With the Cloud-Piercer now sitting like a beautiful, silent promise on the main platform of the Jade Chamber, a new, and in many ways, even more complex, phase of the revolution began. It was one thing to invent the future; it was another thing entirely to figure out how people were supposed to live in it without crashing into each other.
The Jade Chamber, for the next few days, was transformed from a seat of national power into the world's first, and most high-powered, think tank on traffic. The core group was a formidable collection of Liyue's finest minds: Ningguang, the grand strategist and economic powerhouse; Keqing, the master of ruthless, practical efficiency; Xianyun, the brilliant, adeptal engineer; and Ganyu, the diligent, detail-oriented heart, ensuring every single point was meticulously recorded. Shenhe, after a few days of observing the strange, new world of urban planning, had quietly, and with a small, affectionate pat on Ren's head, departed for the familiar, uncomplicated silence of the mountains.
And at the center of it all, in his usual, comfortable chair, was Ren. His primary, and most important, job was to listen, to provide the occasional, brilliant, and game-changing, spark of an idea, and, of course, to taste-test the various snacks and pastries that Ningguang now had delivered to the meetings as a matter of official protocol.
The discussions were a fascinating, and sometimes slightly comical, whirlwind of "what ifs" and "how do we's".
"So, if two hovercars approach the same intersection at the same time," Keqing would say, her brow furrowed in concentration as she moved two teacups around on a map of the Harbor, "who has the right of way?"
This would lead to a long, spirited debate that would eventually lead to the invention of "traffic laws," a concept so new and so strange that it took them an entire afternoon to hammer out the basics. They talked of speed limits within the city, of designated "flight lanes" at different altitudes to separate commercial and private traffic, and of the radical, and slightly confusing, idea of "traffic signals."
"So," Ganyu would say, slowly, trying to grasp the concept, "we would have… glowing lights? A red one that means 'stop,' a yellow that means 'prepare to stop,' and a green one that means 'go'?"
"Exactly!" Ren would chime in, his mouth full of a Lotus Flower Crisp. "It's the most efficient way to control the flow of traffic and prevent accidents."
The idea, once explained, was embraced with a unanimous, enthusiastic "of course, that's brilliant!"
Their planning sessions spiraled outwards, covering every conceivable aspect of this new, automotive age. They planned the establishment of official "Driving Schools," complete with certified instructors and standardized testing procedures. They designed the concept of "Vehicle Manufacturing and Maintenance Centers," places where the cars and boards would be built, and where people could take them for repairs and regular check-ups.
They even delved into the mind-numbing, but absolutely crucial, world of bureaucracy. The idea of "number plates," a unique, visible identifier for each and every car, was born.
The discussions became so complex, so full of legal and contractual nuances, that Ningguang, with a single, decisive command, brought in the big guns. Yanfei, Liyue's most brilliant and most sought-after legal advisor, was summoned to the Jade Chamber.
The half-adeptus, half-human lawyer, with her bright, cheerful energy and her razor-sharp, encyclopedic knowledge of Liyue's entire legal code, was at first completely and utterly baffled. "You want me to draft the legal framework for… sky-traffic?" she had asked, her eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and a lawyer's pure, unadulterated, intellectual glee.
She dove into the task with a ferocious, joyful, and slightly terrifying, enthusiasm, her brush flying across parchment as she drafted laws on everything from aerial speeding fines to the legal definition of "reckless hovering."
It was a beautiful, chaotic, and incredibly productive, time. It was the birth of a new age, being planned not by a single, divine decree, but by a collaborative, sometimes argumentative, but always brilliant, council of friends.
And Ren, the quiet, catalyst of it all, simply sat, and watched, and ate his snacks. He would listen to their grand, world-altering debates, and every now and then, when they were truly stuck, he would offer a quiet, simple, and game-changing, suggestion, a small, perfect memory from another world. And then, he would go back to his crispy snacks, perfectly, wonderfully, and happily, content to just watch his friends, the brilliant, powerful, and utterly, wonderfully, human, architects of the future, build their new world.