1978: Female educated youth, don’t want an illiterate husband

The office suddenly fell silent!

After saying "Why talk about money?", Cheng Xuemin fell silent.

He didn't respond immediately, nor did he ask for more specific details as usual, or make promises like "I'll think about it and give it to you as soon as possible."

He simply leaned back in his chair, shifting his gaze from Gong Xue's face to the sky outside the window, which was somewhat pale in the sunlight, his brows furrowing almost imperceptibly.

Unconsciously, his right fingers tapped the smooth tabletop, producing a soft, thoughtful tapping sound.

The silence lasted for about ten seconds!
For Gong Xue, however, it seemed to be stretched out for a very long time!

She looked at his slightly absent-minded profile, the jawline outlined by the sunlight appearing clear and somewhat aloof.

His gaze was fixed on a point in the void, clearly indicating that his thoughts had drifted elsewhere!
Are you still bothered by those people at the door earlier?

Or were they thinking about the complicated matters of heading south to Hong Kong?

Or perhaps, it's a kind of difficulty stemming from the act of songwriting itself?
After all, creation requires inspiration and a certain state of mind, and his current situation...

Gong Xue's heart sank little by little!
The joy and emotion just now were overshadowed by this sudden silence and Cheng Xuemin's clearly wandering thoughts.

She thought to herself, perhaps I really was too impulsive!
He agreed readily, perhaps only out of politeness, or perhaps to avoid embarrassing himself!
Now that I've calmed down, I realize this matter is not simple!
It wasn't just about writing a song; it also involved the military, political themes, and a tight deadline. Moreover, it was written under the name of Cheng Xuemin, who had just received a great honor and was currently in the spotlight.

Won't that make him feel like it's a burden?
It could even be a disguised, official, and somewhat symbolic assignment?

She recalled the way Commander Wang spoke of Cheng Xuemin's name, his tone a mixture of admiration, expectation, and the assumption that it was perfectly reasonable to ask for it!

I recall the excited expression on the political commissar's face when he read from the People's Daily, and the distant, admiring gazes of everyone in the troupe when they looked at her...

All of these things, at this moment, have transformed into an invisible weight, pressing down on the originally simple request to ask Cheng Xuemin to write a song.

She felt like an immature child who had rashly entered the complex world of adults and made an inappropriate request.

I can't bother him anymore, Gong Xue told himself.
He's already annoyed and busy enough!

Moreover, she needed to rush back to the troupe for training. She took a deep breath and prepared to get up and leave!
"Um... Xuemin!" she began, her voice lower than before, carrying a hint of barely perceptible unease, "If you're busy, there's no need to rush the song!"

"I'll talk to the commander! I... I won't bother you any longer, I'll head back to the regiment now!"

As she spoke, she put down the glass of water she had been holding, which had become somewhat cold, and, supporting herself on her knees, began to stand up.

The movements were somewhat hurried, carrying an urgent desire to escape this subtly silent atmosphere as quickly as possible.

She didn't even dare to look into Cheng Xuemin's eyes, afraid of seeing even the slightest bit of embarrassment or perfunctoriness in them.

However, just as she lifted her body off the chair and stood up halfway!
"and many more!"

Cheng Xuemin's voice rang out, not loud, but with an undeniable force, nailing her to the spot as she was about to get up.

Gong Xue froze, slumped back into her chair, and looked up at him in surprise.

Cheng Xuemin had already turned his gaze away from the window and refocused his eyes on her face.

The previous wandering and contemplative look in his eyes was gone, replaced by a clear and focused gaze, even carrying a kind of... eager light.

He didn't explain why he had been silent earlier, nor did he respond to her words about not having to rush.

He simply reached out and tapped the table with his fingertip—or more precisely, tapped a stack of blank manuscript papers spread out on the corner of the table.

"Sit down for a moment, don't rush off!" he said, his tone casual, even somewhat reassuring, as if the silence from before had never existed.

Gong Xue was stunned, completely bewildered by what he was about to do!
Is there anything else you need to explain?
He still felt that his silence earlier had been disrespectful to her and wanted to say something to ease the tension.
She instinctively sat up straight, her back ramrod straight, her hands on her knees, like a new recruit awaiting orders.

