Da Ming: I told you to die for your cause, why are you actually going to die?

Chapter 24 Old Zhu: You actually dared to blackmail us?! [New book, please add to your collection]

Zhang Biao didn't care whether Jiang Huan's CPU was about to burn out; he was completely immersed in the role of a poor, unpaid worker.

He became more and more agitated as he spoke, his spittle almost flying into the Fengtian Hall: "Your Majesty! You do the math! Seven shi and five dou, is that enough?! It's not enough at all!"

“Every day after I finish my duty, I can only drink thin porridge with pickled vegetables! My neighbor, Imperial Censor Shen, eats thin porridge and pickled vegetables every meal, and his face has turned green!”

"I'm a little better off than him. I can occasionally go to Wang Mazi's house in the east of the city and buy half a pig's head on credit for a treat. Even so, I still owe Wang Mazi three hundred coins for the meat!"

He raised his head, staring intently at the gate of Fengtian Hall with a complex look that was a mixture of despair and 'you decide what to do'.

Seeing that the gates of the Fengtian Hall remained tightly shut, he knew that the matter was not yet settled, and continued to loudly accuse, "Your Majesty! I know that you are a good emperor who loves your people like his own children, but can you just stand by and watch your people starve to death?"

"You've also experienced hardship and hunger. Do you still remember the taste of that sesame seed cake from back then?"

"I know you are busy with countless affairs of state! I know you are heartbroken over the loss of the Crown Prince!"

He changed the subject, his tone mournful: "But you must also have some understanding of us lowly censors who are loyal to you!"

"We are human beings too, we also need to eat, wear clothes, and support our families!"

"We brave wind and rain, impeach this person, and remonstrate with our lives, risking our lives to work. What are we doing this for?"

He slapped his thigh and uttered the soul-searching question: "Isn't it all for that meager salary you pay on time, just to keep my family from starving?!"

"Now look what's happened!"

Zhang Biao's voice suddenly rose eight octaves, filled with a tragic heroism of "what's the use of trying!": "I'll do the work with my life on my hands! I'll offer my advice even at the risk of your wrath!"

"I have offended everyone I should and shouldn't have!"

"My head is ready to be moved at any moment, but my wages... they're seven months and twenty-one days overdue, Your Majesty!"

He took a deep breath, mustered all his strength, and roared out a remonstrance that would be recorded in the annals of the Ming Dynasty: "Your Majesty! The innocence of a loyal minister cannot save the Ming Dynasty! But what power can a censor who can't even afford to eat have in his remonstrance?! He'll die on an empty stomach, too weak to even die, Your Majesty!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Zhang Biao knelt down again with a thud, picked up the tattered copy of "Give Me Back My Hard-Earned Money" that had been thrown away, held it above his head, and said in a tearful voice:

"Your Majesty! For the sake of my continued usefulness, please settle the salary owed to me! I am starving! I want to have a full meal before I die! I beg you!"

Quiet.

A pin drop can be heard.

Outside the Fengtian Hall, all was silent.

Those watching held their breath in awe.

Only the howling wind outside the palace seemed to be playing background music for this first censor in the history of the Ming Dynasty to demand unpaid wages.

"Crench--!"

The heavy palace gates finally opened slowly, accompanied by a sharp, high-pitched voice: "His Majesty's decree: Let that scoundrel get in here!"

The voice was full of rhythm and the emotions were very well conveyed.

Those outside the Fengtian Hall exchanged bewildered glances.

Only Zhang Biao showed a satisfied smile, then tossed his head at Jiang Huan and said, "Commander Jiang, shall we go in together?"

Jiang Huan: "."

I really want to kill you! You bastard!

"Alright! Never mind, the Emperor didn't summon you, so I'll go in by myself!"

Laughing and joking, Zhang Biao jumped up from the ground, dusted off his official robe, held the small booklet "Return My Hard-Earned Money" in his hand, and walked into Fengtian Hall with his head held high like a victorious rooster.

The onlookers couldn't help but feel a chill for him.

Although they admired Zhang Biao's courage, especially his courage to speak out for justice, they were not optimistic that he would succeed in getting his wages. After all, they knew Old Zhu's temper.

He's the kind of person who'll kill and skin someone alive at the slightest provocation.

Demanding unpaid wages from him is tantamount to courting death.

"Sigh, I never imagined Brother Zhang had been so concerned about my family's situation. I'm such a scoundrel, actually hoping to see him make a fool of himself."

In some unknown corner, Imperial Censor Shen touched his greenish cheeks, feeling so guilty that he wanted to bury his head in his crotch.

Meanwhile, in other corners, the lower-ranking officials in the capital choked with sobs and shed tears for Zhang Biao, feeling that his departure was likely to end badly.

"I don't care, I'll pay for Imperial Censor Zhang's coffin!" a chubby imperial censor suddenly said.

The other censors around also clamored to contribute money for incense, paper money, and funeral expenses.

Zhang Biao was completely unaware of this.

Because he was now standing below Old Zhu's steps, holding up a small booklet titled "Give Me Back My Hard-Earned Money," with an expression of "ready to die" that Old Zhu wished he could kill him.

"Zhang Biao."

Old Zhu's voice spit out through clenched teeth: "Put down that lousy notebook of yours!"

"Oh well."

Zhang Biao obediently put it down.

But the front of the lettering still faces Old Zhu.

Old Zhu's forehead veins bulged out, and his hands gripped the armrests of the dragon throne so tightly they creaked.

Are you angry? Absolutely!

This scoundrel is utterly insulting to the imperial court!

Absurd? Utterly absurd!

How could a dignified emperor be confronted by his own subjects demanding repayment of a debt to his face?
Feeling lost?
His mind was now filled with these mesmerizing numbers and phrases: "seven shi and five dou," "five dou and seven sheng," "three hundred wen for meat," and "to die on an empty stomach, too weak to plead his case."

He opened his mouth, wanting to order someone to drag Zhang Biao out and behead him without hesitation!

But looking at the tattered ledger in Zhang Biao's hand, his grief-stricken eyes, and that nonsense, "You're all so high and mighty," a huge, unprecedented sense of absurdity and powerlessness swept over him like a tsunami, instantly shattering all his murderous intent and imperial majesty.

He had killed countless people—corrupt officials, nobles, and arrogant soldiers. But he had never killed a naive young censor who came to him hungry to ask for his unpaid wages!

It feels like you've been charging up your ultimate attack for ages, ready to wipe out the boss, only for the boss to suddenly pull out a broken bowl and pitifully say, "Brother, please have some mercy, give me a steamed bun, eat your fill before you fight."

How frustrating! Utterly frustrating!

Old Zhu's withered hand rested on the armrest of the dragon throne, trembling.

He wanted to slam his fist on the table, to roar, to tear this bastard who had humiliated him to pieces.

But it felt like there was a wad of tattered cotton stuck in his throat. After a long while, he could only squeeze out a distorted voice, filled with endless frustration and confusion, from between his teeth: "What...what do you want?"

Zhang Biao thought for a moment, then cupped his hands and said, "Your Majesty, my request is very simple: first, settle my salary for the past seven months and twenty-one days, then reward me with fifty taels of silver, and I would like to hire a few maids to serve me!"

Old Zhu: "."

Are you here to demand your unpaid wages?!
"Oh, right, and Imperial Censor Shen and the others, their salaries have also been settled. They're all having a hard time! You wouldn't want them to be starving while offering their advice, would you?"

Old Zhu: "."

Alright, alright! Now you're resorting to extortion, huh?!
　Requesting monthly votes and recommendation votes.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)