The construction at Guili Plains had a rhythm now: dawn work, midday repairs, evening planning. Foundations rose in neat rows; two- and three-story shopfronts bloomed like orderly coral along the new road. Workers slept in tents that smelled of salt and smoke and fresh timber. Klee became a local legend—the tiny, ash-streaked girl with the bazooka who could blast a shoal into perfect harbor depth.
Takumi's days were a careful juggling act. He taught Klee better arming sequences and safe stand-off distances; he reviewed Keqing's logistics and Ningguang's ledgers; he checked Sucrose's lab reports on hybrid rice and filed them for Keqing's approval. The Herrscher of Reason's parsing ability let him synthesize Teyvat's fragments into usable schematics—cement ratios, blast vectors, hatchery layouts—then tuck each blueprint into the Eye of God where it could be retrieved contagiously when needed.
[SYSTEM — PRIVATE]
Resource Request: Reinforcement-grade iron (2,000 kg) • Pyro-stabilized casings (1,200 units) • Electro-crystal initiators (300)
Priority: HIGH — pier completion
Authorization: Ningguang (funding route proposed)
Note: "Do not publicize the system registry."
Takumi kept that registry locked in his mind. The System's whispers were his secret edge; he used them like a drafting table no one else could see.
Sucrose, who'd recovered from her initial panic about Klee's improvised armory, buried herself in the test fields. Keqing had granted her a patch of land near the worksite — a long rectangle of tamable earth by a small stream. There, under Sucrose's trembling hands and careful alchemical nurture, hybrid shoots pushed green and stubborn. The wild rice crosses showed promise: sturdier stalks, faster grain formation. Sucrose's face lit with shy pride every time a seed panicle bent under new weight.
"Miss Sucrose, have you considered polyculture rows?" Keqing asked once, watching the seedlings sway. "Interplanting legumes could fix nitrogen and reduce fertilizer demands."
Sucrose, who would rather have buried herself in petri dishes than talk publicly, blushed a deep botanical red. "I… I accounted for that in Hypothesis V.2…"
Keqing smiled and nodded. "Good. Coordinate with Ningguang for distribution trials."
The agricultural project was quiet progress—far less dramatic than Klee's fireworks, but with far longer reach. Takumi felt steadier when he thought of food security. A city needed bread and rice and barns as much as it needed docks and launchers.
It took nearly a week for Klee and the team to finish the deep-water excavation. Each controlled blast followed Takumi's careful maps; each detonation collapsed just enough stone into the revealed underground river to sink the shoal to the desired depth without creating dangerous whirlpools. When the water finally stilled, the new channel gleamed: broad, deep, and ship-ready. The pier went up in days, timber and cement and stone formed into a graceful stretch—simple, solid, and very Liyue.
Workers cheered. Keqing tallied. Sucrose harvested a test handful of hybrid seedlings and nearly fainted from excitement. Ningguang prepared PR. Takumi breathed in the salt air and thought of the ribbon of road that would connect Guili Plains to Stone Gate and beyond. It felt like a small revolution, slowly taking the shape he'd sketched by lamplight.
That afternoon—right when things settled—Hu Tao arrived.
She came like a gust: red ribbons, mischief, and a grin that could spark funerary sales and friendships in equal measure. "Yo! Takumi!" she called, stepping into the work camp with all the chaotic grace of someone whose business was to stare death calmly in the face and then grin.
Takumi looked up from his blueprints. "Director Hu Tao—unannounced."
Hu Tao stuck out a tongue and waved a hand. "Announcements are for tombstones. I came because I heard a little girl is blasting rocks and frying fish. I don't usually turn down free fish."
Klee, who had been nearby polishing a launcher with a ludicrously proud expression, sprinted over and flung herself into Hu Tao's arms. "Director Hu Tao! Klee is making bombs—er, for construction!"
Hu Tao smothered the child in one theatrical hug, nearly knocking both of them sideways. "Ahh, what a little red dynamo. Klee is like a walking festival at death's door!" Then her eyes latched on Takumi, and the grin softened into a curious tilt. "And you—are you the one teaching her?"
Takumi nodded. "We're supervising tests. Ningguang allocated research materials and Keqing set rules."
"Ahh. Rules." Hu Tao tapped a finger to her lip as if considering. "Sounds boring. But rules make profit, yes?" She winked at Ningguang, who did not wink back.