But their eyes involuntarily followed Cheng Xuemin's movements!

Cheng Xuemin stopped looking at her and turned slightly to the side, reaching into the pen holder to pull out the black fountain pen he had just put down.

He unscrewed the pen cap, moving slowly and deliberately, and then pulled out a sheet from the top of the stack of manuscript papers on the table!
The manuscript paper was the kind of light yellow grid paper used exclusively by the Oriental Film Studio, with the studio's name and logo printed in red at the top.

The paper was smooth and shimmered softly in the afternoon sunlight.

He spread the manuscript paper out in front of him and smoothed out any slight curling edges with his left palm.

Then, he lowered his head slightly, his gaze falling on the upper left corner of the manuscript.

Holding the pen in his right hand, he hovered it about an inch above the paper, and stopped!

The entire office fell silent once again!
The only faint sounds coming from outside the window were the loudspeakers in the distance of the factory playing broadcast gymnastics music, and further away, the last few cicadas in the sky chirping their drawn-out tunes from some tree.

The wind rustled through the leaves outside the window, carrying the dry yet warm scent unique to late summer, and brushed against a few unruly strands of black hair hanging down Cheng Xuemin's forehead.

He remained motionless in that suspended wrist position, as if gazing at the blank manuscript paper, or perhaps at some invisible entity beyond the paper.

His brows were slightly furrowed, his lips were pursed into a straight line, and the lines of his profile appeared unusually focused, even somewhat sharp, under the light and shadow.

Gong Xue could even feel that the air around him seemed to become viscous and slow down as he remained still.

What was he thinking about?
Gong Xue held her breath, not daring to make a sound, and even the fingers on her knees curled up unconsciously.

Looking at him like that, a bizarre yet surprisingly possible thought stirred ripples in her heart.

Could it be that he's going to write it now?

The thought made her feel slightly dizzy and incredulous!

In her limited understanding, songwriting, especially creating theme songs for military performances, should be a serious creative process that requires repeated brainstorming, conception, and refinement, and even going to the troops to gather inspiration and experience their lives before it can gradually take shape.

How could it be like this, where someone just agreed, sat down, spread out paper, picked up a pen... and started writing?
However, Cheng Xuemin's next actions confirmed her absurd speculation.

Suddenly, the tip of his pen, which had been hovering there, moved!
It wasn't a hesitant, tentative descent, but rather a very smooth, decisive fall.

The pen tip touched the paper, making a very slight, rustling sound with a sense of friction.

His wrist moved steadily, and the pen tip drew clear and powerful lines on the manuscript paper.

It is not random scribbling, nor punctuation marks indicating pauses in thought, but rather a continuous, orderly line of handwriting.

He really is writing!
Gong Xue's eyes widened instantly, and his body involuntarily leaned forward slightly, as if he could see more clearly that way.

She even forgot her manners and forgot that she should keep her distance.

My eyes followed the pen tip moving steadily across the manuscript paper, and the words, still wet with ink, that appeared one by one on the pale yellow paper as the pen tip moved.

Cheng Xuemin wrote very quickly, almost without pausing! The scratching sound of the pen tip across the paper became the only rhythmic sound in the office at that moment.

His handwriting wasn't particularly neat or beautiful, with some connected strokes, but the force was penetrating the paper, the strokes were clear, and it had a free and unrestrained style.

He lowered his head slightly, the strands of hair on his forehead swaying gently with the writing motion, and the profile of his face appeared particularly serene under his focused expression.

There's even a sense of solidification, like a sculpture, with only the fingers and wrist holding the pen moving steadily!

Gong Xue's heart began to race involuntarily!
She held her breath and, almost instinctively, stood up from the chair.

The movements were very light, without making a sound!
As if drawn by some invisible force, she moved very lightly and slowly to the side and behind Cheng Xuemin's desk.

An angle that allows him to see his writing clearly without interfering with his work.

Her shadow, lengthened by the slanting sunlight, fell still on the filing cabinet beside her.

She finally saw the words taking shape on the manuscript paper!

The top line is the song title.

Four simple words, yet they carry a refreshing and simple atmosphere that belongs to the military camp!
Green Flowers in the Army

Gong Xue silently repeated the name in his mind.

