Chapter 17: The Woodworker’s Bet

The live stream viewers thought Xu Hao would soon appear on camera to interact with them—but it turned out they were just wishful thinking.

After a quick tidy-up, Xu Hao didn’t join the live stream; instead, he grabbed a saw and walked over to a Dry Willow, roughly the width of a bowl and preselected the previous night, and began stripping its bark.

“Is he really starting now?”

“Maybe! Look at that leveled patch of soil dug right down to the loess layer—it must be the foundation for a log cabin! With the base prepared, building a small house isn’t out of the question.”

“Not bad! This kid actually keeps his word without making excuses to delay,”

“Exactly!”

“Let’s see what he does next.”

“What else could he do? He’d obviously start with the main beam.”

Many viewers were initially discontent, but once Xu Hao began his work, their complaints quickly faded as most eyes shifted to the pile of wood.

Although Xu Hao wasn’t broadcasting his work directly, every move was captured clearly by the camera.

Five minutes. Ten minutes. Half an hour. Yet as time passed, the live chat began buzzing with renewed discussion.

No particular reason.

Simply because Xu Hao’s technique with the wood was incredibly skillful.

One moment he was using a wooden tool to mark lines, the next he was sawing boards; then he smoothed them with a plane and finished with a hand chisel, soon leaving a pile of wood shavings on the ground.

No matter how you looked at it, he seemed like an extremely seasoned DIY enthusiast.

“This guy is pretty impressive!”

“He’s not just drilling holes and drawing lines on the wood—he’s even carving out some odd designs.”

“He sure knows his way around this craft. But didn’t everyone say he’s just some second-tier director?”

“So what if he’s a director? He hasn’t produced anything yet—probably spends all his time fiddling with this stuff.”

“Exactly!”

“Hey, are Gongdi Ren and Matt Loyal Fan still around?”

A mischievous viewer tagged them in the chat.

If it hadn’t been for Xu Hao’s bet with the two, they wouldn’t have been drawn into his live stream.

“Here!”

Surprisingly, right after being tagged, both responded together.

“Are you guys freaking out? Have you started prepping for space projectiles yet?”

Seeing both of them appear instantly lifted the mood in the chat.

“Freaking out? I wouldn’t know what that means! Sure, his tricks look flashy, but actually, building a log cabin without nails or wood glue—connecting all its parts—is the real challenge!”

Gongdi Ren immediately shot off a lengthy comment, complete with a few disdainful emojis.

“That’s about right!”

Many viewers were taken aback.

Gongdi Ren had a point: leveling wooden planks and smoothing the main beam were tasks any amateur DIYer could handle, but assembling them without nails or wood glue was a major challenge.

“Alright, enough chatter! Just keep watching and you’ll see!”

Unbeknownst to the thousands of amused viewers, a surprised shout came from within an old ’70s or ’80s building in the second ring of Yan City. At its main entrance, a wooden sign boldly proclaimed the Long Kingdom Ancient Architecture Cultural Institute.

“What’s wrong, Old Li?”

On the second floor, an old man in his seventies, wearing stone-effect glasses, immediately edged closer at the sound.

“Look!”

By the window, a gray-haired old man hurriedly handed over his mobile phone.

“What is it?”

The bespectacled old man, slightly taken aback, accepted the phone.

Across from him sat Li Jue, the director of the Long Kingdom Ancient Architecture Cultural Institute—a fully established department-level unit under the Long Kingdom Cultural Relics Bureau.

Li Jue was usually dedicated to his work and rarely did anything else during office hours, so why was he suddenly checking his phone today?

Yet the moment the bespectacled man glanced at the screen, he was instantly stunned.

“Wha—who is he?”

“Aren’t you surprised?”

Li Jue took a deep breath and slowly leaned back in his chair.

Across from him, the older man named Liu Shan, the institute’s deputy director and his longtime partner, listened intently.

“Surprised? Absolutely stunned. I never imagined the Long Kingdom could produce such young talent!”

After a long pause, Liu Shan slowly spoke, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“I saw a video suggesting someone was trying to build a log cabin without nails or wood glue, and it caught my interest. To my surprise, this young man has mastered the long-lost mortise-and-tenon technique—it’s simply incredible.”

Li Jue stroked his chin.

There’s a missing chapter in Long Kingdom’s cultural history—especially when it comes to ancient construction techniques which seem to have mysteriously vanished.

Although the Long Kingdom Library holds many books on ancient construction, the texts barely scratch the surface, failing to recreate the true building methods of the past.

Later, the Ancient Architecture Institute managed to develop various mortise-and-tenon structures, but a new problem soon emerged.

When ancient buildings are relocated during development to protect relics, each component is numbered in sequence.

They assumed this would allow the original structure to be perfectly rebuilt, but despite having the numbers, nothing would fit together.

In the end, they reluctantly had to resort to nails and wood glue.

What exactly qualifies as a relic?

Only something preserved untouched from ancient times qualifies—a thing that, once affixed with nails and wood glue, becomes something entirely different. Over time, the Ancient Architecture Institute has become wary of tampering with them.

Consequently, many large development projects have ground to a halt, causing significant economic losses.

“Where did he even learn this?”

Liu Shan couldn’t help but ask again.

The truth is, ancient construction restoration techniques in the Long Kingdom are still being explored. The top architectural universities in the Long Kingdom don’t offer this major—not out of unwillingness, but because there simply aren’t any instructors.

Moreover, with the younger generation in the Long Kingdom losing interest in ancient structures, there’s a growing shortage of restoration experts.

Nowadays, even the youngest restoration expert at the Ancient Architecture Institute is over forty.

From the video, it’s clear that if this kid dares to claim he can build a log cabin without nails or wood glue, he must have the skill to join ancient components using mortise-and-tenon joints. On that basis alone, his ability surpasses that of most researchers at the Institute.

“Not sure. I just looked him up; he’s a film school graduate with no notable background.”

Li Jue shook his head slightly.

That’s what baffles him—a young director with a grasp on ancient construction techniques? “So what now? Xu Hao is undeniably talented. If he can build a log cabin, perhaps he can also piece together ancient architectural components. Once he succeeds…”

Liu Shan frowned.

“Him? Old Liu, do we still have any spots left in this year’s special talent recruitment program?”

Li Jue tapped his desk thoughtfully before finally looking at Liu Shan.