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

The sobbing in the courtyard startled Zhang Dabiao, who was inside the tent.

He lifted the curtain and came out, immediately seeing Yang Yibai crying her eyes out, and Mu Wanqing standing beside her, at a loss for words, wanting to comfort her but not knowing how to begin. Both of them were holding bottles of skincare products.

Zhang Dabiao understood perfectly; after a little thought, he grasped seven or eight parts of the meaning.

Without asking any further questions, he turned and crawled back into the tent.

In just a minute or two, he came out again, this time with several bottles in his hand.

"Here you go." He shoved the things into Mu Wanqing's hands, then shouted loudly at the few educated youths who were peeking out from the courtyard.

"Come on over here! Girls, everyone gets a share!"

Zhao Weiguo and the other young men were stunned for a moment, while Tang Juan, Su Tiantian and the other girls also curiously gathered around.

Zhang Dabiao waved the bottles and jars in his hand; they were several bottles of Dabao SOD Honey and Friendship Snow Cream.

"We men are tough and resilient, a little tan or sunburn is nothing to us." He grinned, shoving the things into the hands of Tang Juan and the other female educated youths. "But the girls in the team are the face of our propaganda team! If their faces get chapped from all this wind and sand, how will they face anyone back in Beijing? Take these, take good care of them!"

His words were both frank and comprehensive, without mentioning Yang Yibai's crying, taking care of everyone, and even flattering the girls.

The courtyard fell silent for a moment, then erupted into an uncontrollable cheer.

"Long live Brother Da Biao!"

"Brother Zhang, you're truly a living Bodhisattva!"

The girls excitedly surrounded Mu Wanqing, chattering as they divided the few bottles of rare face cream. This stuff wasn't anything special in the capital, but in this place of endless yellow sand, it was more precious than gold. The oppressive atmosphere brought on by the harsh environment and uncertain future seemed to be dispelled by the fragrance of these few bottles of face cream.

At that moment, Zhang Dabiao easily won over the hearts of this small team with just a few bottles of everyday items that were nothing special in their "little nest".

Yang Yibai also stopped crying.

Her eyes were red, and she clutched the bottle of sunscreen she treasured tightly in her hand, as well as a newly allocated bottle of face cream.

She looked at Zhang Dabiao, who was surrounded by people and had a relaxed smile on his face, and then at Mu Wanqing, who was helping to distribute things and had a happy glow on her face. Her eyes were filled with complicated emotions.

For the first time, she truly realized how ridiculous and utterly vulnerable her painstakingly calculated schemes, her proud background and aspirations, were in the face of this man and the absolute power he brought.

……

Days passed by amidst the yellow sand and songs.

The cultural propaganda team's life developed a fixed rhythm. For about twenty days each month, they would travel in trucks between different brigades, bringing moments of joy to the commune members whose faces were etched with wrinkles by life's hardships, in the threshing ground and beside the sand dunes. For the remaining ten days or so, they would return to the Balasu educated youth settlement to rest.

For others, this is torture.

For Zhang Dabiao and Mu Wanqing, this was no different from a paid vacation.

During the day, Zhang Dabiao would ride his sidecar motorcycle with Mu Wanqing behind the propaganda team, ostensibly to "collect folk songs," but in reality, it was just sightseeing. At night, while others had earthen beds in their dormitories, their tent had five or six layers of thick cotton quilts, which were very soft. If that wasn't enough, they could also go into their "little nest" to sleep on a latex mattress.

Before we knew it, it was the end of 1965.

In mid-December, the weather was so cold that water would freeze instantly, and the propaganda team's performances were suspended.

Zhang Dabiao quickly packed his luggage and, together with Mu Wanqing and several other educated youths who had been granted permission to return to Beijing to visit their families, embarked on the journey back to the city. His beloved motorcycle, tent, as well as his increasingly majestic white goose and two old hens, were all entrusted to the care of the older educated youths at the settlement.

Back at No. 95 Courtyard in Beijing, Zhang Dabiao immediately arranged for a banquet to be held in the courtyard.

With Sha Zhu in charge of cooking, and Xu Damao, Liu Guangqi, and Yan Jiecheng assisting, the courtyard returned to its former liveliness. The teenagers, who hadn't seen Zhang Dabiao for a long time, surrounded him, chattering and complaining that there was less fun in the courtyard while he was away.

Aunt Mu held Mu Wanqing's hand, looking at her daughter who had not only not lost weight but had become even more radiant, and then at her son-in-law who was beaming beside her, tears of joy streamed down her face.

After the New Year, Zhang Dabiao went to the publishing house to cancel his leave and then applied for a long-term overseas assignment, citing that "his creative work is not yet finished and he needs to experience life more deeply." His superiors, considering his previous contributions and reputation, approved the application with a stroke of their pen.

Anyway, things aren't going smoothly at the publishing house lately, so it's better for Zhang Dabiao to stay outside and "endure hardship".

Before the Lantern Festival had even passed, the two returned to Balasu, where the yellow sand swirled all around.

Whenever it was a day of rest at the educated youth settlement, Mu Wanqing would bury herself in her tent and rarely come out.

Beyond the sweet intimacy of newlyweds, there was a palpable sense of urgency. Like a parched sponge, she frantically absorbed the knowledge from the future from Zhang Dabiao's computer.

History, economics, science and technology, culture... things that Zhang Dabiao considered common sense were like opening up a whole new world for her.

