The dating reality show host just wanted to give up, but the rich girl fell for him.

Wang Cuiping stood by the door, her eyes filled with surprise and uncertainty.

Her gaze swept around the east wing, which was filled with wood shavings and sawdust, before finally settling on the measuring tape in her son's hand.

There was underfloor heating, moisture-proof curtains, blackout curtains, and even a constant-temperature bathtub.

This explanation completely baffled the rural woman who had spent her entire life selling plain noodles in the small town.

Lin Mo paused slightly as he was drawing a horizontal line on the wall with a pencil in his hand.

He didn't turn around, but simply put the measuring tape back with a soft "snap".

"Mom, you're overthinking it."

Lin Mo's voice remained steady and relaxed, without the slightest hint of emotion.

"This room doesn't face the right direction and is very damp. I just made some minor changes so that when you and Dad get older and our legs get cold, this room with underfloor heating will be more comfortable."

This reason is irrefutable.

There's not a single flaw to it, and it even exudes a deep sense of filial piety.

Wang Cuiping was stunned for a moment, and most of her doubts were dispelled, but she still felt a little sorry for the money.

"There's no need to install a big bathtub. It wastes water and is so expensive!"

"It's not expensive." Lin Mo turned around, casually picked up a jujube from the plate, took a bite, and said, "My friend's building materials store is having a clearance sale, so I'll give it to you at cost price. Don't worry about it, leave it to me."

With a few words, he sent his mother to the front hall.

After Wang Cuiping's footsteps faded into the distance, Lin Mo turned his head and looked at the bathtub pre-drawn line on the wall.

He chewed on the sweet and crisp autumn jujube in his mouth, and the corners of his mouth couldn't help but turn up slightly in a small arc.

In fact, even he himself felt that this explanation was somewhat far-fetched.

His father, who spends all his time chopping vegetables and tossing woks, would probably be so uncomfortable if he were to lie in a heated bathtub full of soft foam that he wouldn't know where to put his hands and feet.

This size, this depth.

It was clearly designed according to the habits of a certain young lady from Beijing who threw a tantrum and threw towels because the bathtub was too small on an island.

Lin Mo shook his head, trying to shake off the image of that alluring, puffed-up figure in her silk pajamas from his mind.

He dusted off his hands, turned around, and walked out of the east wing.

There are still many parts of the house that need repair.

For the next two whole days, Lin Mo hardly stepped out of the courtyard of the Lin family's old house.

Like a tireless and obsessive-compulsive craftsman, he began a systematic and meticulous renovation of the old house.

The first step is the workflow in the kitchen.

The kitchen of Lin's Noodle Shop has remained unchanged for decades, with things piled up in a mess.

Lin Mo spent the entire morning dismantling the spice rack that had been in the way.

He found several pieces of fine old camphor wood and had a new row of suspended shelves made, which he nailed to the upper right of the stove, within easy reach.

Then he brought out a heavy iron hammer.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

"Fifty, eighty, one hundred..."

With a few dull thuds, he smashed away a layer of cement from the already slightly high cutting board countertop, lowering it by five centimeters.

For Lin Mo, who is 1.85 meters tall, those five centimeters meant he needed to bend over slightly when chopping vegetables.

But for Wang Cuiping, who is only a little over 1.6 meters tall, this height is perfect. Her shoulders will never ache from chopping vegetables for a long time again.

Moreover, Lin Mo stood in front of the new cutting board and tested its feel.

This height would be perfect for a girl who is 1.68 meters tall and occasionally feels the urge to "help" in the kitchen and cause trouble.

She probably won't complain about wrist pain anymore when she cuts fruit.

After finishing all that, Lin Mo, carrying a cup of barley tea, went up the old wooden stairs to the second floor.

There is an empty room facing south on the second floor.

This is the best-lit and most well-ventilated part of the entire Lin family's old house.

This used to be Lin Mo's bedroom. But this time when he came back, he moved all his bedding to the side room downstairs.

He carried a bucket of clean water and a few clean rags into the empty room facing south.

The early autumn sunlight streamed through the clear glass windows, cutting out warm, golden geometric patterns on the floor.

Tiny dust particles danced in the air. Lin Mo took off his long-sleeved shirt, revealing only a black tank top that showed off his strong, muscular arms.

He crouched down and began to clean the years-old grime from the floor bit by bit.

Use fine sandpaper to sand down the splinters that are sticking out of the wood.

He brushed on a layer of environmentally friendly natural wood wax oil. The originally dull and lusterless old wooden planks gradually shone with a warm and understated luster under his hands.

Then, he moved a square piece of old elm wood from the yard.

This was a stockpile he bought from Old Li, the carpenter next door, for five hundred yuan.

