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

Chapter 97: Performance Art Even More Abstract Than Zhang Biao's! [Seeking Monthly Tickets]

Under the sunset.

Zhang Biao stood on the "audit chariot," holding a tattered flag that fluttered in the wind and read "Hongwu Audit" in one hand, facing the Ministry of Works, and laughed maniacally.

"Hahaha! You parasites inside! You're surrounded! Zhang Biao is everywhere outside—!"

"Those who know what's good for them should open the door voluntarily, cooperate with the audit, and be lenient if they confess, and severe if they resist!"

"We only seek wealth, not lives!"

"Of course, if you insist on putting up a stubborn resistance, we don't mind conducting some friendly 'physical asset inventory'!"

The words have not yet fallen.

The members of the 'audit team' behind him started to move.

After all, having been through the trials of the Ministry of Revenue, the Ministry of War, the Ministry of Personnel, the Duke of Cao's mansion, and the Marquis of Wuding's mansion, they were not only in high spirits but also much more skilled in their work.

Shen Lang had already found a relatively clean stone step and sat down, his abacus clicking away as he muttered to himself, "Estimated embezzlement rate of the Ministry of Works' river works funds: starting at 30%, with no upper limit of 50%."

Sun Gui also tried his best to raise the chamber pot lamp that symbolized the 'light of the Ming Dynasty', attempting to make the lighting for his 'Brother Biao' more professional, even though that halo seemed insignificant under the setting sun.

Li Mo, having somehow acquired another half-burnt charcoal pencil, was lying on the ground, diligently writing on a broken wooden board: "The Vice Minister of Works, Zhao, is suspected of owning three extramarital residences in the south of the city. His brother-in-law contracted the last city wall repair project."

Zhao Fengman and the others rubbed their hands together, their eyes shining as they stared at the two valuable-looking nanmu wood doors of the Ministry of Works, as if estimating how much they could sell them for.

Meanwhile, inside the Ministry of Works, chaos reigned.

Zheng Ci, the Minister of Works, was an official who usually appeared quite composed. At this moment, he was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan, pacing back and forth in his duty room, cold sweat constantly dripping from his forehead.

"What do we do? What do we do? What do you guys suggest we do?!"

His voice trembled as he roared at the group of pale-faced officials below, "The account books! Have all the account books been hidden?!"

"Returning to the Ministry"

One of the supervisors stammered, "They're all hidden. They're stuffed into the secret compartment behind the stove."

"Where is the warehouse?"

Zheng Ci asked urgently, "Have the newly arrived pine timber, blue bricks, and the Taihu stones intended for building pavilions in the palace been properly hidden?!"

"They're moving it to the backyard shed."

Another doctor said with a mournful face, "It's just that... that Taihu stone is too big; we can't move it in a short time."

"Trash! They're all trash!"

Zheng Ci stomped his feet in anger: "If you can't move it, then cover it with straw mats, several layers! Sprinkle some ash on it, make it look like it's been abandoned!"

He was filled with regret at that moment. He should have known better than to go to the palace gate with Zhan Hui. It was such a waste of time!
I wonder how Zhan Hui is doing now? Has he seen the Emperor?

And what exactly did that memorial say?

Why hasn't the Emperor made a move yet?!
Are we really going to just stand by and watch Zhang Biao wreak havoc on the world?!

Zheng Ci was angry, annoyed, and helpless.

Just then, a slightly bolder junior official suggested in a low voice, "Minister! Why don't we follow Vice Minister Fu's example and open the door to talk to Censor Zhang and the others?"

"Talk about shit!"

Zheng Ci glared at him and shouted sharply, "How can we negotiate? What can we negotiate with? Our Ministry of Works has just as many bad debts as the Ministry of Revenue!"

"Have you forgotten about the projects involving the repair of the river, the city walls, and the government offices? None of them could withstand that accountant Shen's calculations! A single discussion would expose everything!"

"What should we do then?"

The official shrank back: "We can't really let them tear down the gate, can we?"

Upon hearing this, Zheng Ci's eyes flickered, and his mind raced.

Suddenly, a ruthless and desperate thought flashed through my mind.

"Have it!"

He slapped his thigh abruptly and whispered to his confidant:

"Go quickly! Move all those rotten wood and bricks that were smuggled out last year when the Xiaolingwei barracks were being repaired, along with those rusty scrap nails, to the front yard! Pile them up in a conspicuous place!"

"Also, have everyone change out of that outfit! As long as it gets sympathy, they can dress up as beggars! Go now—!"

"Huh?" The trusted subordinate was stunned for a moment: "Minister, what's going on?"

"We must cry poverty! We must cry poverty!"

Zheng Ci seemed to have grasped at a straw, his eyes shining:

"We must tell Zhang Biao! Our Ministry of Works is poorer than the Ministry of Revenue, the Ministry of War, and the Ministry of Personnel! We use rags, wear patched clothes, and eat coarse food! We have no money! We are victims too!"

All subordinates: "."

Minister, your approach is even more abstract than that of Imperial Censor Zhang.
Isn’t this the three hundred taels of silver that are missing here?
Who doesn't know that our Ministry of Works is a lucrative department?
If you try to complain about being poor, people will just laugh their heads off!

But the minister's words were like a royal decree to them, a desperate measure to try anything.

So, someone immediately went to make arrangements.

"Damn it! They won't listen to reason, so they'll have to suffer the consequences! Someone! Get me a ramming log to assist with the audit!"

Zhang Biao shouted until his throat was dry, and when he saw that the Ministry of Works was still unwilling to surrender, he became furious and prepared to use force.

However, at this moment.

The heavy nanmu wood gate of the Ministry of Works creaked open a crack on its own.

