Chapter 212: Wen Leyu: Don

Because the camera operators and extras for the commercial shoot were all full-time employees, they could only film on Sundays and after work, giving plenty of time to choose the right background music.

Wen Leyu worked extremely hard, picking out many cassette tapes and showing them to Li Ye, analyzing and discussing each song one by one.

But Li Ye wasn't satisfied with any of them.

He had originally thought that Western music of this era should have suitable tracks for background use, but whether due to the mainland's environment or the irreparable gap of the times, it always fell just short.

Even the "Adriana by the Water" that Wen Leyu had gone to great lengths to find wasn't the Clément version—it simply didn't match Li Ye's vision.

"Xiao Yu, why don't we try composing an original piece?"

"."

Wen Leyu stared silently at Li Ye, remaining quiet for a long time.

Had they not known each other long enough for the girl to have grown accustomed to Li Ye's many surprises, she would have asked him again, just as she had before: "How much rice can you eat?"

Do you even know how much you can handle?

Li Ye's guitar skills were taught by Wen Leyu herself, and she'd only taught him for a few months.

Because winter was too cold and playing in the dorm disturbed others, they practiced sporadically—three days on, two days off—and even when they did meet, it was mostly about flirting, with guitar learning as a secondary concern; thus, Li Ye's current level didn't even qualify as beginner.

Even Wen Leyu, the teacher, had received guidance from a master only in her teens, then let her skills lapse for years—she wouldn't dare claim even modest proficiency now!

Collaborate on an original piece?

Sounds romantic, but how much talent do we even have together?

But since Li Ye had suggested it, she followed his lead—Wen Leyu brought out her guitar and joined him in searching for inspiration.

Inspiration, like a cultivator's sudden enlightenment, is something you can't force—many musicians may only experience it a few times in their lives and create one hit song.

But for a cheat, inspiration can be sold by the pound—it just depends on how much you're willing to pay.

Using his clumsy beginner's guitar technique, Li Ye played "apmah," a song that would later dominate music platforms—though his fingering was awkward and several notes were off, the addictive melody instantly opened Wen Leyu's eyes to an entirely new world.

So music like this exists?

"apmah" had a deceptively simple melody, yet it was incredibly catchy—perfect for slow-motion fashion videos.

What is elegant? What is vulgar?

Li Ye didn't consider that question—he only knew that what the masses liked was the right choice.

Wen Leyu looked at Li Ye and asked softly, "Where did you hear this song?"

"I heard it in my heart."

Li Ye said seriously: "I once imagined in my heart a dream—"

"For you to wear clothes I designed, for me to style your hair, to apply light makeup for you, to tie your shoelaces, then walk hand in hand down crowded streets, past crowds, through alleyways, dazzling everyone else's eyes."

Wen Leyu listened intently to Li Ye's words; hearing those intimate phrases, she felt something sweet flowing inside her.

But Li Ye's final sentence shattered her daydream.

"You can't spit out an ivory tusk from your dog's mouth."

Her tiny fist struck Li Ye hard, using seven-tenths of her strength.

Li Ye swiftly blocked it, locking her delicate wrist with a small grappling technique, then pressed his forehead against her angrily thrashing head.

This "awoo-awoo" orange cat of a girl suddenly froze—her entire body stiffened, muscles taut, her face and neck visibly flushing red.

Watching Wen Leyu's reaction, Li Ye remained still, silently savoring the feedback of her affection.

Li Ye hadn't lied just now.

He had truly envisioned, in his heart, a private "romantic MV" just for the two of them.

Scenes of sunset, grassy fields, forest paths littered with falling leaves—all had music uniquely theirs.

After all, in his past life, Li Ye had searched endlessly but never tasted the fabled sweetness of love.

Now that he was in the 1980s, when true love still existed, and had met a girl whose eyes held only him—why not fulfill and enjoy this dream?

"Let go~"

Wen Leyu's trembling command startled Li Ye—he immediately released her wrist and pulled away from her forehead.

Wen Leyu slung her guitar over her back and turned to walk away.

Li Ye was truly panicked.

He had simply spoken from the heart, reacting naturally to his emotions.

But this wasn't decades later—this was 1983.

