The open space in front of the granary resembled a boiling cauldron. People were packed tightly together, the stench of sweat, dust, and the sour rot of desperation pressing heavily upon every chest, making each breath feel as gritty and stagnant as rust. The air seemed to freeze, with only heavy gasps and suppressed sobs churning in the muggy heat.
"Clang!"
The heavy shields of the Millelith braced firmly against the shoving crowd, their metal edges scraping violently against the ground to produce a piercing screech as sparks flew between the shields and the gravel. A Mondstadt man, the whites of his eyes horribly bloodshot, lunged forward to grab an elderly Liyue craftsman by the collar, spitting almost directly into his face: "I saw it with my own eyes! You Liyue people are stuffing whole, perfect ears of corn straight into the haystacks! You're hoarding!"
Trembling with rage, the old craftsman's goatee quivered violently as he pointed a withered, bony finger toward the insect-eaten experimental cornfield outside the crowd: "Slander! Utter slander! Those are worm-eaten cobs! They'd attract too many bugs even for compost! Are you all blind?!"
The crowd erupted instantly like cold water dropped into boiling oil. The commotion surged like a physical wave, shaking the Millelith's shield formation. At that moment, a Mondstadt woman holding an infant collapsed to her knees with a dull thud, as if all her strength had been drained away. Her fingers, withered and yellow like autumn grass, dug deeply into the cold mud, filling her fingernails instantly with dirt. The baby in her arms was terrifyingly thin and dead silent, save for tiny, cracked lips that twitched feebly.
"We turned three mu of land..." The woman's voice was hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing against wood. "My bones feel like they're about to snap... and all we get is half an ear... half an ear of grain..." She jerked her head up, cloudy tears rolling down mixed with mud. "The child... the child doesn't even have the strength to cry anymore... Please... give us something to eat..."
This silent infant and this desperate cry became the straw that broke the camel's back. The last sliver of reason in the refugees' eyes extinguished, replaced by the frenzy of starving wolves. The tide of people surged forward like a breached dam, roaring like beasts as they slammed recklessly against the wooden granary doors behind the Millelith's shield wall! The wooden doors emitted a groan of utter exhaustion.
Limeng was swept along the edge by the surging crowd, his heart drumming against his ribs. An engineer's instinct allowed him to instantly detach his emotions, coldly dissecting the chaotic scene before him:
The ambiguous trap of measurement standards: a lumberjack chopping hard timber for a day versus a field hand turning three mu of hardened soil paid vastly different amounts of sweat, yet both received only half an ear of corn? This scales of fairness had been tilted from the very beginning.
The poisoned sting of stereotypes: the inherent suspicion among Mondstadt people toward Liyue's "calculated cunning" now, catalyzed by hunger, blossomed into a raging fire of mistrust.
The opaque black box: the granary guarded by the Millelith was shrouded in thick darkness. Exactly how much grain was inside? How was it distributed? Who had the final say? The unknown nurtured fear, and fear bred the most venomous delusions. The toxic spores of suspicion were wildly growing and spreading across this soil of despair.
"Silence!"
A sharp command, like a thunderclap falling from the heavens, instantly cleaved through the deafening clamor. Keqing's figure had already materialized at the edge of the granary platform, her long purple hair undisturbed amidst the turbulent air currents. With a crisp clang, the Lightning Stiletto in her hand drove deeply into the hard earth beneath her, its unactivated electrical current dangerously crackling and leaping along the sharp metallic edges, emitting a faint buzzing sound.
The entire scene seemed as though a pause button had been pressed. Only heavy, suffocating gasps remained, resembling the whimpers of a dying beast.
Keqing's gaze was ice-cold, sweeping like a razor blade across every angry, fearful, or numb face below. "Those who instigate riots for personal gain," she said, her voice not loud, yet clearly piercing everyone's ears with indisputable, thundering pressure, "shall be sentenced to ten days of forced labor, with their rations cut in half." To those struggling on the brink of survival, this punishment was no different from a suspended death sentence.
