1 JIN(Catty) = 600 gram(1.32277 pound)
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"The king seems intent on having Prince Andrew marry Dolores."
Upon seeing Dolores, Felix, who had been immersed in the joy of becoming a father these past few days, finally remembered this troublesome issue.
Dolores and Prince Andrew?
Hearing this, Weiwei's first reaction was sheer disbelief.
Felix and Dolores's grandmother was the king's sister, which meant Prince Andrew was their maternal uncle—a blood relative within three generations. Such a close familial relationship made marriage between them forbidden.
Not to mention the severe genetic risks associated with close-relative marriages; even by hierarchy standards, the match was a complete mess.
Because it was so absurd, Weiwei immediately blurted out, "Is he insane?"
She sat up straight in shock, staring at Felix. "Prince Andrew is your uncle, right? He and Dolores? How could that be possible?"
It was possible.
Felix hadn't expected her reaction to be so intense and quickly tried to explain.
In medieval times, close-relative marriages were quite common. In China, cousin marriages were a familiar occurrence, and in Europe was even more extreme: not just cousins, but uncles marrying nieces, nephews marrying aunts—these were all fairly routine. Royal families, especially, often allowed full siblings to marry each other to "preserve the royal bloodline."
"Take the king, for example. His late queen also came from royal blood, and they were quite closely related," Felix said.
He didn't bother explaining the exact family tree between the king and the late queen—it was too complicated. Almost every royal house in Europe had been intermarrying for generations. Among the old nobility of Pradi, almost every first- and second-tier noble family had either married into the royal family at some point or had royal blood flowing through their veins.
Felix's own family was no exception.
Therefore, from the perspective of people at the time, there was nothing particularly wrong with the king wanting Prince Andrew to marry Dolores. The Church might raise objections—after all, they officially opposed consanguineous marriages—but when it came to noble matters, the Church usually turned a blind eye. Moreover, the king of Pradi had never cared much for the Church's opinions.
Weiwei had long known that European royals loved strategic marriages and that some countries even permitted close relative unions. But knowing was one thing—facing it in real life made the whole thing feel unbearably absurd.
"We can't let them marry. It'll cause serious problems," Weiwei said, very seriously.
Felix, although he didn't agree with the marriage either, had come to that conclusion after weighing political pros and cons. Weiwei, however, was thinking purely about the risks of their blood relations.
She gave Felix a crash course on the horrific outcomes of close-relative marriages, painting the consequences as bleakly as possible.
"If you want Dolores's future child to be a fool, deformed, or even stillborn, then by all means, let this happen."
Although she phrased it sarcastically, her expression made it clear—if Felix agreed, she would turn hostile immediately.
She added solemnly, "Also, children born from close bloodlines have a huge risk of inheriting genetic defects. One of the diseases I know well is hemophilia. I'm sure you've heard of it?"
Hemophilia was a disease where even the slightest injury could lead to unstoppable bleeding. It was lifelong and highly hereditary—both men and women could carry it, but mostly men fell ill.
In the 19th century, Queen Victoria of England was a carrier of the hemophilia gene (though she was healthy), and she became the starting point for the disease's spread within European royal families. Due to widespread intermarriage, hemophilia genes spread from Britain to Russia, Spain, and other royal houses, causing generations of suffering. Hence, the disease later earned the nickname "the Royal Disease."
Of course, in the 13th century medieval period, hemophilia wasn't common yet, but people already feared its consequences. Medical treatments at the time were primitive—wounds were cauterized with hot irons to stop bleeding, but the burns could be just as deadly. Even if one wound was closed, it didn't mean future injuries wouldn't kill the patient. A small cut could drain a person's life away.
And because hemophilia mainly affected males, for many noble families, it was a nightmare that could wipe out entire bloodlines.
Felix was not only aware of the disease—he had seen a royal family member in the capital who had suffered from it.
After hearing Weiwei's explanation, Felix's face turned truly grim, like he had been smeared with soot.
"That royal who had it died many years ago," he said hoarsely. "Even though his relation to the king was distant, do you think it's possible that the disease still lurks within the royal bloodline?"
Felix was genuinely worried. After all, their grandmother was very closely related to the king.
"It's possible," Weiwei admitted. "But since the Williams family hasn't shown any cases of it until now, you probably don't need to worry too much."
Genetics were unpredictable, but Weiwei still tried to reassure him: "Plus, the earlier the onset, the worse it is. If a child shows symptoms before two years old, it's severe. After five or six years old, it's usually milder. And for someone your age—no need to worry anymore."
Felix, being a knight, had endured countless wounds without issues—clearly, he didn't have hemophilia.
Even in modern times, hemophilia is still a rare disease. It only became famous because it had devastated so many royal families.
Felix had bigger health risks to worry about than that.
Still, Weiwei's warning had deeply unsettled him. He became even more determined to prevent any marriage alliances with the royal family. He made another decision then and there:
"From now on, no member of our family is allowed to marry anyone with close blood ties or with known genetic diseases!"
