1 JIN(Catty) = 600 gram(1.32277 pound)
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Recently, the meat sauce factory in Sardinson County has seen a surge in sales.
Although the braised pork had only been sold at the market for a few days, its impact was massive. Those who had tasted it no longer thought pork was unappetizing; instead, they had fallen deeply in love with its flavor. Once they discovered the braised pork was sold out, many even rushed to buy pork themselves, hoping to recreate the dish at home.
The preparation wasn't difficult. When the servants set up their stalls to sell braised pork, they hadn't hidden the cooking method; anyone could easily memorize the process just by watching. They had no intention of keeping it a secret and seemed rather intent on promoting the recipe for the spices used, aside from chili peppers—which were currently only available from the castle's reserves and not sold elsewhere—the rest were readily available in Sardinson. The harder thing to find was good pork.
While the pork was sold at the market, it was not from the carefully fattened pigs raised in Sardinson County. The local pigs were smaller, cheaper, and sold for just two silver coins each, but everyone who had tried them knew the flavor was inferior.
Only a few of the tenants who sent pigs to the castle were willing to keep some of the meat for themselves—most kept it for personal consumption. However, if someone offered a high enough price or was willing to trade for other meats, they were willing to sell, though the quantities were extremely limited.
Meanwhile, the slaughterhouse had all the pigs lined up in plain sight, so naturally, some people tried their luck there.
However, the pigs at the slaughterhouse were all reserved for the meat sauce factory, and they had no authority to sell the meat. Initially, they simply refused. But as more and more people came asking—many of whom were butchers hoping to seize a business opportunity—the slaughterhouse workers eventually decided to report the matter to their superiors.
Along with their report, they included the number of pigs collected this time.
When the castle distributed piglets earlier, the number given out was carefully recorded. Thanks to a significant influx of freedmen joining Sardinson County this year, the population had risen from around 10,000 households at the start of the year to 11,000 by year's end. About 30% of these households had bravely taken in piglets. While a few unfortunate cases of piglet deaths occurred, most were successfully raised, and over 3,000 pigs had been collected over the past few days.
Slaughtering that many pigs wasn't easy. Currently, they were processing about a hundred pigs per day, and even the meat sauce factory was struggling to keep up. It would take nearly a month to process them all, and they had to be careful to prevent the pigs from freezing or falling ill at the slaughterhouse. The pressure was high.
"Since people are wanting to buy, go ahead and sell a few pigs each day. Set the exact number yourselves, just make sure it doesn't affect the factory's production. As for the price, sell according to market rates."
Next year, even more people would be raising pigs, and it would be impossible for the meat sauce factory to buy them all. Promoting pork consumption was crucial—people needed to develop a taste for it to ensure future sales.
At this time, pork prices weren't bad—in fact, they were even slightly higher than lamb. Lamb was more common, so despite wool and hide being valuable, the meat price stayed low. Pork, on the other hand, was rarer and considered a delicacy by some, especially those who disliked the gameness of lamb. Thus, pork commanded a higher price but wasn't easy to sell.
When they collected pigs, they paid at the lowest market price. However, after people realized how delicious pork could be—even with regular pigs—and discovered that using ginger, garlic, and wine could remove much of the porky smell, the demand for pork rose sharply. Although the home-cooked versions couldn't quite match the castle's braised pork, they were still good enough.
With pork being rare, prices climbed over the past few days. Selling pigs at market price meant the slaughterhouse could earn a little extra profit.
They quickly decided to sell ten pigs a day. These pigs would not be butchered on-site, as the slaughterhouse was too busy. Buyers had to arrange for their slaughtering, meaning most pigs were sold to butchers, who could then process and sell them piece by piece to individual customers.
Naturally, the price for butchered meat differed from live pigs, allowing profit on both sides. Customers could buy pork easily, resulting in a win-win situation.
