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

At that moment, a pungent yet strangely herbal scent wafted through the air.

The sudden burst of air shattered the tranquility of the alleyway in the early morning; it was a very primitive, strong, and domineering smell of natural lacquer.

Most people would find the smell pungent, but to those in the know, it's more precious than gold.

Lin Mo did not hire any professional construction team.

They did not rent any noisy modern heavy machinery.

To ordinary people, the ruins that filled the courtyard were worthless and even somewhat eerie.

But in his calm, watery eyes, there was nothing more than a huge pile of scattered mortise and tenon blocks.

The autumn wind was biting, carrying the sharp edge of a knife that seemed to pierce one's neck, yet Lin Mo was working so hard that his whole body was steaming with heat.

He had carelessly tossed his work clothes onto a broken armchair nearby, and simply took off his shirt, standing shirtless in the middle of the overgrown yard.

The strong, muscular lines of his back undulated slightly with his breathing and the movements of his manual labor.

There are no exaggerated muscle groups like those built with protein powder in the gym.

Every inch of his skin exudes a fluidity that perfectly combines strength and flexibility.

A fine layer of sweat clung to his skin, rising in a thin white mist in the cold autumn air.

In the very center of the courtyard, a large iron pot with a rusty support had been erected.

Below, chopped scrap wood was burning.

The pot was filled with a dark red, viscous liquid, with bubbles rising to the surface from time to time.

That was the high-quality raw lacquer he brought back from the building materials market before dawn.

Making lacquer is an ancient craft that requires precise control of the heat.

Too much moisture and it will become mushy; too little and it won't adhere to the wood. If the moisture isn't fully evaporated, it will also affect the wood's preservation.

Lin Mo held a thick wooden stick in his hand and stirred the pot slowly with focused concentration.

The movements were unhurried and rhythmic, as if some ancient ritual was being performed.

Next to the iron pot, there lies a huge Ming Dynasty load-bearing pillar.

Several renovation teams hired by the previous owner all shook their heads and concluded that it was "hopelessly rotten".

The entire pillar was mottled and worn, the vermilion lacquer on the surface had long since peeled off, and the bottom was even riddled with several large holes by insects and the dampness of time.

An ordinary contractor would have chopped it up and used it as firewood long ago.

To save trouble, they would definitely just replace the column with a cement grouting column and then paint a layer of red paint on the outside to cover it up.

But Lin Mo simply picked up a specially made stainless steel scraper.

Following the grain of the pillar, they painstakingly and meticulously removed the rotten flesh from the outside.

"Swish—swish—"

The sharp scraper picked up pieces of rotten wood.

Wood chips flew everywhere, and the air was immediately filled with the unique aroma of aged wood.

As the scraper moved, the dark red wood core inside the pillar, still as hard as iron, gradually became visible.

Despite enduring centuries of trials and tribulations, it remains proud and upright at its core.

Lin Mo put down the scraper and gently stroked the rough but sturdy wood grain with his fingertips.

A barely perceptible hint of admiration flashed in his deep eyes.

The material of this pillar is top-quality old red pine, which you can't buy even if you have money now.

With a little treatment of the rotten parts and grafting with new wood, it can last for another five hundred years.

Lin Mo turned around and walked to the pile of newly transported logs.

He picked up an inkwell and drew out a thin line covered in black ink.

With a flick of the finger in the air, a crisp "snap" was heard, leaving a straight black line on the wood.

Then, he picked up the old, wide-bladed hand saw next to him.

Step on one end of the log with one foot and exert force with your arm.

"Sizzle—sizzle—"

The sound of saw teeth grinding against wood echoed in the yard, its rhythm as steady as an old-fashioned clock.

This is a wild and hardcore manual operation.

It completely stunned the elderly men in the alley who were out for their morning stroll.

Outside the dilapidated and crumbling courtyard gate, a large crowd had gathered.

They sealed the drafty door crack completely, and some people even stood on the stone blocks next to it to look inside.

Grandpa Li carrying a cage for a thrush, and Grandpa Zhao holding a purple clay teapot.

They pulled up the sleeves of their cotton-padded coats and craned their necks to peer inside.

Even Grandpa Zhang, who usually loves to eat fried dough rings and drink soy milk at the street corner, stood still and couldn't move his feet.

The white breaths exhaled by everyone gathered at the entrance of the alley, and the sounds of discussion rose and fell.

"What is this young man doing? Brewing poison so early in the morning? The smell is really strong."

"What do you know? That's lacquer! It's a precious thing that only my great-grandfather's generation used when they worked in the palace repairing grand halls!"

"Who still cooks their own paint over a fire these days? Just buy a can of pre-mixed anti-corrosion paint from a hardware store, isn't that enough?"

"A single person, shirtless, building such a huge courtyard house? Has this young man gone mad from some kind of trauma?"

"Look at him, he doesn't use a chainsaw, he insists on using one of those old-fashioned pull saws. How long would that take?"

"Hey, you know what, his workmanship looks pretty good, the cuts are neat and even."

The old men chattered amongst themselves, treating it as a rare street performance.

Just as the crowd of onlookers outside grew denser and the noise became increasingly louder.

A middle-aged man wearing a faded, worn-out jacket and thick-rimmed black glasses.

I happened to be walking along the shady side of the alley wall.

The man's name is Wang Cuncun, the head of the Department of Ancient Architecture at Tsinghua University, and a leading expert in the restoration of ancient buildings in China.

He was originally invited privately by the Cultural Relics Bureau to explore the ruins of a late Qing Dynasty prince's mansion in the next alley.

As soon as I strolled past this place, my nose keenly detected that peculiar smell.

Wang Cunzhu's steps suddenly stopped.

