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

Chapter 25 Money—Our Money!! [New Book, Please Add to Favorites]

Old Zhu has lived for over sixty years and has never seen such a shameless person.

He used to be so dramatic, but now he's really enjoying himself and even wants to hire several maids to serve him.

If Hu Weiyong were still alive, you two could probably sit at the same table!
However, compared to Hu Weiyong, you're quite honest; at least you clearly stated what you wanted.

Yeah, you really deserve to die!

Old Zhu thought this fiercely, then said with a stern face, "Is this your reason for roaring at Fengtian Hall?"

"No, how can this be considered the Roaring Heaven Palace? What kind of behavior did the Roaring Heaven Palace engage in? It showed utter disrespect for the emperor!"

"You still know what it means to be disrespectful to one's superior?"

"Of course I know!"

Zhang Biao argued forcefully: "I have always kept Your Majesty in my heart, but Your Majesty always puts me on the ground."

"As the saying goes, at home you rely on your parents, but when you're away from home you rely on your friends. My parents have both passed away, and since I came to the capital to serve as an official, I don't have many friends. Every day when I go to court, the person I see most often is the Emperor!"

"In my eyes, the emperor is also my father. Therefore, I am utterly loyal to Your Majesty and risk my life to offer my advice!"

"But."

As he spoke, he abruptly changed the subject, raising the little booklet titled "Give Me Back My Hard-Earned Money" once more, and tearfully cried, "Your Majesty doesn't even care about my life or death! I'm heartbroken!"

"you you."

Old Zhu's altered "you" echoed three times in the empty and desolate Fengtian Hall, but in the end, he couldn't make out the meaning of "you".

His chest heaved violently, his weathered face turned a deep purplish-red, and his trembling fingers pointed at Zhang Biao below, who was holding up a tattered ledger and had a look on his face that said, "I'll die if you don't pay me."

Or should we just kill him?

This thought raced through Lao Zhu's mind countless times.

That bastard first used the threat of national subjugation to stab him in the back, and now he's using a tattered ledger to cry poverty and beg for back pay!

They're treating his Fengtian Hall like a vegetable market!
They mistook him, the supreme ruler, for a contractor who owed them wages!
What a disgrace! What a disgrace!

But his words, "My parents are both dead, but my sovereign is also my father," were like a fishbone stuck in Zhu Yuanzhang's throat, impossible to swallow or spit out.

It's worth noting that Old Zhu's background was also tragic. He lost both his parents at a young age, became a beggar on the streets, and even spent a few days as a monk in a temple to barely survive.

Although Zhang Biao's misery was certainly not as bad as his, hearing what Zhang Biao said reminded him of the painful memories of the past.

Add to that Zhang Biao's faded, worn-out seventh-rank official robe with frayed cuffs, and the book "Give Me Back My Hard-Earned Money" with its corners curled like dried pickled vegetables.
An unprecedented sense of absurdity and a faint, almost imperceptible feeling of guilt—which even Old Zhu himself was unwilling to admit—suppressed his boiling murderous intent like ice water being poured over his head.

"Yunming!!"

Old Zhu finally stopped looking at Zhang Biao, abruptly turned his head, and roared in a hoarse voice at the pale-faced, beardless eunuch beside him who was trying to shrink himself into a quail:
"Go! Investigate! Investigate the Ministry of Revenue! Investigate the Taicang! Find out! How much salary this damned Imperial Censor Zhang owes, and how those poor bastards in the Censorate owe their salaries! Go investigate immediately—!!"

Before he could finish speaking, spittle sprayed all over Yunming's face.

"Yes, Your Majesty! I'll get out of here right now!"

Yunming dared not wipe his face any longer. As if granted a pardon, he scrambled out of Fengtian Hall.

His speed was as if ten vicious dogs were chasing him.

An eerie silence fell over the hall once again.

