The docks of Sanwan Pavilion smelled of brine, tea, and the faint char of last night's lantern fires. Takumi wandered without a destination until he found himself once again by Zhongli's favored table. The archon was there, as predictable as tide and tea, watching ships drift like slow thoughts across the harbor.
"Care to join me?" Zhongli asked, as if nothing could surprise him.
Takumi sat. The two traded easy barbs until Hu Tao exploded into the scene—fierce, mischievous, and dramatically offended that the Funeral Parlor's ledger always bore someone else's name.
Between Hu Tao's theatrical wails about unpaid bills and Zhongli's imperturbable sipping, Takumi found himself laughing more than he had since he'd arrived. Hu Tao teased, Takumi responded, and Zhongli watched them like a quiet parent who had learned to enjoy chaos.
When the food arrived, Hu Tao's mercurial mood shifted instantly from scold to gourmand. "I'll cook you my Ghostly March next time," she promised between bites, eyes glittering. Takumi shuddered inwardly—Hu Tao's culinary experiments were legendary for being both creative and suspect—but he'd long ago learned the rule: when Hu Tao offers, accept with polite caution.
After the meal Hu Tao hopped up, wagging a finger at Zhongli. "If you send another bill, I'll sell you to the first interested clan!" she warned, then pivoted with a grin and waved at Takumi. "Drop by the parlor sometime, little brother! I'll give you a discount if you book early. One tombstone reserved—buy now, think later!"
Takumi laughed and shook his head. "I'll pass—probably forever."
"Ever the realist," Zhongli murmured fondly.
Their banter drifted into comfortable silence. For Takumi, those small interactions felt like stitches: familiar people, familiar rhythms, anchors in a world that still drifted odd and new.
The City's Rumors Spread Like Ink on Water
Word moves fast in a harbor, and faster on the tongues of merchants. Within days, the entire harbor seemed to hum with the same bewildered excitement: a new city, cement roads, Ningguang's backing, and Takumi the foreign planner.
Ningguang's public announcement—methodical, pointed, and market-savvy—had put the project into motion. The model was on display in the southern plaza; official pamphlets explained timelines; Adventurers' Guild boards teemed with curious new commissions. Ningguang's clear message: this was measured, authorized, and aimed at the people's benefit.
But the ripple came with consequences.
Merchants who had hoarded stone, gravel, kiln coal, and old-world building supplies suddenly found their stockpiles devalued. New cement methods required different ratios and materials; whole warehouses of the old stuff were suddenly less valuable. Shouts of indignation rose in alleyways as investments that had seemed safe turned crusty overnight.
A merchant named Liao, who'd spent years stockpiling kiln coal, fumed in the marketplace. "Who told them cement could be made from local minerals and slimes? I've got carts of fuel no one wants now!" he cursed, slapping the ledger of losses as if chapters could be erased by force.
Keqing and Ningguang handled the fallout like seasoned tacticians: Ningguang offered to purchase certain stocks at reasonable rates, and Keqing quietly instructed magistrates to ease sudden price shocks by releasing small subsidies and microcontracts. It didn't erase the losses, but it reduced panic.
Adventurers and the Slime Revolution
One of Takumi's more surprising ideas—the controlled use of slimes—became an overnight craze (or scandal, depending on who you asked).
Rock slimes were no longer nuisances. Adventurers were now contracted to catch and transport them to containment zones where they would be fed, rotated, and harvested for stone pellets. Pyro slimes were assigned to kiln shifts where their heat helped achieve steady calcination temperatures; Electro slimes were trialed to generate primitive circuits for early mechanical grinders.
At the Adventurers' Guild, Katheryne and Lan scratched their heads as applications flooded in.
"Capture rock slimes? That's a new one," Katheryne said as a parade of hopefuls trooped into the guild.
Adventurers grinned at the prospect. Rock slimes meant easy pay, and the contracts offered decent bounties plus small shares in the initial yield. Guild halls filled with laughter and the crunch of new business.
Takumi watched one transport wagon leave for the temporary containment pens, its cargo squeaking and shuffling like a chorus line. It looked ridiculous and brilliant at once.
[SYSTEM — PRIVATE]
Blueprint Module Note: Slime containment reduces raw material cost by up to 60% compared to purchased quarried stone. However, containment entails recurring maintenance (feeding cycles) and requires legal oversight.
Recommendation: Draft maintenance SOP and Adventurer safety guidelines. Provide incentives for long-term handlers.
Takumi typed a mental reply and set to drafting the first Standard Operating Procedures (SOPs) for slime management.
Strange Quests and Stranger Contractors
The Adventurers' Guild boards sprouted odd missions. "Capture ten rock slimes and deliver to South Pens" read one flyer. Another said: "Escort kiln convoy from Maosheng Quarry—bonus for slimes captured en route." Rumors of lucrative bounties pulled in not only hardened veterans but curious novices, too.