Soon after, the meat sauce factory also launched several new canned pork products. Previously, they had only sold various types of meat sauces, which were perfect for pairing with pasta or spreading on bread. But now, they introduced braised pork cans and luncheon meat cans—the former containing chunky pieces of pork with lots of sauce, and the latter resembling a block of ham. Both new products were instant hits, with countless orders pouring in. Between these and the older meat sauces, the pigs in the slaughterhouse were practically sold before they were even slaughtered.
Meanwhile, Wei Wei was already contacting the merchants who had previously sold them piglets to place orders for next year.
Even though the ranch had successfully bred hundreds of piglets this year and was preparing for another round of breeding, it was clear that their current scale couldn't supply enough piglets for all the tenants. Thus, they needed to purchase additional piglets.
To confirm the numbers, the group of newly recruited trainees—still in training—was dispatched to towns and villages to collect data on how many households intended to raise pigs next year.
After a year of experience, people's confidence had grown, and nearly every household wanted to raise pigs. Some even asked if they could raise sows because last year the castle had only distributed boars.
"You can raise sows next year, but there will be a quota. Only those who have proven they can successfully raise pigs will qualify."
Raising sows was riskier. Pregnancy and farrowing required careful attention, and mishandling could easily result in losses, which would be financially disastrous for the tenants.
Moreover, after farrowing, tenants could only keep one piglet per litter. If a sow only had one piglet, then the next litter would belong entirely to the lord. However, such small litters were extremely rare. As long as the sow was kept healthy, they could keep one piglet from every litter thereafter. Whether to raise or sell those piglets would be their own choice.
"What about the sows after they farrow?"
"Will the Earl take them back?"
The official registering the names flipped through his notes. "If you raise a sow, for the first three years the piglets must be handed over as taxes. After three years, the show belongs to you outright. Then you'll just pay the regular taxes."
A sow's prime breeding years were between three and five years old. After that, though they could still bear piglets, both the quantity and quality would decline, and the meat of old sows wasn't great either. The castle had no interest in reclaiming them; tenants could deal with them as they wished.
Once these conditions were made clear, even more people wanted to raise sows. Though giving up one piglet per litter seemed like a loss, three years of consistent piglets—about six piglets in total—would yield a fortune compared to buying and raising them from scratch. Selling grown pigs weighing around 100 pounds could easily bring five or six silver coins per piglet, meaning six pigs could translate into over one gold coin and ten silver coins of income!
A gold coin—something many people had never even seen in their lifetime!
And best of all, no tax would be charged on these earnings. Even after three years, only one piglet per litter would be taxed; the rest would be entirely theirs.
"I want to raise a sow! Sign me up!"
"Me too! Please register me!"
People scrambled to sign up, remembering the limited quota.
The registrar loudly knocked on the table: "Quiet down! Only those who successfully raised pigs last year will be prioritized. If you didn't raise pigs this year, even if you have experience, you can't apply yet. Form an orderly line!"
Hearing the rules, many who regretted not taking piglets last year were devastated, especially the experienced ones, but there was nothing they could do.
While many dreamed of raising pigs, quite a few, due to steady jobs or unsuitable home conditions, could only watch enviously.
In the end, over six thousand eligible tenants signed up to raise pigs next year, with around a thousand of them intending to raise sows.
Piglets, of course, weren't priced by meat weight but rather per head. At the current market rate, a half-month-old piglet costs about one silver coin, and a sow piglet half a silver more. Buying over 6,000 piglets, even with discounts, would still cost about 300 gold coins.
"…That's so cheap," remarked Felix, fresh from reviewing the year's financial reports.
Thud.
Wei Wei lightly knocked him on the head with the report—not painful, but loud.
"Don't get cocky. Remember, back then Sardinson's annual income was only 5,000 gold coins."
Felix fell silent, realizing he had indeed been a bit arrogant.
Back when he was just a knight, not counting the prize money from the arena, the income from his fiefdom—after deducting expenses—barely amounted to a hundred gold coins a year.
Indeed, he had gotten carried away.
But honestly, after just having gone over an entire year's financial reports filled with astronomical numbers in the tens of thousands, who wouldn't feel that a mere three hundred gold coins were insignificant? That was barely the cost of a few bottles of essential oils nowadays.
