The harbor pulsed as always: merchants shouting, gulls squabbling over scraps, carts rolling over stone. Then the sky itself seemed to jump — several distant booms rolled from Guili Plains, each one punctuating the morning bustle. For a moment, chatter dissolved into a single ripple of alarm.
"What was that?"
"Is that some mountain collapsing?"
"Someone call the Qixing!"
Inside the Qunyu Pavilion, Ningguang's hand hesitated above a stack of ledgers. She looked toward the west where the horizon met Guili Plains and caught the faint shadow of rising spray. She plucked up the scroll in her hand and sighed, more at the breach of routine than at the sound.
"Baiwen," she said crisply, "announce it to the city. Calm them: Guili Plains — controlled demolitions. Part of the construction project."
Baiwen bowed and departed on duty. In minutes the market rumors were redirected into the official line; the people of Liyue Harbor heard their Tianquan's assurance and turned curious rather than fearful. If Ningguang said it was construction, then construction it was — and business returned to its accustomed rhythm.
Zhongli, meanwhile, set his teacup down with the casual deliberation of a man who could make continents listen. He rose and, without ceremony, said to the waiter, "Send the bill to Wangsheng." He liked the ritual of it; he liked the small, human absurdities of the world even while the great gears turned.
When he arrived at Wangshu Inn the scene had the rough charm of a frontier camp. The inn's verandah faced Guili Plains like a benevolent lookout. Not long after Zhongli settled with a fresh cup, Xiao appeared at his side, as if materialized from the breeze.
"Lord Rex Lapis," Xiao greeted, voice carrying that thin, taut edge it always did.
Zhongli drank and smiled at the tiny attendant. "What do you make of their work?"
Xiao's expression was stone-sculpted concentration. He had watched the project closely; the adeptus did not miss energy patterns, and he had a practical eye for danger. "Too early to tell. But the traffic through Wangshu Inn has increased. Merchants are excited; that is a good sign. The model suggests the pier house will draw significant shipping."
Zhongli nodded, looking back at the spray-cut horizon. "As long as they do not touch the ley lines or the deep roots of the world. Humans must build, but they must also be mindful. If Takumi respects that balance, then let him work."
Xiao's eyelids twitched the fraction of an acknowledgement. He trusted Zhongli's judgment. They watched in silence as the sea near Guili Plains roiled and settled like a beast breathing after exertion.
Down at the construction front, the air still sang from the echoes. Klee had just completed one of her largest, most carefully planned detonations; the impact reshaped the shoal dramatically. Water gushed into newly exposed channels, and the surface heaved with the aftermath of moving stone. For a breathless moment the world felt raw and new.
Takumi squinted at the readings Sucrose rattled off from her instruments. "Turbidity spike, but clearing faster than predicted. The underground river has opened up like you said. Currents are realigning."
Klee bounced on the spot, grinning from ear to ear. "Klee made the ocean clean its room!"
Keqing, clipboard in hand, allowed a rare smile. "You made an impressively tidy room, yes. But tidy rooms require maintenance."
Takumi eyed the churned water. "Let it settle. We'll wait until visibility improves — dropping more charges now risks losing them to the current." He turned to Klee more gently. "You did perfectly. Now, fish will be easier for a while. Help the workers gather — they'll be hungry."
Klee's eyes popped. "Fish?! Brother Takumi! Klee wants to fry them all!"
They headed downstream to the shallows where fish ridden to the surface by the explosions were already being scooped up by delighted laborers. Klee danced toward the flurry and crowed at the bounty. The workers, some of whom had protested at the idea of a new city, now laughed and filled crates with silvered fish. The accidental harvest softened any lingering doubts about the project — there was a visible, immediate benefit.
Takumi unclipped an iron bucket and conjured a fine mesh net with a flick of concentration. He handed both to Klee, who received them like holy relics.
"Amazing!" she gasped. "Brother Takumi can make nets appear from thin air!"
"Klee," Takumi said, "it's not magic." He allowed the smile. "Just a trick of understanding materials."
Klee's admiration swelled. She helped gather fish with the seriousness of a tiny veteran: scooping, rinsing, passing to the cooks. Xiangling—who had heard about the fish bounty—appeared shortly after with a grin wide enough to split a rock.