Not every idea worked perfectly on the first try. One eager rookie attempted to milk an Electro slime for "spark juice" and received a jolt big enough to make him swear off inventive tinkering forever. Another group tried to use Pyro slimes to temper metal and nearly set a kiln ablaze when the slimes burped sparks like hyperactive fireworks.
Keqing kept a ledger of mishaps with her usual dry notes; Ganyu quietly sent thank-you letters to Adventurers who didn't get electro-fried.
The Road to Guili: Workers, Wages, and a Bad Joke About 1000 Mora
Ningguang's funding and the Qixing's permits accelerated recruitment. Word of high wages spread like an irresistible scent. People came from surrounding villages, replies to posted notices multiplying until the recruitment halls were full of hopeful faces.
Rumor had it workers could earn "1000 Mora per day," a figure that grew in translation and repetition into things that sounded frankly mythical—some thought it a generous weekly wage, others imagined it as a magical stipend that came with silk and lanterns.
Keqing sighed as she sorted through applications. "Tell them the real numbers," she muttered, exasperated. "No fairy tales."
Takumi watched the hopeful crowds with a soft ache. It was the human side of construction: real families chasing steady income. He felt the pressure of responsibility settle heavier on his shoulders.
Guili Plains Cleared (Mostly)
Under Keqing's organization and Qianyun militia support, clearing operations began. Hilichurls were routed by coordinated Adventurer groups; traps and patrols kept most Abyss mages at bay. The new containment pens for slimes took shape—spacious enclosures, stone basins, feeding stations, and monitoring posts manned by trained handlers.
Takumi visited the first containment pen with Rong and Mei—the two recruits who had become the kernel of his workforce. The rock slimes, when caged and cared for, did indeed excrete a steady stream of small stones. Children passing by pressed their faces to the fences in wonder.
"Is it… true?" Mei asked, watching the slimes. "They make rocks?"
Rong chuckled. "It's like milking a mountain."
A small boy from the local village handed Takumi a pebble—shiny, with a crystalline sheen. "For the road," he said solemnly. Takumi felt unexpectedly moved.
[SYSTEM — PRIVATE]
Milestone: Slime harvesting operational.
Material Yield Projection: 400 kg/day (scale to increase with more containment units).
Next Objective: Begin 1.5 km pilot road segment within 45 days. Cost estimate revised downward by 28% due to slime contribution.
Takumi nodded and tucked the pebble away like a token.
Merchants and Market Tension
Not everyone was thrilled. Merchants who'd planned to profit on old supply chains saw margins shrink and panic rose in the bazaars. Ningguang's measured purchases helped temper the shock, but worry lingered like dust.
A town council met to balance subsidies and retraining programs. Talks began—some desperate, some pragmatic—about how shopkeepers could adapt: offering services to building crews, pivoting to food stalls for workers, or selling handmade goods to the new neighborhoods.
Takumi had one quiet, uncomfortable encounter with a middle-aged merchant named Mrs. Zhao who had stored kiln coal for years. She met him by the quay.
"They told us this would be good for people," she said, voice wary. "But my husband sold everything to prepare. If the market collapses, how will we feed our children?"
Takumi listened. He could not fix everything with models and cement formulas. He promised small things: priority contracts for certain vendors, faster inspection times for suppliers that worked with his team, and a pilot buy-back program he'd propose to Ningguang. It was modest, but it bought time and hope.
A Quiet Night and a Clearer Dawn
That night, Takumi sat on a low wall by the harbor and watched lanterns drift like small moons. Ideas reeled inside his head: roads, slimes, workshops, schools. The system hummed unobtrusively in his private HUD, suggesting optimizations and flagging regulatory risks. Ningguang's funding glinted in official ledgers; Keqing's iron will kept the chaos from collapsing back into rumor.
Hu Tao's voice echoed in his memory: "Unlimited free meals!" she'd promised, then bargained down to "one free meal a month." Takumi chuckled. Family, he thought—this was an odd Liyue family he was joining: quirky, sharp, and stubbornly affectionate.
Above the harbor, the Jade Chamber drifted like a distant eye. Below, the city pulsed with life, uneasy and energized. The bones of a new Liyue were being laid with hands both practical and imperfect. It was messy and utterly human.
Takumi stood and stretched. Tomorrow would be another map, another negotiation, another late-night tea at Sanwan Pavilion. But the pebble in his pocket was a reminder: small pieces built roads, and roads led to futures.
[SYSTEM — PRIVATE]
Progress: Initial containment and road resource planning complete.
Risk: Ongoing merchant resistance and public inflation concerns.
Recommendation: Implement merchant support program; accelerate visible wins (pilot road progress, market stalls for displaced vendors).
Note: Demolition expert recruitment (Mondstadt) recommended when heavy excavation required; timeline: T+30 days.
Takumi pocketed his pebble, walked back toward Ningguang's estate, and practiced one small, stubborn vow to himself:
"One block at a time."