The wood is heavy, with grain resembling waves of time, and exudes a faint, bitter fragrance.

Lin Mo, holding a sharp wood chisel, sat in the sunlight and began to carve. Wood shavings fell like snowflakes.

He was making a small stool for changing shoes at the doorway. He had polished the four corners of the stool to be extremely rounded, with no sharp edges that could possibly cause bruises.

The most crucial element is altitude.

Lin Mo took a measuring tape and measured it; forty centimeters was a very delicate number.

For an adult man, sitting at this height to change shoes would be very uncomfortable as his legs would be cramped up. But for a girl wearing high heels or who likes to wear tall vests and boots...

This height is just right so that she can sit gracefully and effortlessly untie her shoelaces.

Wang Cuiping carried a bowl of freshly made rock sugar pear soup upstairs.

"Mo'er, take a break and have some sweet soup to soothe your throat."

She placed the porcelain bowl on the windowsill, the rising steam blurring her vision.

Wang Cuiping's gaze unconsciously fell on the newly made little stool.

She then looked at the large blank wall, nearly two meters wide, that Lin Mo had deliberately left behind the door.

"You're using a really low stool!"

Wang Cuiping gestured in confusion, "You're so big, can you even sit down?"

She pointed to the blank wall and said, "And here, what's the point of leaving such a big empty space? You could fit a floor-to-ceiling wardrobe in there."

Lin Mo took the pear soup and took a sip.

The sweet juice flowed down my throat, relieving my thirst.

"That's for storing shoes," he said calmly.

"Shoe cabinet?"

Wang Cuiping's voice suddenly rose eight octaves as she looked at her son as if he were an alien.

"You roughneck, you only have two pairs of sneakers and one pair of slippers. What do you need a two-meter-wide shoe cabinet for? To set up a shoe stall and sell shoes?"

Lin Mo didn't say anything, but just kept his head down and continued drinking his soup.

Is a two-meter-wide shoe cabinet considered large?

He recalled the spectacular scene at the island cabin where Jiang Ruoyun had filled three large suitcases and brought at least twenty different styles of high heels in just over ten days.

A two-meter-long shoe cabinet would probably only be enough for that young lady to fit one of the latest styles.

Seeing her son's sullen demeanor, Wang Cuiping felt like a cat was scratching at her heart.

A wise child is better than his mother.

She had been observing the situation closely for the past few days and had already noticed something amiss.

The kitchen countertop was intentionally lowered, and the bathroom downstairs had an anti-slip mat installed.

And this shoe-changing stool is at a completely wrong height.

This meticulous attention to detail and refined lifestyle are not at all like what a single man would prepare for himself!

Wang Cuiping took two steps closer, lowered her voice, and her face showed a mixture of probing and barely concealed anticipation.

"Son, tell your mother the truth."

"You went to so much trouble, making your house look more luxurious than a luxury hotel..."

"Is he really making room for his future wife?"

That's a very straightforward question.

Lin Mo paused almost imperceptibly as he was about to grab the woodworking plane.

But it was only for a moment. He put down the empty porcelain bowl and picked up the fine sandpaper next to him.

"Mom, try to read less gossip news online every day."

Lin Mo's voice remained calm and steady, without even lifting his eyelids.

"It's still far from over."

He denied it in a lukewarm way.

But his actions the next second betrayed him.

Lin Mo took the coarsest piece of sandpaper and walked straight to the door of the south-facing bedroom.

There is a solid wood threshold about two centimeters high at the bottom of the old-fashioned wooden door frame.

This is a traditional design feature that has been preserved in old houses in the Jiangnan region to prevent wind and dampness.

But it's only a mere two centimeters in height.

Lin Mo, however, acted as if he were dealing with some irreconcilable enemy, squatting down and taking sandpaper to sand it hard.

"Shh—shh—shh—"

The rough sandpaper rubbed against the hard solid wood, making a harsh sound.

He used tremendous force, and in just a few hours, he had worn down the protruding threshold.

Then, switch to fine sandpaper and polish it again and again until the threshold and the wooden floor inside are completely level, with no noticeable difference.

Wang Cuiping stood to the side, dumbfounded.

"Why are you grinding down a perfectly good threshold?"

Lin Mo knelt on the ground and reached out to wipe away the wood dust.

"A tripping hazard." That was all he said.

A stumbling block?

Wang Cuiping has lived in this house for thirty years, crossed this threshold countless times, and never even scratched her toes once.

Looking at her son's stubborn back, she suddenly couldn't help but laugh.

It was a smile that showed complete understanding, yet also immense satisfaction.

What do you mean, "not even a stroke of the character eight"?

This kid is as tough as a rock, but his subconscious actions make him seem like he wants to pave the way for everyone.

