Liyue had always been rich — in stone, in trade, in tradition. But wealth alone did not fill bellies. The problem had been ignored long enough: population growth, rising imports, and land that hadn't been farmed to its potential. Takumi felt the pressure like a second pulse; this project wasn't just roads and piers. It had to feed people.
So when Sucrose, cheeks still pink from travel and nerves, accepted the commission to lead agricultural research, Takumi felt the first true click of the machine engaging. Keqing moved fast to handle paperwork; Ningguang would provide funds; Takumi set timelines. The plan was both simple and terrifying: seed a higher-yield rice variety by autumn and build a scaled system for distribution and preservation.
Sucrose stared at the list Takumi slid across the table — soil surveys, hybridization trials, slime-based fertilizer experiments, a makeshift greenhouse roster, and a request for lab space in Wangshu Inn. Her chest swelled with excitement and fear.
"I… I can try," she whispered, voice trembling into determination.
Takumi smiled. "That's all I ask. Start small. Succeed, scale." He tapped a line in his private HUD.
[SYSTEM — PRIVATE]
Project: Qingce Yield Increase
Lead: Sucrose
Funding Approved: Pending Ningguang confirmation
Materials Required: Qingxin samples, sweetflower stock, slime condensate, clay pots, loam mixes
Target: +30–50% yield by autumn (prototype fields)
He sent the proposal to Ningguang with a quiet mental nudge. Ningguang's reply came faster than expected: an elegant, curt confirmation and immediate allocation. The Qixing's vaults opened as quickly as her curiosity. Funding: approved. Logistics: ordered. The city had its benefactor.
"Write me weekly reports," Ningguang said when Sucrose came to present in the Jade Chamber, eyes cool and appraising. "And if your experiments yield marketable products, we will contract production. Liyue can't afford failed harvests."
Sucrose bowed, overwhelmed but resolved. "I will not fail."
Outside the administrative glow, Klee was impatient. "Brother Takumi, tell Klee what to do now! Is it more blasting? Is it digging? Is it… is it fish-blowing?"
Takumi laughed and rose from his papers. "Klee, you've got the important job of deepening the Yaoguang Shoal bed for the docks. Deep water means bigger ships and better supply lines." He patted her head. "But it must be precise. We need Sucrose and Keqing's supervision for nearby ecology."
Klee practically did cartwheels. "Perfect! Klee loves boat-jumping and big booms!"
Keqing sighed theatrically. "Try not to invent new islands."
Preparations: Rules, Measures, and Sucrose's Greenhouse
Keqing organized everything with her usual military precision: perimeter flags, safety distances, buffer zones for wildlife, and Sucrose's greenhouse tucked safely behind a sand berm near Mingyun Village. The greenhouse was small but well-equipped: glazed panes, adjustable vents, seed trays, and a modest alchemy corner for synthesis.
Sucrose's first day was spent logging soil pH, identifying trace minerals, and compounding a prototype "slime compost" — a neutral condensate from rock and grass slimes blended with ash and Qingxin extract. The idea was to mimic a slow-release fertilizer that provided minerals without overloading the soil.
Ganyu watched Sucrose work with the same quiet interest she lent to every small miracle in Liyue—dutiful, reverent, and practical. "If you need lab equipment," Ganyu offered softly, "I may be able to requisition a small basic spectrometer from the Harbor's research chest."
Sucrose nearly fainted from relief. "Oh—thank you! That would be perfect!"
Klee's Controlled Chaos: The Dock Demolition
The day of the demolition dawned crisp. Workers lined the coast; Qianyan soldiers established a wide perimeter; Keqing checked timers and distances; Sucrose set monitoring devices for seafloor sediment samples. Klee bounced on her heels, clutching a small pouch of calibrated charges wrapped in Sucrose-labelled paper.
"Remember the plan," Takumi said firmly. "No showboating. Small charges, sequential pattern. You're not auditioning for a festival—this is engineering."
Klee nodded solemnly, then flashed a grin. "I'm a professional!"
Sucrose stepped through her checklist: dispersal modeling, blast radius calculations, water flow assessment. Albedo, who had come to oversee materials—curious about marine geology more than commerce—lent a calm technical eye and a few gentle adjustments to charge placement.
