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

In fact, the Changchun Film Studio film and Zhang Dabiao's comic book adaptation of "Heroes and Daughters" were created around the same time. However, Zhang Dabiao added a "Heroic Ode" to the last page of the comic book and recorded a version that spread throughout the country first, thus forming a "mindset".

So the film crew was in an awkward position.

Director Wu picked up his enamel mug, took a sip of water as if to encourage himself, and then began to recount the "heartbreaking history" of the past year.

"Comrade Zhang Dabiao, to be honest, I didn't want to bother you." Director Wu shook his head with a wry smile. "Our production team has its own composing team, and they're quite capable. We've been working on the theme song since the film's inception."

He held out one hand, spreading his five fingers: "Five versions. We revised five versions in total."

"The first version was more majestic than delicate; it sounded like a military bugle call than a song."

"The second version has more lyricism, but it lacks grandeur; it sounds like a homesick song."

"The third and fourth editions were compromises, resulting in something that was neither fish nor fowl."

"The fifth version—" Director Wu paused, his gaze complex, "The fifth version is actually quite good; we ourselves think it's excellent. But—"

"But," Director Wu's voice carried a hint of helplessness, "in September 1962, your 'Ode to Heroes' was distributed along with the comic book. That song was printed on the last page of the comic book. How many tens of thousands of copies were sold nationwide? How many times was it played on the radio? How many times was it taught in schools?"

He looked at Zhang Dabiao, his eyes filled with both admiration and a helpless, wry smile.

"Comrade Zhang Dabiao, do you know what 'preconceived notions' means?"

"We asked the audience at the preview screening to listen to the fifth version of the theme song, and guess what they said?"

Director Wu extended his hand, mimicking the audience's tone: "'It's pretty good, but—not as good as 'Heroic Anthem'."

"Could we change it to 'Ode to Heroes'?"

"'Whenever I hear the words 'heroic sons and daughters,' the melody automatically pops into my head—'The smoke and dust roll as heroes sing, the green mountains on all sides listen attentively'—Director, why didn't you use this song?'"

After Director Wu finished speaking, he leaned back on the stone bench, spread his hands, and his expression clearly showed two words—surrender.

One of the young crew members muttered under his breath, "Our composer is almost in tears. He said that in his forty years of life, this is the first time he's been blocked by a twenty-year-old kid."

After listening, Zhang Dabiao didn't rush to speak, but tapped his fingers lightly twice on the stone table.

Mu Wanqing's face was already red to her ears. She lowered her head, her knuckles white from gripping the palm-leaf fan in her hand.

What should I do if I feel like laughing?

We didn't even know you were making a movie back then!

Mu Wanqing finally couldn't help but speak up.

"Director Wu," her voice was a little tense, "um... if needed... I can—I can re-record a version? One suitable for the film?"

As she said this, her eyes shone brightly, and her hands unconsciously twisted together.

Director Wu seemed a little taken aback: "You are...?"

Zhang Dabiao picked up the conversation: "She is Mu Wanqing, the original singer of 'Ode to Heroes,' and also my fiancée."

Director Wu immediately recognized her: "Oh, it's Comrade Mu Wanqing, hello, hello."

Director Wu looked at Mu Wanqing with a hint of admiration in his eyes, but then a troubled expression appeared on his face.

He explained helplessly, "Comrade Mu Wanqing, I've heard your version on the radio. You sang it very well and it was very moving."

Mu Wanqing's eyes shone even brighter.

"but--"

This "but" is like a bucket of cold water.

Director Wu carefully chose his words: "Film is a special art form where visuals and sound must be highly coordinated. In our film, the scene where 'Ode to Heroes' is sung is—"

He gestured with his hand: "On the battlefield, amidst the smoke and fire, soldiers charge forward one after another. What's needed is that kind of—" He clenched his fist and waved it in the air, "the sound of clashing swords and thunderous battles, a sound that can swallow the heavens and earth."

Mu Wanqing's smile froze on her face, her lips trembled slightly, and then she lowered her head and bit her lower lip hard—a gesture she always made whenever she felt her self-esteem was hurt.

Director Wu quickly added, "It's not that you sang badly! On the contrary, your voice is too good, so good—too gentle, too beautiful. Like moonlight, like flowing water. But what the film needs is—the sun, a torrent."

Mu Wanqing felt a buzzing in her ears, as if something had broken, not the sharp sound of shattered glass, but the sound of snowflakes falling to the ground—silent, but icy cold.

It was rejected once again.

No matter what she did at school, she was constantly being criticized.

Zhang Dabiao glanced at Mu Wanqing.

He knows this girl too well.

Zhang Dabiao reached out and gently squeezed Mu Wanqing's fingers under the table. The pressure was light, but steady and warm, as if to say—Don't worry, I'm here.

Mu Wanqing's fingers trembled slightly, then she slowly grasped his hand in return.

She looked up, her eyes slightly red, but no tears fell. She just gave a stubborn smile: "I understand, Director Wu. You're right."

Zhang Dabiao released Mu Wanqing's hand, leaned back, and crossed his legs.

He took a cigarette from the stone table, put it in his mouth, but didn't light it.

"So, Director Wu, what brings you here today?"

Director Wu didn't mince words: "We bought the rights to this song because we plan to create a new version of the theme song that fits the style of our film."

"Director Wu," Zhang Dabiao said slowly, a cigarette dangling from his lips, "you're an expert, so I won't beat around the bush with you."

Director Wu immediately sat up straight, his expression serious—he knew the crucial moment had arrived.

"The licensing of 'Heroic Hymn' is easy to arrange, but as for the fee—"

Zhang Dabiao held up one finger.

Director Wu's heart was in his throat—one hundred? One thousand? These days, one thousand yuan is no small sum. If it's one thousand yuan, the price is too high, but if it's one hundred yuan, the price seems too low.

However, there are regulations governing these values; it's not simply a matter of how much you think it's worth.

Zhang Dabiao smiled and said, "One yuan."

Quiet.

The entire courtyard was silent for three seconds.

"How much? How much?" Director Wu was stunned.

"One yuan." Zhang Dabiao took the unlit cigarette out of his mouth and tapped it on the table. "It's symbolic. I'm a comic book artist, and you're a movie director. We're both here to promote heroes and praise the volunteer soldiers. It's vulgar to talk about money in this kind of thing."

Zhang Dabiao's thinking was: In this era, it is politically correct for artists to serve national development. Asking for exorbitant fees will only bring trouble upon oneself. This is not doing business; this is about being a decent human being. Spreading out a one-yuan licensing fee shows high awareness and a lack of greed; if one dared to ask for ten thousand, tomorrow's newspapers would publish "Artists are only after profit"—besides, I, Zhang Dabiao, am not stupid.

Besides, what I've always wanted is not that licensing fee.

Director Wu opened his mouth, but for a moment he didn't know what to say.

The young crew members exchanged glances, secretly marveling at the young man's composure. They had been discussing in the car before their arrival what to do if the other party demanded too much, or refused. And here he was—one yuan?

Mu Wanqing was also stunned for a moment, then the corners of her mouth curled up slightly—she knew her Da Biao too well.

One dollar was never the point.

The key point is the following "but".