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

When Mu Wanqing mentioned the department's call for submissions, Zhang Dabiao, who was holding a piece of braised pig's ear, trembled upon hearing this, and the pig's ear "plop" fell back into the bowl.

Qin Jingru stood by, utterly bewildered—[Is it appropriate for Brother Da Biao, an artist, to be composing music all the time?]

He Yushui remained silent, but felt a pang of sadness in her heart. Da Biao doted on Mu Wanqing too much, but they were engaged and betrothed. What could anyone say?

"Again?"

Da Biao slammed his chopsticks on the table, leaned back in his chair, and looked utterly dejected. "Wanqing, can we take a break? You've practically emptied my brain of all the knowledge I have."

"Besides, I'm just an artist. Is it appropriate for me to be neglecting my studies and writing songs for your music academy all day? Wouldn't those arrogant geniuses at your school gossip about me behind my back?"

This art vocational school student skips classes every day at his own school and spends all his time going to the Beijing Conservatory of Music to do some kind of music creation with college students... Isn't this just ridiculous nonsense?

If I have time, wouldn't it be better to go to Hong Kong and sell more milk tea, or copy more of Mr. Jin's novels? I could make money that way!

These days, there's no money to be made in the entertainment industry in mainland China!

Seeing his pouting, Mu Wanqing couldn't help but laugh. She went over and massaged his shoulders, her voice soft and sweet: "I didn't want to either. But... this time is different."

She lowered her voice, her eyes filled with a seriousness and a hint of barely perceptible anticipation: "Director Zhou told me privately that this call for submissions is linked to the 'National Art Colleges Textbook Construction Plan.' The selected outstanding works will be used in the New Year's Eve gala for language performances, and next spring they will also participate in the provincial college arts festival. The top few pieces will even have the opportunity to be directly included by the Ministry of Culture and incorporated into the trial music textbooks for universities."

Qin Jingru and He Yushui both perked up their ears!

Zhang Dabiao had originally intended to crack a few jokes, but upon hearing the words "Ministry of Culture" and "textbook," he suddenly sat up straight.

He wasn't from this era, but he understood the weight of the words "official certification" better than anyone else in this era.

These days, class background is like an invisible shackle. Mu Wanqing's adoptive mother's unclear past is a Damocles' sword hanging over their family. When things are calm, it's fine, but once any trouble arises, it becomes their most vulnerable point, easily exploited.

The song "Chilige" was designated as a required piece for new students at the school, but it was too desolate and tragic, like a dirge in the north wind, unsuitable for a grand occasion. As for "Do You Know," its melody was too delicate and too "bourgeois." Although the National Conference of New Overseas Chinese in 61 allowed for a slight relaxation of artistic creation nationwide, in this era that emphasized collectivism and high morale, it could only be a private boudoir tune hummed in private, and putting it on the table would easily be labeled as "decadent music."

But this time is different.

This is a legitimate, nationwide opportunity. If even one of her works is selected for national textbooks, it would be like adding a layer of pure gold to Mu Wanqing's resume. Who would dare bring up her family background then? She would be a positive role model contributing to the nation's arts education!

This isn't songwriting, it's practically creating a protective charm for her!

"Let's do it!" Zhang Dabiao slapped his thigh, his eyes instantly sharpening. "I'll take this job! It's just a song, right? For my wife's future, I'll churn out ten for you, let alone one!"

Mu Wanqing was amused by his sudden outburst of energy, but her eyes were slightly red. She knew that Zhang Dabiao had agreed to it again because of her.

Just do it.

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

After a quick bite of dinner, Qin Jingru and He Yushui went back to their room because Da Biao and Mu Wanqing needed to work on their creative projects. They were fine with sharing their rations and eating together, but when they had work to do, Qin Jingru and He Yushui were quite considerate.

Outside, the cold wind howled, but inside, the fire in the stove burned brightly. Zhang Dabiao frowned, his mind racing.

Familiar melodies played one after another.

"The Red Star Shines," "Singing for the Motherland," "Learn from Lei Feng"...

No, no!

Zhang Dabiao shook his head repeatedly. He couldn't touch any of these revolutionary songs.

It's not that the song is bad, but the risk is too great.

First, he can't remember the exact year these songs were composed. If they overlap with already published works, or if the composer had manuscripts from a few years ago, that would be plagiarism, political opportunism, and an even more serious crime.

Secondly, these songs require a very "upright" and "popular" temperament. If Mu Wanqing, with her slightly "seductive" temperament, were to sing them, it would easily seem deliberate and artificial, which would backfire. Moreover, it is very likely that the singer would be replaced during the performance, which would be a huge loss.

Fourth, when the judges review it, they'll say, "How can a vocational school student who only studied painting write such a patriotic song? Is your ideological awareness even higher than that of a military writer?" It's hard to explain; it's full of holes.

Military themes, themes of hardship, themes of imperial mandates, themes of greatness, glory, and righteousness—these are things we can't touch for now. Creating revolutionary songs isn't impossible, but we have to take it slowly. If you suddenly come up with an extremely awesome revolutionary song—taking too big a step will easily lead to disaster!

Another point is that you, Zhang Dabiao, have over 400,000 yuan in bank deposits, which is more than 99% of people in this era. You have never suffered hardship, and you still get reported for eating meat and fish every day. What are you, Xia Jiba, writing about suffering and turning your life around? You don't deserve it.

That kind of thing is something that ordinary people can't really create unless they can empathize with it. If you, Zhang Dabiao, write it, then it's just pretentious and fake!

We need to find a song with a unique style, a warm feel, that aligns with the spirit of the times, but isn't too outrageous.

"The Song of Changle" is desolate, "Do You Know" is gentle and graceful, this time... this time we need something that can heal people's hearts.

Healing...warmth...1961...

A flash of inspiration struck Zhang Dabiao.

He thought of that song from later generations that almost swept across all short video platforms and was hailed as the "healing anthem of the year".

The melody is soothing yet carries a sense of vastness; the lyrics are simple yet full of the most primal love for life. It doesn't shout slogans or preach grand principles; it simply uses the simplest imagery to depict a hope that sees the sun after the clouds have parted.

Perfect!

It was practically tailor-made for the end of 1961, a time when countless people were exhausted yet still held onto a glimmer of hope after having weathered the most difficult period!

"I've got it!" Zhang Dabiao suddenly opened his eyes, his eyes shining like two stars.

He cleared his throat and softly hummed a melody to Mu Wanqing, who was looking at him expectantly.

"Towards the clouds, beyond the mountains, into the sea..."

The melodious tune, like a warm spring breeze, instantly swept through every corner of the stable. Mu Wanqing's eyes lit up after hearing only the beginning. She picked up the pencil and music book on the table, her hands trembling slightly.

She knew that an extraordinary piece of music was about to be created in their hands.

Come out! (Aunt Huang's version - lyrics need to be changed)

Towards the Clouds!

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

Meanwhile, the Intermediate People's Court.

The old men are up to something again.

The election rally that ended a couple of days ago, which started strong but ended weakly, was like a bucket of ice water, completely dampening Yi Zhonghai's joy at becoming a respected elder again. He wanted to strike while the iron was hot and convene a short meeting with the residents of the compound to propose the establishment of a "Neighborhood Mutual Aid Winter Reserve Group".

Because by the end of 61, the food shortage had become even more severe.