He was planning to write this into the family's official rules, complete with a clear outline of the disastrous consequences of breaking it.
Moreover, if they could spread this knowledge among the nobles—not even mentioning hemophilia—just the risks of birth defects alone would be enough to terrify those obsessed with securing healthy heirs.
In noble societies, stillbirths were surprisingly common. That's why so many noble couples desperately tried to have multiple children—they couldn't guarantee a single one would survive to adulthood. It wasn't about having a big family for joy; it was about ensuring there was someone to inherit everything.
If the eldest son could grow up healthy, the others were just backups.
From the king's standpoint, Felix believed that if they could show him the hidden dangers behind all this, he would abandon the idea of marrying Andrew and Dolores.
"But we can't say it ourselves," Felix added. "Otherwise His Majesty will just think it's an excuse."
If that happened, the king might get angry at the Williams family.
"How about letting the Church handle it?" Weiwei suggested, thinking of Pope John. "The Church has always opposed close-relative marriages. Plus, Pope John himself is a doctor. If we write him a letter asking for an official investigation, and he produces a report proving how dangerous consanguineous marriages are, then we can make it public. Problem solved."
Given the Church's strong influence across Europe, even though Pope John wasn't currently the ruling power within the Church, investigating this would be simple. The Church was considered the authority on medicine, and their word carried great weight—having them step in would be perfect.
Felix frowned. He still didn't trust the Church, but he had to admit, it was a good idea. "But... would they be willing to help? Doing so could offend a lot of nobles."
After all, noble families loved arranging marriages for political alliances. Many of them were closely intertwined by blood. If the Church openly condemned such marriages, panic could spread among the aristocracy.
"I think Pope John would agree," Weiwei said confidently. "The hardliners currently control the Church, and Pope John, as a moderate, would probably love the chance to strike back."
Whether he agreed or not, they could simply send a letter and see.
Still, Felix wasn't content with just waiting for the Church's response. Pope John was traveling among various kingdoms; even if he received their letter and agreed to help, compiling a full report would take time. Meanwhile, the king might once again push for the marriage alliance. Felix didn't want to sit idly by.
"Should we spread some rumors ourselves in the meantime? Wouldn't the king suspect you?"
"I plan to pin it on Duke Romanov," Felix revealed his plan.
The Crown Prince of Pradi, Edward Pradi, was notoriously unhealthy. Sixteen years old, married for two years already, and yet still without a child—rumor had it that due to his frail health, he hadn't even consummated his marriage. This gossip was widely believed, especially since the Crown Princess showed no signs of pregnancy. Interestingly, the king never blamed her and was very protective of her.
Felix's idea was to push the narrative that the Crown Prince's poor health was due to hereditary reasons—not fabrication, but pointing to real weaknesses in the Crown Prince's maternal family history.
Then, they could imply that even if the Crown Prince did have children in the future, they might inherit his health problems.
This rumor already had some traction among the nobles. Many of them quietly doubted the Crown Prince's ability to produce heirs. That was why quite a few supported Duke Romanov instead—compared to a sickly prince and a less-than-brilliant second son, Romanov, strong, healthy, and intelligent, seemed a much better choice for the throne.
All Felix needed to do was fan the flames and steer public opinion towards the dangers of inbreeding.
"The Crown Prince and Crown Princess are cousins, after all," he pointed out.
The Crown Princess came from the late queen's family. Her mother and the late queen were full sisters. Marrying her was a way for the king to secure the loyalty of his late queen's family.
Weiwei remembered that detail. She had known when she lived in the capital but hadn't cared much then. After all, cousin marriages were so common that speaking against it publicly would only offend everyone.
"Won't this affect the Crown Prince and Crown Princess's marriage?"
"It will," Felix admitted bluntly.
Once the investigation report came out, the first couple to come under scrutiny would be the Crown Prince and Princess. Given their close blood relationship and two years of childlessness, if the king believed the report's findings, the royal marriage could very well be dissolved.
But that wasn't Felix's concern. He didn't care what happened to strangers—he only cared about his own family. For the sake of Dolores's freedom to choose her marriage, he was willing to sacrifice someone else's marriage.
Weiwei thought back to the times she'd glimpsed the Crown Princess at court. She was a beautiful young girl, only sixteen, with golden hair and green eyes. Had she remained unmarried, she would surely have had countless suitors.
But in her two years as the Crown Princess, Weiwei saw no youthful vibrance in her. She always sat quietly beside the Crown Prince, her posture perfect but her expression empty. Her brilliant green eyes reflected nothing but confusion and hopelessness.
Most importantly, the couple had no emotional connection at all.
Weiwei remembered attending banquets where they didn't exchange a single word the entire evening. Everyone at court knew the Crown Prince was indifferent to his wife—he never mistreated her, but he treated her like a stranger, not even like a distant cousin.