Ningguang, meanwhile, had been watching the new pier from a short distance—practical, pleased, and already calculating: shipping capacity, toll income, trade flows. "Director Hu Tao," she said smoothly, "we appreciate your visit. Klee's work has been instrumental. We've arranged research resources, though the primary disbursement will be routed through Captain Jean to ensure proper custody."
Klee's face fell for a fraction of a second; the child had hoped to hoard Mora like a squirrel hoards seeds. Hu Tao, sensing both the child's disappointment and the sensible custody, tutted in an exaggerated, performative way. "Ahh, sensible. Good. Jean will scold her but she'll also grow. Death has a way of teaching responsibility."
Takumi blinked, half annoyed, half amused. "Ningguang routed funds to Jean?"
"Prudent," Ningguang said. "Direct funds to a child are poor fiduciary practice. Jean will maintain oversight. Klee will receive materials and supervised access."
Klee brightened again. "So Klee gets stuff but Captain Jean watches? Okay! Klee likes Jean anyway—she is stern but good!"
Sucrose, who'd drifted close to the conversation, breathed a small sigh of relief. The research lines were secure, and Ningguang's bureaucracy meant supplies would be sustained. It wasn't the personal windfall Klee imagined, but it let the project continue without scandal.
Hu Tao leaned in conspiratorially toward Takumi. "So you make rockets, yes? If you ever make a 'thank-you' gift for old Wangsheng, I'll accept it as commission work." She tapped a finger to her temple. "Small sample, for the Parlor's viewing, very tasteful."
Takumi raised an eyebrow. "You want a decorative rocket?"
"No, no, no. A funeral-firework. Something tasteful, with soft boom and plum-scented smoke." Her grin grew vast. "Also, if you owe me money from last time, we can settle with a custom pyro-show. It's profitable and also—poetry."
Takumi's memory flashed unpleasantly: Hu Tao had once mentioned selling memorial shows. He'd lent her a small sum for a "business idea." He cleared his throat. "I'll settle the bill. Or—"
Hu Tao waved a hand. "I forgive debts on the condition you attend the next memorial opening. Free tea and guaranteed goosebumps."
Keqing, who had heard everything while checking structural bolts, pinched the bridge of her nose. "Just be careful. Entertainment is fine, but please keep blasting to controlled schedules."
Hu Tao saluted in exaggerated seriousness. "Understood. I will only cause emotional explosions."
Klee giggled and bounded off to show Hu Tao her latest launcher modifications. The two of them disappeared in a cloud of laughter and pyro-finger gestures. Sucrose looked after them, hands clasped, torn between horror and mild scientific curiosity about pyro-enthusiasm.
As dusk fell, Takumi walked the completed pier with Keqing and Sucrose. Lanterns were being hung; the first small cargo boats had tied up to test stability. Workers called to one another like birds, moving pallets of stone and crates of provisions. The road back to Liyue Harbor glittered with fresh cement.
Keqing's voice was a low measured hum. "We've still got issues—supply lines, long-term labor contracts, sewage treatment. But the pier is the heart. With it, you'll power trade."
Takumi looked out over the sea and let the wind take away a little of the tension he'd been carrying. Klee's bombs had cleared the shoal. Sucrose's seedlings had a chance. Ningguang's funding apparatus had provided structure. Hu Tao's brand of chaos provided levity.
He thought of the System's quiet list of needs and the ledger that lived under his skin. He knew the next battles would be paperwork: barge manifests, iron allocation, and the slow convincing of townsfolk who preferred their lives untouched by new roads and new industries.
But for tonight: the pier was done. The first boat unloaded. Xiangling had a new recipe for salted pierfish. Workers patted one another on the back. Klee dozed, soot on her cheeks and an approved list of supervised materials beside her.
Takumi opened his notebook and wrote two simple lines:
Pier complete. Klee supervised. Sucrose testing proceeds. Ningguang finances stable.
He closed the book, breathed the sea, and felt, for once, like the future was not an avalanche but a constructed stair.
Tomorrow, he'd schedule the blueprint handover to Ningguang's artisans. He'd set Keqing a list of safety protocols. He'd make sure Jean had the right inventory report for Klee's supervised fund.
Tonight, he would let Hu Tao insist he attend a funeral show "for morale," and he'd modestly refuse to be hypnotized by Hu Tao's theatrical pitch until she promised not to auction his farewell fireworks to merchants.
Klee mumbled in her sleep, dreaming of rockets that blossomed into a festival of tiny fish — she had, after all, eaten enough to seed an entire banquet.
Takumi smiled. No romance, just family: a strange, bustling household of builders, alchemists, and very explosive children. He liked it that way.