The heavy, purposeful knock echoed from upstairs—the kind of knock that meant business. Henry's brow furrowed as he turned from the basement stairs. "We're not open yet. The sign's not even up."
"I'll get it." Alina was already climbing, her sensible boots clicking against the freshly polished tiles with each step.
Henry followed behind her, and by the time he reached the café floor, she stood at the door speaking with a cluster of rough-handed men who filled the entrance with their broad shoulders and the faint, honest smell of mortar and sweat. Korg and his masons—the same crew that had laid the foundation and raised the concrete walls while Henry had been off charming half of Liyue.
"Mr. Henry!" Korg's weathered face split into a grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "We were hoping to catch you before you got too busy. Wanted to see the finished work, make sure everything's to your satisfaction. The walls, the rooms—we take pride in our craft, and we want to know if there's anything that needs touching up before you open."
Henry blinked, momentarily thrown by the genuine pride in the man's voice.
[Perfect timing. I've deposited nine climate control units and four full kitchen exhaust systems in the basement storage area. Standard split-type ACs—cooling and heating, eighteen thousand BTU each. Plus a commercial-grade exhaust hood with full ducting. You're welcome. :)]
Henry's smile returned, wider than before. "Actually, Korg, you came at the perfect moment. I need your help with the final installations."
Korg's eyebrows shot up toward his receding hairline. "Installations? We're masons, not—"
"You'll be following my instructions." Henry turned and strode toward the basement stairs, already mentally cataloging the tools he'd need. "I'll show you exactly how it's done, step by step. Consider it a new skill for your repertoire. Alina, can you bring down some water for the men? This might take a couple hours."
Alina nodded, curiosity flickering in her amber eyes. She'd learned by now that when Henry said "installation," something impossible was about to happen—usually something that would make her question everything she thought she knew about the world. She disappeared into the kitchen area, and Henry led the masons down into the basement where the lights were already blazing.
Ten minutes later, the masons crowded around the storage area where nine large boxes sat in neat rows—sleek, white, bearing logos that meant nothing in Teyvat. None of the men had ever seen plastic that smooth, that uniformly white, that clearly manufactured rather than carved. Henry popped the first box open with a pry bar, revealing the indoor unit: smooth plastic vents, slats that moved when he pressed them, a faint embossed logo that read "Media" ..
"What… are these?" one of the younger builders asked, his voice hushed with the same reverence he'd probably use in a cathedral.
"Air conditioner," Henry said, lifting the unit carefully. "It cools the air in summer, heats it in winter, dehumidifies during the rainy season. That's the indoor part. The outdoor condenser goes against the back wall."
"Heats and cools?" Korg's brow furrowed, the wrinkles deepening like canyons. "That's…"
"Impossible?" Henry grinned, the expression familiar and infuriating to anyone who'd spent more than five minutes with him. "Welcome to my world. Now grab those wall brackets—I'll show you how to mount the first one, and then you'll handle the rest while I supervise. I have faith in you."
He worked quickly, moving with the confidence of someone who'd done this before—grabbing a sturdy wooden ladder that had been left against the wall during the construction, he climbed up and began marking the wall with chalk, drilling pilot holes with a hand drill Orianna had given him, then securing the mounting plate with heavy screws that bit into the brick like they'd been made for it. The masons watched, fascinated, as he explained the split system piece by piece from his perch: the outdoor condenser units that would go against the back wall outside, tucked away from view but accessible for maintenance; the refrigerant lines that would run through small holes drilled in the wall, connecting indoor to outdoor in a continuous loop; each indoor unit clipping onto its bracket with a satisfying click.
Henry climbed down and produced a small level tool, holding it up for the men to see. "This is your most important step," he said, adjusting the unit until the level sat perfectly centered. "If it's not level, the condensation won't drain properly. And then you'll have water dripping on your customers' heads, which is bad for business and bad for your reputation."
"And this drains outside?" Korg asked, peering at the small tube that extended from the unit's base.
"Through a small hole in the wall," Henry confirmed. "The water comes from humidity in the air. As the unit cools, moisture condenses on the coils and drips down. You need somewhere for that water to go, or you end up with a puddle on the floor. And then someone slips and hits his head, I might get arrested by the knights."
The builders chuckled, the tension easing from their shoulders. This was work they understood—drilling, mounting, leveling, sealing. The impossible device was merely the centerpiece; the installation itself was as familiar as an old song, and that familiarity put them at ease.
Korg scratched his head as Henry finished connecting the wiring to the basement's breaker panel. "And this… cools the air?"
