Lantern light pooled across the polished floor of the Jade Chamber. The banquet had long been cleared; only the gentle clink of teacups and the soft murmur of minds at work filled the space. Ningguang's gaze was a blade wrapped in silk—smooth, precise, and surely capable of cutting through the most flattering lies.
Takumi sat across from her, flanked by Keqing, Ganyu, and Uncle Tian. The weight in the air was not merely ceremonial; it was the kind of attention that decided futures.
Ningguang folded her fan, eyes cooling. "Mr. Takumi, Keqing has briefed me. The Emperor's decision is extraordinary. For my part, I must understand your plan in detail. You have one opportunity to make this clear."
Takumi felt his throat tighten. If he'd been nervous earlier, now he felt like a novice acrobat balancing on a Mora coin.
"Understood," he said. He inhaled. "I have a framework—phase-based. First: build micro-workshops across peripheral towns to produce tools and train workers. Second: construct agricultural mechanization units to improve yield and reduce labor dependence. Third: establish food-processing centers to create stable supplies and preserve produce, reducing waste. Fourth: cultural hubs and entertainment industry trials to increase leisure economy and provide jobs—artisans, performers, schools. Over time, these nodes will connect into a planned new city at Guili Plains, easing Harbor congestion."
Ningguang's fingers tapped the table in a quiet rhythm. "Ambitious. Practical. Dangerous." She let the last word hang like an offered coin. "Who will govern this new city? Will it be autonomous, or under the Qixing's jurisdiction?"
Takumi blinked. "It won't be a personal fief. The city will operate under Liyue's laws and oversight—ultimately under the people and their representatives, with Qixing supervision. I'll be an organizer, not a ruler."
Keqing studied him. "That's reasonable. But the Qixing will need guarantees—legal structures, tax frameworks, dispute mechanisms. How do you plan to reconcile modern administrative requirements with Liyue's existing systems?"
Takumi swallowed, then answered honestly. "We'll adapt Liyue's contract culture—its strength—into municipal governance. Contracts, transparency, and revenue sharing. It will be gradual; pilot programs first. We'll train magistrates and administrators using the same workshops that produce goods."
Ganyu, gentle as always, asked, "And the people? How do you plan to gain their trust?"
"By delivering utility," Takumi said. "If a farmer can dry grain faster, if a family can get more stable income, they'll listen. No grandiose proclamations—small, visible improvements."
Ningguang's lips curved. She seemed pleased—cautious, but pleased. She steepled her fingers. "And the cost?"
Takumi's stomach dropped. This was the point the system had warned him about. He had a private HUD showing raw numbers, a careful calculation of materials, labor, and expected multipliers. But Ningguang did not need to see his HUD.
He forced a steady voice. "Initial micro-workshop phase: roughly 50,000 Mora for three workshops, tooling, and training. Early agricultural mechanization prototypes—another 30,000 Mora. Seed funding for food processing and cultural trials—about 20,000 Mora. So, an initial tranche of eighty thousand Mora for a tested pilot over six months."
Ningguang considered the number with the look of a woman who handled far larger sums every day but enjoyed the satisfaction of a good business problem.
"You propose 80,000 Mora as seed capital," she repeated. "Do you foresee self-sufficiency within a year?"
"With conservative projections and local cooperation, we might reach break-even in nine to twelve months for initial projects," Takumi said. "But full returns and expansion will depend on scaling and merchant participation."
Uncle Tian grunted. "Sounds like someone's read Continental business textbooks."
Keqing's voice was dry. "Or plays too many strategy games."
Takumi managed a sheepish grin. "Both, maybe."
Silence. Then Ningguang set her fan down and locked eyes with him. "You speak like a merchant and a planner. That is, oddly, promising. However, one last item—this: why did Zhongli trust you?"
Takumi looked up, and the room went still in that poised way rooms do when something delicate is about to snap.
He had been careless earlier. He had spoken of Zhongli without secrecy. Now the weight of those words settled like ash.
Before he could craft a diplomatic response, a voice like the rumble of distant bells echoed through the chamber.
"No need to summon me. I am already here."
Heads turned. Through the ornate doorway stepped the figure few had expected to see revealed: Zhongli, composed as if he had only been out for a stroll in his funeral parlor.
For a breath, disbelief broke into scattered murmurs.
"Emperor?" Ganyu whispered, eyes wide.
Ningguang rose slowly, fan halfway to her face. Her composed mask didn't slip, but the calculation in her eyes accelerated.
Zhongli moved as one who takes centuries to arrange a sentence. He bore the gentlest smile; that smile, however, carried the weight of contracts, the taste of ancient stones, and a thousand small decisions made over time.
Takumi felt heat rise along his neck. Great. He's here. And he looks better than in my mental wallpapers.
