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

The motorcycle caused quite a commotion when it stopped at the entrance of the commune compound.

In those days, the entire commune only had one tractor, which was often broken down, and two small trucks, which were used to transport supplies between different brigades.

Motorcycles with sidecars are rarer than young girls.

Not to mention the domestically produced Changjiang 750 motorcycle, which is completely unavailable to anyone without a certain level of status and background.

Zhang Dabiao didn't care. He had his motorcycle's registration with him, so he could check it all he wanted—it was an official vehicle registered under the Ministry of Foreign Trade, so anyone who dared to steal or damage it could go ahead and get prosecuted.

I've never seen this thing placed in the outer courtyard of No. 95. Even that kid Banggeng doesn't dare to touch it.

Ma Erjin climbed out of the sidecar and looked at Zhang Dabiao, who looked relaxed. He felt that this young man was unfathomable.

The commune's telephone was located in the secretary's office; it was an old-fashioned crank telephone.

Ma Erjin went inside, picked up the microphone, shook it vigorously for a long time, and shouted loudly into the room: "Hello! Hello! Connect me to the county committee! Yes, the Yulin County Committee! The CPPCC Committee."

There was a jarring static noise on the phone, and it took a while before the call was connected.

"I'm Balasu Ma Erjin!" Ma Erjin practically roared into the microphone, "Excuse me, did you send down a writer named Zhang Dabiao?"

Zhang Dabiao and Mu Wanqing were standing at the door, and they could hear it clearly.

He heard something said on the other end of the phone, and Ma Erjin responded with "uh-huh" and "ah-ah," his expression slowly changing from serious to surprised, and finally to understanding.

"Okay, okay, I understand. I'll definitely handle the liaison work well!"

Ma Erjin hung up the phone, let out a long sigh, and when he looked at Zhang Dabiao again, his eyes had completely changed.

Previously it was scrutiny, now it's facing it squarely, with an undisguised curiosity.

"The county said that Comrade Zhang Dabiao from the People's Fine Arts Publishing House has all the necessary paperwork, and the county has filed it." Ma Erjin paused, seemingly processing this information. "They also said... you voluntarily applied to come here for long-term field research?"

Zhang Dabiao smiled and said, "We creative people have to immerse ourselves in life. Balasu is a good place; it's a place where people fight against nature and heroes emerge in great numbers. There's plenty of material for our creations."

Ma Erjin's lips twitched. This godforsaken place had become a hot commodity in the mouths of these young people.

Forget it, come if you want. Anyway, the county has said that you, Zhang Dabiao, are not a cadre sent down to the countryside or an educated youth coming to promote culture. A simple reception is fine, but you have to take care of your own life.

He stopped dwelling on it and picked up the phone again.

"This long-distance trip to Beijing is going to be very expensive," he muttered, and began to crank the handle with difficulty again.

This time, the wait was even longer.

When the call finally connected to the street office where Mu Wanqing's household registration was located, Ma Erjin felt like he had shaken his arm off.

"Feed? In Beijing... um, the Jiaodaokou Subdistrict Office in Dongcheng District?"

"Oh, I'm from Balasu Commune in Yulin, Shaanxi. I have a question for you. There's someone there named Mu Wanqing..."

Ma Erjin explained the situation and focused on verifying the authenticity of the marriage certificate.

A clear, crisp female voice came from the other end of the phone, her tone very certain: "That's right! The Mu family's daughter and Comrade Zhang Dabiao are legally married! This certificate was personally processed by our Director Wang, a special case!"

"Special treatment?" Ma Erjin was stunned.

"That's right! That young couple has been engaged for so many years, just waiting for the girl to graduate. The whole neighborhood knows about it! The man is a promising young talent, a hero who earns foreign exchange for the country, and the woman is a college student—a match made in heaven! Director Wang said that we can't let Comrade Geming's life-long happiness be delayed because of a job transfer!"

The voice on the other end of the phone was fast and loud, as if afraid that we wouldn't hear it.

Ma Erjin was stunned. After hanging up the phone, he remained in a daze for a long time.

A hero who earns foreign exchange? The neighborhood chief personally handled it? A special case?

These words, one after another, gave him a completely new understanding of Zhang Dabiao's background.

This young man is probably not as simple as an ordinary cadre.

After everything was confirmed, Captain Ma was about to hang up the phone, but Mu Wanqing stopped him.

"Captain Ma, may I use the phone? I want to let my mom know I'm safe," Mu Wanqing asked timidly.

"Yes, yes!" Ma Erjin quickly made way for him, his attitude becoming much more enthusiastic.

Mu Wanqing picked up the phone and told the clerk on the other end to call back Aunt Mu and Qin Jingru later before hanging up.

After waiting for fifteen minutes, when Aunt Mu's familiar yet anxious voice came from the other end, she couldn't hold back her tears any longer, and they fell like beads from a broken string.

"Mom...it's me..."

"Qingqing! How are you? Are you eating well over there? Are you warm enough? Is anyone bullying you?"

"Mom, I'm fine..." Mu Wanqing choked up, but tried her best to make her voice sound joyful. "Da Biao is here. He came to see me... Don't worry, I'm fine."

The mother and daughter cried and laughed on the phone, talking about their longing and worries during this period.

Zhang Dabiao stood quietly to the side, without disturbing them.

Ma Erjin, being sensible, went outside and squatted on the steps at the entrance of the commune.

Zhang Dabiao followed him out, squatted down beside him, took out a pack of "Daqianmen" cigarettes from his pocket, pulled one out and handed it to him.

"Captain Ma, have a smoke."

Ma Erjin took the cigarette, and Zhang Dabiao took out a match to light it for him.

"Daqianmen? The kind of cigarettes you're talking about in Beijing?" Ma Erjin took a deep drag and exhaled a cloud of white smoke.

"We smoke red dates, sheep, and Baocheng cigarettes here."

The two smoked and chatted.

"Captain Ma, what's the current situation in our commune? How many people are there? How much land? How are the educated youth being arranged?" Zhang Dabiao casually struck up a conversation.

In the time it takes to smoke a cigarette, they've started talking non-stop.

Ma Erjin sighed as he spoke of Balasu's hardships: "Here, it's a place where 'spring is dry and windy with sandstorms, autumn is rainy and floody with early frost.' All year round, we rely on that little bit of autumn harvest. But these past few years, God hasn't been on our side."

Ma Erjin pointed to the distant yellow sand and said helplessly, "This year there is a severe drought. Now we are all relying on the government to provide us with relief grain. Our staple food is bran and chaff."

"Now the people in the commune are a mixed bag. There are local commune members, educated youth who have settled down, social education cadres who came down from the city to carry out the movement, and you educated youth propaganda teams from Beijing. There are three groups of people, and they all have different ideas, so it is easy for conflicts to arise sometimes."

Zhang Dabiao listened quietly, memorizing all the information.

As they were talking, Ma Erjin pointed to a vast expanse of sand in the distance.

"You two have just reunited, I'm afraid you won't have a peaceful two days." He sighed. "Tomorrow, the propaganda team will be going to Hongshiqiao Brigade for a performance tour. That place is even more remote than here, surrounded by desert on all sides, and the roads are even more difficult to travel. A round trip there will shake your bones to pieces."

Zhang Dabiao paused upon hearing this.

Are you going out to perform and visit people tomorrow?

He glanced at Mu Wanqing, who was still wiping away tears and making a phone call in the office behind him, and instantly made a decision.

He turned his head, looked at Ma Erjin, and his tone became unusually solemn.

"Captain Ma, I have a favor to ask."