The massive sweet potato harvest whipped up another whirlwind in Sardinson .
Just as Wei Wei had predicted, over 20 million jin—equivalent to 10,000 tons—of sweet potatoes were harvested from more than 500 acres of land. With such a yield, the entire County of Sardinson could be fed for over half a year.
And if they were to convert all that sweet potato into money, the resulting figure would be astronomical for most people.
Take wheat, for instance. A jin of unhulled wheat currently sells for 4 large copper coins. If it was high-quality seed, the price doubled. A jin could easily fetch a silver coin, with even better varieties going for more.
Sweet potatoes, however, were sold at triple the price of premium wheat seed, which meant one jin could be sold for three silver coins.
That meant the 20 million jin of sweet potatoes, if all sold, would bring in five million gold coins.
Five million gold coins—an amount so massive it would tempt just about anyone. Even the king, not counting other sources of income, might only collect that much in annual land taxes.
Even Wei Wei, who had long treated money as just numbers on paper, felt the urge to sell off all the sweet potatoes for cash the first time she ran the math.
With that kind of money, they could do more than just partially construct the new town—they could complete the entire city in one go without worrying about finances.
Not that they were short on money to begin with. Their various businesses, after taxes, brought in annual profits comparable to this harvest.
And since Felix was the lord and the crops were grown on his land, he didn't owe taxes to anyone. Not even the king could demand a share—he had to obediently send envoys to buy seeds. This income, therefore, belonged entirely to them.
Of course, it was just a fleeting thought. Realistically, they would never sell all of it, but it came close.
Wei Wei and Felix had decided early on that half of the harvest could be sold to nobles and merchants. The remaining half, after keeping a portion for seeds, would go to tenants interested in buying planting stock.
This year, they planned to reserve only around 100,000 jin of sweet potatoes.
Next year, only 100 acres of land would be allocated to sweet potatoes in the estate's planting schedule. The rest would go to other promising crops that had already been grown on a decent scale, like peanuts and sesame.
Of the many seeds Wei Wei had brought, only a few might end up becoming common in Sardinson . Still, for the next few years, she would prioritize large-scale planting to ensure these species could reproduce steadily before any degeneration occurred, helping to diversify local life.
To plant 100 acres, they needed only 60,000 jin of sweet potatoes. Reserving 100,000 jin allowed for losses due to storage mishaps, plus some to be used as food.
After three years of cultivating sweet potatoes, they finally had a big enough harvest to enjoy them properly. Wei Wei had already drafted a long menu, eager to showcase her cooking skills.
The same logic applied to corn—they didn't plan to keep much, around 10,000 jin would suffice.
So, most of the harvest would be sold. Maybe not five million gold coins' worth, but at least four million.
Of course, this was a one-time windfall only possible this year. Once sweet potatoes became common, the price would inevitably fall, eventually stabilizing at a level affordable for everyone.
Over the next few days, Felix was constantly busy with business. Ten million jin of sweet potatoes, along with two million jin of corn, were all sold in just a few days. Wagon after wagon of goods rolled out from the estate, sent to every corner of the land. In return came stacks of promissory notes worth a fortune in gold, profits overflowing.
Wei Wei wasn't idle either. The unrest in Sardinson wasn't limited to visiting nobles and merchants. Waves of local tenants also came knocking, anxious after hearing that the Earl was selling high-yield crops in bulk. Each group sent representatives to the castle, requesting to purchase seed stock.
Since having people constantly show up at the castle was not ideal, Wei Wei arranged for a temporary shop rental in Dingle. A batch of sweet potatoes was delivered by wagon, and the store was designated to sell only to local tenants. Buyers had to provide proof of residence in Sardinson or Slot and certify that the seeds were for their own fields. This ensured as many interested tenants as possible could buy.
Naturally, this was terrible news for outsiders. But there was nothing they could do—local tenants had to be prioritized. If even the locals didn't have enough, there was no reason to share with others.
As for serfs who wanted to buy, they could register with the steward. Even those without money could receive seeds—on the condition that they would pay with next year's harvest, either through additional taxes or more labor time.