Klee's detonation was a brilliant, punctual chorus that sent a clean arc of rock and silt outward, the water swallowing none of the harbor's life and leaving a neat trench in its wake. The soldiers clapped. Workers whooped. A small crab took the day off.
Keqing, watching the seafloor survey readings transmitted from Sucrose's array, allowed herself a satisfied nod. "That meets spec," she told Takumi. "Shallow resonance within safe parameters; no destabilization of nearby shoals."
Takumi exhaled the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Good job, Klee."
Klee puffed with pride. "Klee did a boom that was just right!"
Budget Realities: The Shadow of Expense
Ningguang had agreed to fund research and initial infrastructure without hesitation, but Takumi knew large projects bred larger needs. Steel production ramps, glass furnaces, trained technicians, and the nascent agricultural program — costs were multiplying faster than slime pellets.
His private ledger blinked a caution.
[SYSTEM — PRIVATE]
Projected Q1 Spend: 12 million Mora.
Available Ningguang Allocation: 5 million Mora (initial).
Shortfall: 7 million Mora.
Recommendation: staged release, vendor prepayments, and merchant buy-back programs to reduce panic.
Takumi's brow tightened. Ningguang could inject more, but she would expect returns — contracts, tariffs, perhaps stakes in processing. Keqing could smooth bureaucracy, but the city's growth demanded sustainable cashflows: industries, markets, and export channels. He needed a plan to bridge the gap without collapsing merchant confidence or inviting opportunistic price gouging.
He decided on three things: staggered funding releases tied to milestones, partnership contracts with Ningguang that included profit sharing for initial investors (protecting small merchants), and a pilot export deal with Mondstadt for raw cement and glass to provide early revenue. Albedo's lab contributions and Sucrose's upcoming crop trials would also be pitched as investment multipliers.
He sent a concise, candid brief to Ningguang.
Ningguang's Answer: Business, Not Charity
Ningguang read the figures and the proposed mitigation. She folded her fan, eyes sharp.
"You're asking for seven million more," she said coolly. "That is substantial."
Takumi nodded. "We have halfway there—progress is visible. But industrializing requires capital up front."
Ningguang considered. She was not moved by earnestness but by numbers and risks well managed. "Fund release in tranches," she decided. "Two million now, contingent on a publicized milestone: a working pier segment and an initial shipment contract with Mondstadt for proof of concept. The remainder will be reviewed with performance audits. I will provide a merchant buy-back clause to ease market shocks."
Takumi bowed, relieved. Ningguang's terms were reasonable and keenly strategic. It meant more paperwork, oversight, and deadlines — but also legitimacy.
Sucrose's First Breakthrough
That night, by lantern-light in her greenhouse, Sucrose made a small, trembling discovery: a trial tray of hybridized rice — Qingce stock crossed with a hardy wild varietal she'd coaxed with a minute enzyme tincture — sprouted a second leaf faster than the control group. The soil smelled richer where she'd applied slime-compost; moisture retention had improved slightly. It was early, very early, but it was a sign.
She wrote feverish notes and sent a triumphant pigeon to Takumi: "Trial positive. Growth ↑. Need larger seed batch." The pigeon arrived in the morning with Takumi's dry, delighted reply: "Scale up. Notify Keqing and Ningguang. We may have a real start."
Night at Wangshu Inn: Quiet Confidence
On the Wangshu Inn veranda, Takumi, Keqing, and a small circle of staff watched the glow of Guili Plains. Lanterns dotted the construction like low stars. Klee snored at Klee-level intensity in a nearby corner, exhausted from booms and satisfaction. Sucrose's papers rustled in the wind like hopeful leaves.
Takumi allowed himself one rare, contented smile. They were not just building a city — they were scaffolding futures: roads that carried food, docks that welcomed trade, laboratories that might invent new livelihoods. The path was long and littered with problems, but for the first time it felt like a real, human possibility.
Ganyu's soft voice floated from the shadows. "This will change lives."
Keqing simply tightened her clipboard and said, matter-of-fact: "Then let's ensure it changes them for the better."
Takumi looked up at the sky, at the Jade Chamber like a distant eye watching silently, and whispered a promise he meant to keep: "One harvest at a time."