Takumi and Keqing walked the new road toward the water-purification site. The noon sun hit the concrete smooth as a mirror; dust rose in neat little puffs as laborers shuffled by with wheelbarrows. From this distance, Guili Plains already looked less like a ruin and more like a city insisting on becoming itself.
Keqing's arms were folded, eyes narrowed in that «I-will-fix-this» way she had when she read bureaucracy and found it wanted re-education. Takumi felt a quiet satisfaction. Plans were one thing; seeing stone set and men working was another — it meant ideas had teeth.
They reached the skeleton of the purification plant: a broad stone basin, compartmentalized tanks, and a ring of stout iron cages—each cage designed to hold a Hydro Slime. A faint moist smell lingered where the river wind reached.
"Is this really necessary?" Keqing asked again, not unkindly. "People fetch water from the river now. Why build an entire plant?"
Takumi tapped the model file in his mind and conjured a little schematic above his palm — nothing flashy, just lines and practical angles. "Because we won't build a city on improvisation. Clean water distribution changes everything. Think: high-rise buildings, multi-floor plumbing, public baths, better sanitation — no more hauling water carts through market hours. It's public health, productivity, and comfort in one package."
Keqing considered the schematic, then the field workers carrying slabs. "And you're certain Hydro Slimes can be contained and managed?"
"They can," Takumi said. "Containment cages, constant feed schedules, water circulation through alchemical filters. Hydro Slimes refine water automatically — they're tiny natural distillers if you give them space and a decent diet. Cryo Slimes for cold storage, Pyro Slimes where heat is required. We'll build redundancy systems so if a cage fails the others compensate."
Keqing's jaw softened a fraction. "And the meters?" she asked. "You intend to charge for water."
Takumi nodded. "Yes. Funding is necessary for maintenance, repair, scaling. This isn't greed — it's sustainability. People will get reliable water; the city won't collapse when a single well runs dry. If Ningguang covers initial costs, the system becomes self-reliant."
Keqing scribbled a mental note. "Install tamper-proof meters. And public-access fountains for low-income brackets."
"Already in the blueprint." He smiled. "You'll like the fountain — it's very Keqing: practical, elegant, a little sharp."
They moved on. Takumi explained the alchemy-driven pressure regulator: a small chamber where an anemo ring would drive micro-fans to boost water pressure during peak demand. For energy, electro crystals linked to thunder-slime banks would buffer load spikes. He showed Keqing the plan for an initial microgrid — modular, scalable, and not dependent on a single source.
"What about slimes?" Keqing asked. "Captured wild slimes won't last forever."
Takumi tapped his temple. "We breed them. Controlled habitats, nutrient cycles, rotation schedules. Rock slimes for stone production, pyro for heating, hydro for water — we'll design breeding pens. If we do it right, they'll be an agricultural resource, not a monster problem."
Keqing's eyes flashed. "You propose to turn monsters into livestock," she said. It wasn't a joke. "That will raise eyebrows."
"Good eyebrows," Takumi countered. "Fewer raids, more employment."
Keqing couldn't help a laugh. "Leave it to you to make Hilichurls sound like municipal employees."
They reached the edge of the worksite where a half-assembled pipeline lay like an industrial serpent. Workers paused to wipe brows and wave. At the central tent were Sucrose and a small team of alchemical assistants hunched over petri dishes and seedlings — Sucrose's face that familiar shade of pale green whenever she concentrated. She looked like someone who'd lost a small argument with a microscope and decided the microscope must be less logical.
"Miss Sucrose!" Keqing called. Sucrose flinched and hurried over, clutching a notebook.
"Sucrose's experiments are progressing," Takumi said. "She's working on high-yield strains. If we can boost Qingce's output, Qingce will be the agricultural belt. For Guili Plains we'll import and process. Foods will travel, not people."
Sucrose blushed under Keqing's earnest inspection. "M-Mr. Takumi provided funding and… and I have been authorized to experiment with gene cross-breeding and rootstock optimization. If successful, yields could rise thirty to fifty percent per hectare."
Keqing's brows rose. "Thirty to fifty percent is a large increase. You'll need test plots, irrigation, fertilizer logistics."
"I prepared a fertilizer formula," Sucrose said. "Using algae extracts and powdered mineral concentrates regulated with pH buffers. It's safe when applied properly." She adjusted her hair, nervous as a sparrow.
Takumi grinned. "Then we'll start a plot next week. Keqing: your approval for land allocation."
Keqing nodded. "Coordinate with Ningguang. I'll handle the permits."
They walked back toward the Wangshu Inn as a breeze came low from the river. The sound of laughter drifted — Hu Tao and Klee somewhere, making the day noticeably less formal.