Only Old Zhu's heavy breathing remained, along with Zhang Biao's inopportune, long, and loud groan from his stomach—

"Gurgle~~~~" The sound echoed clearly in the deathly silent hall.

The corners of the mouths of the surrounding eunuchs and palace maids twitched almost imperceptibly, and then they quickly lowered their heads.

Old Zhu's face darkened further, and his temples throbbed.

Zhang Biao, however, seemed completely unfazed. He rubbed his emaciated stomach, his face showing the longing of a starving ghost, and stared at Zhu Yuanzhang expectantly, muttering to himself:
"Your Majesty, my stomach is protesting... could you perhaps allow me to have a pancake on credit to tide me over? Once Eunuch Yun has investigated the matter, could you deduct it from my back wages?"

"you!!"

When Old Zhu heard this, he almost choked on his own breath!
Buying pancakes on credit? And deducting it from unpaid wages?!
Does this bastard really think our Fengtian Palace is a breakfast stall?!
"Shut up! Just wait!"

Old Zhu squeezed out a few words through gritted teeth, feeling his imperial dignity being repeatedly rubbed into the ground by this fellow.

Time passed second by second, each second feeling like an eternity.

Old Zhu was restless, mainly because he was angry.

Zhang Biao simply sat cross-legged on the golden bricks of Fengtian Hall, focusing his mind and trying to fight the emptiness in his stomach.

Actually, his reason for coming to demand his unpaid wages was also a desire to die.

But judging from Old Zhu's expression, he seemed determined not to kill him. Left with no other option, he could only fill his stomach first.

Soon, a series of hurried and flustered footsteps could be heard outside the hall.

Yunming stumbled back, his face ashen, and knelt down with a thud, his voice trembling uncontrollably: "Your Majesty! This servant has investigated and found out!"

"Say!"

Old Zhu practically roared it out.

Yunming swallowed hard, his voice trembling with tears, "Your Majesty! The Taicang Treasury, managed by Minister Zhao of the Ministry of Revenue, suffered huge expenses last year due to the floods in Jiangnan, the military pay in Liaodong, and the construction of the city walls in the north. As a result, income is insufficient to cover expenditures, and since the twelfth lunar month of last year, only 30% of the salaries of officials in the capital have been paid, with the rest still in arrears."

As he spoke, he couldn't help but steal a glance at Old Zhu's stormy expression, his voice trembling even more: "The Censor of the Censorate is a seventh-rank official. His annual salary is ninety shi (a unit of dry measure), which can be converted into paper money, cloth, pepper, and sappanwood. However, the actual amount received is less than thirty percent. What Censor Zhang said, that it is in arrears for seven months and twenty-one days, is indeed recorded in the Ministry of Revenue's accounts."

boom!
The entire hall seemed to have been struck by lightning!

Although he had expected it, hearing the words "less than three were actually committed" and "there are records" still made Old Zhu feel a surge of anger rising to his head.

Ministry of Revenue! Zhao Qian! Well! We put you in charge of the treasury, and you've managed it so badly that you can't even afford to pay the censors' porridge?!

And you even let this bastard come to the Fengtian Hall to collect a debt from us!?

This is so incredibly embarrassing!

"Trash! A bunch of trash!"

Old Zhu slammed his fist on the armrest of the dragon throne in a fit of rage, the golden nanmu wood armrest making a loud thud.

"Are we supporting you for nothing?! We can't even pay your salaries! We're making our officials work for us on empty stomachs?! If word gets out, where will we put our faces?! Where will we put the face of the Ming Dynasty?!"

He roared, his anger seemingly shifting from Zhang Biao to Zhao Qian, who had been skinned alive.

After cursing for a while, I finally felt a little better.

But looking at Zhang Biao below, who was starving and rubbing his stomach, a huge sense of powerlessness and a deeper sense of frustration welled up inside him.

Money! Where's our money?!
Zhu Yuanzhang, the dignified founding emperor, was now forced into such a sorry state in the Fengtian Hall by the word "money"!
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(End of this chapter)