Knights mostly didn't buy any. Their fiefs weren't large, and last year they had already received seed potatoes. Even though the quantity had been limited, the yield was good. What they harvested this year would be more than enough for planting again next year.
With a huge portion of the harvest shipped out, the castle staff finally stopped worrying about insufficient cellar space. Felix no longer feared his wine cellar turning into a produce pantry. Heaven knew how anxious he'd been about his wines being "tainted" by all those fruits and vegetables, especially now that Wei Wei was experimenting with things like soy sauce and pickled vegetables. While she didn't put them directly in the wine cellar, they were stored in the adjacent room, just one door away—and somehow, they all had a rather pungent smell.
The soybeans had been harvested shortly before the sweet potatoes. They had been interplanted in the cornfields. On the very day they were gathered, Wei Wei had some soaked and ground into soy milk to make tofu. They enjoyed several days of authentic tofu dishes afterward. She also set aside some to try making soy sauce. Of course, most would be kept as seed. Although soybean yield wasn't high, on par with wheat, the planting volume needed was similar to corn. In two to three years, full-scale adoption would be achievable. The same held for other legumes.
Once the seed-buying frenzy subsided, the castle treasury had gained several million gold coins. Surprisingly, however, there were still some sweet potatoes left in storage—about 300,000 jin—and even 50,000 jin of corn remained.
They could have easily sold the surplus to a few merchants, but since the amounts weren't huge, Wei Wei and Felix decided to store them in the cellar. If tenants wanted to plant again next year, they'd sell it then. If not, they'd just keep it for themselves to eat.
Having bought what they came for, the guests were preparing to leave.
Among them, of course, were Salina and her son Adonis. But before leaving, Adonis finally did what Salina had long hoped for.
In the picturesque garden, beneath an arched trellis woven with blooming roses, Adonis knelt on one knee and proposed to Dolores, offering her a gemstone ring that had been passed down through his family for generations.
"Will you marry me?" The young earl's handsome face was filled with sincerity, and his eyes brimmed with deep, unwavering tenderness.
Noble marriages always had to consider many practical aspects. Love alone was rarely enough. Someone as lucky as Felix, who had married entirely for love, was truly a rare exception.
Yet Adonis felt he was just as fortunate. The girl he liked happened to be of equal social standing, and there were few obstacles between them.
True, his feelings for Dolores might not yet be as passionate as Felix's love for Wei Wei—perhaps not even enough to be called "love" just yet. But he was sure he liked the girl before him. The more time they spent together, the deeper that affection grew. He believed that, sooner or later, this fondness would blossom into true love.
And Adonis knew that if he let this one slip away, he might never find another who fit him so well.
So even though he hadn't planned to propose so soon, under his mother's persistent encouragement, he moved up the timeline.
Dolores had harbored a faint hope in her heart, but when that hope became reality, she still found it hard to believe.
She covered her mouth to stifle a gasp, her blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears of joy, making her look even more enchanting.
Of course, she was willing—she had long dreamed of this day.
Forgetting all ladylike restraint, Dolores answered eagerly, almost in a rush, "Of course I will!"
Adonis smiled warmly at her genuine response. Still on one knee, he took her hand, slipped the ring onto her finger, and pressed a gentle kiss to it.
The newly engaged girl's face lit up with a radiant smile.
When news of Adonis's successful proposal spread, it felt like everything had fallen into place. Without delay, Salina went to see Felix to discuss the engagement ceremony.
An engagement banquet was a must, and it had to be held at the Aldridge family's castle. She needed to know when Felix would be available.
If possible, Salina even hoped to invite the entire family to Aldridge during this trip and hold the banquet immediately.
But Felix had to turn down what he saw as a hasty arrangement. "I'm afraid we won't be able to make time until winter."
It was already approaching September, and autumn planting was just around the corner. Felix had an endless list of responsibilities, and even Wei Wei was too busy to spare time. Neither of them could leave Sardinson right now, and they weren't about to send just one person to attend Dolores's engagement.