Ningguang's Investments: Market Interest & Controlled Release
Ningguang, back in Qunyu Pavilion, had been watching the project unfold like an investor watching a promising commodity. Word of Takumi's innovations had reached merchants in Liyue and beyond. There were already inquiries: buyers in Sumeru asking about cement contracts; Mondstadt vintners plotting shipment routes; Fontaine merchants whispering about glass imports.
But Ningguang was slow to sell plots; she controlled the supply. "If we release land too early," she told Baiwen, "speculators will hoard, prices spike, the city's design loses coherence. We must maintain a planned rollout: infrastructure first, then residential, then commerce."
Baiwen nodded. "So we present an official prospectus when the first apartment block opens? Offer leases, not sales?"
"Yes." Ningguang's eyes gleamed. "Offer golden leases. Retain control of street planning. Once a merchant signs a five-year lease that obliges compliance to plan standards, they can build. Keep profits, but control growth."
Baiwen took notes, already calculating fees in her head.
KLEE + HUTAO = A DISTRACTION OF JOY (AND SMALL FIREWORKS)
Back at the Inn, Hu Tao had fallen asleep face-first into a bowl of leftover fish while Klee drew elaborate explosions on parchment — like a field engineer of fun. Klee's energy had worn Hu Tao out, but the Director was content. Sleeping directors were still directors when the day demanded it.
Takumi found them and sat at the corner table, sketching a compact, chassis prototype. Klee jabbed a red crayon at his plans with intense curiosity.
"Brother Takumi! Can my bombs fuel the cars?" she asked earnestly.
Takumi laughed. "Not yet, Klee. Car fuel is more polite: it doesn't bounce."
Hu Tao snorted in her sleep.
Klee whispered conspiratorially, "When I grow up I will design bouncy cars!"
"Only if they have very good suspension," Takumi said, smiling.
A LETTER, A SHIP, AND ALBEDO'S THOUGHTFUL SILENCE
That evening, as the sun slid behind distant bluffs, a rider from Mondstadt arrived at Wangshu Inn carrying several sealed letters. One was from Sucrose — the invitation Albedo had been asked to consider (worded with Sucrose's awkward humility but clear in its urgency).
Albedo read the invitation in his atelier amid pale dust and model parts — a thoughtful gaze fixed on the paper as if the lines were not simply ink but seeds.
He did not reply immediately.
Albedo brewed a cup of tea. He walked to the window and looked at the horizon, thinking of kinetic systems and reaction matrices. A small sketchbook lay on his desk covered in diagrams of chaotic hearth efficiency and sympathetic vibration dampers. He added a quick note to it and, with the quiet decision of a man who measures each step, sealed his reply.
"Yes," his note read in careful script. "The transportation design is a singularly interesting application of localized alchemy. I will come and study the energy conversion system."
The Knights of Favonius would later claim he left in a mood somewhere between curiosity and mild dread; the truth was simpler: Albedo always left when his curiosity pulled him, and a transport revolution pulled him like a magnet.
He set a date two days hence — swift but measured.
SYSTEM MESSAGE (PRIVATE — TAKUMI)
A thought, an itch at the edge of perception: Takumi's inner system, that quiet well of procedural logic from a life that had used blueprints like maps, pinged for a minor update.
[SYSTEM] • NEW MODULE UNLOCKED: Urban Utilities Suite
Functions: Water distribution simulation, slime containment protocols, microgrid balancing algorithms, resource breeding calendar.
Tip:Start with a closed system test. Hydro Slime tanks are sensitive to temperature shifts.
Takumi smirked. The system's little hints were like a coach gently tapping a clipboard. He created a test simulation that night — a small, contained Hydro Slime tank with a mock pipeline — and watched the numbers pulse green. The first test passed.
He slept poorly, humming street plans and vehicle chassis drafts. Dreams were blueprints now.
ENDING, BUT NOT THE END
As the stars pricked the night, Guili Plains settled into a lullaby of hammers and distant laughter. Work continued; slimes were caged and fed; Klee dreamed of launching a whole fleet of fireworks; Keqing signed another string of permits; Ningguang calculated the profit curves with a smile; Sucrose dreamed of high yields in petri dishes; Albedo would soon arrive with curiosity sharpened into purpose.
Takumi looked out from Wangshu Inn's balcony, hands on the railing. The city he envisioned was no longer only a map in his head. It had weight, sound, and the particular chaos of the living.
He folded his hands and whispered, almost to himself: "One step at a time."
Below, the construction lanterns glowed like very practical stars.
Tomorrow, they'd lay the first segment of the microgrid. Tomorrow, Sucrose would plant the test rice. Tomorrow, Albedo would arrive. Tomorrow, Klee might try out a guided rocket that didn't explode the inn.
Tomorrow, Liyue would change — quietly, daily, and with a great many slimes.
And somewhere between three blueprints and a plate of fish, the future was beginning to look like work everyone could share.