In the military, the affiliation and setting are clearly indicated;
Green flowers, a metaphor that carries vitality, hope, and even a touch of poetry, so aptly point to those young and energetic soldiers in green uniforms.

Without grand and direct terms like "Great Wall of Steel" or "Heroic Praises," it feels more intimate, subtle, and even carries a gentle perspective.

Her heartstrings were gently plucked!
Continuing down, you'll find the positions for the lyricist and composer, where Cheng Xuemin smoothly wrote down his name.

Then, after leaving a blank line, I began writing the lyrics.

"The cold wind blows and leaves fall, the army is a green flower."

My dear comrade, don't miss home.

Don't think about your mother!
I call out to you day and night, expressing so many heartfelt words.

Don't let your eyes well up with tears when you part.
The barracks are our warm home.

......"

The pen never stopped, and lines of elegant and powerful handwriting spread out on the manuscript paper.

Gong Xue's gaze followed closely, reading each word one by one, and involuntarily, he began to try to imbue the words with melody as they were arranged.

At first, it was silent reading, but gradually, a simple, unpretentious, yet exceptionally smooth melody, as if flowing naturally from the heart, took shape in her mind.

The melody lacked complex trills and high-pitched screams; instead, it was simple, soothing, and carried a narrative-like intimacy.

Like a comrade-in-arms humming softly by your bedside in the dead of night, or like a mother's earnest admonition across thousands of miles.

"Mom, don't worry, I've grown up."

Standing guard is to protect the country.
I'm not afraid of wind or rain!
Heartfelt blessings to my mother.
I wish my mother good health and a long life. I'll come home again during the celebration.

Let's visit Mom again.

......"

The second paragraph shifts the perspective from the military camp and comrades-in-arms to the mother far away, to the softest corner in the heart of every son who has left home.

"Standing guard duty is to protect the country, and we are not afraid of wind or rain," is a firm vow;

"My heartfelt wishes to my mother are for her health and longevity" is the most sincere and heartfelt prayer.
"I'll go home when we celebrate our victory" is a subtle promise, and behind the tears held back at parting lies a heavy sense of responsibility and glory.

As Gong Xue looked at these words, countless young, tanned faces seemed to appear before his eyes. They were on the frontier, on islands, at outposts, and on training grounds, suppressing their longing in their hearts and dedicating their youth to the country.

Her nose suddenly felt a little sore!

These lyrics don't contain empty slogans or deliberate attempts to elevate the message; they express homesickness, love for one's mother, and tears at parting.

It is precisely these most ordinary and genuine emotions that touch the softest parts of people's hearts and best reflect the deep patriotism behind the idea that the military camp is our warm home.

Cheng Xuemin was still writing. After finishing the second verse, he paused slightly, left two blank lines below, and then began writing the musical score.

Then came the musical notes, tadpole-like symbols flowing from his pen, accompanied by occasional ties, dots, and simple dynamic markings.

He wrote very quickly, almost without thinking; the arrangement and combination of those notes seemed to have already taken shape in his mind.

At this moment, I'm simply transferring them from my mind to paper.

Gong Xue was completely stunned!
She doesn't understand complex music theory, but she recognizes basic musical notation.

She looked at the melody lines formed by the musical notes, and then, matching them with the lyrics she had just seen, she tried to hum them softly in her heart.

Just as she had predicted, the melody was simple, smooth, and catchy.

The verses unfold gently, like a casual conversation; the chorus rises slightly in mood, carrying longing and anticipation, yet restrained within a warm tone.

There are no heart-wrenching screams, yet it possesses a power that penetrates the heart.

Especially the line "The barracks is our warm home," the melody echoes, bringing a sense of comforting belonging.

Is this... is this really a complete song that can be sung directly?
From the moment she made her request, to his nod of agreement, to his brief silence, and then his picking up of the pen to write…

The whole process, at most, took no more than the time it takes to drink a few sips of water and exchange a few words.

A song that embodies the close bond between the military and the people, praises the soldiers, is uplifting, and is easy to sing.

It was born right under her nose, in this office filled with the smell of documents, where an angry visitor had just left.

This is not creative work.

This is simply... a presentation.

It's as if this song already existed, and he just took it out from somewhere.

……

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