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

Chapter 30: Opening a Training Course for Death-Defying Admonitions [New Book, Please Add to Favorites]

The news of Zhang Biao's successful claim for unpaid wages spread like wildfire through every dark, damp, and cramped duty room and dormitory of the Six Ministries, the Censorate, the Hanlin Academy, and the Imperial College, among other places occupied by impoverished officials in Beijing.

"Have you heard? That scoundrel Zhang Biao! He's demanding his wages from the Emperor in the Fengtian Hall!"

"Hiss—! Really? Is he out of his mind?!"

"It's absolutely true! My seventh maternal uncle works in the Ministry of Justice, and he heard with his own ears that something was wrong inside! He said that Censor Zhang pulled out a tattered account book titled 'Return My Hard-Earned Money' to do the accounting! He made the Emperor's face turn green!"

"My God! This is incredibly audacious! What happened next? Were they killed?"

"No cut! I heard the Emperor took money from the imperial treasury and gave fifty taels of silver!!"

"How much?! Fifty taels?! Silver?!"

"Shh—! Keep your voice down! It's true! The Emperor even called the Ministry of Revenue useless!"

"Heaven has eyes!"

A Ministry of Works official, who was as thin as a bamboo pole, was so excited he almost jumped up, his eyes reddening: "Imperial Censor Zhang is a real man! He's our great benefactor! He's risking his life to speak up for us!"

Gradually, the topic began to change.

"That's not all! I also heard that Zhang Biao helped Shen Lang recover his owed salary, and the Emperor not only gave him money to redeem the jade pendant, but also bestowed upon him three pig heads!"

"My goodness! Zhang Biao has set a precedent!"

"The patriarch of wage-claiming! From this day forward, Zhang Biao is our patriarch of wage-claiming!"

"What 'Grandmaster of Demanding Unpaid Wages'! From now on, we should call him 'Grandmaster of Pig Head Meat'! Follow him, and you'll have meat to eat!"

Inside the Censorate, even the censors who usually prided themselves on their integrity and maintained their dignity even when hungry could no longer sit still.

Inside the duty room, several young censors huddled together, their eyes shining.

"Senior Brother Zhang is truly a divine being!"

"To demand unpaid wages at the Fengtian Hall and not only emerge alive but also with silver and a pig's head bestowed by the emperor—this is unheard of!"

"What kind of clear broth noodles are these! This is real skill! It's more effective than us remonstrating a hundred times!"

"I've learned something! I've really learned something! From now on, before I give a desperate remonstrance, I must eat my fill so that my voice will be louder!"

"Brother Zhang's saying, 'One has no strength to remonstrate on an empty stomach,' is a profound truth! It should be engraved on a monument and erected at the entrance of the Censorate!"

"Yes, yes, yes! And 'A loyal minister's innocence couldn't save the Ming Dynasty!' That saying sounds so exciting! Innocence comes with rewards!!"

A young, thin, and pale censor, who had recently joined the Censorate, secretly pulled out a small notebook from his robes and, with hands red with excitement, wrote a few lines with utmost sincerity:
Brother Biao's first saying: When you're hungry, you have no power to offer advice.

Brother Biao's second saying: Before you die for your cause, make sure you're well-fed.

Brother Biao's third saying: To preserve your innocence, you must first have something to eat.

After writing, he carefully tucked the notebook back into his pocket, patted his empty stomach, and looked in the direction of Wang Mazi's butcher shop, his eyes filled with infinite longing for the highest realm of 'dying for justice'.

At this moment, the integrity of the Censorate seemed to be coated with an unprecedented, down-to-earth, and powerful sheen by the fifty taels of silver and three greasy imperial pig heads. Meanwhile, in a quiet alley near Chengtian Gate…

Zhang Biao was sitting in front of a simple noodle stall, holding a rough porcelain bowl bigger than his face, slurping loudly.

The bowl contained steaming hot plain noodles, topped with a thick layer of glistening, oily pig's head meat.