"Sardinson's income this year is indeed much higher, but our expenses have also skyrocketed," Wei Wei said, almost counting off with her fingers.
Though they had made over ten million gold coins this year—a figure that could probably rival even the Church's revenues across all of Europe—it was gross income. After deducting costs, taxes, and countless miscellaneous expenses, the net profit shrank dramatically. Especially since infrastructure projects within Sardinson County had never stopped: the roads had just been finished, and now they were starting on the harbor, shipyard, and a new city—every project required massive funds.
Essentially, the money they earned only passed through their hands before being spent. Very little could be saved.
Well, at most they could pile up a modest "small mountain of gold" in the castle treasury—not much at all.
After hearing Wei Wei's breakdown, Felix said no more. The more he thought about it, the more he realized... were they still quite poor?
"The harbor is already under construction," Wei Wei continued. "But the building speed in winter is slow. It'll probably take half a year to complete, meaning it won't be usable until next summer at the earliest. As for the shipyard—there's not even a foundation laid yet. Do you remember how much gold you spent just buying a few ships? And the new city... that's going to be a real money pit."
So, three hundred gold coins might seem cheap, but they still needed to maintain a frugal mindset and spend money wisely—definitely no extravagance.
Felix raised his hands in surrender. "I'll have the merchant team push for the lowest price possible, and try to buy as many piglets as we can!"
Now that was more like it.
Wei Wei, satisfied, dropped the topic and changed gears: "The construction team—didn't they just finish repairing the roads?"
This construction team had been hired before last winter. Though they were occasionally pulled away to work on other projects, overall, the workforce had kept growing. After a year's effort, the major roads in Sardinson had finally been paved. As for the smaller village paths, those were outside the team's scope—Felix didn't want to waste money there. Sardinson was mainly flat plains with few hills, and as long as the main roads were good, village paths could be dirt or stone roads, fixed up by the villagers themselves during their off-season.
With the major projects done, the construction team now had some surplus manpower. But clearly, they wouldn't be idle for long. As soon as Wei Wei heard they had free hands, she immediately decided to send them off to start building the new city.
"Pierre has finished the model for the new city," she said. "He did an excellent job. Since the workers are available, let's start construction."
Pierre had worked with Wei Wei to design the model, and Felix hadn't yet seen the final product. Now curious, he eagerly asked to take a look.
The model was placed in a vacant room, covering about a meter square of table space. Most of the surrounding area was left blank, with future-use zones simply marked, but the first phase of construction had been fully realized. The model was so intricately detailed, it looked like a miniature city from a fairytale world—only the colors were slightly different. Without context, someone might think they were looking at a little doll's kingdom.
Felix examined the completed section. Centered around the city hall, there were two residential districts, parks of different styles, a hospital, a bank, and a market—even a small church zone had been represented with a tiny model.
Felix found the Chinese-style park particularly fascinating. He had already thought the drawings were beautiful when Wei Wei first showed them, but now, seeing the model made it clear: this would become one of the city's most beloved spots.
However, he also noticed a discrepancy between the model and the original blueprint: a grand, ornate building stood next to the city hall—something he didn't remember being part of the initial plan.
Pointing to it, he asked, "What's this building?"
Wei Wei replied, "An opera house. Or you could call it a concert hall."
"I can understand a concert hall... but what's an opera?"
"It's a form of performing art," Wei Wei explained. "Kind of like ancient Greek theatre, but performed with singing and music instead of regular speech."
At this time in Europe, people's understanding of drama was still rooted in ancient Greek traditions. The concept of opera—so adored by later generations of nobles—had not yet emerged. They enjoyed ballads sung by traveling minstrels and simple musical plays but had not yet developed the more sophisticated operatic art.
Wei Wei had thought of it while designing the model. She realized that if she wanted to make the city truly appealing, it needed entertainment facilities, and a grand opera house would be the perfect draw to attract nobles and wealthy visitors.
"You can sing opera?" Felix asked, intrigued.
Wei Wei didn't know how to perform true opera, but she could sing Carmen—the Chinese lyric version, at least.
