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

At this moment, time seemed to have been slowed down.

The wind in the yard seemed to have stopped.

All eyes were fixed on the massive beam suspended in mid-air.

Lin Mo's arm muscles bulged slightly from the enormous weight.

But his hands, gripping the crossbeam, were so steady that they didn't tremble at all; the intricate wooden tenons resembled an enlarged version of a precision mechanical gear.

It carries an ancient yet overbearing sense of oppression.

Inching forward, they made their way toward the deep groove at the top of the load-bearing column.

"Crunch—crunch—"

The most primitive friction occurred between the pieces of wood.

The sound was very deep and muffled, with the unique, heavy texture of old red pine.

It's like an ancient behemoth that has been sleeping for hundreds of years, slowly snapping its fangs together.

Every friction sound felt like stepping on the hearts of those old men outside the door.

Everyone was too afraid to even breathe.

He was afraid that if he blew on it, the thick log with no support would fall down.

The tenon of the crossbeam has been mostly inserted.

However, because the bite was too tight, the last small section got stuck at the edge, and the force of the arm alone was no longer enough to put it back in place.

Lin Mo did not insist.

His left hand still steadily supported the bottom of the hundred-pound piece of wood, while his right hand, free, casually picked up the dark old wooden mallet that was placed at his feet.

He didn't smash it down immediately.

His deep gaze swept over the intricate mortise and tenon joints.

It was as if he was searching for some kind of mysterious pattern that only he could understand.

Then, he slightly turned his wrist.

He found a tricky angle that almost defied common sense, and seemingly effortlessly swung the wooden mallet in his hand.

"Thump."

The first strike produced a dull sound.

The originally stuck crossbeam slid in half an inch with that clever force.

Wang Cunzun stood a few steps away, his hands tightly covering his ears.

He peered through his fingers, watching the scene in horror.

This completely defies the logic of force application! Hitting it at that angle would clearly cause the tenon to jam and break!

"Thump."

The second tap came down.

The force was still not great, but it carried a strange penetrating power.

The massive beam resonated slightly, and wood chips fell from the gaps like fine snowflakes falling in late autumn.

The tenon was pushed in again, leaving less than a millimeter of space.

Lin Mo's gaze became focused and cold.

He took a deep breath, the veins on his wrist bulging instantly, and the mallet left a trail of afterimages in mid-air, moving with effortless ease.

With perfect precision, the hammer struck the most crucial, hidden protrusion on the tenon.

This third strike was completely different from the dullness of the first two.

"Click—"

A crisp, clean sound, even with a metallic quality.

It suddenly exploded in the quiet, dilapidated courtyard!

The sound echoed between the empty courtyard walls, striking straight to the soul. It was a wondrous echo that only arises when a structure is completely locked in and perfectly fitted.

It sounded like the final combination lock locking into a top-of-the-line safe.

With that crisp sound.

That huge, suspended beam, and the sturdy Ming Dynasty load-bearing pillars.

They instantly locked together perfectly!

Lin Mo released his hands, took a half step back, and casually threw the heavy wooden mallet onto the ground covered with wood shavings.

With a "click".

But this faint sound could not mask the deathly silence in the courtyard at that moment.

The moment Wang Cunzhen heard the "click," he instinctively covered his head.

He crouched down like a startled quail in the waist-high weeds.

He closed his eyes tightly, his muscles tense, waiting for the expected loud crash of the beam breaking and collapsing.

They awaited the devastating thud of the hundreds of kilograms of wood crashing to the ground.

A second passed, the wind continued, and a few withered leaves swirled and landed on his shampoo-white jacket.

Two seconds passed.

The raw lacquer in that rusty iron pot was still bubbling away.

It emitted a pungent smell.

Three seconds, four seconds... the expected collapse did not occur.

The world was eerily quiet.

The clear chirping of Grandpa Li's thrush could even be heard from outside the door.

Wang Cunzhu hesitated for a moment before releasing his hands from his head.

He raised his head tremblingly and peered cautiously through the gaps in the tangled weeds.

The rising sun pierced through the morning mist.

It struck the old red pine crossbeam at an angle, leaving it hanging silently in mid-air.

One end is firmly attached to the load-bearing column, while the other end extends out in mid-air, creating a terrifying span of nearly seven meters.

As stable as Mount Tai.

It didn't even sink in the slightest arc, let alone break or collapse!

Its posture was aloof and composed, as if it had always been there.

"This...this..."

Wang Cunzhen was stunned.

His face, once etched with academic authority, now held only endless bewilderment and shock.

He suddenly scrambled up from the bushes.

He didn't even bother to brush off the mud and grass seeds covering his knees; like a madman, he stumbled and staggered toward the load-bearing pillar.

