According to Alexandra Daddario's own telling, this "Astronomical Clock" held a meaning that differed in some respects.
There's an old saying: "The value of a cultural relic comes from the story behind it." And this astronomical clock clearly captivated Jessica all the more because of the legend that shrouded it—it made the structure feel mysterious, almost poetic.
Speaking of mystery, Alexandra Daddario suddenly adopted a mysterious expression.
She turned slightly, casting a sidelong glance at Martin with her pale blue eyes and said:
"Did you know, legend has it that the operation of this astronomical clock was once seen as an omen for the fate of Czechoslovakia?"
"As long as the clock was in motion, all would be well. But the moment it stopped ticking, things would go awry."
"The last time this happened was in 2001, just before the New Year's Eve countdown. The clock suffered a minor malfunction and stopped swinging—just briefly."
"And in August 2002, Prague was struck by one of the most catastrophic floods in its history."
"Whoa!" Jessica gasped again, covering her mouth. The girl had an incredibly vivid imagination, though for some reason her acting never quite caught up to that passion.
Just then, the hour struck.
The windows on the clock tower opened automatically. Through the intricate mechanism of tiny gears, the twelve apostles began to parade by, accompanied by the pealing of bells. Like a lantern carousel, each figure appeared in turn, bowing to the gathered onlookers.
Martin and Jessica noticed that the tourists and even some locals around them began checking their own watches to sync the time.
...
After visiting the Astronomical Clock, Alexandra led Martin and Jessica to the famous Charles Bridge.
"There's a saying in Prague: if you haven't crossed the Charles Bridge, you haven't truly visited Prague," Alexandra explained. "Built in 1357, this Gothic stone bridge is one of the city's most iconic landmarks. Nearly a symbol of Prague itself. It's lined with 29 statues..."
As she spoke, Alexandra strolled leisurely with Martin and Jessica across the bridge. On one side was the old and new town, filled with architectural splendor from every era. On the other, rolling hills with Prague Castle perched above. Below them, the gentle ripples of the Vltava River glistened in the light. No matter which direction one looked, it was picturesque.
Suddenly, Alexandra stopped and pointed to a nearby statue. "Look, that statue of St. John is said to grant a wish to anyone who prays sincerely."
"Really? What do you have to do?" Jessica asked with interest.
"See those two metal reliefs beneath the statue?" Alexandra pointed. "You just have to touch them, make your wish with a sincere heart, and if the saint is moved, he might help you make it come true."
Martin looked down and noticed the two metal reliefs were already polished bright from being touched by countless hands.
Jessica had already stepped forward, placing both hands on the plaques and closing her eyes in silent prayer.
Martin turned to Alexandra. "Aren't you going to make a wish too?"
But Alexandra answered with another question, "Martin, do you really believe a saint can hear everyone's heart? That he truly grants their wishes?"
Martin chuckled. "Too many wishes, maybe he just can't help them all."
Alexandra looked a little disappointed. "So you think he's lost his power?"
Martin replied, "How would you know if you don't try? Even if there are many people, maybe the most special one will catch the saint's attention."
Alexandra's eyes lit up. "You think I'm the most special one?"
"At least one of them," Martin said, glancing pointedly toward Jessica, who was still solemnly whispering her wish.
Alexandra smiled. Once Jessica finished, she too stepped up and placed her hands gently on the plaques.
...
After leaving Charles Bridge, the three of them arrived at a residential district in Prague.
"Oh my God, even the houses here are so colorful—so beautiful!"
Jessica had lost count of how many times she'd said something like that today.
The homes came in reds, yellows, greens, blues... painted in bright hues that lifted one's mood just by looking at them.
As they strolled through the neighborhood, the sounds of Mozart floated through the air from somewhere unseen, as if they had stepped into a fairytale world.
Alexandra felt as if all the stress and worries of the past year were melting away with the music and the enchanting surroundings—her whole body felt relaxed.
She chatted now with Jessica, now with Martin, and whenever their eyes met, there was a playful spark.
Her laughter was alive, her heart was alive—even her boobs was alive and kicking.
To Martin, this scene was perfect.
...
As evening crept in, the three returned to the city center.
Martin brought the two girls to a famous roast duck restaurant.
They ordered Czech dumplings, Czech roast duck, and various traditional delicacies.
Martin tried a dumpling.
To call it a dumpling was misleading—it was more like bread. The dough resembled bread dough more than dumpling skin, and the final product was sliced into thin pieces after boiling. Served with butter sauce, tomato gravy, or Czech-style meat stews, it was a local staple.
The taste... was okay.
But the Czech roast duck? That was right up Martin's alley.
From a health perspective, this was definitely high-calorie cuisine. But in terms of flavor, it could easily rival Long island roast duck.
The key difference: Czech roast duck used older ducks with lean yet firm meat. The duck was marinated with local spices, brushed with honey, and slow-roasted over wood fire.
Martin speared a slice, paired it with the accompanying sides—crispy potatoes—and popped it into his mouth. One bite, and there was a satisfying crunch followed by a burst of rich duck flavor.
His eyes lit up.
Crispy on the outside, tender inside, not greasy in the slightest. With the potatoes? Perfect.
Nice!!!
...
After that delicious meal, Martin, Jessica, and Alexandra returned to their inn.
Night had fallen, and after an intense session with Martin, Jessica was sound asleep.
Ever since they arrived in Prague, Martin and Jessica had shared a room. The rest of the film crew simply looked the other way—at this point, their relationship was no secret. The tabloids had been all over it for a while now. The only thing missing was an official confirmation.
"Jessy, Jessy?"
Martin whispered softly, smiling as he slowly withdrew his hand from under Jessica's neck. He gently pulled the blanket over her, kissed her forehead, then quietly got out of bed, got dressed, and tiptoed toward the door.
Just as Martin closed the door behind him, Jessica opened her eyes and let out a light, grumbling huff.
"Hmph, I knew that scoundrel was sneaking out to rendezvous with that vixen."
Outside, Martin was smiling too. "I knew that little minx was faking sleep. She didn't try to stop me either—looks like she doesn't mind me having Alexandra after all."