Genshin Impact: Watch me turn the tables and kill my servants at the start!

Just as Fanes was enjoying a relaxing soak in the hot water, there was a soft knock on the door, followed by the voice of the same dream-eating waiter from behind the door: "Guest, your fruit and pastries are ready. Would you mind bringing them in now?"

Fanes sat up a little straighter in the water and put his arm around the edge of the pool: "Come in."

The door was pushed open a crack from the outside, and first came the light gray round ear, then the hand holding the tray, and finally the whole body squeezed through the crack in the door.

She placed the tray on a dry stone platform by the pool, on which were a plate of sliced ​​seasonal fruit, two strings of glistening dumplings, and a small pot of warm tea.

After placing it down, she straightened up and bowed slightly to Fanes: "Enjoy your bath. Ring the bell if you need anything."

Just as she was about to turn and leave, Fanes suddenly called out to her, "Wait, do you offer a bathhouse scrub service here?"

The waitress turned around, her two round ears perking up briefly before returning to their original positions. She nodded, "Yes, yes. If needed, I can go and call a bath attendant. Please wait a moment."

Fanes leaned against the pool wall and waved his hand: "No need to call the master, you can do it yourself. Anyway, I'm alone now, a quick rub will be enough. How long have you been working today?"

The waiter paused slightly at the door, as if counting how many hours he had worked that day.

"Um... today is my first day at work. We had training on the procedures this morning, and I officially started working this afternoon. But I've memorized the steps for scrubbing a body, so it should be fine."

Fanes leaned back against the edge of the pool, thinking that it was just a back scrub anyway, and the difference between the first day and the hundredth day of work wouldn't be that big: "Okay, go ahead. I'll eat something after you're done."

The waitress moved the tray aside, went to the corner to get a bath towel and a small bowl of prepared scrub. She walked to the edge of the pool, squatted down, soaked the bath towel in warm water, wrung it out, squeezed some scrub onto it, and then reached out towards Fanes' back.

Fanes turned his back to her, relaxing his shoulders and waiting to be rubbed. The next second, it felt like an electric current pierced through his entire body from his back to the top of his head.

The pressure wasn't like a body scrub; it was more like someone was using coarse sandpaper to polish a rusty iron plate. Fanes jerked forward, almost leaping out of the tub, and glared at the attendant: "Is this a body scrub or a paint scraper?! Be gentle, be gentle!"

The waiter's hand froze in mid-air for a moment, his round ears drooping slightly: "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It was my first time, I didn't control my strength well..."

Fanes took a deep breath and turned back: "Then try again. Use your palms to rub, not your knuckles, and don't press down hard. Just gently push along the direction of the muscle fibers."

The waitress nodded, her expression as serious as if she were reciting classroom notes: "Place your palm on the ground, follow the texture, and gently push..." She then stretched out her hand.

This time it was a little better. But it was only "a little better." She still didn't stop rubbing, and when she reached the edge of his shoulder blade, Fanes hissed again, his entire back stiffening.

After enduring it three times, Fanes finally couldn't take it anymore. He turned his head and squeezed out a few words through gritted teeth: "Stop scrubbing! Stop scrubbing! If you keep scrubbing, my skin will be gone! Are you giving me a bath or butchering a pig?!"

The waiter withdrew his hand and took two steps back, clutching the bath towel in his hand. His two round ears drooped completely, and his voice was so weak it was like a mosquito's hum: "I'm so sorry... Today really is my first day at work... I've only practiced on the mannequins in the store before..."

Fanes, rubbing his reddened shoulder, looked at her expression, which suggested she was about to cry. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, saying, "Go, go, go! Get out of here. You can go out; I can make it myself. Go do something else."

The waiter, as if granted a pardon, took three steps back to the door, then turned back and bowed deeply to him: "I'm so sorry! The dumplings are on me today!"

Then she slipped out, the door closing softly behind her. Her footsteps were hurried and light, fading into the distance along the corridor until they were no longer audible.

Fanes leaned back against the pool wall and rubbed his shoulder. The area where he had been rubbed was still slightly hot, but thankfully the skin wasn't broken.

Reaching out my arm, I got a skewer of rice balls on the stone platform, took one and popped it into my mouth. The glutinous rice ball bounced on my tongue, with a slightly sweet taste and a refreshing minty sensation.

After chewing a couple of times, Fanes put the "bath scrubbing disaster" behind him, reached for a second one, and began to focus on the plate of small pieces of melon and peach.

Soaking in hot water and eating chilled fruit, everything was perfect except for a slight backache.

Fanes finished the last dumpling, put down the bamboo skewer, picked up his warm teacup, and took a sip. The warmth spread from his stomach, enveloping him in comfort along with the steam from the hot spring.

Leaning against the pool wall, I looked up at the deepening twilight through the small window in the ceiling. My eyelids slowly drooped, then opened again, then drooped again, and finally closed completely.

The sound of water became muffled in my ears, like the sound of tides heard through several layers of cotton cloth.

Fanes struggled on the edge of being half asleep and half awake, thinking that since it was a private room and he had locked the door, no one else should come in.

But a lingering thought remained – what if a waiter went to the wrong door? What if someone had a spare key?

Fañez stood up from the water in a daze, walked to the door, hung an empty wooden bucket he had found in the changing area on the doorknob, filled it halfway with water, and tied it to the top of the door frame with a thin rope—if someone pushed the door from the outside, the bucket would tip over and the water inside would splash on the person.

After finishing the installation, he returned to the poolside and saw a pink lounge chair in the corner.

The recliner was made of wood, with a soft pink paint finish. The seat was slightly tilted, and the backrest was angled just right for a person to lie on their back.

Fanes dragged it to the edge of the hot spring pool and placed it there—the legs fit perfectly into the grooves on the edge of the pool, and most of the seat was suspended above the water, so that one could lie down and still have their feet submerged in the water.

Fanes lay down on the recliner and tried it out. He felt good, although the chair was obviously too big for him. Even when he stretched his legs out to the farthest point, they could only reach half of the seat, leaving the rest of the space empty.

But Fanes didn't care. He rolled over, curled up on his side, and rested his chin on the edge of the chair.

Suddenly, I caught a faint, sweet scent, like the warm aroma of some kind of herb mixed with honey, slowly seeping out from the cracks in the wood of the chair and swirling among the surrounding moisture.

Aromatherapy?

Fanes sniffed and thought the scent was indeed quite nice, much more pleasant than the cheap incense sticks he had bought in Liyue before.

He rubbed his head against the chair again, curling up into a ball like a cat that had found a perfect spot. The steam carrying that warm fragrance kept brushing against his face, and through his half-closed eyelids, he could see the halo of light from the crystal lamp on the ceiling swaying gently into a soft, warm color.

Finally, he realized that the recliner was indeed a bit too big for Fanes, but big has its advantages; he could roll around and turn over on it without falling off. Then his thoughts completely drifted away, and he melted into the soft drowsiness woven from the steam and warm fragrance, his breathing gradually becoming even and long.