"Who brought the fireworks festival?!" she sang. "This is the best free catch I've seen all season!"
Between the laughter and the sizzling pans, the construction site felt more like a community fair than a battlefield. That was part of what Takumi wanted: infrastructure that strengthened daily life immediately, not distant schemes that only accountants applauded.
But the day was not without practical wrinkles. Sucrose's instruments blinked alerts: the newly opened channel had a tendency to scour thin layers of silt, causing shallow eddies that could mobilize smaller debris. Albedo — who had arrived with a satchel of mineral tests — knelt to examine fractured slabs and suggested sequences for stabilizing the newly formed trench so it wouldn't cave further where they needed firm ledges for dock piles.
Keqing took it in stride. "We'll place temporary coffer dams and schedule divers for the pockets that need clearing. Sucrose, prepare the filtration curtains and coordinate with the Qianyan units for sediment removal."
Sucrose, cheeks flushed with excitement and fatigue, nodded earnestly. "Yes! I'll calibrate the mesh density to minimize plankton loss. We must preserve the ecosystem."
This was the line Takumi wanted them to cross: progress with preservation. He'd never been an enthusiast for reckless breakage; his delight in Klee's explosives was tempered by the sober task of turning chaos into structure. The system in his head — that private invisible ledger that guided his next moves — chimed with a new note.
[SYSTEM — PRIVATE]
Pier Trench Phase I: Success.
Next: Sediment barrier deployment.
Finance Notice: Ningguang approved additional funds contingent upon initial Mondstadt purchase contract.
Takumi felt the familiar pinch of budgeting reality. Ningguang's support was generous but conditional; she liked leverage as much as profit. He would need a steady stream — some buyers for that first shipment — to unlock the next tranche. Mondstadt had already shown interest; he would send a brief proposal tonight.
As afternoon slipped toward dusk, the work shifted from explosive to adaptive. Men and women set up temporary sluices to redirect the faster currents. Skilled divers — a curious mix of Qianyan soldiers and apprenticed adepti with Geo assists — kept the trench's edges from slumping. Albedo's experimental wedges helped chip away at stubborn ledges where the bombs had only fractured rather than removed rock.
Zhongli returned to the edge of the work, silent and thoughtful. He watched Takumi move among the workers, explaining plans in low, exacting tones. There was an odd, familial hum: Keqing's strictness like a responsible elder sister; Ganyu's calm like the motherly hand; Xiangling's humor like the cousin who brought spice to every meal. The project had become a small family — and families were the best preservers of long-term plans because they cared for each other across seasons.
Xiao observed in his reserved way. "The current alignment looks stable," he said once, almost to himself. "It will not tear the shore apart." His voice carried a small relief. He had been wary of large disturbances; the Adeptus did not relish permanent scars to the land.
"Good," Zhongli said. "We proceed with watchful patience."
That evening, the workers feasted on Klee's fried fish and Xiangling's spiced preparations. Lanterns flickered and conversations floated across the site. Klee, cheeks full of fish, regaled a ragged soldier with tales of her 'boom training' while Sucrose scribbled notes about water salinity and possible seaweed cultivation near the new dock.
Takumi sat a short distance away, ledger open, mind alive with next steps: bridge reinforcement, steel procurement, and the faint dream of machines that might one day glide across the new concrete. He kept those dreams carefully private — hints shared with Keqing and Albedo, but the full scope remained a quiet fire in his chest.
For now, he allowed himself a modest satisfaction. The trench held. The fish feed the people. Ningguang's funds would arrive if he could secure a small, practical invoice — cement and glass samples to Mondstadt. He had one hand on the present and one reaching toward a future where Liyue's people would not have to leave their homes to prosper.
Klee leaned against his leg and mumbled, contentedly full. "Brother Takumi… you make everything fun and strong."
Takumi smiled, ruffling her hair. "We're doing it together. One careful step at a time."
The sea whispered against the newly cut stones like an old friend approvingly. Above them the Jade Chamber hung distant and quiet, a witness to the city's slow, deliberate rebirth.