So it had to be during the winter lull, when schedules finally eased up.
"How about the end of November?" Salina calculated aloud. Aldridge was an inland county with a climate similar to Sardinson 's—possibly even colder in winter. But late November wasn't snow season yet. It would be chilly, yes, but not too cold for travel.
Plus, if the banquet couldn't happen now, she would need to be in the capital in October for her daughter's wedding. Scheduling the engagement ceremony for late November gave her plenty of time to prepare.
Although their decision to marry off their daughter to Prince Andrew was made reluctantly, the girl had accepted it calmly and without resistance. This only deepened Salina and Adonis's guilt toward her.
If possible, Salina hoped to invite Prince Andrew to the engagement ceremony after the wedding—then she could have her daughter and son-in-law stay at Aldridge for a while, maybe even until spring.
Felix thought over his already packed schedule, which was booked out for months in advance, and confirmed that he had no major commitments in November. He nodded in agreement.
They then finalized the date—November 21st.
Once the date was set, Salina couldn't wait to return and start preparing. This was her son's engagement, and she was determined to make it flawless, lavish, beautiful, and without the slightest regret.
Although Dolores and Adonis had only just gotten engaged, they were now forced to part for a time. It was a bittersweet farewell.
When she saw Adonis off, Dolores's eyes were red with emotion. But a message by carrier pigeon soon lifted her spirits, and she dove into preparing for her engagement.
She wanted to make her engagement gown—one that would be the most beautiful she'd ever worn. To do so, she contacted the castle's resident tailor—the elderly man whose business had boomed in recent years thanks to them.
Wei Wei, realizing it was time to prepare new winter clothing for the entire castle, sent word asking the tailor to bring as many fabric samples as possible—ideally, one of every type.
As soon as the tailor received the castle's summons, he loaded up two carts full of fabrics and arrived with a team of apprentices to let them choose freely.
For the knights and servants who served the nobility, it was customary for the lord to provide work attire. Typically, this meant purchasing fabric and having the maids sew the clothes themselves. In the past, Sardinson Castle spent around 200–300 gold coins a year on fabric for everyone.
But ever since Wei Wei became the countess, that budget had skyrocketed—from two sets of clothing per year to two sets per season. The fabrics also improved in quality. With the maids busier than ever and no time to sew for everyone, Wei Wei had the tailor make ready-to-wear clothes based on each person's measurements. Naturally, this approach was more expensive, but the wealthy countess could easily afford it.
Dolores carefully browsed through the fabrics, picking one for her engagement dress. Normally, she wasn't one to spend lavishly and just used whatever Wei Wei provided. But this time, she had to choose from the bright, expensive fabrics.
Meanwhile, Wei Wei was selecting fabrics for the knights and the castle staff's winter clothes. She didn't plan to buy fur. The estate raised both sheep and rabbits, and there was no shortage of either. Previously, most winter garments were made from sheepskin, but this year, rabbit fur might take the lead.
The rabbits on the hillside had thrived. Since catching the first few last year, they'd been steadily adding more. The does gave birth almost monthly, seven or eight kits per litter. After a few months, those kits matured and reproduced again. By now, the hills were teeming with rabbits—easily hundreds, if not over a thousand.
Of course, not all could be kept over winter. The oldest rabbits had already been slaughtered. Their meat was popular among the people, and the pelts were tanned into leather. Soft, fluffy, and warm, rabbit fur made excellent winter material. Though the grayish fur of wild rabbits wasn't favored by nobles, ordinary folk weren't so picky.
Wei Wei mostly examined linen and cotton fabrics. In this era, both men and women wore underskirts beneath their outer clothes. That was because outerwear was thick, stiff, and hard to clean. To prevent sweat from staining it, people wore breathable underskirts made from fine linen or cotton. Since these were like undergarments—very personal—most people sewed them at home from fabric they bought.
"Madam, take a look at this year's cotton," the old tailor offered eagerly. "This batch is our latest—it's soft, breathable, and even cheaper than last year's."