And Wen Leyu wasn't one of those girls obsessed with wine and sports cars; Li Ye was the first boy she had ever been close to, besides her father and brother.

Too hasty. Too reckless.

Li Ye frowned, reflecting on how to make amends.

But Wen Leyu, after walking more than ten meters, suddenly turned back and scolded, "What are you standing there for? Aren't you coming with me?"

"Heh~"

Li Ye laughed in relief, walking briskly to catch up, falling into step beside Wen Leyu.

As they walked, Wen Leyu slipped her arm through his, then growled, "Next time, be more careful—don't get too carried away!"

But Wen Leyu's harsh words sounded to Li Ye like nothing more than a kitten swatting with its padded paws.

"Alright, whether it's too much or not—it's up to you."

"Hmph~. Good, you're finally sensible."

The commercial shoot went smoothly, especially after Li Ye and Wen Leyu provided the background music.

Though it was only a rough version, pairing it with a Walkman allowed the models to walk the streets while listening, finally infusing their performance with confidence and fashion.

After several interactions, Li Ye learned the girls' names and understood the plight of their modeling team.

The most beautiful Ning Pingping said: "We can't hold on much longer—the higher-ups haven't approved our performance permits, and there's no hope. Everyone's under immense pressure."

Kong Moli, the most carefree, was also deeply troubled: "My family and neighbors don't support us—they point fingers, and it interferes with our jobs."

"We train in our spare time; we used to get subsidies, but now even those are gone."

Li Ye could do nothing to help.

From a future perspective, their situation might seem unbelievable.

But remember, Shanghai's first modeling team faced immense hardship to form.

And in the gradually liberalizing year of 1983, Shanghai's team performed twice at Hai Zi—how high a status is that?

This also shows that in 1983, the breeze of change had just begun—it hadn't yet turned the southern banks green.

Eventually, Li Ye asked Jin Peng to negotiate with Ning Pingping and the others: if they were willing, Pengcheng Factory No. 7 would periodically produce a set of commercials and pay them a modest fee, just to offer some comfort.

But even this small comfort drew out Wen Guohua, who hadn't appeared in a long time.

"Brother, are you doing this out of genuine pity for them—or just to give me face?"

"If it's the former, you don't need to. They have their jobs—if this path leads nowhere, better they realize it sooner."

"How can you think like that?" Li Ye said, surprised. "It's a commercial shoot—it's an economic investment that will yield returns."

"Clothing has seasons; each season brings new designs, so naturally, you need fashion models."

"Hearing you say that, I actually see your point," Wen Guohua joked. "I should've studied economics—I'd sound just as polished."

Li Ye joked back: "Night school doesn't even have an economics major—you can't envy what you can't get."

But Wen Guohua sneered: "You think I couldn't get into Qingbei?"

"."

Li Ye realized he'd spoken carelessly.

After returning from the north, Wen Guohua immediately started working, then enrolled in night school to upgrade his education—every step was rushed.

As the head of the third generation of the Wen family, he had no choice but to rush.

A four-year full-time university degree would be ideal, but positions are limited—by the time he finally planted his seed, everyone else would already be growing tall, leaving him perpetually behind.

"Sorry, Big Brother—I spoke out of turn."

"What nonsense are you talking?" Wen Guohua lightly punched Li Ye. "Do you still treat me like an outsider? By the way, is Pengcheng Factory No. 7 interested in the Canton Fair?"

Li Ye exclaimed: "Of course we're interested—but getting an exhibition slot is impossible."

Back then, participating in the Canton Fair was no easy task—exhibitors required official approval.

Wen Guohua said casually: "I'll find a way for you—no big deal. But if it works, have Jin Peng take them there to see Shanghai's fashion team—it'll fulfill a wish."

Li Ye followed Wen Guohua's gaze toward Ning Pingping and the others.

Perhaps their persistent drive was to prove themselves against the mainland's first modeling team.

"Big Brother, you and Ning Pingping…"

"That's too much! I'll get mad."

"Alright, alright—I get it."

Li Ye secretly smirked.

You didn't promise me anything—but I understand everything.

Today, the child's flu symptoms improved, but Old Feng's worsened—swollen throat, dizzy head; I drank two cups of coffee just to get through it—the restlessness is unbearable.

(End of Chapter)