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

Chapter 47 Big Brother, Can I Have a Bite? [Seeking Monthly Tickets]

The chaos and commotion at Fengtian Hall seemed to have no effect on the liveliness outside Chengtian Gate, even through the many palace walls.

Zhang Biao, dressed in a faded blue robe and wearing open-toed hemp shoes, squatted beside a wonton stand at the foot of the west city wall of Chengtian Gate.

The carrying pole was set up by a man who looked like an old soldier. The fire in the stove was blazing, and the bone broth in the iron pot was bubbling with white foam. The aroma mixed with the smell of firewood wafted straight into people's noses.

Several men carrying loads and doing odd jobs surrounded a broken bench, slurping loudly.

"Brother, the broth is rich and flavorful! Is it made in the Huaixi style?"

Zhang Biao held a large, rough porcelain bowl with a chipped rim, but he didn't mind. He blew on it and took a big gulp of scalding soup, which made him hiss. He grimaced and gave the stall owner, an old soldier, a thumbs-up.

The old soldier grinned, revealing a missing front tooth, his cuffs gleaming: "Young man, you have a good tongue! Back when I followed the commander across the river, I learned it from a master chef in Jiqing Prefecture! Crush the bones and simmer them for the full time! Two more wontons, please?"

"Enough is enough!"

Zhang Biao waved his hand and started slurping again.

At this moment, an old man with yellow teeth, seeing that Zhang Biao was a stranger and had a good appetite, couldn't help but become interested: "Young man, you're not a local, are you? From Huaixi?"

Zhang Biao was taken aback for a moment, then turned his head and said with a smile, "Grandpa figured it out?"

"Hey, my eyes are no ordinary ones. Back when the commander-in-chief hadn't even crossed the river yet, I could already tell he was a true dragon!"

The old man spoke with great enthusiasm, gesturing wildly from time to time: "Look at this Chengtian Gate, isn't it magnificent? Back then, the Generalissimo entered Yingtian with his three-foot sword right here!"

Zhang Biao slurped up a mouthful of scalding hot wonton soup, wincing from the burn, and chuckled, "Really? Is the Commander that awesome?"

"That's right! The commander is incredibly awesome!"

The old man said it casually, but then felt that the word was a bit off, so he grinned, revealing his yellow teeth: "Young man, you can tell at a glance that you are a knowledgeable scholar!"

"Sigh, what kind of scholar are we? Just trying to make a living."

Zhang Biao waved his hand, his eyes darting around, and lowered his voice: "Let me tell you a secret. Just yesterday, I dreamed of a huge golden dragon coiled around Chengtian Gate. And its whiskers, tsk tsk, were even shinier than the pig's head meat from Wang Mazi's house! Don't you think this foretells something?"

The old man was stunned, his cloudy eyes widening in disbelief: "Golden Dragon? That...that's the new emperor!"

"Sh-!"

Zhang Biao glanced around furtively, a mysterious look on his face, and said, "It's a secret! But..."

He abruptly changed the subject, patted his bulging money bag, making a clattering sound of copper coins: "Even a golden dragon needs to eat pig's head meat, right? Let's go, old man, hurry up and order some good stuff!"

He tossed down a few copper coins, dusted himself off, and strolled over to Wang Mazi's butcher shop, humming a nonsensical tune: "The pig's head meat smells so good, Old Zhu is so angry he's snorting away~~"

Soon, he arrived at Wang Mazi's butcher shop.

This was the first time he had seen Wang Mazi in person since he traveled back in time.

Wang Mazi was a burly man with a thick waist and a face full of menacing features. He was wearing a leather apron whose original color was no longer discernible. He was swinging a thick-backed cleaver and chopping at a rib with a series of clangs. The blade flashed, and bone fragments flew everywhere. His imposing manner was astonishing.

Next to the cutting board, a large wooden basin was filled with freshly cooked pig stomach and intestines, the stench of blood and fish assaulting the senses.

"Brother Wang! You're so strong!"

Zhang Biao had a loud voice and greeted them from several steps away, nodding to the neighbors waiting to buy meat, looking very familiar with them.

