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

"It's so beautiful," Mu Wanqing said softly, looking at the lake.

Yang Yibai pouted: "What's so interesting about it? It's not like we've never seen a lake before."

Zhao Weiguo retorted, "They're everywhere in Beijing, but they're really rare here."

Yang Yibai glared at him and didn't say anything more.

The truck stopped at Niujialiang Commune to refill its water tank. The propaganda team happened to be putting on a performance for the benefit of the people—the audience consisted of members of several nearby brigades and teachers and students from schools, a densely packed room, the children's eyes shining like light bulbs.

Mu Wanqing stood on the stage, an accordion hanging in front of her chest, and played "My Motherland".

The wind blew through her hair, and the music echoed through the loess gullies. The children in the audience stopped making noise, and the adults fell silent, listening quietly.

At that moment, she felt she was still alive.

Yang Yibai watched from backstage, her teeth grinding. As soon as Mu Wanqing came down, she was the first to rush forward: "Comrades, classmates, it's our turn!"

She led Zhao Weiguo and the others onto the stage, where they sang and danced for over ten minutes. Professionally, they were no less skilled; but in terms of moving the audience, they were a level below Mu Wanqing.

Because Mu Wanqing purely enjoys the music, while they—are doing it for political expression.

One is purely based on emotion, the other is purely based on acting skills. Their purposes are different, so how can they be sung the same way?

The commune members clapped politely, then dispersed, going back to their farming or water transport.

Yulin region suffered from drought this year, and everyone is busy. Who has time to watch programs and cheer for you all day?

Yang Yibai's smile faltered. In the end, everyone had no choice but to get back on the truck and continue on their way.

------------

Several more hours passed—

"We've arrived, get off the bus."

When the driver slammed on the brakes, the eight people in the carriage almost rolled into a heap.

They poked their heads out of the carriage—

Then, everyone fell silent.

The sky was filled with yellow sand. Not just "there was sand," but the sky was yellow, the ground was yellow, and even the air itself was yellow. It was as if someone had thrown the whole world into a cornmeal jar and shaken it vigorously.

"Is this...is this a place for a human to stay?" Zhu Hongqi was the first to speak up.

No one answered.

The educated youth settlement in Balasu Commune was a row of adobe houses with cracks in the walls through which one could see outside. The windows had no glass, but were covered with old newspapers that rattled loudly in the wind.

"How many people are in one room?" Yang Yibai asked.

The commune clerk was a lean man in his forties surnamed Ma, known locally as "Ma the Two-Jin." It was said that two jin of grain could sustain him for a week, making him a famous "grain-saving model" in the area.

"How many people are in one room? This is a large dormitory-style dormitory."

"The courtyard on the left is where the male educated youth lived, 12 people to a room. The courtyard on the right is where the female educated youth lived, it's a bit smaller, 10 people to a room."

"That little house in the yard is where you cook."

Hearing the commotion outside, the people inside the house, along with the educated youth who had returned from their work, also gathered around.

They've been here for several years; there are more than a dozen of them.

Zhao Weiguo exchanged pleasantries with the educated youth team leader, Tang Zhengshan, for a while, offered him a cigarette, and then boldly went inside to take a look—there was a large kang (heated brick bed) covered with dry straw, without even a mattress. There was still some dust on the edge of the kang that hadn't been swept clean.

"Can anyone sleep in this?"

Ma Erjin glanced at him, unhurriedly saying, "Why can't we sleep? We've been sleeping together for half our lives. You think you're so special, coming from Beijing?"

Yang Yibai gritted his teeth and straightened his chest: "Comrades, revolution is not a dinner party! We must face difficulties squarely and overcome them!"

Liu Yuanchao muttered under his breath, "But don't make it too hard..."

The older educated youth stood at a distance watching the spectacle; some shook their heads, some sighed, and some wore a knowing smile.

Zhao Weiguo squatted by the door, looking at the sand dunes in the distance, and cursed inwardly—[If my dad knew I was here… never mind, he's in trouble himself right now.]

Damn it, how am I supposed to get through this?

That evening, at the small canteen of the educated youth settlement.

Dinner was served—a dark, mushy mess that smelled sour and rancid.

"What is this?" Zhu Hongqi poked it with his chopsticks; the thing was as hard as a brick.

Ma Erjin: "Bran cakes. Steamed with rice bran and chaff mixed with wild vegetables."

Yang Yibai was the first to take a bite.

Her expression froze.

The stuff was as rough as sand, and it cut her throat when she swallowed it. She chewed it a couple of times, her stomach churning, and she almost vomited. But seeing Ma Erjin staring at her, and the other old educated youth watching, she forced herself to swallow it.

"It's delicious," she said.

But the expression on his face was even worse than crying.

Mu Wanqing took a bite and chewed it expressionlessly.

She chewed very slowly and carefully, as if she were savoring some rare delicacy.

What hardships hasn't she endured since childhood? When she was little, in the Eight Great Hutongs, her foster mother fed her whatever she was given, even spoiled porridge. During the three years of natural disasters, she and Zhang Dabiao planted vegetables in the yard, went out to pick wild vegetables, fish, and pluck locust flowers, even stripping the trees bare.

Compared to the wild vegetable compressed biscuits made by Qin Jingru, the taste isn't too different.

During the three years of natural disasters, people couldn't bear to add sugar to wild vegetable biscuits. At most, they would add a little salt and some cornmeal. What they needed was vitamins and calories. As for the taste?

When everyone is starving, who cares about the taste?

So the bran buns here are really nothing.

When people are extremely hungry, they will eat anything.

Yang Yibai and the other children from the compound couldn't stand this kind of thing, but for Mu Wanqing, a child from the alley, as long as there was food, that was enough.

It's because Yan Jiecheng didn't come. If he had, he would have eaten and taken everything, and even packed it up for us to eat, believe it or not.

Mu Wanqing was already pretty and delicate, and the local educated youth thought she was some capitalist's daughter who had come to the countryside and would definitely not be able to endure the hardship.

But seeing Mu Wanqing eat the cornbread without any reaction, everyone gave her a thumbs up.

This girl isn't pretentious, that's good!

------------

At night, lying on the kang (a heated brick bed), Mu Wanqing tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep.

The wind whistled through the gaps in the paper windows, making a mournful sound, like someone was crying.

Besides her and Yang Yibai, the room also contained classmates Tang Juan and Su Tiantian, as well as six other female educated youth.

Everyone was crammed into a large dormitory-style room. It was the first time Mu Wanqing and Yang Yibai had ever slept like this, and they were a little unaccustomed to it.

Mu Wanqing pulled the blanket tighter around herself.

The quilt was newly issued by the Yulin County Cultural Propaganda Team, but it had a musty smell, as if it had been stored in a warehouse for several years. She closed her eyes, thinking of Zhang Dabiao's face—he always spoke in a sarcastic and irreverent manner.

"Wanqing, don't worry, after we get married, I will make you the happiest person in the world."

she letter.

But she didn't know when Zhang Dabiao would arrive.

I can go back in a year, all for Da Biao.

Mu Wanqing can endure it.

Yang Yibai and the others have completely lost their composure.