The night was serene and tranquil, a hemispherical starry sky suspended over the earth, stars twinkling like a cradle inset with gemstones.
Blue Lion City lay sprawled on the plains, most of it darkened, like a sleeping child lying still. Occasionally, a flicker of light would appear, not from the startled eyes of a child awakened from sleep, but from the Palace of Blue Lion City.
A massive bath barrel was placed in the center of the bath, with Richard lying inside with his eyes closed.
The bathwater filled most of the barrel, maintaining a temperature of about 45°C. This level, slightly above normal body temperature, allowed Richard's skin pores to expand gently, letting his whole body relax bit by bit, yet not too hot during the summer heat.
A few maidservants stood several meters away, waiting for orders.
Further away, in the corner of the bath, a maid was heating smooth cobblestones over a fire. Once they were red-hot, she used tongs to place them into a nearby bucket full of water.
"Sizzle," accompanied by the hot cobblestone, the water in the bucket roiled violently, releasing large amounts of steam that dispersed into the air and then condensed into tiny droplets as it cooled, turning into a white mist and releasing heat.
The mist hovered, keeping the entire room at bath temperature, and the maidservants began to perspire but dared not move or speak, afraid of disturbing the Prince.
Suddenly, Richard opened his eyes in the bath barrel.
A maid cautiously asked, "Prince?"
"Hmm," Richard responded.
"Yes," the maid nodded, a flash of light in her big eyes as she quickly walked over to Richard.
Reaching the bath barrel, she bent down to take a porcelain jar from a bamboo basket, pouring a bath oil made of herbs and rose petals onto her hands and rubbing it evenly.
Standing up, she gently placed her hands on Richard's body, carefully applying the bath oil and massaging, helping to relieve Richard's fatigue.
Richard closed his eyes again.
After several minutes passed, feeling his muscles relax a lot, Richard waved his hand gently.
The massaging maid understood and whispered, "Yes," then retreated backward.
With a "splash," Richard stood up, stepping out of the bath barrel onto a non-slip wooden board on one side, silver water droplets rapidly rolling off his body and wetting the floor.
Three maids quickly approached, one carrying a bucket, pouring water over Richard's body from behind.
This time, the water was a cooler 30°C, not too cold for Richard, but causing his expanded pores to contract slightly, tightening the relaxed muscles and skin, invigorating his spirit.
Another maid used a large dry cloth to quickly wipe Richard's body. Once he was dry, the last maid stepped forward to assist Richard in dressing in fresh clothes and boots.
Once everything was complete, Richard stepped out of the bath.
The remaining maidservants swiftly cleaned up and then left in sequence.
The night deepened, and the Palace lights gradually dimmed, except for a few persistent ones.
In the northwest corner of the Palace, there was a row of low houses that clashed with the Palace's overall architectural style, where the craftsmen and male servants lived.
At this moment, in one house, an oil lamp flickered as Hans, the craftsman instructed by Richard, squinted at the design scroll spread on the table, his nose almost touching the scroll.
After a long time, Old Hans furrowed his brows, staring at a part of the design and repeatedly saying, "What's going on in this area? Why can't I understand it? This is terrible, I didn't ask Lord Richard about it back then, and if we can't make it, then..."
With a worried expression on his face, Old Mark turned and left the house, heading to the shed outside. Inside the shed stood a wooden rack assembled by him in a day, a crude model of the Turning Tower.
Reaching out to a part of the model, Old Hans muttered to himself, "Still can't figure it out, what's this part supposed to do? Placing it here, how on earth can it not interfere with rotation..."
For a long time, Old Hans couldn't make sense of it, feeling somewhat despondent as he walked back into the house, looking at the design scroll with a hint of despair. Suddenly, his eyes sparkled as he discovered a faint, nearly imperceptible note at the part he didn't understand.
"...Wing panel...axle...gear..." Old Mark read out loud, his eyes gradually lighting up, instantly solving the puzzle.
But then Old Hans furrowed his brows again, perplexing himself, "I recall, this part didn't have markings before. How did they suddenly appear? Or have they always been there, and I just didn't see them? Strange, strange, and nobody came in. No one dared to touch Lord Richard's things either, this..."
Old Hans looked around the room, quiet and empty, then peered at the doors and windows, which stood motionless.
"All right, no matter what, I understood it, so I should get to work quickly," Old Hans muttered, exiting the house to head into the shed, working through the night. After all, the one-week deadline set by Richard was still tight for him.