I'm an old carpenter. I spent ten years restoring the Zhao family's ancestral mansion. After Old Master Zhao passed away, the new head of the family accused me of taking up space in the rear courtyard's side room and falsely claimed that I had stolen old timber from the storeroom to sell for money. The day I was driven out of the Zhao household, I took nothing but a set of chisels with me. Three months later, the mortise-and-tenon joints in the ancestral mansion's main roof beam cracked, and not a single carpenter in the entire city dared to take the job. Those were Ming Dynasty mortise-and-tenon joints, and every ruined one meant one less piece of irreplaceable craftsmanship. After asking carpenter after carpenter for help, the Zhao family had no choice but to come looking for me. I returned to the Zhao residence with my set of chisels and stood in the main hall, saying, "Wood cannot speak, but it remembers who has touched it." I'll find the timber you falsely accused me of stealing.