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

The New Year's Day holiday had just ended, and the afterglow of the performance still lingered in the art academy. The unique melody of "Towards the Distance" and Zhang Dabiao's earth-shattering "ventriloquism" became the most popular topics among students after class and after meals.

That afternoon, Mu Wanqing had just finished class when she was called away by the department office staff.

In the department head's office, Old Zhou and Teacher Chen, along with several others, were present, their expressions serious.

"Have a seat," Old Zhou said, pointing to the chair opposite him.

The air in the office was somewhat heavy, and Mu Wanqing couldn't help but feel a little uneasy.

Old Zhou cleared his throat and got straight to the point: "I called you here to report on the investigation results regarding the theft of the harmonica at the performance."

He took a document out of the drawer and pushed it in front of Mu Wanqing.

"The police were very efficient after they got involved. The fingerprint comparison method that Zhang Dabiao mentioned was crucial."

"Several clear fingerprints were extracted from the damaged harmonica. After ruling out those of you who had contact with it, the remaining fingerprint was confirmed to belong to your class's sports and arts representative, Zhang Mingyuan, after comparison."

Mu Wanqing covered her mouth, her eyes filled with disbelief.

Zhang Mingyuan? That classmate who usually seems so refined and always has a smile on his face?

"Faced with the evidence, Zhang Mingyuan's psychological defenses quickly crumbled." Old Zhou's tone turned serious. "He admitted that he stole the harmonica and that he broke it. His purpose was to embarrass your show on stage."

"Why?" Mu Wanqing still couldn't understand.

Teacher Chen sighed and continued, "What else could it be? Jealousy. He said that you, a freshman, have become the center of attention with just two songs and have even gained the appreciation of the department. He's not convinced. Plus, with what happened with Gao Feng, he thinks it's an opportunity to make a big deal out of it and throw the dirty water on Gao Feng at the same time, killing two birds with one stone."

"He and Gao Feng were from the same compound, and they already had some disagreements. Their fathers were both from the Ministry of Culture..."

These words sent chills down one's spine.

"So... what are the school's plans to do with him?" Mu Wanqing asked the most crucial question.

Old Zhou's expression turned unusually serious: "Originally, this was just a conflict between you students; a reprimand and a major demerit would have sufficed. But this time is different."

He paused, then said, word by word, "Your poem 'Towards the Distance' has been included in the candidate list for the 'National Art Colleges Textbook Construction Plan' jointly by the Ministry of Culture and the Ministry of Education because of its unique artistic form and positive content. This matter has escalated from a conflict between students to the level of 'sabotaging the country's teaching construction work.' The nature of the matter has completely changed."

The accusation of "sabotaging the country's educational development" is no small matter.

Mu Wanqing's heart skipped a beat. She knew how serious it was to "exaggerate" things in this era, but she didn't expect it to be this severe.

"Zhang Mingyuan's father was an official in the Ministry of Culture, and he came to the school in person," Old Zhou continued. "But he was sensible and knew that this matter couldn't be covered up or protected. In order to save face for the whole family and to teach his son a profound lesson, he took the initiative to apply to the school and relevant departments to send Zhang Mingyuan to Saihanba Forest Farm for labor reform."

"I'll buy you another harmonica just like it as compensation."

Saihanba Forest Farm!

That's a notoriously harsh region in the country, with sandstorms everywhere and water freezing instantly. Going there isn't for leisure.

"After deliberation, the school has approved this solution. The official statement will be that Zhang Mingyuan responded to the national call and voluntarily applied to go to the frontier to support national development." Old Zhou looked at Mu Wanqing. "His student status will naturally be revoked. This matter ends here. You must also keep quiet and pass this on to Zhang Dabiao, understand?"

Mu Wanqing nodded.

As Mu Wanqing stepped out of the department head's office, the sun shone brightly, but her heart felt heavy. When she exited the school gate, Da Biao was still waiting for her on his bicycle.

On the way, Mu Wanqing told Zhang Dabiao about it.

She also recalled that in the morning, Liu Yuanchao, the class's Youth League secretary, had excitedly told him that, inspired by "Towards the Distance," several senior students had already submitted applications to go to Xinjiang, to the West, and to the places in the motherland that needed them most after graduation.

At the time, she only felt honored.

But now, Zhang Mingyuan is also going to "go," but in such a dishonorable way, passively embarking on his life's "distant future."

A butterfly flapping its wings in South America could eventually cause a tornado in Texas.

Zhang Dabiao was stunned after hearing this. He, a soul from the future, had merely "copied" a song and changed a few lines of lyrics, yet it was like a butterfly unintentionally flapping its wings. Liu Yuanchao and the others were like the wind, and Zhang Mingyuan was also like the wind. A person's fate was completely rewritten just like that.

This feeling gave him, for the first time, a deep sense of awe and even a touch of fear towards this era and towards the "prophet" he possessed.

He is not a god; he is just a mortal. He can use his memories to benefit himself and those around him, but he cannot predict or control all the chain reactions that these things will trigger.

"Da Biao, what's wrong?" Mu Wanqing noticed that his expression was off.

"It's nothing." Zhang Dabiao forced a smile. "It's just that I feel... a bit conflicted."

He reached out and ruffled Mu Wanqing's hair: "From now on, we should keep a low profile. Just live our own lives well."

Mu Wanqing nodded, seemingly understanding but not quite. All she knew was that the man before her seemed to have another layer of unfathomable secrets on his mind.

Of course! People who listen to your songs go to "the places where the motherland needs them most." Why don't you, the songwriter and singer, go there?

In early 62, the "Down to the Countryside Movement" was just beginning. The slogan at the time was "Go to where the motherland needs you most," not "Go to the countryside." Its main impact on universities was guiding graduate placement rather than forcing students to go to the countryside. From 62 to 63, educated youth were mainly assigned to state-run farms, forestry farms, animal husbandry farms, and fisheries; those who were assigned to rural production teams (directly settling in rural areas) accounted for only 6%. This became the mainstream practice after 64. The logic of the 62 policy (mid-year and end-of-year) was: all young people who could not continue their education or find employment in cities should go to the countryside to farm and settle down permanently—but this was not mandatory.

Therefore, the "Down to the Countryside Movement" was a potential problem for Zhang Dabiao and Mu Wanqing.

I need to be more careful in my actions from now on.

It's just "copying" a song, why make such a fuss?

bother!

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The days slipped into the twelfth lunar month at a leisurely pace.

The people in the courtyard were also busy preparing for the upcoming New Year. Although food was scarce, the New Year still had to be celebrated. Every household was calculating how to prepare a decent New Year's Eve dinner with their meager cloth coupons, oil coupons, and meat coupons.

That afternoon, Zhang Dabiao was in the stable in the east courtyard, taking inventory and registering the mutual aid association's supplies. This year's harvest wasn't much, but it shouldn't be a problem for each member of the mutual aid association to receive about 10 kilograms of New Year's goods.

Qin Jingru, He Yushui, and Mu Wanqing helped out from the side; one used an abacus, one kept accounts, and one sorted and packaged the items, working together quite well.

Just then, the roar of a car engine came from the alley entrance.