A minor official poked his head out, a forced smile more like a grimace plastered on his face, and called out in a trembling voice:

"Imperial Censor Zhang! Wait! Wait before you act!"

"Our Ministry of Works is so poor we can't even afford to eat! We're poorer than the Ministry of Revenue, the Ministry of War, and the Ministry of Personnel!" As he spoke, the gate opened wider, revealing the scene in the front yard.

In the courtyard, there was a small mountain of rotten wood, broken bricks, rusty nails, and some obviously abandoned, crooked door and window components.

There was even a minor official who happened to push a wheelbarrow by, accidentally dumping a load of waste material at the entrance, raising a cloud of dust.

Then, to everyone's astonishment...

Zheng Ci, the Minister of Works, a high-ranking official of the second rank, actually...
He actually walked out shakily, wearing an old official robe that was patched all over, faded from washing, and even had mud stains on the cuffs!
He smeared soot on his face, deliberately messed up his hair, and held a chipped, broken ceramic bowl in his hand!

There was half a dark, hard, and seemingly stale cornbread in the bowl!
Minister Zheng walked to the door, not even glancing at Zhang Biao, but instead knelt down with a thud towards the palace. He raised the broken bowl, and with all his might, with a sob in his voice, his cry so mournful it could echo through three streets:

"Your Majesty—! I am guilty—! I am incompetent—!"

This shout completely stunned Zhang Biao and the group demanding back pay.

What side quest is this?
Zheng Ci continued his performance, pounding his chest and stamping his feet, tears streaming down his face: "I am in charge of the Ministry of Works, yet I have left it penniless! I have failed the Emperor's grace! I have failed the court!"

"Look! This is all I can eat every day!"

He held up the half-eaten, hard cornbread, his hands trembling violently: "My entire salary has been used to cover the Ministry of Works' deficit! But it's still not enough!"

"My colleagues in the Ministry of Works are in even worse shape!"

"The children in the Wang family don't even have cotton-padded clothes to wear in winter!"

"Li Langzhong's elderly mother is sick, but he doesn't have money to buy medicine!"

"We, we are suffering—!"

As he spoke, he suddenly turned around and shouted into the room:

"Everyone come out! Let Censor Zhang see what kind of life we, the Ministry of Works, are living!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the gates of the Ministry of Works opened even wider.

Then, twenty or thirty officials from the Ministry of Works poured out of the room.

They were all dressed in rags and looked pale and sickly.

Some were holding teacups with chips.

Some were holding empty rice containers.

Some even clutched their worn-out official boots.

They knelt down behind Zheng Ci in unison, without saying a word, looking at Zhang Biao and the others with pitiful, desperate, and helpless eyes, silently saying, 'We are poor, we are very poor.'

The most amazing thing was that the last two minor officials carried out a plaque with great effort.

The sign originally read "Hall of Diligent Governance," but now the character "政" (governance) is missing, leaving only "勤殿" (diligent hall), and it has several holes from insects.

Zheng Ci pointed at the tattered plaque and cried even harder, "Censor Zhang, look! Our Ministry of Works' plaque is ruined and we don't have the money to repair it! We can only make do with this tattered plaque we found! Waaah!"

"?????!"

The entire audit team, including Zhang Biao, was completely dumbfounded.

They watched this epic, abstract, and tragic drama, personally directed and starring the Minister of Works.

Shen Lang forgot to consider his own little scheme.

Sun Gui almost dropped the chamber pot lamp.

Li Mo's charcoal pencil fell to the ground again.

Zhao Fengman and the others almost lost their grip on their weapons.

This is fucking ridiculous!
To avoid being audited, they've abandoned all sense of shame?!
The air froze for a full ten breaths.

Then--

"Hahaha! Hahaha!"

Zhang Biao was the first to break down, bursting into a deafening, maniacal laugh.

He laughed so hard he almost fell over, tears streaming down his face, and nearly fell off the small rosewood table.

"Old Zheng, oh Old Zheng! Minister Zheng!"

"Awesome! You're really awesome!"

"The acting! The props! The extras! Absolutely amazing!"

"Hahaha! The fact that the Yingtianfu opera troupe didn't invite you to be their star performer is truly their biggest loss!"

He laughed and slapped his thigh hard: "You deserve the title of Best Actor in a Tragic Drama of the Year! This broken bowl! This cornbread! This tattered plaque! The details are impeccable! An immersive experience! Hahaha!"

Zheng Ci's face turned pale and then red as he was laughed at.

However, since the play had already gone this far, they had no choice but to grit their teeth and continue.

He struggled to maintain a sorrowful expression: "Imperial Censor Zhang! Everything I said is true! The Ministry of Works is truly impoverished."

"It's true! It's fucking true!"

Zhang Biao finally managed to stop laughing, wiping away tears from the corners of his eyes. He stepped forward, picked up the half-eaten hard cornbread from Zheng Ci's broken bowl with great interest, weighed it in his hand, and then...
Then he suddenly shoved the half-eaten cornbread to Zheng Ci's mouth, beaming with a bright smile, and said, "Come on, Minister Zheng, show us your talent and eat it!"

"If you can eat this cornbread in front of everyone, I, Zhang Biao, will take my men and leave immediately!"

"Furthermore, I assure you that I will never make things difficult for the Ministry of Works again! I'll even give you ten taels of silver for medical treatment!"

"!!!"

A row of black exclamation marks instantly appeared on Zheng Ci's forehead.

He looked at the cornbread, which was harder than the sole of his shoe, and smelled its suspicious odor. His stomach churned, and his face turned ashen.

Eat? Eat this stuff?
Is this even fit for human consumption?! Eating this would be fatal!
(End of this chapter)