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

The car door opened, and three or four men dressed in cadre uniforms got out. The leader was a middle-aged man in his forties with a refined demeanor, clearly not an ordinary person.

As they entered the courtyard, they saw Yan Bugui and others playing chess.

The middle-aged man at the head of the group stepped forward, politely removed his hat, and asked with a smile, "Hello, sir, I'd like to ask you about someone."

Yan Bugui raised his head, about to put on airs of being the third master, but was momentarily blinded by the words on the briefcase the other man carried.

Changchun Film Studio?

"Excuse me, does Comrade Zhang Dabiao, the creator of the comic strip 'Heroes and Heroines,' live here?"

The middle-aged man's voice was gentle yet powerful.

"We're from the film crew of 'Heroes and Daughters,' and we've come specifically to pay him a visit!"

Yan Bugui – [Again?]

[Last month it was a newspaper, the month before that it was the China Artists Association, before that it was the director of the Shanghai Animation Film Studio, and now it's Changchun Film Studio...]

Is Zhang Dabiao a currency? Everyone wants to find him?

His heart felt like it was stuck on a sour jujube pit, unable to go up or down, feeling both sour and astringent.

The three old men exchanged a glance.

There was a lot to say in those eyes—

Yan Bugui's meaning is: "I don't care to bother with him."

The meaning behind the bangs is: 【I don't have anything to ask.】

Yi Zhonghai meant: "Don't look at me; I avoid anyone with the surname Zhang these days."

Yan Bugui raised the hand holding the chess piece, flicked his wrist, and the piece landed on the chessboard with a "snap." He then pointed vaguely towards the side room in the central courtyard. Liu Haizhong followed suit, extending his index finger and pointing in the same direction. Yi Zhonghai, a beat slower, waved his palm-leaf fan in that direction.

The three of them pointed in the same direction simultaneously—

Then he continued playing chess with his head down.

He didn't say a word.

The newcomers are acting strangely; why aren't they saying anything?

However, the middle-aged man at the head of the group was very well-mannered. He bowed slightly, nodded his thanks, and led the group toward the central courtyard.

The footsteps faded into the distance.

But the whispers of those young people drifted back on the wind—

"Dumb?"

"Three?"

"This compound is quite interesting."

"What are you talking about? It's already a favor that they gave you directions, so don't talk nonsense."

Yan Bugui crushed the chess piece in his hand with a "crack"—no, it didn't break; he felt he could crush it.

Yan Bugui suddenly looked up, his lips trembling as he stared in the direction the person had left. Thinking the other person must be a leading cadre, he finally managed to mutter in a low voice, "You're the mute! Your whole family is mute!"

Liu Haizhong's face darkened: "...What a disgrace!"

Yi Zhonghai fanned himself with the palm-leaf fan twice without saying a word—but he fanned himself much faster.

Yan Bugui was incredibly frustrated: "I, Yan Bugui, am a respectable Chinese language teacher! How could I possibly be mute? I just don't want to speak; I'm—I'm just too lazy to be that Zhang's announcer!"

Yan Bugui didn't say anything, but his eyes unconsciously glanced at the gift box the guest was carrying. He was estimating how much the gift box was worth, what brand it was, and whether he could snatch one.

But thinking about Zhang Dabiao's temper—

Forget it, it's best to pretend Zhang Dabiao doesn't exist.

In the east courtyard, the grapevines on the trellis are dense and thick, and sunlight filters through the leaves, casting dappled shadows. An easel is propped up under the shelf, with half a sheet of white paper with a draft attached to it.

The sound of chopping vegetables and Qin Jingru humming a tune came from the kitchen in the side room, and the faint aroma of scallions being stir-fried in the air wafted through the air.

A gentle breeze rustled through the grapevines, carrying the coolness of the leaves. The entire courtyard felt like a secluded little world, shutting out the noise of the outside.

The man called out from the side gate of the annex, and Zhang Dabiao came out.

He was wearing a faded old blue cotton jacket with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms. He held a pencil in his right hand, had a towel draped around his neck, wore plastic shoes, and had an ice pop in his mouth—you'd say he looked more like a farmer than an artist.

Director Wu was secretly surprised when he saw this scene—this is the "first person of the new era of young creators"? He looks too young, doesn't he? At most in his early twenties? Could all those amazing achievements in the newspapers have been accomplished by this young man with an ice pop in his mouth?

"Excuse me, are you Comrade Zhang Dabiao?" Director Wu stepped forward and extended his hand.

Zhang Dabiao reached out and shook hands with Director Wu: "That's me. And you are?"

Director Wu quickly introduced himself: "I am Wu Zhaodi from Changchun Film Studio, the director of the film 'Heroes and Daughters'. These are my colleagues from the film crew."

He took a letter of introduction from his entourage and handed his work ID to Zhang Dabiao with both hands.

Zhang Dabiao glanced down at the letter of introduction—the official seal of Changchun Film Studio, bright red, the kind that's been slapped on forcefully, you could feel the raised embossing on the paper. Director Wu Zhaodi, assistant director… He glanced at it twice and then put it away.

When Mu Wanqing, who was following behind Zhang Dabiao, heard the words "heroic sons and daughters," her eyes lit up, but then she became nervous and subconsciously gripped the palm-leaf fan in her hand.

Qin Jingru poked her head out of the kitchen, her apron covered in flour, and curiously glanced outside.

Zhang Dabiao invited the group to the stone table under the grape trellis.

Qin Jingru quickly brought over a pot of cooled boiled water and several enamel cups, and then rummaged through the cabinet to find a box of small snacks such as milk candy and biscuits and put them on the table.

"Come on, don't be shy, sit down." Zhang Dabiao sat down on the stone bench with an air of nonchalance, his posture very casual.

After Director Wu sat down, he first looked around the courtyard—vegetable garden, fishpond, grape trellis, small wooden house… a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes. This young man's residence was quite a hidden gem.

"Comrade Zhang Dabiao, let me first explain why I'm here." Director Wu got straight to the point, "Our film 'Heroes and Daughters' shares the same name as your comic book, but there is no copyright dispute between us."

Zhang Dabiao nodded, his face expressionless.

These things are all adapted from Ba Jin's novel "Reunion". You change yours and I change mine, so naturally there are no disputes.

Director Wu continued, "Our film has been in preparation since the end of 1962. Now the location shooting and the main scenes are basically finished, and we are entering the post-production stage."

"Congratulations," Zhang Dabiao said politely.

Director Wu gave a wry smile and waved his hand: "Don't congratulate us yet. There's a problem that's been holding us back for over a year."

Director Wu paused here, his gaze shifting from Zhang Dabiao to Mu Wanqing, then back. That fleeting look in his eyes resembled the hesitation of a Go player before making a move—he was carefully choosing his words.

Zhang Dabiao raised his eyebrows slightly.

"What's the problem?"

Director Wu took a deep breath and helplessly uttered those three words—

Theme song.