The model hovered above the table like a small, perfect world. Every street, every pier, every neat block of proposed housing glimmered in miniature, casting soft gold reflections on the maps pinned beneath. The General Affairs Department staff gathered close, breathless; even some clerks who usually lived in ledgers and inkpots had forgotten to blink.
Takumi took a breath and laid out the next steps with calm conviction. The plan felt larger now that its outline had been approved: roads, ports, workshops, resorts. A new Liyue with places to live, work, and take the rare—yet necessary—vacation.
"Yaoguang Shoal could be a top-tier tourist spot," he said lightly, imagining umbrellas, sun, and crowds of people who did not constantly worry about Mora. "Beaches, small seaside villas—places for rest. Mingyun Village could become a cultural retreat. Qingce will grow again through agricultural partnerships."
Ganyu, Keqing, and the clerks listened, pens scratching as the city unfolded in both model and speech. When Takumi spoke about rocky parts and limited cultivable land, Keqing immediately noted contingency crops and trade lines from Qingce. Ganyu's eyes softened when he mentioned education and training centers—things that would steady lives as well as livelihoods.
"Alright," Keqing said finally, rubbing her temples. "Road construction and monster clearing are our immediate priorities. We'll begin along the Wangshu Inn bridge and move toward Mingyun Village. That will let us open up both sides of the road for development quickly."
Takumi pointed at the model. "Exactly. Start with the road to connect the site. Clear monsters. Establish controlled slime containment so they can be harvested rather than exterminated. Begin micro-workshop construction once a safe corridor is secured. Keep heavy industry away from Yaoguang Shoal—no pollution ruining a beach."
Keqing and Ganyu nodded. The plan fit together like tiles.
Just then, a smooth voice cut through the room.
"No need to summon me, I am already here."
Heads turned; Ningguang stood framed in the doorway, more composed than a statue and twice as calculating. She stepped forward, eyes on the glowing model with immediate and unmistakable business interest.
"Is this the architectural style from your world?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow.
Takumi smiled and, perhaps a touch impulsively, produced a sheaf of papers. "I can show you how to make steel reinforcement," he said. "And glass. If you adopt these processes, the construction possibilities expand dramatically."
Ningguang took the documents with the same care she would give to a rare jade. Her eyes moved across the pages—methodologies on forging, temperature profiles, material ratios. She didn't read everything aloud; she didn't need to. Certain lines, certain figures, told her what she wanted to know: profit and production.
"Very well," she said, already thinking in ledgers. "If we can produce steel and glass locally, construction costs drop and margins rise. Have Baishi coordinate raw material sourcing. Start with a pilot furnace and a small glass kiln. I will allocate resources."
Her mind was already wrapping the plan into commerce: a Ningguang-brand glassworks, export contracts, an eventual monopoly on specific building materials. The thought made her eyes glitter—but she kept her voice even.
"Make the model public," she ordered. "Let the people see and understand. Baiwen, arrange for the model to be displayed at the southern plaza. Prepare an official Adventurers' Guild mission for monster clearing and slime capture. Public outreach, but controlled."
Baiwen bowed and moved like wind, issuing orders, compiling lists, and pulling strings with practiced hands. The room buzzed with action.
Takumi watched the masterful economy of Ningguang's mind work and felt a warm, human tickle of gratitude. She wasn't just an investor—she was a partner who already saw how to turn infrastructure into sustainable cash flow. That could be used for the city's good. He handed her the glass formula as well—simple, clean steps on melting sand and ash to make panes, tempering methods, and furnace requirements. Her expression grew keener. "We could renovate parts of the Jade Chamber," she mused. "And export decorative panes to other cities."
Keqing glanced at Takumi, a mixture of exasperation and approval. "You hand them both technology and dreams like it's casual. Do you understand how lethal that is to our fiscal planning?"
"It's business danger, not lethal—mostly," Takumi answered, half-joking. "We'll be careful."
Ningguang folded the model into her vision, then turned to the assembled staff.
"All right. Make the model public after we finalize the preliminary approvals. Keep the blueprints behind closed doors for the Qixing's review, but show the people the vision. We must ensure public support, avoid panic, and invite participation. Baiwen—live display, guided tours, and a petition signup. Keqing—coordinate the Adventurer Guild mission notices. Ganyu—please prepare outreach materials that explain safety, the schedule, and how households can benefit."
Ganyu nodded. "Understood. I will ensure the messaging is precise and reassuring."
Keqing's expression hardened in determination. "I will mobilize Qianyun militia for perimeter security during the trials and ensure permits are enforced."
Takumi felt a tremor of both relief and pressure. The first public face of the project would be his moment to show—not magic or gadgetry, but real, concrete plans people could believe in. He imagined the harbor's noisy alleys, the market women, the children who would grow up near paved roads. This was not just infrastructure. It was a promise.
Then Ningguang did what Ningguang does best: she layered business on top of statecraft.
"I will fund pilot production," she declared. "Baishi, arrange seed capital for a glass kiln and a small steel furnace trial. Keep this efficient. Anything that proves economically viable will receive expansion funds. Also—announce an Adventurer Guild contract to collect rock slimes for material testing. Offer generous bounties to encourage participation."
Takumi felt his chest loosen. It was more than he had hoped for—and a brilliant move. The combination of Ningguang's money and Keqing's organizational iron would buy them time and legitimacy.
"And," Ningguang added as an afterthought, "I will oversee export negotiations once initial output meets standards. Liyue will not merely import innovation; we shall make and sell it."
The clerks around the room murmured, visions of trade and new work shimmering in their eyes.
With the formalities settled, Takumi collected his notes and the small stack of extra documents he'd created—glass recipes, prototype schematics for reinforced flooring, and a preliminary worker training outline. Baiwen handed him a formal letter of authorization for the Adventurer Guild mission and a keyed permit for kiln access.
"Make this known to the guild," Keqing said. "But keep any dangerous specifics classified. We will not allow public experiments—only demonstrations after QC."
Takumi nodded. He had spent nights with the Blueprint Module, translating ideas into steps, but now those steps would become public work. It was exhilarating in a way cold numbers never were.
Before he left, Ningguang looked at him with businesslike curiosity that almost felt familial.
"You have other formulas?" she asked.
Takumi produced the pen and the blank paper he sometimes manifested, and scratched out a simple sheet on glass tempering and a sketch of a basic reinforced lintel. He handed it to her.
Ningguang tucked it into her ledger with visible delight. "We must speak further about licensing and production shares," she said. "Do not underestimate the Qixing's attention to efficient governance."
Takumi smiled. "I don't plan to."
With that, he stepped out of the General Affairs Department and into Liyue Harbor's alive, breathing morning. He'd promised roads and workshops; the city would now see images, pamphlets, and—soon—realmen and women with tools and wages.
On the way out, he caught himself grinning at the thought of maybe bumping into Hu Tao—mischief in a living form—or simply drinking a cup of tea and watching seagulls wheel over the harbor. For a moment he allowed himself that small human indulgence. Then he set his shoulders and began the long, practical work of making a model into a living city.
Outside, the public display would soon be set. Inside, the Qixing's ledgers already began to churn. Liyue's future, once a whisper beneath the Jade Chamber, had moved into daylight—and the work, messy and magnificent, had only just begun.