Courtyard House: Drunk and tipsy, the whole courtyard exposed at the start.

As soon as she started playing, Han Xiaomeng instinctively tugged at her accordion to match, and Tang Min changed the key on her flute. The three of them were in perfect harmony.

The flute played the main melody, the accordion provided the background, and Mu Wanqing's clear and bright voice weaved through the middle—

"The sky is like a vast dome, covering the four fields..."

Zhang Dabiao leaned against the window, squinting as he listened, and added a soft whistle, which surprisingly blended in with the sound.

The autumn sun of 1961 shone warmly on the four young men outside the window. At that moment, he suddenly felt that the sound effects of this live performance had more character than the recordings produced in studios in later generations.

"The sky is vast and blue, the fields are boundless and green, the wind blows the grass low, revealing cattle and sheep—"

As the last line fell, the flute music stopped, the accordion music stopped, and the whistling stopped. Mu Wanqing's voice lingered in the air for a few seconds before gradually fading away.

Quiet.

Suddenly, a rustling sound came from outside the door.

Han Xiaomeng turned her head and saw several pairs of eyes peering through the crack in the door.

"Oh my!" she exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing?"

The door was pushed open, and four or five heads peeked in, men and women, all from the creative groups next door. They weren't part of Zhao Weiguo's group; they were neutral, minor figures.

"Who was singing just now? Was it Mu Wanqing?"

"What are you singing? It sounds so good!"

"Was this a new composition by your group? Let's sing it again!"

They were all talking at once, like sparrows having a meeting.

Before Zhang Dabiao could speak, a cough came from the other end of the corridor—it was a bespectacled boy who had been assigned by the student council to stand guard at the entrance, holding a small notebook in his hand.

"What are you doing? Go back to your classrooms! No switching groups during the competition!"

Several heads sullenly withdrew, but their eyes were still glancing this way.

"Did you hear that? That thing just now..."

"It sounds like the 'Song of Changle'? The one from the Northern and Southern Dynasties?"

"Impossible! That poem is so short, what kind of melody could it possibly be set to?"

"It really does sound good..."

The chatter gradually faded into the distance.

Han Xiaomeng closed the door, turned around and looked at Zhang Dabiao, her eyes full of admiration.

"Comrade Zhang, what you just said... just how much stuff is in your head?"

Zhang Dabiao smiled but didn't answer. He just pointed to the stack of manuscript papers on the table.

"Never mind how much I have in my head, let's get this one done first. Once 'The Song of Changle' is finalized, we'll set up the music for 'Do You Know' tomorrow."

------------

The afternoon passed just like that.

The sunlight outside the window moved from east to west, and the students in the classroom were constantly busy.

Their progress is far ahead of schedule.

Zhang Dabiao hummed and whistled as he sang, while Han Xiaomeng and Tang Min took notes and made corrections. Mu Wanqing listened to the singing and offered suggestions from time to time.

"Here, when the chorus starts, there should be a bit of... how should I put it..." Zhang Dabiao gestured, "'My heart follows the heavens and earth to find that optimism.' When you sing 'that optimism,' you should tone it down a bit, don't let it go too far. You should make people feel sorry for you, with a sense of desolation and melancholy."

Mu Wanqing, Han Xiaomeng, and Tang Min were a little confused.

"Da Biao, what exactly does 'optimism' mean?"

"Optimism... should be the Tiele people's calm acceptance of the laws of nature and their optimistic and open-minded attitude towards life."

"Anyway, it's about finding a broad-minded and cheerful attitude."

After understanding it, Mu Wanqing tried singing it once, and with a slight touch at the end, it was indeed different.

Han Xiaomeng scribbled down a bunch of symbols in her notebook, then looked up and asked, "Comrade Zhang, how is your brain structured? We might not even think of these details after four years of study."

Zhang Dabiao, with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, grinned slyly: "Talent, you know? It's innate."

As for music, all he needs to do is have hands—he can copy, he can whistle tunes, or he can sing or hum directly. Let's talk about what instruments are suitable for this part.

As for the remaining professional issues, such as harmony and rhythm, Mu Wanqing, Han Xiaomeng, and Tang Min are the real experts. With a little guidance, the feeling will come right out of the box.

We're just having fun!

They are computer software, the kind with AI, that helps them improve and optimize.

