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

One afternoon, in order to meet a deadline, Zhang Dabiao was drawing a distant view of the climax of Nezha's battle with the Dragon Palace. He took a shortcut when sketching the background waves and the distant Dragon Palace. He used large areas of white space for the waves and a few speed lines, and only drew a rough outline of the Dragon Palace.

According to the rules of later comics, this is called "visual guidance," where the background doesn't need to be too detailed; just highlight the main subject.

This makes the close-up view stand out.

But he handed the manuscript to Teacher Zhou.

Teacher Zhou took the drawing, glanced at it, frowned deeply, and slammed it back on the table: "Redraw it!"

Zhang Dabiao was taken aback: "What's wrong? Is the X-ray vision wrong?"

"Perspective is fine, but attitude is!" Teacher Zhou pointed at the waves, his fingers banging on the table. "This is the climax! Nezha is fighting desperately in front, and you've drawn the waves behind him like little puddles. Where's the momentum? Where's the sense of oppression? White space is the essence of traditional Chinese painting, but this is a storyboard comic strip; the image must be full! These waves need to be drawn with that overwhelming, all-consuming sense of depth!"

Teacher Chen, standing nearby, chimed in with a sarcastic remark, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses: "And this Dragon Palace! What's wrong with the background? Does the background have to be free of structure? The proportions of the brackets are completely messed up, and the chiwen on the roof ridge looks like an eel! Da Biao, this is a masterpiece to be passed down through generations; we can't afford the slightest bit of carelessness! Take it back and redraw it!"

Zhang Dabiao looked at the two indignant middle-aged men, his head buzzing.

[What about reality and illusion? What about strength and weakness? Are you just ignoring all of that?]

[I, as the lead writer, have already taken the initiative to slack off and reduce your workload, so why are you doing this?]

"It's only a few dollars a month, why are you working this hard?"

"No... teachers, I'm the lead writer! I decide the pacing and storyboarding! Simplifying it a little can save us a lot of time..."

"No way!" they both said in unison, their voices firm and resolute.

Ma Changfeng, suppressing a laugh, frantically scribbled with his dip pen, pretending not to hear. Senior Lin Wan, head bowed, adjusted her ink, her shoulders trembling.

Zhang Dabiao sighed and resignedly took back the drawing. Well, he'd run into someone even more meticulous and obsessive-compulsive than himself. He could only patiently redraw the layers of the waves, adding more to show the vast spatial depth, complete the structure of the Dragon Palace for Teacher Chen, and then hand it over to them for further refinement.

Damn it—who's the lead writer anyway? Who does this project team listen to?

Despite his complaints, Zhang Dabiao secretly admired them. Their reverence for art far surpassed that of the assembly-line painters of later generations.

To ensure that these lunatics' bodies weren't completely drained, Zhang Dabiao spared no expense in logistics.

Qin Jingru and He Yushui brought them different meals every day. One day it was braised pork, the next day it was stewed ribs, and the day after that it was scrambled eggs with scallions. On the weekend, Zhang Dabiao even went to the black market in the suburbs to get an old hen, and had Qin Jingru stew a big pot of chicken soup and bring it to the studio.

The rich aroma of meat wafted through the corridors of the arts and crafts school every day. The teachers and students who painted model operas across the street would smell the aroma, then look at the cornbread and pickled vegetables in their lunchboxes, and their eyes would turn green with envy. The figures they painted all looked malnourished.

Even the courtyard house was not peaceful.

Every day when Sha Zhu came home from get off work, he could smell the aroma of meat wafting from the courtyard. As an eighth-level chef at the Hongxing Steel Rolling Mill, he was used to the fumes in the canteen every day, but when he returned to the courtyard, the aroma of meat from Zhang Dabiao's house made his mouth water.

"That bastard Zhang Dabiao, he's always eating dragon meat, isn't he?" Sha Zhu stood at his doorway, peering into Zhang Dabiao's house, muttering to himself.

In the spring of 62, when food was most scarce, Zhang Dabiao was relatively low-key in 61, but what happened this year?

crazy?

I know you, Zhang Dabiao, have plenty of money and tickets, but this is no way to squander them.

They're not even trying to hide it from people anymore?

