The Great Song Dynasty: You were put in charge of teaching, and you produced a whole bunch of prime

In the early morning in Bianjing, the fog had not yet dissipated, carrying a slightly damp and cool feeling.

At this time of day, the loudest sounds on Imperial Street are the cries of vendors selling steamed buns and wash water, exuding a lazy, lively atmosphere.

But today, just as dawn was breaking, this languid feeling was shattered by a group of teenagers carrying cloth bags.

"Extra number! Extra number!"

"A Deep Dive into the Horrifying Night at Fanlou! Who exactly was that Liao Dynasty hunk who captivated Lord Zhang?"

The child's voice, though innocent, was incredibly powerful, like pebbles being dropped into a calm lake.

The breakfast stalls on the street, the elegant seats in the teahouses, the people emptying chamber pots, and even the sedan chair bearers who had just finished court all froze in their tracks.

When have the common people of the Song Dynasty ever seen such a headline?

The daily official gazettes were for government officials, filled with archaic language and utterly boring. But this "Great Song Morning Post," with just those few bold black characters, seemed to have hooks, firmly seducing everyone's soul, which was called "gossip."

"Give me one!"

"I want one too! Don't take it!"

Copper coins rained down into the cloth bag. Newspapers, still fresh with the scent of ink, spread like a virus throughout this megacity of millions.

……

Panlou Street, Juxian Teahouse.

Su Shi sat by the window on the second floor, clutching the thin piece of paper in his hand, his knuckles turning slightly white from the pressure. The crab roe buns on the table had gone cold, but he hadn't touched them.

He peered through the crack in the window at the almost insane scenes unfolding below.

An illiterate porter was paying a literate man next to him to read the newspaper to him.

When the text read, "To please the Crown Prince of Liao, Lord Zhang did not hesitate to tarnish his reputation by 'the chaotic world,' which is truly a 'worthy of praise and tears' that transcends national boundaries," the entire street erupted in laughter.

It was a malicious and unrestrained revelry.

"Gulp." Su Shi swallowed, feeling a chill run down his spine.

He enjoyed the braised pork last night, but now he feels like he's witnessing a different kind of "cooking".

Jiang Lin didn't need to use a knife at all; with just a pen, he could skin a high-ranking official of the third rank alive, tear him apart, and throw him into the boiling oil called "public opinion" to fry him until crispy.

I said…

A deep, muffled voice came from the other side.

Yelü Hongji had one foot on a stool and was holding a newspaper in his hand, his brows furrowed in worry.

He pointed to a somewhat abstract illustration in the newspaper—the Liao prince, a burly man, was giving Zhang Shilian a wicked smile.

"What's the artist's skill level? Am I that badly dark-skinned?"

Yelü Hongji was very dissatisfied, stabbing the newspaper forcefully: "Besides, this article is also written incorrectly. What does 'bewitching' mean? In the Liao Dynasty, only the strongest male wolf can elicit the howl of a female wolf. Does this author even know how to use words?"

Su Shi's lips twitched slightly: "Your Highness, isn't your focus a bit off? This says you and Chancellor Zhang have... a homosexual relationship!"

"So what?"

Yelü Hongji chuckled, grabbed a steamed bun, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed until the juices spilled out. "In our grasslands, as long as you're strong enough, male or female is the same."

Su Shi rubbed his forehead, speechless.

Just then, the noise downstairs suddenly changed. The laughter turned into angry roars, and the crowd, as if driven by some invisible force, surged towards the center of the street like a tide.

"They're here!" Yelü Hongji's eyes lit up, and he poked his head out of the window.

In the distance, a blue official sedan chair carried by four men was swaying and approaching. The curtains were drawn, and the bearers arrogantly shouted, "Get out of the way! Don't you have eyes? This is the official sedan chair of Minister Zhang of the Ministry of Rites! If you bump into someone of such importance, can you afford to compensate us?"

Normally, the people would have already obsequiously retreated to the sides, bowing and scraping.

But today, no one moved.

The streets were deathly silent, with only the sound of the sedan chair carriers' footsteps sounding particularly jarring.

