50s: Starting with a storage ring

Chapter 14 Debut

It seemed to be a benefit brought by time travel. His memory was very good now. Whenever he recalled what he had experienced in the past few days, it was as clear as if it was a video recording.

In addition to studying, he found some old newspapers and started practicing calligraphy. The characters he used were all traditional Chinese characters. Although he knew them all, he still felt a little unfamiliar with writing them.

His fluent simplified Chinese characters are temporarily unusable. No one may be able to recognize what he writes. They will definitely think that he is not studying seriously and that his composition is full of typos.

In the evening, the uncles in the building had hot meals, and Sun Zhiwei and his sister were taken to the dining room by Uncle Zhang to eat with everyone.

At this time, all the uncles knew about the two new children. During dinner, strange uncles came to visit them from time to time.

They either patted Sun Zhiwei's shoulder or touched Nannan's pigtails. They didn't say much, but their deep concern was expressed in their words of encouragement.

During the meal, they received many small gifts, such as pencils or small notebooks.

At this time, squad leader Luo, who was in charge of guarding the door, found him a half-new military cap and slapped it on his head. Because the cap was too big, it covered his eyes, leaving only half of his nose and mouth exposed.

The uncles nearby all burst into laughter, and the atmosphere in the restaurant suddenly became much happier. Nannan was also very happy when she saw that half of her brother's head was covered by his hat.

Sun Zhiwei reluctantly adjusted his hat, pulling it back as far as possible to expose his eyes and forehead. Then he stood up and saluted Captain Luo: "Thank you, Uncle Luo."

An uncle next to him came forward and took out a red cloth from his pocket. He took a closer look and found it was a red scarf.

"Red scarf!" Sun Zhiwei's eyes lit up.

This is very rare. There are probably no children of their age in the troops around Peking now. The Young Pioneers are all in the rear, and it is difficult to see a red scarf here.

"Thank you, uncle." He excitedly took the red scarf and tied it around his neck skillfully. The feeling immediately changed.

At this time, Uncle Zhang also came over. Seeing Sun Zhiwei's red scarf and Eighth Route Army cap, he nodded and said, "Well, he looks a bit like a young Eighth Route Army soldier. You must be a good successor in the future."

Nannan looked at the fluttering red scarf, her eyes full of stars. She stopped eating and wanted to get closer to Sun Zhiwei: "Brother, brother, I want one too, I want one too."

Sun Zhiwei had no choice but to carry her over, carefully take off the red scarf from her neck, and then tie it around his sister's neck again.

The little girl stopped making a fuss now. She touched her bright red scarf proudly, and her calves began to shake with joy.

Sun Zhiwei seemed to suddenly think of something at this time, and he quickly picked up a pen and a small notebook on the table and wrote two lines: We are the successors of ****, inheriting the glorious tradition of ****.

When Lao Zhang saw it, he picked it up and read it aloud.

"We are. It's well written."

"Well, I think it should be a song, and this is the beginning."

"Oh? You can write songs too?" Lao Zhang suddenly became interested.

Sun Zhiwei touched his head, pretending to be shy. "I can't say I can, but there are always some words and melodies in my mind, and I want to write them down."

"Is anything finished now?"

"Only one song is finished, but it's a children's song."

"Children's songs are also songs. Come on, write them now and I'll help you."

"Ah, write now?" Sun Zhiwei was a little hesitant.

"Yes, be a real man, be straightforward, show your ability, otherwise who will know?"

Lao Zhang is indeed an ideological worker. With just a few words, he encouraged and provoked Sun Zhiwei so much that he had no choice but to write. Theoretically, a little brat like him shouldn't be able to endure it.

Well, to avoid ruining his character, I'll just write it. There's nothing wrong with showing off a bit of his talent beforehand; he'll always have to show his unique side. He's already figured out his future path, and while other avenues aren't particularly safe, only the child-friendly route is less likely to cause trouble. Today will be the first shot.

After thinking it through, he stopped wasting time and took out a thicker notebook to start writing the musical notation and lyrics.

His first song was a reflection of his own style. It had to be pleasant to listen to and easy to sing; it had to be in line with his current experience and have no long-term risks.

All these constraints forced him to choose songs carefully.

After much deliberation, he finally put the first stroke on the paper:
Counting Ducks

A group of ducks swam under the bridge in front of the door
Come on, come on and count, two, four, six, seven, eight

Guaguagu, there are so many
I can’t count how many ducks there are.

I can’t count how many ducks there are.

The old man herding ducks, with a white beard

Singing hometown operas and telling jokes

Children, children, go to school quickly

Don't take a duck egg, take it home
Don't take a duck egg, take it home
After making up his mind, Sun Zhiwei wrote down the poem "Counting Ducks" in slightly immature traditional Chinese characters.

After finishing writing, he put down his pen, feeling quite proud.

It was a children's song, sung by a child, with lyrics that contained no H or Z, no sensitive words. Although the original lyrics were from the 80s and hadn't been tested by that decade, he thought again and again and couldn't think of anything wrong with it.

So, here it is, my debut novel, Counting Ducks.

Old Zhang was just behind him, watching him write the nursery rhyme stroke by stroke. While Sun Zhiwei was writing, he was looking at the simple musical notation and singing silently in his heart.

At this time, the intellectuals in the team were not just scholars. They were good at both literature and martial arts, could sing and dance, could boost morale, and could carry guns and fight. They were truly proficient in both literature and martial arts.

Now this is just looking at a simple score, there is absolutely no problem with that.

After Sun Zhiwei finished writing, he sang the entire song silently. The notes of the song flowed smoothly and the language was humorous. It was a rare good song.

"Snapped!"

"You're amazing, this song is pretty good. I never thought you could actually write songs, good boy."

Old Zhang was so happy that he patted Sun Zhiwei's shoulder hard, and this pat almost knocked him to the ground.

"Ouch, be careful, be careful, it's my fault, it's my fault, I got excited at the moment."

"Lao Zhang, is it really that good? Sing it for us to hear."

"That's right, let everyone have some fun."

"Hey, it's not that I don't want to sing. This is a children's song. Only children can sing it with that flavor. If I, a grown man, sing it, I will make a fool of myself."

"Hey, it's okay for kids. We happen to have two kids here today."

"Yes, Zhiwei, you write the song, you sing it."

Sun Zhiwei had expected this to happen, so he didn't panic. Instead, he tried to calm everyone down first.

(End of this chapter)