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

On October 1st, it was just getting light.

The queue in front of the Xinhua Bookstore in Wangfujing stretched for two blocks.

Everyone was dressed in Zhongshan suits and blue work clothes, crowding together and craning their necks.

Yes, comic strip artist Zhang Dabiao's new work, "Heroes and Daughters," adapted from Ba Jin's novel "Reunion," is officially on sale today!

He Yushui, wrapped in a floral coat, stood on tiptoe until her toes ached, clutching the cloth bag tightly in her hand. She had dragged Qin Jingru here at five in the morning to reserve a spot, and had also invited Mu Wanqing along the way.

At this time, Zhang Dabiao was still resting in his "little nest" while delivering water to Hong Kong with a water pipe tied to his hand.

Zhang Dabiao had ten copies of the book and originally intended to share them with them, but Yushui and the others wanted to buy the rest themselves, mainly because they were worried that Zhang Dabiao wouldn't have enough books to give away later.

Moreover, if you buy it yourself, then ask Zhang Dabiao to sign it, and it would be best if he also drew a picture or wrote a word on it, that would make it look more stylish!

"Comrades, don't push! We have plenty of copies of 'Heroes and Daughters,' please line up!" The bookstore staff shouted through a megaphone, but they couldn't quell the crowd's restlessness.

As soon as the gate opened, the crowd surged inside.

Before noon, the bookstore put up a "Sold Out" sign.

He Yushui, Qin Jingru, and Mu Wanqing each managed to grab ten books. She stuffed the books into her cloth bag, held it protectively to her chest, and sped off on her bicycle towards Nanluoguxiang.

Courtyard No. 95.

Today is Monday, but it's a National Day holiday, so it's not lunchtime yet.

Qin Huairu was washing clothes by the pond in the middle courtyard, Liu Guangqi and Yan Jiecheng were sunbathing with their child in their arms, Jia Zhangshi was obediently carrying Huaihua, and Xiao Dang was running around in the yard.

Liu Haizhong strolled under the eaves with an enamel mug in her hand, watching Yi Zhonghai and Yan Bugui play chess. Sha Zhu was cooking for the old deaf man in the backyard. She wanted to eat something nice for National Day, so she called Sha Zhu over. Sha Zhu was free anyway, so it didn't matter.

Everyone was busy with their own things, and everything was peaceful.

He Yushui, Qin Jingru, and Mu Wanqing pushed their bicycles across the hanging flower gate, walked through the main hall, and rushed into the central courtyard, panting.

"We got them! We got them!"

He Yushui leaned his bicycle against the wall and untied the cloth bag. A stack of brand-new comic books was revealed. On the cover, Wang Cheng held a demolition charge, his eyes wide with anger, against a background of towering artillery fire; the style was so rugged it seemed to pierce the paper.

"Hey, rainwater, what's this rare stuff that makes you so happy?" Sha Zhu heard the voice and came over from the backyard. He took a spoon, wiped his hands on his apron, and came over.

"Brother, this is a comic book drawn by Da Biao! It's brand new, it went on sale nationwide today, and it sold out in half a day!" He Yushui carefully pulled out a copy and handed it over.

That shout summoned everyone out of their rooms.

Liu Haizhong approached carrying a jar, Xu Damao slipped out from the backyard in his cloth shoes, and even Qin Huairu from the Jia family's house shook the water off her hands and came over.

Sha Zhu opened the first page and couldn't take his eyes off it.

The lines, the light and shadow, especially the scenes of the volunteer soldiers charging forward, you can almost smell the gunpowder smoke through the paper.

Everyone sat in a circle, heads touching.

Turn to the last page.

On the ravaged hilltop, Wang Cheng, covered in blood, gripped the walkie-talkie and roared to the sky. The narration consisted of only four bold, black characters: "For victory, fire on me!"

The courtyard was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Sha Zhu's eyes reddened, he sniffed, and his rough fingers gently stroked the paper: "This drawing... it's fucking inspiring! This is what our Volunteer Army is all about!"

