Zhao Chun held an envelope in his hand, containing some money. The song had been sold—even though the earnings weren't much, it was still an accomplishment. Moreover, recent flooding in neighboring provinces had made headlines, and the song had been approved to play in disaster-stricken areas, though only through the radio. It would also be broadcast nationwide on the airwaves.
As for the singer they had invited, they were even asked to perform voluntarily at a military base, to give people a taste of hope after despair.
Despite it being an incredibly scorching afternoon—the kind that makes you never want to step out—Zhao Chun decided he had to rush to the post office to send the money, especially thinking about Tian Sangsang's difficult circumstances at home.
His white shirt was already dotted with beads of sweat. Zhao Chun felt that if someone were to sprinkle a bit of green onion and mustard on him right now, he could be served straight out of the kitchen.