Emotional neglect—it was likely what the poor girl was enduring.
Perhaps divorce would be a better fate for her. After all, Europe wasn't as strict about divorce as the East; women had somewhat better rights here.
Of course, whether it came to that depended on whether the king believed the rumors.
"He doesn't even have to completely believe it," Felix said, stroking the emerging stubble on his chin. "As long as he believes we aren't the ones spreading the rumors, and that I'm simply refusing the marriage alliance because of what I've heard, that's enough."
The king would still be angry—but not too furious. From what Felix observed, the Williams family wasn't his first choice anyway. His real rage would be directed at whoever was behind the rumors: Duke Romanov.
And it would be easy enough to guide suspicion toward Duke Romanov. Felix wouldn't even need to do much. A little nudge, a little hint to the Duke—and Romanov himself would gleefully take the opportunity to undermine the royal princes.
Romanov had never hidden his ambitions. Whether it was confidence or arrogance, he made no secret of his thirst for the throne. Yet the king hadn't moved against him—not just because Romanov was cautious, but because he wielded real power. Mishandling him could destabilize the kingdom.
Even Weiwei could see that if Romanov wasn't eliminated before the king's death, once a prince took the throne, civil war was almost inevitable.
"You're not worried about that?" she asked.
"The king won't give him the chance," Felix said firmly. "Right now, Romanov is still around because the king is healthy and confident he can control him. Plus, he's worried that neither of his sons will outlive him. Romanov is his backup option for succession."
If the king ended up dying with no heirs, having Romanov—a man with royal blood—succeed would be an acceptable, though undesirable, option.
Romanov seemed to understand this too. That's why he hadn't taken any real action against the princes. Killing them would guarantee his death.
"But if the king senses death approaching and his sons are still alive, he'll make sure Romanov doesn't live to cause trouble."
If he couldn't deal with him openly, he'd arrange something in secret.
Felix had understood this from the start. In his view, the king was ruthless, just like his ancestors who had once defied the Church's authority. They cared nothing for their reputations—only for securing their power.
When death was near, eliminating threats to his bloodline was the most natural thing for the king to do.
Romanov, for all his cunning, apparently hadn't realized this. Otherwise, he wouldn't be flaunting his ambitions so openly.
"What a mess," Weiwei sighed after hearing Felix's analysis.
"At least we're not in the capital," she added with relief. The royal family's dirty struggles couldn't touch them out here.
And that only strengthened their determination to avoid any marriage alliances with the royal family.
"Let's do it your way. But Dolores's marriage must be her own choice," she said firmly. She had promised the girl that—and she would not go back on her word.
Felix nodded. Truthfully, he had already been preparing to reject the marriage proposal. Weiwei's reasoning just gave him a better excuse.
After the main troops returned, Felix also took Weiwei to see the treasures he had brought back.
Exquisite jewelry, luxurious fabrics, exotic goods—they filled carriage after carriage. These extravagant gifts were all specially collected by Felix for Weiwei.
She pulled out a hat from one of the boxes—a stunning piece, wide-brimmed, adorned with pink pearls and white feathers. Two wide white ribbons hung beneath, meant to be tied under the chin into a grand bow. It was elegant and glamorous—exactly her style.
"This style's already reached the capital?" she asked, placing the hat on her head. It was heavier than expected; no wonder it needed the chin ribbons to keep it secure.
"I opened a hat shop in the capital," Felix said with a smile. "Dolores has been the best advertisement."
As his dance partner and the only unmarried lady of the Williams family, Dolores had been the center of attention during their trip to the capital. Last time, her and Weiwei's outfits sparked a fashion craze; this time, the hats she wore at various banquets attracted similar admiration.
Before that, Sardinson's hats had already been gaining popularity across the region but hadn't yet broken into high society. Thanks to Dolores, the trend exploded.
Felix had gotten much better at spotting business opportunities. In the capital, he now owned not just two essential oil shops (which also sold perfumes and cosmetics), but several stores selling Sardinson foods, a specialty fan shop, and now, a fashionable hat boutique.
The hat store sold both men's and women's hats. At first, styles were limited, but he had hired several skilled tailors, some even experienced in designing gowns, to switch over to hat-making.
Of course, the store was still new, and inventory should have been limited. But Felix had cleverly prepared by sending a shipment of plain straw hats to the capital ahead of time. Once there, workers dressed them up—wrapping them in fabric, adding lace, faux flowers, feathers, and even precious gems. Decorating them was fast work for skilled hands, and one worker could embellish dozens of hats a day.
The fashionable noble ladies loved these stylish, fancy hats. It took just one banquet to make them a must-have item. Customers flooded the store, cleaning out the inventory and leaving behind a mountain of orders. In just a short time, the new shop had already made back its investment.
"See? As long as you know how to do it, women's money is the easiest to earn."
Indeed, most of their businesses thrived by targeting the wallets of the noble ladies.