Tang Min rolled her eyes, but a smile remained on her lips—working with Zhang Dabiao was both exciting and greatly improved her creative abilities. It was like learning from Zhang Dabiao, without the seriousness of learning from a teacher.

Great value!

And they even provide lunch!

Most importantly, there is freedom in terms of subject matter and content!

To be honest, there's only so much music these days, and he's getting a little tired of it, but he doesn't dare say it.

The most direct feeling I got from working on music creation with Zhang Dabiao was freedom!

In one afternoon, the basic ideas for the orchestration of "The Song of Changle" were basically clarified.

"The Song of Changle" features flutes, morin khuur (horsehead fiddle), piano, and xun (ocarina), aiming to evoke a sense of vastness and desolation.

Actually, Zhang Dabiao said that the song would be best played with a piano, violin, and flute, but there were only a few people in the department who were good at playing the piano, and they were all invited to help out.

Moreover, a team can only have a maximum of three foreign players, and unless Mu Wanqing herself can play the piano, there is no way to prevent this.

So the final decision was to use a flute, a morin khuur (horsehead fiddle), and an ocarina (ocarina).

Han Xiaomeng can also play the flute a little, so she just makes do with it.

Tang Min is good at playing the erhu, so it's not too difficult for him to learn the morin khuur (horsehead fiddle) even if he has to cram at the last minute.

The most crucial thing was to teach Zhang Dabiao how to use the xun, also known as the pottery xun, within two or three days.

Zhang Min patted her chest and promised that she would get it for him tomorrow. Zhang Dabiao had a good sense of music, and it wouldn't be difficult for him to learn the most basic background music in two or three days.

Looking at the several pages of densely packed drafts, Han Xiaomeng suddenly had a strange feeling—

Isn't this progress too fast?

While other groups were still arguing about which poem to choose, they had already come up with a complete music selection plan.

She looked up at Zhang Dabiao, who was leaning against the window yawning, with an expression that said, "What's so difficult about this?"

She suddenly realized that this person was a monster.

------------

At five o'clock in the afternoon, there was a knock on the door.

"Please come in!"

The door opened, and three people entered—leading them was Department Head Zhou, followed by two middle-aged teachers, one being Professor Chen, who taught composition in this course, and the other being Counselor Liu. There was also a student council member carrying a cardboard box.

"Time's up." Director Zhou glanced around the room. "Are the lyrics finished? Seal them away."

Zhang Dabiao stood up, flipped through the stack of manuscripts on the table, pulled out two pages of lyrics, and handed them over.

Director Zhou took it and looked down at it.

The first album, titled "Do You Know?", was written by Li Qingzhao (Song Dynasty) and adapted by Zhang Dabiao.

He squinted and looked down.

Last night, the rain was sparse and the wind was strong; even a deep sleep couldn't dispel the lingering effects of the wine...

He read a couple of sentences softly, then suddenly stopped.

Teacher Chen leaned over, glanced at it, and raised an eyebrow.

Counselor Liu also came over, and as he looked at it, he unconsciously read it aloud.

"If you ask the person who rolls up the curtain, they'll say the crabapple blossoms are still there..."

After humming, he paused for a moment, then looked up at Zhang Dabiao.

"Did you add this word?"

Zhang Dabiao nodded.

Teacher Chen looked at it again, but didn't say anything, though her eyes held a complicated expression.

Director Zhou put down the first sheet of paper and picked up the second one.

"Why is there another one?"

Title: "The Song of Changle". Lyrics: Folk song of the Northern Dynasties (Northern and Southern Dynasties), adapted by Zhang Dabiao.

"The Chule River flows beneath the Yin Mountains, where the sky is like a vast dome, covering the boundless plains..."

He recited softly, and when he reached the last line, "Where is my love? The girl asks the heavens; Where is my love? I ride my horse across the Chule River," he suddenly stopped.

Is writing songs about love and romance these days a bit too much?

However, the rules seem to say "less," rather than "cannot be written at all"...

[And since it's a curriculum reform, experimental in nature, it doesn't seem to be against any taboos?]

He was silent for a few seconds, then handed two pieces of paper to Teacher Chen, took out two envelopes, folded the papers, stuffed them in, and sealed them with sealing wax in front of everyone.

Finally, it was stuffed into the cardboard box.

Then he looked up at Zhang Dabiao.

Why did you write two poems?