Thick-rimmed black glasses swayed violently on the bridge of his nose.

He was practically glued to the mortise and tenon joint that had just been connected.

His eyes were wide open like copper bells, and his eyeballs looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets.

"There are no nails... not a single steel nail..."

He muttered to himself as if possessed, his breathing rapid like that of someone about to drown.

He reached out his trembling hands to touch the seam; the place where the wood grain intersected was unbelievably smooth.

It was as if the two pieces of wood were originally one piece, and someone had drawn a very thin line on the surface.

Wang Cuncun doesn't believe in superstitions.

He frantically rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a stiff cardboard bookmark used for recording formulas.

He held the thin bookmark and tried to slip it along the seam.

Look inside to see if there are any hidden tenons or strong structural adhesives used in modern industry.

It can't be inserted.

Even though he poked the edges of the paper until they were frayed.

The wooden joint was still so tight that it couldn't even accommodate the thickness of a sheet of paper!

"How could this be...? This isn't scientific...This doesn't conform to the formulas of modern physics at all..."

The veteran expert was completely thrown into chaos.

He stepped back two paces to observe the suspended beam from a different angle.

My gaze followed the direction of the wood grain, and I frantically reconstructed the stress model in my mind.

But no matter how he calculated it, according to common sense, that fragile tenon should have shattered instantly under the heavy pressure.

But what he saw before him was an absolute balance of power and beauty.

"The downward force of gravity is being held in place by the horizontal, hidden teeth..."

Wang Cuncun muttered to himself, his fingers unconsciously gesturing for his name in mid-air.

"The lateral shear force... was neutralized by the internal dovetail groove..."

He suddenly gasped, his voice trembling uncontrollably.

"This...this is actually a complex locking structure."

"The forces from all four directions... have been perfectly neutralized!"

As long as the slightest external force is applied to the beam, the internal mechanism will tighten even more.

This is not just simple carpentry; it is a flawless microscopic physical universe constructed from wood!

Wang Cuncun felt a chill run down his spine.

The academic worldview of architectural mechanics, built up over decades, collapsed at this moment.

It shattered into pieces of glass all over the ground.

A memory suddenly flashed through his mind of the First National Archives many years ago.

I was fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of a rare, tattered ancient book.

There were only a few incomplete wireframes on it, and even the text descriptions had been blurred by the passage of time.

His mentor once pointed to those few pages of tattered paper and sighed regretfully.

Wang Cunzhu suddenly turned his head and stared intently at Lin Mo, who was standing not far away, calmly brushing the sawdust off his body.

That tall, slender, and upright young figure seemed to be shrouded in a halo that made people want to worship him.

"This is……"

Wang Cun's lips trembled violently, and his throat emitted hoarse, bellows-like gasps.

Overwhelmed with excitement and shock, his voice instantly became shrill, even cracking.

"Could this be... the 'Hidden Cross' mortise and tenon joint, lost for a thousand years in the Tang Dynasty?!"

He rushed to Lin Mo, so excited that he waved his hands wildly in the air.

"A skill that exists only in historical records, a technique that even the old craftsmen of the Forbidden City couldn't recreate!"

"How do you know that? Where did you learn it?"

Wang Cun's eyes were red-rimmed, a kind of extreme fervor that belongs to scholars.

He stared intently at Lin Mo's calm and composed face, as if trying to see through his soul.

"Who are you?!"

Although the old men outside the alley couldn't understand what Tang Dynasty special skills were, they looked at the old expert who had just been bossy and threatened to call the police.

He's so excited now, like a fanatical fan who's seen their idol, he's practically kneeling down before this young man.

Everyone looked at each other, and it was clear to them.

That young man's move just now probably revealed his true skill.

This completely stunned the bespectacled professor.

In the courtyard, the cold wind still blew, and the old expert's sharp, broken-voiced questioning and his almost murderous, fanatical gaze filled the air.

Lin Mo's expression remained unchanged.

He didn't even glance at the miraculous crossbeam.

It was as if what I had just finished was nothing more than casually assembling a cheap plastic building block.

He calmly bent down and picked up the enamel mug that was placed on the broken bricks.

The cheapest broken tea leaves were steeping in the mottled teacup. He lifted the lid, put it to his lips, and slowly took a sip of warm water.

His Adam's apple bobbed slightly.

As he swallowed the saliva, his lazy and relaxed aura spread once again.

Lin Mo patted the remaining wood shavings off his wrist.

His gaze was cool and indifferent as he looked at the old expert in front of him, who was so excited he was about to have a heart attack.

He replied casually.

"He's just a cook who repairs run-down houses. Sir, are you going to call the police?"