Just as the oppressive silence was on the verge of being broken once again, Ganyu stepped forward at the precise moment. Unfolding a heavy, yellowed, and heavily frayed scroll in her hand—*Liyue Livelihood and Engineering Codes*—her gentle voice carried the steadfast composure of a millennia's accumulation, smoothing away the residual static scorching the air: "Effective today, the Serenitea Pot will trial the 'Tri-Color Grain Ticket' system." Her fingertips gracefully brushed past the three dyed wooden plaques held by the attendant beside her, their colors strikingly vivid in the dim light:
Red Ticket: Held by heavy laborers. Redeemable daily for a whole ear of corn, plus a thumb-sized piece of smoked jerky.
Yellow Ticket: Held by skilled artisans. Redeemable daily for a whole ear of corn, plus a coarse grain flatbread.
Blue Ticket: Held by the elderly, the weak, women, and children. Redeemable daily for half an ear of corn, plus two spoonfuls of thick porridge.
"On what grounds?!" An angry roar instantly exploded from the Mondstadt refugees as a weathered man pushed his way out of the crowd and pointed toward the platform. "Technical positions? Isn't that still up to you Liyue people to decide? Are Mondstadt's blacksmiths and leatherworkers not considered artisans?!"
"Grading? This... this is going to add fuel to the fire!" Among the ranks of the Millelith, a young soldier couldn't help muttering softly to the veteran beside him, his palm slick with cold sweat as he gripped his spear. The veteran merely tightened his jaw, his gaze scanning the crowd with sharp vigilance.
Acting Grand Master Jean stepped forward, standing beside Keqing and Ganyu. Her eyes, as blue as a clear summer lake, carried the warm and comforting strength of the wind and pastoral songs as she looked firmly toward her restless Mondstadt compatriots. "The Millelith will coordinate with the Knights of Favonius," her voice rang out like a played organ, soothing taut nerves, "and every three days, the roster of grain ticket distributions and all detailed entries and exits of the granary will be posted publicly at the front of the granary. Every single stroke of the brush shall be verifiable." She paused, her voice growing even clearer and more resolute, "Justice must stand beneath the sunlight, rather than within the shadows of suspicion. Please grant us your trust; this is the foundation upon which we shall all survive."
These words blew like a cool breeze, temporarily scattering part of the heavy gloom shrouding their hearts. Yet the seeds of doubt had already been deeply sown, and the dam of trust remained fragile.
On the first day of implementation, chaos clung like a maggot to bone.
Two sallow-faced women, clutching blue tickets crudely counterfeited with charcoal and inferior pigment, were dragged out from the granary entrance. Sobbing hysterically and collapsing to the ground, they pointed toward the dilapidated tents in the distance: "Our children! The children are starving and chewing on grass roots... Have mercy... just this once..." The Millelith soldiers wore expressions of reluctance, yet they had no choice but to harden their hearts and carry out their duty.
On the other side, when it was time for the Liyue craftsmen to collect their yellow tickets, the leading elderly master craftsman took the wooden plaque, feeling as though countless needles were pricking his back. Without turning around, he could feel the gazes fixed upon him from the direction of the Mondstadt refugees—a mixture of resentment, anger, and a trace of imperceptible envy. Sighing, he tightly clutched the yellow ticket in his palm, his calloused fingertips rubbing against the carved insignia representing an "artisan," his heart feeling weighed down.
Far from the clamor of the granary, squatting alone on the ridge of the experimental field like a silent stone, Limeng pressed his fingertips deep into the soil beneath him, crushing a small lump of deep brown, moisture-laden earth. Weeks ago, the soil here had been as compacted as a Millelith shield; strikes from a hoe left only a white mark and scattered sparks. He remembered the last time he tried mixing a soil conditioner, but the ratios had been so out of balance that it nearly killed the newly sprouted seedlings. After that failure, he sat blankly before his logbook for half the night, recalculating repeatedly until he combined the local mineral properties Jingyi found in ancient texts to formulate a new recipe.
At this moment, the texture conveyed by his fingertips was no longer that of despairing hardness. The lump of earth easily crumbled between his fingers, possessing a faint, crumbly granularity. He could even sense a trace of moisture, like the first drop of rain after a long drought. Flipping open his dog-eared logbook, his charcoal pencil scratched softly across the rough paper:
Experimental Zone III - Purple Cabbage Intercropping Group
Soil Texture: Notably crumbly, initially breaking free from compaction.
Organic Matter Content (Estimated): Increased by roughly 15% (compared to initial samples).
Root Observation (Shallow Layer): Corn fibrous roots have visibly multiplied and thickened, showing signs of interweaving with the fine roots of the purple cabbage.