During breaks, there are endless movies and novels to watch, as well as novels like "Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils," "The Return of the Condor Heroes," and "Harry Potter" that Zhang Dabiao "copied" from memory.

If it weren't for the task of performing in the countryside, Mu Wanqing would have loved to spend every single hour of the day in this futuristic world called "Little Nest".

Time, amidst this peculiar dual life, quietly arrived at the summer vacation of 1966.

The wind in northern Shaanxi seems to be changing.

……

"It's been a year! A whole year!"

Yang Yibai counted the days on her fingers, over and over again. Her voice carried a hint of barely suppressed excitement.

"Shouldn't we go back now? We agreed to train for a year." She found Zhao Weiguo, her face beaming with excitement she hadn't seen in a long time.

Zhao Weiguo was also somewhat tempted. He took a drag of his cigarette, his brow furrowed: "But we haven't heard anything from the school yet."

"Why wait for news! Let's go ask ourselves!" Yang Yibai waved her hand. "Go to the commune and call the school's job placement office!"

They could just pack up and go.

The two rode the brigade's old donkey cart for several hours, bumping along the way, until they arrived at the commune.

The call finally went through with great difficulty; the long line carried all their hopes.

Yang Yibai grabbed the microphone and excitedly announced her name and workplace to the other end.

However, the voice coming from the other end of the microphone was like a bucket of ice water poured over my head.

"The Arts Academy's Cultural Propaganda Team? Oh, is that so?" The other person's tone was indifferent, even somewhat impatient. "The notice just came down from above; you don't need to wait."

"No need to wait anymore? Does this mean we need to prepare to return to Beijing for job assignments?" Yang Yibai's heart leaped into her throat.

"Go back to Beijing?" The other person sneered. "Listen carefully, I'll only say this once. According to the latest instructions, all educated youth cultural propaganda teams in the countryside are to be disbanded on the spot, and all members will be relocated to the countryside. When you can return to the city, wait for further notice."

"Smack."

The other party hung up the phone.

Yang Yibai held the cold microphone, frozen in place, the color draining from her face at a visible speed.

Her world collapsed.

She squatted in the corner of the commune's courtyard, like an abandoned little animal. First, she wept silently, then she sobbed in suppressed sobs, and finally she couldn't help but burst into loud crying, crying until her heart was torn apart and she dry heaved.

Tang Juan tried to help her up, but she was violently pushed away.

Zhao Weiguo silently sent a telegram home.

A few hours later, the postman delivered a reply with only four simple words.

"Don't come back."

He crumpled the thin telegram into a ball and stuffed it into his pocket.

He squatted against the wall, smoking one cigarette after another. After finishing half a pack, he didn't say a word, but his red-rimmed eyes betrayed the storm raging inside him.

That night, the mud houses at the educated youth settlement were pitch black, and no one lit a lamp.

The educated youth, as if their souls had been ripped out, huddled together in their respective dormitories.

Despair filled the air.

It wasn't just the eight educated youth in their cultural propaganda team; all the educated youth were unable to return—waiting for further notice.

From the female educated youth's room came the intermittent sobs of the girls, while in the male educated youth's room, the men tossed and turned on the earthen bed like trapped beasts, unable to sleep.

Yang Yibai lay in the corner of the kang (a heated brick bed), her eyes fixed on the dark beams, without closing her eyes all night.

Mu Wanqing also found out.

She remained silent for a long time.

Previously in their "little nest," Zhang Dabiao had mentioned to her that strong winds would blow for several years starting this year, and they might not be able to return to Beijing.

At the time, she was somewhat skeptical, thinking that her husband was being too pessimistic.

Now, the truth struck her like a heavy blow.

She returned to the tent and sat on the folding bed, lost in thought.

Zhang Dabiao walked in, squatted down in front of her, and held her cold hand.

Are you scared?

Mu Wanqing looked up into her husband's eyes, which remained bright even in the darkness, giving her a sense of peace. She shook her head and then gripped his hand tightly in return.

"Wherever you are, I will be there."

The next day, just as dawn was breaking.

While all the educated youth were still immersed in despair, Zhang Dabiao, as if nothing had happened, whistled and excitedly ran to the brigade headquarters.

The brigade leader, Ma Erjin, was squatting at the door, puffing on his pipe, his face full of worry, clearly troubled by the question of whether these educated youth would stay or leave.

Zhang Dabiao ignored all that, squatted down next to him, and handed him a Daqianmen cigarette.

"Captain Ma," he grinned, revealing a set of white teeth, "I want to ask you something."

"What's wrong?" Ma Erjin asked weakly.

Zhang Dabiao took a deep drag on his cigarette, then uttered a startling statement:

"I was thinking, my wife is going to settle down here soon, right? Could our village committee approve a plot of land for her to build a house?"

"Register your household locally, but how can you register without a house?"

When the educated youth learned of Zhang Dabiao and Mu Wanqing's choices, they were all dumbfounded.

But Mu Wanqing and Zhang Dabiao knew—

A new storm is coming.

(The book is finished. I will add side stories for each character later to make it as complete as possible.)

(This one wasn't written well; the main plot is very messy... The next one will be released within a week, don't worry.)

(Restricting space, force, lifespan, and cheat codes—more realistic! Strictly controlling the main storyline! A new courtyard house story is in preparation, one week away, and we'll be even more careful this time!)