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

An Hong, a reporter from People's Daily, stood in the front yard pushing her bicycle.

Beside her was Director Wang from the neighborhood committee.

Today, An Hong wore a faded blue Lenin suit, her signature black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, and a hardcover notebook clutched in her hand.

"Comrade Zhang Dabiao!"

An Hong's eyes lit up, and she took a few steps forward to greet her.

"Finally, I've cornered you at home."

Director Wang greeted him with a smile, "Da Biao, the reporter from Anhui University has been waiting for you for ages! We're going to do another exclusive interview with you today, do you have time?"

Including today, Zhang Dabiao has been featured in the People's Daily three times. Being featured in the newspaper is an honor; how could he not have time for that?

Zhang Dabiao tossed the net bag in his hand and grinned, "You two leaders are really trying to flatter me, aren't they? Of course I have time. Come on, come on, let's go sit in my little courtyard."

Before he could finish speaking, the Intermediate Court instantly became lively.

The people in the courtyard house are like cats smelling fish – drawn to the lively atmosphere.

Not to mention that a senior reporter from the People's Daily came to interview them—that would be a source of great pride and honor for their family.

Yi Zhonghai, Liu Haizhong, and Yan Bugui exchanged glances. How could they let Zhang Dabiao hide away to conduct the interview? Wouldn't that mean they would have no sense of participation at all?

Besides, photos are taken during every interview; Zhang Dabiao did at least the first two.

As long as they have a group discussion and interview, and then take a group photo at the end, isn't that the same as being in the newspaper?

Liu Haizhong slapped his thigh and immediately blurted out, "Da Biao, wait a minute, we're doing an interview at the Intermediate People's Court! Don't move, we'll get things set up!"

He even abandoned the enamel mug he cherished, placed it on the stone table, and quickly moved three stools over, wiping them vigorously with his sleeves, afraid of getting any dust on them.

"Reporter An, please have a seat. Director Wang, please have a seat. Da Biao, please have a seat."

Liu Haizhong stood to the side, his face crinkling with laughter. His eagerness was so great that anyone who didn't know better would think he was being interviewed.

Yi Zhonghai quickly ordered tea to be served, and even Yan Laokou brought out a plate of melon seeds, peanuts and snacks—these were the ones he had collected when he was holding meetings and distributing welfare to the neighborhood at the end of the year, and he didn't know if they had gotten damp or expired.

Sha Zhu, Xu Damao, Liu Guangqi, Yan Jiecheng and a group of others also surrounded the stone table, forming a dense crowd.

Even the old deaf man in the backyard was helped out by an older woman to join in the fun.

Zhang Dabiao was helpless; he was pinned to the chair by Liu Guangqi, Xu Damao, Yan Jiecheng, and several others, unable to move.

Well, if I can't be interviewed anywhere, I'll just sit here.

An Hong opened her notebook, unscrewed the pen cap, and said seriously, "Comrade Da Biao, the comic book 'Heroes and Daughters' is currently a huge hit across the country, and the song 'Ode to Heroes,' for which you wrote the lyrics, is sung all over the country. I'm here today mainly to ask you to talk about your creative experience."

"Nezha Conquers the Dragon King" was also a phenomenal work, but its political influence was not on the same level as "Heroes and Daughters" today.

The People's Daily wouldn't interview him just because a young artist appeared, since it's not a specialized art publication.

Zhang Dabiao cleared his throat and started rambling on and on, spouting the same patriotic clichés he usually read.

First, he rambled on about a whole bunch of random things, including how he came across Ba Jin's original novel and how he came up with the idea of ​​drawing this kind of comic book.

What were the attitudes of the teachers at school and the editors-in-chief of the magazine, and what kind of support did they provide? Of course, we had to include them in the discussion, right?

In conclusion, there wasn't anything particularly special to share; it was mainly about remembering the sacrifices made by the volunteer soldiers back then.

"Imperialism has never given up its desire to destroy us. We ordinary people must not forget the past and must always be vigilant and prepared for danger even in times of peace."

That makes sense. Zhang Dabiao was just giving a brief summary to finish quickly, as he still needed to cook dinner when he got back to the small courtyard.

An Hong nodded repeatedly, her pen flying across the paper as she took notes with great care.

After writing a paragraph, she looked up and tapped the paper with the tip of her pen: "Comrade Da Biao, your idea of ​​'being prepared for danger in times of peace' is particularly well said."

"The current international situation is indeed complex—the Big Brother has broken ties with us, and things aren't peaceful in the south either. As an artist with such a keen grasp of the pulse of the times, what are your thoughts on the current international situation?"

The courtyard immediately fell silent upon hearing this.

This is a matter of national importance.

Ordinary people usually just listen to the radio and gossip about it in private. But when a reporter asks this question during an interview, if they say something wrong and it gets published, it could cause a major problem.

So everyone shut up; this wasn't just some random analysis from the courtyard.

Liu Haizhong, a man obsessed with officialdom, strained his ears, afraid of missing a single word.

Zhang Dabiao stroked his chin, looking quite embarrassed, and asked, "Reporter An, I'm just a vocational school student who draws comic books. Me, talking about international affairs? That's inappropriate, isn't it?"

He looked completely bewildered—[You're asking me?]

Would I dare to say such things casually?

【62年中印，64-73年抗美援越、69-73援老抗美、69中苏、74西沙、79对越、88南沙……】

[And most importantly, the disintegration of the Soviet Union in 91—do I dare to casually mention that?]

So Zhang Dabiao politely declined, saying that this was not something a nobody like me could casually discuss.

An Hong smiled: "Today, in addition to conducting interviews for public reporting, the newspaper leaders also instructed me to listen to the real thoughts of people from all walks of life."

"If it involves sensitive content, we will prepare an internal report and submit it. It will absolutely not cause you any trouble."

Director Wang chimed in, "Da Biao, feel free to speak your mind. We'd love to hear your insights."

"I'll vouch for you. Let's just treat this as a casual chat between neighbors and not take it too seriously."

With Director Wang's reassuring words, Zhang Dabiao finally felt more at ease.

He was just wondering how to pass on these historical events, and this was a perfect opportunity.

Even if it doesn't alert those above, at least a document can be submitted to them so they can be on guard against these things, and our soldiers can be sacrificed less, right?

After thinking it through, Zhang Dabiao calmed himself down; this was something that really had to be done.

不单单只是这些，还有76年唐山的事儿，75年驻马店、87大兴安岭、98洪水、03SARA、08冰雪、08汶川、13禽流感、20新冠……

Having finally come to this era, I can endure being without money, or being sent to the countryside.

But those things must be passed on through some means!

"Then I'll just ramble on a bit."

Zhang Dabiao composed himself, took out a Daqianmen cigarette, distributed it to everyone, handed one to Director Wang, and then lit one for himself.

Then Yan Jiecheng immediately fawned over him and lit it for him.

Zhang Dabiao took a drag of his cigarette, squinting his eyes amidst the swirling smoke.

"Let's leave the matter of the elder brother for now; that's a battle of gods, something we ordinary people can't understand or interfere with."

"Personally, and this is just my wild guess, the main hidden danger this year is—to be wary of that Indian on the southwestern border."