Under Felix's insistent urging, she cleared her throat and sang a rendition of Carmen:
"Love is just an ordinary thing, nothing special at all..."
Her pronunciation was pure Chinese. Apart from herself, no one else present understood the lyrics—which was probably a blessing. Had Felix understood the words, he might have exploded on the spot.
But because he couldn't understand, Felix was instead full of admiration, clapping enthusiastically.
"It sounds wonderful! I think we should gather some performers and properly stage this opera you mentioned—it will be a hit."
Wei Wei wasn't in a hurry. For now, it was just an idea. Recruiting performers and writing scripts would take time—not something that could be rushed.
Besides, she had plenty of other things to deal with this winter—free time was a luxury she didn't have.
After admiring the model, Felix decisively agreed: construction of the new city could begin. He immediately ordered the surplus laborers to start by building a temporary camp, and then move on to the actual city construction.
The workers, for their part, had already caught wind of the project. Though the rumors had only spread among a few, close connections like Nissen—who was friendly with Pierre—had picked up on the hints. Many of them had stayed after finishing the roadworks precisely because they were hoping for this big new project.
Sure enough, only a few days after completing the main roads, the castle sent someone to notify them to head to the new construction site.
The new city was located at the junction ofSardinson and Slot territories. The area was half grassland and half forest. Their first task: clearing the trees to make room for the city's foundation.
Their goal this winter was to turn the forested land into a cleared, buildable space. By the time spring came and the ground thawed, construction could begin immediately.
Pierre, as the architect, took the blueprints and the model with him, joining the construction team. He likely wouldn't return to the castle until spring.
Meanwhile, Raymond—who had spent months recovering from his injuries—had finally fully healed. No more wheelchairs or crutches, and thankfully no lasting aftereffects from his accident.
Once mobile again, Raymond was eager to return to his laboratory. But Wei Wei, citing the lack of heating at the newly-built research facility and the impracticality of moving in winter, persuaded him to wait until spring. For now, he would have to continue sharing the current lab space with the other three alchemists.
Those three, despite their long-time friendship with Raymond and eccentricities, had real skills. When Wei Wei had previously assigned them the task of developing chemical fertilizers, they had delivered: nitrogen fertilizer, phosphate fertilizer, and urea—all successfully synthesized in the lab.
Of course, these were just small-scale lab successes. They were time-consuming, labor-intensive, and nowhere near ready for mass production. But it was a start, and seeing their results, Wei Wei generously rewarded them with hefty bonuses—and took the opportunity to ask if they wanted to take on apprentices.
The alchemists, who had already been thinking about it, immediately said they had candidates in mind. Raymond had his eye on his loyal servant, Mike.
This surprised no one. Mike, still in his early twenties, was responsible and serious. He had long been assisting Raymond, and after the explosion incident, had matured even further. Raymond wanting to take him on as a formal apprentice was only natural.
Wei Wei called Mike over to ask if he agreed.
"Of course! I would be honored to learn from Master Raymond!" Mike replied, full of excitement, already addressing Raymond as his teacher.
Wei Wei had thought that with apprentices to teach, the alchemists might quiet down for a while. But reality proved otherwise.
Raymond, after spending a few days aimlessly bouncing between other people's labs, came knocking on Wei Wei's door, begging for a new research project.
He had even cleaned out a spare room to serve as a makeshift lab—clearly uninterested in the others' fertilizer research.
Wei Wei finally fed up, hastily sketched a steam engine blueprint and threw it at him.
The steam engine—its importance needed no explanation. But Wei Wei wasn't counting on Raymond to succeed. She just wanted to give him something challenging enough to keep him busy and stop him from pestering her.
Raymond, unaware of her real thoughts, took the blueprint as if it were a treasure, his mind already spinning with ideas about steam power.
Wei Wei figured that for the foreseeable future, Raymond would be fully occupied. By the time he realized the steam engine wasn't so easy to build, he'd be too buried in experiments to bother her again.
Satisfied, she summoned a maid and asked, "Have the doctors arrived yet?"
"They're all waiting in the main hall," the maid replied.