We smoothed out the threshold because we were afraid someone would trip over it.

Naturally, I'm afraid of that delicate girl who usually walks briskly but becomes drowsy when she's sleepy and can even trip and fall on flat ground while wearing slippers.

Some longings don't need long passages of sweet words to express them.

It was hidden in the cutting board that had been lowered by five centimeters, in the shoe-changing stool that was forty centimeters high, and in the old threshold that had been completely smoothed out.

It was late at night.

In the courtyard of the Lin family's old house, a dim incandescent light hangs.

The early autumn night breeze carried a slight chill, rustling softly as it passed over the ivy climbing the courtyard wall.

The smell of sawdust from the daytime has dissipated, and the air is filled with a faint fragrance of night dew and earth.

Lin Mo took a cold shower and changed into a clean black short-sleeved shirt.

He pulled up a bamboo chair and sat in the middle of the courtyard.

On the small square table next to it, there was a cup of strong tea that was still steaming.

He leaned back in his chair, his long legs casually crossed, looking up at the few not-so-bright stars in the Jiangnan night sky.

The entire town fell asleep, and this absolute tranquility was the most enjoyable moment he had experienced since his rebirth.

"Buzz—"

My phone, which was on the table, suddenly vibrated.

The screen lit up, breaking the darkness in the courtyard.

Lin Mo picked up his phone.

A WeChat message popped up on the lock screen.

The profile picture is a cartoon ragdoll cat wearing sunglasses with a grumpy expression.

From: Jiang (Troublemaker).

Lin Mo opened the dialog box.

There was no empty flattery or cloying chatter.

It was just a short, curt complaint, but it was full of Jiang Ruoyun's personal style.

"The boxed lunches ordered by the crew today were made by the head chef of a Michelin-starred restaurant in Beijing."

Five seconds later, another message popped up.

"It tasted awful. Like chewing cardboard. I barely touched it."

Three seconds later, a picture was sent over. The background of the photo was a somewhat messy corner of a film set in a movie theater.

A mottled, somewhat silly-looking stray orange cat was lying at the feet of Jiang Ruoyun's high-end leather shoes, wolfing down a starch sausage.

A sentence follows below the image.

"This cat looks a bit silly, just like you. I gave it a sausage as a reward."

Looking at these three messages, a gentle smile appeared in Lin Mo's eyes that he himself did not realize.

This is Jiang Ruoyun.

This little wildcat from Beijing never says "I miss you" directly.

She said the food at the Michelin one-star restaurant was like cardboard, which translates to: I really want to eat your scallion oil noodles and braised pork.

She said that the silly orange cat looked like him, which translates to: "When I see a cat on the street, I can think of your face."

Lin Mo held the phone in one hand, his thumb hovering over the keyboard for a moment.

He typed a line of text.

"Don't use my face to insult cats. Eat on time, or I won't be responsible if you get a stomachache."

He was just about to click send when he stopped.

Lin Mo stared at the line of text he had typed for a few seconds, shook his head, and decisively pressed the delete key.

This girl was already angry, and if I sent her this kind of stubborn nonsense, she'd probably crawl over the internet cable and bite me.

He typed again in the input box, his movements slow and deliberate, but each word was typed with exceptional composure.

"Eat less starchy sausage; it's not nutritious."

"I'll cook for you in a few days."

Click to send.

The moment the message was sent, the other party replied with an indifferent emoji, along with the message "Who cares?"

But Lin Mo knew that the woman on the other end of the phone was probably rolling around on the silk sofa in the van, overjoyed.

He put down his phone, picked up the slightly hot cup of strong tea, and took a big gulp.

The bitter tea slid down my throat and into my stomach, bringing a refreshing warmth.

Lin Mo raised his head and looked around.

The newly renovated eaves, the smooth and clean bluestone courtyard, and the reinforced old-fashioned gate.

Everything seemed so proper and reassuring. His time in his hometown was not to escape the turmoil of fame and fortune in the capital.

It's not some kind of triumphant return home to show off.

He just needs time, and he needs to personally solidify the soil that gave him birth and nurtured him.

Only when his home front is as stable as Mount Tai and his parents' lives are completely back on track can he stand tall and go out without any worries.

Lin Mo's gaze became even deeper and more resolute in the early autumn night.

This absurd dating reality show forcibly bound him to a wealthy heiress from a completely different world.

Since he couldn't avoid her, and since he already had someone he cared about, he would stand before her again in a way that showed he could steadily build a life together.

Not as a kept "chef star".

Instead, he should be a man who can shield her from the wind and rain and handle all her bad temper.

When the teacup was empty, Lin Mo stood up and moved the bamboo chair back under the eaves.

Things back home are almost settled.

Finally, it's almost time to meet that little glutton.