Inside the sedan chair, Zhang Shilian was resting with his eyes closed. Although he had vomited blood last night, he was, after all, a seasoned official, and he was plotting how he would turn the tables on Zhang Shilian in court today.

Although Jiang Lin was sharp-tongued, seniority and family background still mattered in the imperial court. He had already written a sincere memorial, preparing to accuse Jiang Lin of "disgracing scholarship and sowing discord between the two countries."

"Why did you stop?" Zhang Shilian felt the sedan chair pause and frowned in displeasure. "Didn't I tell you to ignore those lowly people and just ram them?"

"My...my lord..." the sedan bearer's voice trembled, "We...we can't get through."

Zhang Shilian snorted coldly and abruptly lifted the sedan curtain: "Insolence! I'd like to see who dares to stop me..."

Before the words were even finished, a yellowed, rotten vegetable leaf drew a beautiful parabola in the air.

"Snapped!"

It was smeared precisely onto Zhang Shilian's well-maintained face. The wet vegetable juice flowed down his nose and into his mouth, carrying a nauseating, rancid smell.

Zhang Shilian was dumbfounded.

He lived to be fifty, studied the classics, held a high position in the government, and associated with many learned scholars. He had never suffered such humiliation.

"Who?! Who is it?!" Zhang Shilian trembled with rage, ripping off a piece of vegetable leaf and shrieking, "I am the Minister of Rites! A high-ranking official! Are you plotting a rebellion?!"

His response was not a fearful kneeling, but a roar of anger.

"Bah! What kind of Minister? He's nothing but a traitor!"

In the crowd, a loud-voiced man waved a copy of the *Great Song Morning Post*: "It's all in the paper! In Fanlou, to curry favor with that Liao bastard, you actually called our Great Song a chaotic world! You called us starving corpses! Our Great Song isn't even gone yet, and you're already in a hurry to change masters?"

"Exactly! I think he's not a high-ranking official, but a lackey of the Liao Kingdom!"

"Kill this traitor!"

Emotions are contagious. Especially when these emotions are packaged as "patriotism and justice," the threshold for violence becomes infinitely low.

Someone started it, and a rotten egg came flying out.

Then came the second, the third... rotten vegetable leaves, broken tiles, and even some indescribable filth, raining down on the blue official sedan chair that symbolized power.

"Bang! Smash!"

"That's rhetoric! That's a metaphor! That's a couplet!" Zhang Shilian shrank back into his sedan chair in a sorry state, covering his head with his hands, still desperately trying to explain, "I was just exchanging literary ideas! You bunch of ignorant fools! Unlearned and incompetent fools!"

"You dare to call us ignorant people?"

"Beat him up!"

The sedan bearers had long since fled in terror, and the official sedan chair was pushed about by the angry crowd, swaying from side to side like a wrecked ship about to sink in a stormy sea.

Zhang Shilian's official hat was knocked off, his hair was disheveled, and his expensive purple robe was covered with egg yolk and vegetable leaves, emitting a suffocating stench.

Upstairs, Su Shi watched this scene, his face pale.

"Master... is this what you called 'pig slaughtering'?" he murmured to himself.

This is not pig slaughtering.

This is clearly death by a thousand cuts.

If last night's braised pork damaged Zhang Shilian's body, then today's newspaper has nailed his soul, reputation, and decades of accumulated goodwill to the pillar of shame, burning them to ashes.

In this era without the internet, Jiang Lin created a "cyberbullying scene".

"Tsk tsk tsk." Yelü Hongji picked his teeth and shook his head. "Tragic, too tragic. This old man is really unlucky. Of all people to mess with, he had to mess with our perverted teacher. If he had just been chopped down, that would have been one thing, but he's playing with people to death."

He turned his head, grinned, revealing his gleaming white teeth: "Headmaster, I'd rather face 100,000 Imperial Guards than see the Liao newspapers the next morning saying I wet the bed last night."

Su Shi smiled wryly. He suddenly felt as if the pen in his hand weighed a ton.