Liu Haizhong, no longer putting on airs like an old man, held the jar with trembling hands: "Zhang Dabiao's painting skills are absolutely amazing. Look, it says on the cover that this is a gift from the People's Fine Arts Publishing House to celebrate the 13th anniversary of the founding of the People's Republic of China."

"This is incredible, absolutely incredible!"

Qin Huairu watched from the side, her heart churning with turmoil.

She glanced furtively towards the east courtyard. Before, everyone thought Zhang Dabiao was a rich, ruthless guy with a fiery temper—unapproachable. Now, this wasn't some ruthless guy at all; he was a great artist! A famous person who could showcase his work to the entire nation!

The neighbors around were talking about it, and their tone had completely changed.

"Da Biao has really become a big shot now."

"Absolutely! Just one look at this book gives me goosebumps. From now on, if anyone dares to say a single bad word about Da Biao, I'll be the first to slap them across the face!"

The crowd's reaction to Zhang Dabiao went from awe to fervent worship. In this era that idolizes heroes, the person who creates such a work is shrouded in an aura of superiority.

He Yushui and the others briefly passed the book around before taking it back.

Sha Zhu panicked; he hadn't finished reading yet: "Rainwater, you bought so many, save me a copy!"

He Yushui said with a smile, "I bought this for my classmates, and then I'll get Da Biao to sign it. I have to deliver it to my classmates this afternoon."

"Jingru and Mu Wanqing are the same; otherwise, why do you think we bought so many?"

As they spoke, the three girls picked up their books and went to the east courtyard.

Zhang Dabiao was lying on a deck chair converted from a stable, sunbathing, with a cigarette lit up and a half-empty cup of high-quality liquor on the table next to him.

I didn't sleep well last night, or rather, I haven't been sleeping well lately. Every night I have to wrap a water pipe with a strip of cloth to prevent it from falling before I can close my eyes and rest, otherwise the water supply at Mixue Ice Cream in Hong Kong is insufficient.

Damn, these are the restrictions for this "little nest." If he doesn't have it, nothing can get through. If there weren't these restrictions, the water and electricity could all be connected directly, which would save a lot of trouble.

"Da Biao!"

He Yushui spread out more than a dozen copies of "Heroes and Daughters" and several copies of "Nezha Conquers the Dragon King" on the stone table.

"Hurry up, please sign this for me." He Yushui took out a pen and handed it over, her eyes sparkling. "These were all bought for me by my classmates. They treat you like a god now, saying they absolutely have to get your autograph."

Zhang Dabiao sat up, took the pen, and unscrewed the cap.

"Where should I sign?"

"On the title page! Just sign your name 'Da Biao,' don't write it in regular script, write it in a bit of cursive, it'll look more imposing," He Yushui instructed from the side.

Zhang Dabiao signed more than a dozen books in a flash, his handwriting flamboyant and arrogant.

Just as I finished signing the last book, a loud singing voice suddenly came from the front yard.

"Amidst the billowing smoke of war, heroes sing their praises; the surrounding green mountains listen intently, listen intently..."

The sound was coming from the old Red Star brand radio in Yan Bugui's house.

His voice was clear, passionate, and extremely penetrating, instantly drowning out the noise in the courtyard.

He Yushui turned her head sharply: "Wanqing's voice!"

Zhang Dabiao put down his pen, picked up his teacup, took a sip, and a smile curved his lips.

A few days ago, the radio station's recording van specially drove to the art academy to record a version of "Ode to Heroes" just for Mu Wanqing. The book clearly states that Zhang Dabiao wrote the lyrics and Mu Wanqing composed the music, so this song had to be sung by them; it wouldn't be appropriate to ask anyone else.

Today is National Day, and I was broadcast on Radio 1.

The song on the radio continued.

"Why is the battle flag so beautiful? It's because it's stained red with the blood of heroes..."

As soon as the high notes came out, everyone in the courtyard got goosebumps.

In the front yard, Yan Bugui and others were gathered around the radio, their eyes wide open.

This music—its concept, lyrics, melody, and vocals…

Absolutely!