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

She opened her mouth, but couldn't utter a single word.

The teammates behind him were also stunned, and their rhythm immediately fell into chaos.

The previously enthusiastic atmosphere in the audience instantly cooled down, and the members began to whisper and discuss among themselves.

"What happened? Did you forget your lines?"

"These kids from Beijing look so weak."

The whispers and comments were like needles, piercing Yang Yibai's heart.

She felt that everyone's eyes were on her, filled with ridicule and contempt.

Shame, indignation, embarrassment, grievance... all emotions erupted at this moment.

She threw down the bamboo clappers, rushed off the stage like a deserter, hid behind a dilapidated prop box backstage, buried her head deeply in her knees, and could no longer hold back, bursting into tears.

This public defeat, like a ruthless hand, completely tore apart her last shred of pride and the facade woven from "positive performance."

Meanwhile, the girls in the propaganda team began to gossip about another strange thing.

After touring for more than half a month, everyone was tanned like charcoal, with dry, cracked skin and chapped lips, except for Mu Wanqing.

She also got a tan, but it was a healthy wheat color. Her skin even looked faintly moist and shiny under the dim oil lamp, and her lips were always rosy. I never saw her lips peel.

In a place where you can drink a basin of sand in a day, this is simply a miracle.

One evening, the female educated youths were crammed onto a large communal bed. Tang Juan finally couldn't hold back any longer and quietly approached Mu Wanqing, whispering, "Wanqing, tell us the truth, do you have some kind of secret? What kind of face cream do you use? It's so amazing!"

Mu Wanqing simply smiled and remained silent.

What could she say?

She said that she would find opportunities every day to sneak into a magical space called "Little Nest" with Zhang Dabiao, where she would take a hot bath and use shampoo and body wash from the future.

He claimed that the bran he ate was just to put on a show, and that his real nutritional needs came from the milk, eggs, and various meats in his refrigerator?

She said that every day before she went out, Zhang Dabiao would carefully apply a thick layer of sunscreen and moisturizer to her.

Who would believe these things if they were told? It would be strange if they didn't arrest her as a monster.

She could only give vague answers, which only added to her mystique in the eyes of others.

The creator of this mystique—Zhang Dabiao—is faithfully carrying out his "field research" mission.

Every day at noon or in the evening, he would ride his cool sidecar motorcycle, carrying Mu Wanqing, and disappear into the vast desert under the pretext of "finding creative inspiration."

They're a couple, you know what I mean. They're a legally married couple, and they're both government officials, so nobody can interfere.

They found a secluded sand dune behind which no one was around, and had Xiao Erhei watch the car while the two of them hid in their "little nest," a secluded paradise.

Eating, resting, and cuddling, Mu Wanqing could even watch a "future" movie stored on the computer for a while under Zhang Dabiao's guidance.

Two hours later, feeling refreshed, I rode my motorcycle back to the brigade.

That evening, the two returned from their usual "field trip".

Just as I slipped out of my "little den" to retrieve my motorcycle, I saw a familiar figure pulling up his pants and running frantically from behind a sand dune not far away.

It is Zhao Weiguo.

Zhao Weiguo was in a hurry to take care of his personal matters when he suddenly saw Zhang Dabiao and Mu Wanqing appear out of nowhere in front of him. He was so startled that he almost dropped his pants.

His eyes widened, and he stammered, pointing at the two of them: "Brother Biao...Brother Biao? Sister-in-law? You...you guys...are you here to take a dump too?"

Zhang Dabiao's heart skipped a beat, and he thought to himself, "That was close!"

If I had come out half a minute later, this kid would have caught me red-handed.

But he showed no sign of panic, calmly pointing to a higher sand dune in the distance: "No. There's a small hill over there with nice scenery and perfect lighting. I just took Wanqing there to take some photos to get some inspiration."

As he spoke, he patted the camera hanging around his neck with an air of importance.

"Oh...oh, taking pictures."

Zhao Weiguo scratched his head, half believing and half doubting.

He felt something was off; the two had appeared so abruptly, when there hadn't been a soul in sight at all.

But Zhang Dabiao spoke so seriously that he couldn't press him for more information. He could only mutter "Be careful" before pulling up his pants and running away in a hurry.

Watching Zhao Weiguo's departing figure, Mu Wanqing leaned against Zhang Dabiao's chest, only then realizing that her heart was still pounding.

They were so close, just a tiny bit more, to their biggest secret being exposed.

As for Yang Yibai, ever since she collapsed on stage, she has been completely listless, like an eggplant that has been hit by frost.

She no longer tries to stand out, nor does she hold any "core meetings." Most of the time, she silently shrinks into a corner, as if trying to make herself invisible.

That day, it was the propaganda team's turn to rest and clean their lodgings.

Yang Yibai took a broom and swept the sand and dirt on the ground idly.

While cleaning under Mu Wanqing's bed, a delicate little white bottle rolled out and landed at her feet.

She picked it up instinctively.

The bottle was smooth, printed with foreign words she couldn't understand, and emitted a faint fragrance.

She unscrewed the cap, revealing a milky white, delicate cream inside.

She knew what it was; it was the source of Mu Wanqing's pleasant scent and the secret to her moisturized skin.

An idea popped into my head as if by some strange twist of fate.

She glanced around quickly, and seeing that no one was paying attention, she swiftly stuffed the small bottle into her pocket, her heart pounding wildly with nervousness and a guilty conscience.

That night, after everyone was asleep, Yang Yibai dared to hide in her musty-smelling bed and secretly take out the small bottle.

She mimicked Mu Wanqing's actions from her memory, carefully squeezing out a tiny bit of ointment and applying it to her hands, which were cracked and blistered from heavy work.

The delicate, smooth touch, in stark contrast to the rough skin on her hands, instantly brought tears to her eyes.

A powerful mix of jealousy and longing, along with the shame of the theft, nearly suffocated her.

The next day, she noticed Mu Wanqing anxiously searching for something, muttering to herself.

Yang Yibai's heart jumped into her throat; she knew what Mu Wanqing was looking for.

She was restless all day; the little bottle felt like a branding iron in her pocket, burning her heart.

In the following days, Yang Yibai was caught in a huge moral dilemma.

She greedily enjoyed the moisturizing effect of the sunscreen while being tormented by immense guilt.

That night, when she saw Mu Wanqing still searching by the bed, her disappointment obvious, she finally broke down.

Summoning all her courage, she clutched the half-empty bottle, walked up to Mu Wanqing, head bowed, and whispered in a voice barely audible, "I'm sorry..."

Mu Wanqing looked at the familiar bottle in her hand, then at her red eyes and chapped lips, and remained silent for a moment.

There was no scolding or questioning as I had expected.

Mu Wanqing simply turned around, rummaged through the large canvas supply bag that Zhang Dabiao had prepared for her, took out a brand new bottle of sunscreen that was still in its packaging, and handed it to Yang Yibai.

"Use it sparingly, the sun here is too strong."

Yang Yibai stared blankly at the brand-new bottle of sunscreen in front of her, and could no longer hold back. She suddenly squatted down, hugged her knees, and burst into tears.

At that moment, all her tense nerves, all her pride, and all her pretense were completely shattered by this sudden act of kindness.