"Feel it." Henry flipped the breaker switch and pressed a button on the small remote control in his hand. A soft click echoed through the basement, followed by the hum of the compressor outside, and then cold air began flowing from the unit's vents—a steady stream of refrigerated air that raised goosebumps on the nearest mason's arms.
The masons leaned in, eyes widening as the chill hit their faces. One of the younger men stuck his hand directly in front of the vent, then pulled it back with a yelp of surprise.
"It's like standing on Dragonspine," he murmured, shaking his hand as if he'd been burned by frost, "but comfortable. Without the dying part and the extreme chill."
"It's Better, isn't it" Henry said, grinning. "No freezing to death, no hilichurls throwing ice at your head. Just comfortable, regulated air. And it only gets better from here."
An hour later, they'd moved to the café floor—two large units flanking the dining space, one near the front windows where the afternoon sun would pour in, one above the kitchen entrance where the heat from cooking would otherwise overwhelm the space. Henry directed the masons through each step, watching as they mounted the brackets with increasing confidence. They no longer hesitated with the drill; they no longer questioned the purpose of each screw. They simply worked, and that was precisely what he'd wanted.
Alina handed him and the workers present a cup of water and they took a long drink, grateful for the small kindness.
"You could have just let the builders handle it themselves," she said, her tone carrying that familiar edge of amused exasperation. "They've proven they can follow instructions."
"They don't know how," Henry said, setting the cup aside. "And I'm not risking them drilling through a power line and electrocuting themselves on my watch even if they had done the wiring installation themselves. " He paused, glancing toward the masons. "Besides, I like seeing their faces. Watch."
He gestured toward the men, who were dutifully copying his mounting technique on the second unit, their expressions a mixture of concentration and barely concealed wonder. They handled the white plastic units like they were holy relics, each movement careful and deliberate, as if one wrong touch might shatter the miracle in their hands.
"They look like children watching a magician," Alina observed, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
"That's exactly what this is." Henry grinned. "Magic by engineering. No Visions required, no elemental energy, no contracts with mysterious beings. Just physics and determination and a System that apparently has access to the Midea catalog."
Alina stepped closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. "Is there anything you can't build?"
"Give me time and materials, and I'll build you a city." He paused, considering his own words. "Actually, that's probably the endgame. Modern Mondstadt, with electricity—maybe I'll find a way without altering the stone structures, those are Mondstadt's iconic heritage. Merging and making a hybrid, perhaps."
Her eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing—though he caught the way her fingers tightened on her own cup, the way she looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. Or perhaps the hundredth time, but differently.
[And there it is. "I'll build you a city." Next you'll be adding blackjack tables and hookers to the business plan, and I'll have to remind you that this is supposed to be a café.]
Henry nearly choked on his water, sputtering as liquid went down the wrong pipe. Alina raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting from wonder to suspicion in the space of a heartbeat.
"You okay?"
"cough... cough..," he managed, clearing his throat. "I'm fine. water just went into the wrong pipe."
Half an hour later, they'd moved to the kitchen—the most challenging installation of the day. Four stoves lined the cooking area, each requiring its own exhaust hood, and Henry surveyed them with a critical eye before deciding where to begin. The layout was straightforward enough: four stations, four hoods, four ducts all converging toward the large window overlooking the side alley.
The exhaust system was simpler than he'd anticipated, a fact for which he was profoundly grateful. The kitchen's large window provided the perfect exit point—a ninety-degree bend duct from each hood would run along the ceiling, converging into a single main line that exited directly outside without requiring them to cut through the roof or run lines through living spaces. A powerful fan mounted at the window would draw all the exhaust out, efficient and effective.
Henry pointed to the first stove. "We're mounting the first hood above this one. Duct goes straight up from the hood, ninety-degree elbow here, then runs along the ceiling to the main line. Each of the other three will feed into the same trunk." He traced the path with his finger, mapping the route for the masons to follow. "We cap the exterior with a weatherproof vent. Simple, clean, effective."
Korg inspected the window frame, running his calloused fingers along the brickwork. "So we're not cutting the ceiling?"
"Not this time. Just holes through the wall—same diameter as the main duct. Six inches. Brick and mortar, so your crew can handle it easily." Henry paused. "I'll tell you what—you handle the masonry, I'll handle the wiring and the sealing."
Korg nodded, relief evident in his posture. "That's more our speed. My men can cut a hole in anything now."
---
We're only at 38 Power Stones this week🥺
You're already receiving the equivalent of 3 standard WebNovel chapters every week, and I'm still releasing every chapter even though the Power Stone goal hasn't been met. The least I ask is that you save your daily Power Stones for my upload days and support the story.
📖 Advanced Chapters on Patreon- we are ahead by 13 chapters (6 weeks ahead of public release)
https://patreon.com/A_Peverel