When Wang Mazi looked up and saw that it was Zhang Biao, a smile as bright as a chrysanthemum immediately spread across his pockmarked face:
"Hey! Censor Zhang! You've finally arrived! The brothers who bought pig's head meat in bulk today have been eagerly awaiting it! You wouldn't believe it, early this morning, good heavens, dozens of officials came to inquire, all saying they wanted to buy pig's head meat today, and specifically requesting fatty pieces!" Zhang Biao knew exactly what was going on, but feigned surprise: "Oh? They've all been thinking about it? Looks like my heartfelt conversation with the brothers last night—no, my food appreciation—has really won them over!"

As he spoke, he pointed and said, "Brother Wang, five big pig heads, the fattest ones from the back hill, clean them up for me! The brothers are looking forward to a hearty meal tonight, and we're counting on your good stuff!"

"We prepared this for you long ago! Just you wait and see!"

Wang Mazi patted his chest and guaranteed, then quickly pulled out five large, greasy pig heads from behind him and lined them up on the chopping board, creating a rather spectacular scene.

"Alright! Brother Wang is really reliable!"

Zhang Biao nodded in satisfaction, but his eyes swept over the cooked food section next to the cutting board, and suddenly settled on the brightly colored, tender and tempting braised pig's trotters.

His eyes lit up, and his index finger twitched: "Hey! Brother Wang, these braised pig's trotters are really good! Two, please! No, four, please! I'll prepare them myself!"

"okay!"

Wang Mazi deftly scooped out four heavy, trembling pig trotters and wrapped them in oil paper.

Zhang Biao took the pig's trotter, holding it in his arms like a treasure, and then began to give his opinions on the state of affairs:
"Brother Wang, can I borrow your tools? Garlic! Peel lots of garlic! Ginger! Crush it! Vinegar! I want aged vinegar! Soy sauce! Sesame oil! Oh, you even have dogwood powder? That's good stuff! Give me a spoonful! Do you have Sichuan peppercorn powder? Some of that too! And sugar! To enhance the flavor."

Zhang Biao, like a general commanding thousands of troops, set up his formation on a small table at the entrance of the butcher shop.

He unfolded the oil paper package, revealing four plump pig trotters, grabbed the cleaver next to the cutting board, and chopped the pig trotters into small pieces with a series of clanging and clattering sounds.

Next, he poured minced garlic, minced ginger, cornstarch powder, Sichuan peppercorn powder, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, sesame oil, and a little sugar into a large rough porcelain bowl.

He rolled up his sleeves, revealing half of his forearm, and started using his hands directly.

Five fingers tumbled and tossed in the bowl, mixing the seasonings and pig's trotters evenly, coating each piece of trotter with a glossy, oily, and fragrant sauce.

The movements were fluid and graceful, carrying a unique boldness and unrestrained spirit characteristic of the common people, making Wang Mazi forget to chop meat.

"It's done!"

Zhang Biao sniffed with satisfaction, inhaling the complex, stimulating, mouthwatering aroma, and squinted his eyes in ecstasy.

He didn't use chopsticks; he simply stretched out two fingers, picked up a piece of pig's trotter covered in minced garlic and dogwood powder, and put it in his mouth.

"Well--!"

Zhang Biao let out a satisfied sigh, his cheeks puffing out, his eyes curving into crescents of happiness: "Spicy, sour, and fragrant! It's so refreshing! Brother Wang, your braised pig's trotters are excellent, and my cold salad skills are the icing on the cake! It's an absolute perfect match!"

"Ha, Imperial Censor Zhang really knows how to eat!"

"Great, it tastes amazing!"

He ate with gusto, his mouth dripping with oil, licking his fingers with relish, and even gave Wang Mazi a greasy thumbs-up.

However, just then, a weak, somewhat shy, and involuntarily swallowing sound suddenly rang out behind him.

"Big brother, could... could I have a bite?"

"Ok?"

Zhang Biao was slightly taken aback and looked in the direction of the sound. What he saw was a little beggar dressed in coarse cloth, but with noble features.

(End of this chapter)