Filial piety must come from the heart. You can fool outsiders by being insincere, but you can’t fool yourself, nor the gods above.”