The meat, a perfect balance of lean and fat, trembled slightly, and exuded a wonderful aroma.

Shen Lang sat opposite him, with a large bowl of plain noodles piled high with pig's head meat in front of him.

He ate even more voraciously than Zhang Biao, his cheeks bulging, his eyes narrowed into slits with happiness. Between bites, he mumbled, "Delicious! It's fucking delicious! Brother Biao, you're truly my brother! Not only did you help me redeem the jade pendant, but you also got the Emperor to buy three pig heads—three imperial pig heads!"

As he spoke, his eyes welled up with tears: "My mother drank the meat soup and her spirits have improved a lot, and the child has stopped crying. Brother Biao! I can't thank you enough. From now on, I'll be at your service, no matter what!"

"Brother Shen, you're too kind!"

Zhang Biao swallowed a large mouthful of noodles coated in oil, let out a satisfied burp, and waved his hand with an air of righteous indignation: "We're all poor brothers working for the Emperor. We'll share the good fortune and the meat!"

As soon as he finished speaking, he picked up a large piece of pig's head meat, stuffed it into his mouth, chewed it until his mouth was full of oil, and his face was filled with a great sense of satisfaction.

Then, he licked his glistening lips, savoring the bland taste of the imperial clear soup noodles he had received at the Fengtian Hall, and looked at the mountain of pig's head meat piled up in front of him. He suddenly exclaimed, "Brother Shen, what do you think is the most important thing for an imperial censor?"

Shen Lang was engrossed in showing off his braised pig's head when he heard this. He looked up blankly and asked, "Huh? Integrity? Character? Speaking frankly and daring to remonstrate?"

"wrong!"

Zhang Biao said decisively, tapping his shiny lips with his chopsticks, making a crisp 'tap-tap' sound, his eyes gleaming with wisdom: "You really need a glib tongue!"

"Huh?" Shen Lang was even more confused.

Zhang Biao leaned closer mysteriously, lowered his voice, as if imparting some unparalleled secret technique, and sincerely said:
"Look, remonstrating to the death is a skill. If you only have passion and go on an empty stomach, you'll run out of energy after a couple of shouts, and you won't even die a satisfying death! When the emperor sees you, he'll think, 'Oh, this censor lacks vigor, he's definitely a spineless coward, it's not even worth beheading him!'"

"But if you're full, especially after showing off a huge bowl of greasy pig's head! Burp~~"

As Zhang Biao spoke, he let out a loud burp and patted his round belly: "That's a different story! A loud, clear voice, full of energy, he can even make people curse with eloquence! His thinking is clear, he can quote classics and make the emperor so angry that he can't even find a fault with him! When he was beheading you, he felt that the blow was worthwhile, that he had struck a tough nut!"

He concluded his statement with unwavering certainty: "Therefore, the prerequisite for dying in remonstrance is being well-fed! The key to being well-fed is having plenty of oil and fat! And the source of that oil and fat..."

He patted the twenty-odd taels of silver in his pocket, then pointed to the pig's head meat in Shen Lang's bowl and chuckled, "Either you rely on begging, or you rely on a good neighbor like Brother Shen!"

"Remember this! A censor who is hungry and has chapped lips cannot offer any good advice! Only a censor who is well-fed and has a strong voice is worthy of the Emperor's sword!"

Shen Lang was dumbfounded. Looking at Zhang Biao's shiny, eloquent mouth, and then at the fragrant pig's head meat in his bowl, it was as if something in his mind shattered with a 'crack' and something else lit up with a 'buzz'.

He blankly picked up a piece of fatty meat, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed it vigorously, his eyes gradually changing.

Looking at him, Zhang Biao suddenly had a flash of inspiration.

Everyone dies eventually, but some people need a little help.

Since Old Zhu won't let me go to court to beg for death, then...
How about we start a "Death-for-Reproach Training Course"?

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(End of this chapter)