Zhongli's gaze landed on Takumi—basic curiosity threaded with the satisfaction of a plan unfolding.
"So," Zhongli said, in that soft, steady tone, "how fares a foreigner's blueprint?"
Ningguang's eyes flicked between them. "The Emperor has been among us in silence."
Zhongli inclined his head. "I have." He looked at Takumi, then back to the Qixing. "I expected skepticism. I also expected deliberation. Mr. Takumi has expressed his plans. I trust his perspective. That is why I invited him to stay."
Ningguang folded her fan. "Emperor, you made this decision rashly."
Zhongli let out a sound like a small, genuinely amused chuckle. "Perhaps," he admitted. "But I have watched Liyue grow in countless winters. Sometimes, one must place a stone and step back to see where the bridge will form."
Keqing leaned forward. "So you intend to give Mr. Takumi carte blanche?"
"Not carte blanche," Zhongli corrected gently. "A partnership. The Qixing's cooperation will be formalized. I have suggested, but I shall not dictate process. I wish to see how human initiative shapes these plans."
Ganyu's voice barely trembled. "The adepti will supervise, per your request."
Zhongli's gaze softened. "Yes. Aid when necessary. Observe always."
Ningguang let out a breath that might have been agreement or strategy. "Very well. We will evaluate. Mr. Takumi: you will present tangible blueprints and a staged budget for the Qixing to review. If the data satisfies us, we shall provide initial backing. The rest is contingent upon results."
Takumi felt as if the floor had shifted. "That's fair. I can produce prototype plans and a phased timetable. I'll also present cost mitigation methods and alternatives in lower-cost towns."
Ningguang raised a single brow. "And the adepti?"
Zhongli's smile was patient. "We shall watch. I trust in human resolve. I suspect you will as well."
The room hummed with this new, fragile accord. Takumi felt equal measures of relief and the sweet burn of commitment.
[SYSTEM — PRIVATE] (only visible to Takumi)
Blueprint Module: Deep Explanation
Core Function: Parse sample objects → generate step-by-step elemental-construction templates and human-readable manufacturing plans.
Output: Prototype constructs, CAD-style schematic overlays, training curricula, localized resource lists.
Constraint: Requires raw materials, skilled labor, and Qixing endorsement for large-scale land allocation.
Special Feature: "Local Multiplier Estimator" — calculates cost inflation by proximity to harbor. (Harbor ×1.2; peripheral towns ×0.7)
Recommendation: Begin in peripheral towns to lower initial capital by up to 40%.
Takumi clenched his fist under the table. He could already see a path: start peripheral, demonstrate success, then scale. He would not reveal the system's mechanisms—Zhongli and Ningguang did not need to know how deeply foreign his advantage was.
Ningguang's eyes took on a look that meant a decision—no, a puzzle being finalized.
"Mr. Takumi," she said at last, "we will allocate preliminary funds from the Maritime Trust as a trial. But know this: the Qixing will monitor every mora. We will provide 30,000 Mora as seed capital, with conditional release based on milestones. The rest must be sourced via private patronage and merchant investment. Deliver results, and we shall provide further support."
Takumi felt a cold thrill. Thirty thousand Mora—less than his initial ask but a start.
He bowed. "Thank you, Lady Ningguang. I will not disappoint you."
Keqing's eyes flicked to Zhongli. "You truly believe this will work."
Zhongli folded his hands. "I believe in the possibility. We shall guard Liyue well."
Ganyu smiled softly, relief and anxiety braided together. "Then let our work begin."
Uncle Tian patted Takumi's shoulder, muttering, "Don't break Liyue or I'll personally write you an angry poem."
A nervous laugh from Takumi. The tension eased a fraction, cracks of warmth forming in the carved stone of formality.
Outside, beyond the Jade Chamber, Liyue continued its business. Inside, a tentative covenant had been formed: a foreigner, a few thousand moras, a host of blueprints only he fully understood, and the steady, watchful power of an emperor who would not vanish completely.
Takumi left the Jade Chamber that night with less money than he hoped but more than he dared expect—and the quiet, secret hum of a system inside his mind that whispered strategies and budgets like a faithful accountant whispering in the ears of a dreamer.
[SYSTEM — PRIVATE]
Mission Update: Initial funding secured: 30,000 Mora (conditional).
Primary Objective: Deploy Micro-Workshop Unit in peripheral town within 45 days.
Secondary Objective: Secure private patronage (target: Ningguang, merchant houses).
Risk: High political scrutiny. Monitor Qixing feedback.
Takumi exhaled. He had a job, a city to build in his mind, and an emperor who'd bet on humanity. The road ahead was both terrifying and intoxicating.
He laced his fingers together, whispered to himself, and to the quiet module inside his head:
"Begin."