Chapter 67: What on Earth Is Wrong with You People from Provence?

"Ronan is going to build his own furniture?" Zoe cried out internally.

Though shocked, she kept a poker face and squatted down beside Ronan. She wanted to see what this guy was up to.

"All of them," Ronan gestured again to prove to the vendor that he hadn't heard wrong.

Level 2 [Carpentry] gave him some basic woodworking foundations, but he wasn't arrogant enough to think he could successfully build a bed or a wardrobe. At least he couldn't be sure before trying.

However, the items at the flea market were simply too cheap. The two cups Zoe bought cost only 9 francs, whereas the cups Zoe made herself sold for 109 francs each. Just in case these things were dirt cheap, Ronan would buy them and take them home to try.

The knowledge provided by the system told him that power tools are best bought brand new, but hand tools can completely be bought secondhand. Especially since a complete set of tools laid out here indicated that the previous owner was someone who understood woodworking and most likely maintained them well.

The vendor was still in a state of bewilderment. All day long he had only managed to sell two hammers and a carving chisel; other tools hardly even drew inquiries. As the day was coming to an end, someone suddenly walked up and told him, "I want all of them." Who could believe that?

Was this person messing with him?

"One thousand francs," he quoted casually, without even calculating.

Ronan said to Zoe beside him, "Let's go."

One thousand francs could buy an entire bed.

Zoe said with a sigh of relief, "Thank goodness. I thought you had gone mad from not being able to find suitable furniture, and actually wanted to build your own."

Hearing this, the vendor jerked his head up: "You actually want to buy them?"

Ronan stood up: "I did a second ago, but not anymore."

"Wait, wait!" The vendor hastily detained Ronan, who was about to leave. "How much do you want to pay for them?"

Having learned his lesson from the failed haggling with Simon, Ronan named a price: "Two hundred and fifty francs for the whole lot."

He had counted roughly; there were twenty or thirty tools on the ground. Just among saws, there were four types: a panel saw, a tenon saw, a dovetail saw, and a bow saw. He also spotted European hand planes of various sizes, which could handle woodworking scenarios for both soft and hardwoods.

"They're yours!"

...

"Did I still offer too high?" On the drive home, the more Ronan thought about it, the more aggrieved he felt, and regret crept over him again.

Half of half, and yet he agreed so readily? What on earth is wrong with you people from Provence...

Zoe asked back, speechless, "You still have the mood to complain about the price? What are you buying so many tools for?"

The trunk was already packed to capacity with the items the two of them had used for their stall in the morning. Even if Ronan and Zoe put their heads together, they couldn't possibly cram all the tools in. And Ronan's car only had two seats in the front...

At this moment, Zoe's feet, lap, hands, and the space right beside her face were completely occupied by woodworking tools. If a driver coming from the opposite direction had good eyesight, they might have seen a "hectochire" sitting in the passenger seat, with every single arm holding a dangerous weapon.

"I'm going to try making my own furniture," Ronan said, lacking a bit of conviction.

Zoe desperately wanted to turn her head to look at Ronan, but fearing she would knock into the surrounding tools, she forced herself to stare straight ahead. "Do you know how hard it is to make furniture? Woodworking is extremely complicated... You can count the people who know woodwork in Lourmarin village on two hands."

Ronan rubbed his nose and said with a guilty conscience, "But they're very cheap, aren't they... If it doesn't work out, I'll just resell them."

"You were just complaining that you might have overpaid..." Zoe leaned forward and turned her head to look at Ronan, while a rapid clattering of tools colliding with each other echoed inside the cabin.

Ronan didn't dare meet her gaze. "I really do know some woodworking. Truly."

Zoe shook her head wearily, closed her eyes, and said no more.

Ronan sneaked a glance at Zoe. "I know where the village carpenter is. If necessary, I'll go learn from him."

...

There was a vacant donkey shed at Ronan's house, which was currently used to store farm tools. He carried the newly purchased tools and his original tools all into this space. In the future, this would be his workshop.

The first priority was to sort the tools. Before a soldier goes into battle, he must first know what weapons he possesses.

About twenty minutes later, the tools on the ground were lined up neatly by category. From left to right, they were:

A straight ruler, tape measure, marking knife, try square, protractor, sliding bevel, double-marking gauge, and dovetail marker;

Panel saw, tenon saw, dovetail saw, and bow saw;

Rough planes, smoothing planes, block planes of various sizes, combination oil sharpening stones, and lubricating oil;

Mortise chisels and bevel edge chisels;

Spokeshaves, double-ended rasps, pliers, screwdrivers, wooden mallets, 4 G-clamps, 4 panel clamps, and a number of screws.

Ronan looked down at these tools and fell into a brief contemplation. He felt that the first woodworking test piece shouldn't be a bed or a cabinet; the furniture he needed most right now was a large table—a workbench.

The tools could be placed on the floor for the time being, but he couldn't work on the floor. Moreover, compared to a bed or a wardrobe, a table would be relatively simpler and more suitable for a "beginner" like him.

Now, however, a huge dilemma presented itself. He had no workbench to make a workbench... How was he supposed to build a workbench? This problem was no different from the chicken-and-egg paradox.

And to take a step back, even if he found a substitute for a workbench, where was he supposed to find the wood to build a table? He had never seen usable lumber in Lourmarin village.

"The very first step is to go ask the carpenter for advice..." Ronan drew this conclusion with a helpless sigh.

Since the days were getting longer and it grew dark later, Ronan wanted to get the answer before dinner. The merchant who sold windows knew woodwork; he had seen plenty of tools there when he went to buy windows.

...

As Ronan left his house, he saw Louis's old Citroën driving leisurely over from a distance, pulling up right in front of his gate. In Lourmarin, unless there was an extremely urgent matter, people didn't drive; they preferred to walk.

Did Louis have some urgent business with him?

To Ronan's utter astonishment, however, the person driving the car was Zoe.

"Where are you going?" Zoe rolled down the driver's side window.

"I'm going to find the carpenter," Ronan asked in return. "Why are you driving?"

Zoe put on an expression of helpless resignation that seemed to say, *I knew it would turn out this way*. "Get in."

Ronan obediently climbed into the passenger seat, only to find that Zoe wasn't taking him to the carpenter's house he was familiar with. Instead, she drove to her own backyard, where there was a building very similar to Ronan's donkey shed.

Zoe parked the car right in front of that building, and without giving Ronan a chance to speak, she swiftly turned off the engine, stepped out, and opened the door.

Ronan followed her inside, feeling bewildered, and was instantly dumbfounded.

This was an extremely professional woodworking shop! The walls were covered with all kinds of tools—even more than what the window merchant had!

Ronan turned around in a panic and saw Zoe biting on the hair tie around her wrist. With a swift sweep of both hands behind her head, her blonde hair was gathered neatly into a ponytail, just like magic.

"Ask away. I'm one of the ten people in Lourmarin who knows woodwork." Zoe closed the door behind her. She took off her brown leather jacket and tossed it casually onto a chair. "Let's see what you've got."