The rubber-soled leather shoes made a soft sound as they scraped against the bluestone slab.

He is a true connoisseur of ancient architecture, having spent most of his life immersed in those ancient piles of wood.

They are a hundred times more sensitive to the taste of these traditional craft materials than to the delicacies served at state banquets.

He turned his head following the strong, rich smell of raw lacquer.

My gaze passed over the shoulders of the old men and landed directly on the dilapidated courtyard.

I only glanced at it.

This is a well-informed and experienced old expert who remains calm even in the face of a collapsing mountain.

It was as if I had been struck by an invisible bolt of lightning.

His feet were firmly planted on the spot, unable to move an inch.

What attracted him was not the pot of pure-colored lacquer that was almost ready.

Instead, they were scattered around Lin Mo's feet, those few pieces of replacement wood that had just been cut.

The rising sun shone through the thin mist.

The cuts on the wood were as smooth as a mirror, and the edges were so sharp that there wasn't even a single barb.

Even more frightening is the mortise and tenon structure above.

Dovetail tenon, through tenon, shoulder tenon, tongue and groove tenon.

Intricate and interconnected, like perfectly fitted mechanical gears.

There are absolutely no burn marks left by modern chainsaws or planers.

All you need is a simple hand saw and a few wooden chisels of different sizes.

It was carved out by hand, inch by inch!

Wang Cunzun subconsciously pushed up his thick-rimmed glasses that had slipped down onto the bridge of his nose.

Pupils dilated, breathing became rapid.

He pushed past Grandpa Li, who was carrying a birdcage, ignoring the other man's disgruntled grumbling.

He was practically pressed against the drafty wooden door.

His eyes, like those of a hawk, were fixed on Lin Mo's next move.

Lin Mo had already put down the saw.

He picked up a polished, oddly shaped piece of wood, turned around, and walked to the Ming Dynasty load-bearing pillar.

That was the ridgepole of the entire main building, and it determined the life or death of the whole structure.

He was preparing to perform the most critical structural replacements and bone grafting.

Wang Cunzhu's eyes widened, and even his heartbeat unconsciously slowed down.

He was horrified to discover this.

Lin Mo had nothing but wood and a heavy wooden mallet by his side.

Not a single steel nail was produced in modern industry.

There were no angle irons or thin steel plates used for reinforcement.

There is no industrial-grade epoxy resin structural adhesive.

He actually planned to rely solely on those complex and dazzling interlocking wooden blocks.

To support the main beam of the house, which weighs several tons!

In Wang Cun's decades of academic knowledge, this was simply a fantasy, a joke with one's life.

This type of restoration of ancient buildings involves a large span and a high load-bearing capacity.

If modern mechanics are not used for internal reinforcement of steel bars, and concealed expansion bolts are not installed...

Relying solely on ancient mortise and tenon joints made of pure wood.

In the mechanical aspects of modern architectural calculations, it is simply impossible to provide sufficient shear resistance and support.

This is common sense!

It is an insurmountable ironclad defense in modern architectural mechanics!

Lin Mo picked up the wooden mallet with its dark patina.

A tenon with barbs was precisely aligned with the mortise on the column.

As long as this hammer blows.

The entire occlusal structure will then be completely locked.

One small change can have far-reaching consequences, and the whole situation can no longer be altered.

"absurd!"

Wang Cundu quickly performed several basic stress calculations in his mind.

Without exception, the conclusions reached were all dangerous red alerts.

He was so anxious that a layer of cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

The autumn wind was chilly, and my palms were completely damp inside my clenched fists.

As an expert in ancient architecture and a leading figure in academia, he has a strong sense of responsibility and a firm academic bottom line.

He simply couldn't bear to watch something that defied the laws of science happen.

This isn't some decorative wooden block model.

Once this house is repaired, it will be inhabited by living people!

If the load-bearing beam is subjected to uneven stress, or if the wood shrinks.

It can collapse in the middle of the night if there is a strong wind or even a slight tremor.

That's two or even several precious human lives!

He absolutely would not allow such academic illiteracy to happen under his nose.

Wang Cunzuan could no longer contain his anxiety and anger.

He suddenly stretched out his hands and pushed open the rickety, half-closed courtyard gate.

Accompanied by a dull and ear-piercing "creak."

The door hinge let out a mournful groan as it could no longer bear the weight.

The old expert strode across the high wooden threshold.

He didn't even care that the hem of his clothes got caught on a rusty door nail, and tore a hole in it.

He pointed a trembling finger at the shirtless young man in the center of the courtyard.

He shouted loudly.

"stop!"

His voice was loud and clear, carrying the authority and anger of someone who had spent years reprimanding unqualified students on the university podium.

The sound exploded in the quiet alley, sounding particularly abrupt.

"You're treating human life like dirt!"

Wang Cuncun was so angry that the flesh on his cheeks trembled slightly.

"The load-bearing structure of this beam will collapse immediately if it is subjected to stress!"

Faced with this sudden reprimand.

The old men watching the commotion outside the courtyard were startled and shrank back. The noisy discussion instantly disappeared, and the atmosphere in the courtyard plummeted to freezing point.

Even the howling autumn wind seemed to pause for a moment at this instant.

A cold wind swept up a few pieces of wood shavings and grayish-white dust from the ground.

It swirled around Lin Mo's feet.

However, Lin Mo, standing in the eye of the storm, didn't even turn his head; the muscles on his broad, smooth back remained taut.

Like a cheetah poised to pounce, calm and reserved.

The mallet in his hand remained raised high, hovering steadily in mid-air.

He looked at the perfectly fitted mortise and tenon joint in front of him, his voice calm and without any inflection.

"Sir, please move aside. Wood shavings can easily get in your eyes. It's a bit dangerous for you to be here."