Wei Wei's eyes landed on a bolt of black cotton, and she was surprised. Black fabric was rare in this era—it was hard to dye and prone to fading. Even when available, few people wanted it, especially the nobles who preferred bright colors.
Yet among the tailor's samples, there were not just black cotton fabrics but also black linen and wool—very uncommon indeed.
Wei Wei, however, liked black. She touched the bolt of black cotton. It felt fine and smooth.
"Does this fade?"
The tailor grinned at her interest. "Dark colors do tend to fade a little, but don't worry—these were dyed in my workshop. Minimal fading. Much better than anything elsewhere. And it's all thanks to you, Madam. If you hadn't told me oak bark could be used to dye black cloth, and shared how to prevent fading, we wouldn't have been able to make such quality black fabric. These red, blue, and purple bolts, too—they're dyed using your plant and mineral methods."
Did she say that? Wei Wei tried to recall. Ah, yes—one time she'd casually mentioned it when she heard he had set up his workshop to handle everything from weaving to dyeing and selling cloth. She hadn't expected him to take her advice so seriously—and succeed.
Looking at the black fabric sparked a thought in her mind: a black-and-white dress… and then a black-and-white uniform.
If there was any attire that best suited a castle, it had to be a team of servants dressed in maid outfits and butler uniforms.
Wei Wei's interest was piqued. She eagerly asked the apprentices to bring over all the black fabrics. She examined them bolt by bolt—cotton, wool—all soft to the touch and perfect for winter wear.
"How much of this black fabric do you have?"
The tailor immediately realized a big order might be coming. He beamed. "Just a few bolts for now, but don't worry. We've already woven plenty. Tell us the color and we can dye more right away."
"How long will it take to dye?"
"That depends—how much do you need?"
Wei Wei did a quick calculation. Including servants and young serfs, there were over 400 people at the castle now. Add the 120 knights and 120 knight-attendants, and it came to around 700 people.
"I'll need enough black wool fabric for 700 people. How soon can you have it ready?"
Gulp.
The tailor swallowed hard. Looks like the castle's fabric needs have gone up again this year.
"At most a month. If you need it urgently, we can rush and finish in half a month."
"No rush—it's for autumn and winter. We still have a few months before the weather changes."
"I'll also need the same amount of white cotton—pure white. Do you have that?"
"We do!" Natural cotton was off-white, but they had the bleaching techniques to make it as white as needed.
Because Wei Wei was ordering in such bulk, the tailor offered a generous discount. Still, just the fabric cost would be nearly 500 gold coins.
And naturally, the sewing work would be handled by his tailors.
Wei Wei picked up a pen and paper and drew four different uniform designs, all in black and white—one dress and three types of suits. She drew detailed sketches and layout guides so the tailor could understand clearly. Then she asked:
"Can you make these?"
The tailor, initially drawn in by the promise of money, was now intrigued by the designs themselves. He examined the unfamiliar patterns closely and said, "Give me a bit of time to study them. They're complicated, but I think we can do it. Though the tailoring cost will go up."
Wei Wei nodded. These outfits were more complex than their usual work, and entirely handmade. Higher costs were expected.
"Of course. As long as the quality's there, I'll make sure you're well paid."
The tailor relaxed at her assurance. He knew how generous the countess could be—she was by far his biggest client.
At last, he couldn't help pointing to three of the men's designs and asking, "I heard the Earl wore a 'suit' at his wedding—a jacket and trousers, very unique in style. Was it something like these?"
Wei Wei shook her head. "Similar, but not the same. That was formalwear. These are different cuts."
He pointed to one design. "Make two of this style for now. As for the rest, once I finish measuring everyone, I'll send someone to give you the sizes."
Previously, ready-to-wear pieces were made in standard sizes—small, medium, large—and everyone's sizes were on record. Once the garments were finished, people just picked up the size that fit. But this year, with a batch of growing teenagers, they needed to be measured and custom-fitted.
"Yes, Madam!" the tailor replied joyfully.
As he did the mental math, his heart leapt—this was going to be a very lucrative order indeed.