I, the Emperor, Am a Master of Management

I transmigrated into the most pitiful puppet emperor in history. I sat on the dragon throne for three years without even seeing what a memorial looked like. Powerful ministers rejected imperial edicts in open court, the empress dowager ruled from behind the curtain and approved state affairs in my stead, and vassal kings addressed me by name in their memorials. The entire court thought I was nothing but a mascot who stamped documents. Until one morning at court, I cheerfully issued my first decree: “Trial Measures for Implementing Performance Reviews and a Bottom-Rank Elimination System in the Six Ministries.” A powerful minister scoffed. “Your Majesty, do you even know what government affairs are?” I nodded and spread out the organizational chart I'd drawn overnight across the imperial desk. “My dear minister, did you know that seven of the thirteen vice ministers under you hold sinecures and draw pay for doing nothing, three are constantly passing the buck, and only three actually do any work?” The entire hall fell silent. That was only the beginning. When the empress dowager tried to appoint her relatives, I respectfully presented her with a “Civil Official Promotion Process Chart,” with seventy-two approval steps, enough to keep her busy until next spring. When the vassal kings demanded military funds, I introduced the “Detailed Rules for Implementing a Budget System,” requiring twenty signatures for every ounce of silver. They slowly realized that memorials were taking longer to circulate, personnel appointments were getting held up, and even the minutes of their secret meetings were appearing on my desk right on schedule. It turned out that true power lay not in the imperial seal, but in the process. The three factions are still fighting over the throne they think is vacant. Little do they know that the entire court has already become a precision machine of my design. And I am its one and only programmer.