Qin Huairu happened to be carrying a basin out to wash clothes. Smelling the fragrance, she swallowed and sighed, "That Da Biao is really capable. I heard he got a big job at school, and even the teachers are helping him."

"Jingru is living the high life now, eating and drinking like a king every day. Look at my Banggeng, he's so hungry he grinds his teeth all night long, he hasn't seen a single drop of oil in half a month."

In fact, Qin Huairu was saying this on purpose for Sha Zhu to hear; recently, the lunchboxes Sha Zhu brought had become less and less oily.

Upon hearing this, Sha Zhu felt a surge of urge to stand up for others, and he couldn't suppress his own impulse to do so. He couldn't stand seeing Qin Huairu cry; the sight of her aggrieved expression made him feel incredibly weak.

"Sister Qin, don't worry." Sha Zhu draped the tattered rag he was holding over the door frame, spat into his palm, and said, "No matter how arrogant this kid is, he still cares about neighborly relations. We all see each other all the time. I'll go find out what's going on with him and at least get a bowl of meat soup for Bang Geng to satisfy his craving."

Zhang Dabiao hasn't been beaten recently, and he hasn't had time to train his birds either, so he's started showing off again.

Sha Zhu walked with a pigeon-toed gait to the gate of Zhang Dabiao's side room. Just as he raised his hand to knock, the door creaked open by itself.

Zhang Dabiao came out carrying a medium-sized stainless steel bucket filled with hot bone broth, the aroma of which was irresistible.

Sha Zhu swallowed hard and forced a smile: "Hey, Da Biao, busy? This bone broth is cooked until it's really soft. Um... Sister Qin's pigs are lacking nutrition lately, and you can't finish this, could you share a bowl of the broth with me? Consider it a favor from me."

Zhang Dabiao stopped and looked Sha Zhu up and down.

Then he sighed helplessly, "That bastard never learns his lesson."

"Silly Zhu, you're a level eight chef at the Red Star Steel Rolling Mill, earning twenty-seven yuan and fifty cents a month. You think you're short of soup?" Zhang Dabiao didn't mince words, his words cutting straight to the chase. "If you want to help the Jia family, go buy the meat yourself. Using my things to curry favor with a widow? You're slapping me in the face. What, are you planning to use the bones I bought to make your 'love soup'?"

Sha Zhu's old face instantly turned bright red, and the veins in his neck throbbed. He pointed at Zhang Dabiao, unable to utter a single sentence for a long time: "Dabiao...you little...don't be so mean! We're neighbors..."

"If you don't like it, don't come near me." Zhang Dabiao, carrying the basin, walked past him and headed out of the courtyard. "This bone broth is for the teachers and students at school. They helped me with my painting, so I have to take good care of them. Give it to the Jia family? If I do, that Jia Zhangshi and that ingrate will just curse me. What's in it for me?"

"I've had absolutely no dealings with the Jia family since then, have you forgotten?"

"Trying to get in on the Jia family's goodwill? Go ahead, but don't try to use my things to do them favors."

After saying that, he closed the bucket, got on the motorcycle from the Foreign Languages ​​Department, and sputtered off towards the school.

Sha Zhu was left standing there, unable to move forward or backward.

Qin Huairu, who was pretending to do laundry, heard everything clearly. Her face flushed red and then turned pale. She picked up the washbasin and slunk back into the house. Inside, Jia Zhangshi was peeking out through the window crack. Seeing that she hadn't gotten any meat, she plopped down on the kang (a heated brick bed) and began to wail, "Old Jia! Dongxu! Look at the people in this courtyard! Their hearts are black-hearted! They're bullying us, a widow and her children! They won't even give us a sip of soup! They're trying to force us to our deaths!"

Jia Zhangshi howled loudly, only daring to do so after Zhang Dabiao left. If Dabiao were still in the yard, she wouldn't have the guts.

When Zhang Dabiao goes crazy, he's willing to demolish houses.

Zhang Dabiao quickly forgot about the little incident in the courtyard. These beasts only dared to cause trouble in the yard; it didn't affect him anyway. He was now completely focused on his "special creative studio" at the school, and had even neglected his business in Hong Kong lately, as long as it provided him with a stable cash flow.

Given the choice between making money and creating a classic, or the classic "Nezha Conquers the Dragon King," do animation artists even need to choose?