Wei Wei had found a recipe for cultivating mushrooms—specifically white button mushrooms (also called champignons)—that called for corn stalks, dried chicken manure, cottonseed meal, urea, phosphate fertilizer, and lime.
As luck would have it, she just happened to have all of these on hand. Corn stalks could be collected directly from the fields. Dried chicken manure could be gathered from the peasants, now that the livestock tax had been reduced in effect, and large amounts of manure were needed for farming, almost every household kept more livestock and poultry than before. Collecting enough dried chicken manure was only a matter of time.
Cottonseed meal was the leftover residue from oil extraction from cottonseeds. Of course, at this point, people weren't pressing cottonseeds for oil. But it was still easy to buy cottonseed itself. Although Sardinson didn't grow cotton, that didn't mean there wasn't any in the territory of the Kingdom of Prodi. Countries and regions along the Mediterranean coast all cultivated cotton to some degree. Cotton fabric was one of the primary types of cloth used at this time, and cotton cultivation had strong market demand. The challenge was that cotton was a heavy feeder and exhausted the soil. In the past, when fertilizer methods weren't widely known, cotton yields were very low. After a single season of planting, a field needed an extended period of fallowing. That's why cotton fabric had long remained expensive.
But now that people had begun using fire, dung, and manure-based fertilizers, things had improved. Cotton fabric had become more plentiful on the market, and prices had dropped accordingly—a clear sign that cotton yields were improving. July was the cotton harvest season, so it would be easy to contact a cotton merchant and buy as many seeds as needed.
The most difficult ingredients in the mushroom substrate were supposed to be urea and phosphate fertilizer, since such chemical fertilizers weren't supposed to exist in this era. However, thanks to the alchemists funded by Wei Wei, she had received a pleasant surprise last year—they had managed to produce urea, phosphate fertilizer, and several other kinds of chemical fertilizers. While they still couldn't produce them on a large scale and had only managed to supply a small portion of the estate's fields, the accumulated output was enough to make a batch of mushroom substrate.
As for lime, it was commonly used in construction, and Sardinson had plenty in storage. All she had to do was notify the construction team and have some delivered.
In addition to the white button mushroom substrate recipe, Wei Wei also found a formula for growing oyster mushrooms. Compared to button mushrooms, which required extra nutrients via chemical fertilizer, oyster mushrooms were much easier to cultivate. Substrates could be made from corn cobs, corn stalks, sawdust, cottonseed hulls, or straw—any one of them, combined with lime and wheat bran and enough water, could be used to grow oyster mushrooms.
Logically, for a first-time attempt, the easier-to-grow oyster mushrooms would have been a better choice. The raw materials were cheap and widely available. Even if the attempt failed, it wouldn't be a big loss. But since Wei Wei also happened to have the materials for button mushroom cultivation on hand, she figured: why not both?
As for choosing between so many different substrate formulas, Wei Wei simply said: "Only children make choices. Adults take it all." She planned to test every recipe she could find. Whichever one yielded the most and best mushrooms would be the one they'd use in the end.
She copied both substrate recipes and handed them to George to prepare.
Though George was confused about why the Countess wanted these materials, he didn't ask questions. He gathered everything as fast as he could and had the serfs deliver it to the castle.
Most of the materials didn't need to be purchased, so apart from the time it took for the cotton merchants to deliver, everything else was quickly assembled.
Since this was just a trial run, Wei Wei didn't have a mushroom house built right away. Instead, she chose two suitable rooms within the castle and had the carpenters construct bamboo-wood frames. Without access to plastic sheeting, they used straw mats, bamboo blinds, and burlap as substitutes.
The various substrates were prepared by the slaves according to instructions. The button mushroom substrate required about 25 days of fermentation before it could be seeded. The oyster mushroom substrates, by contrast, could be seeded immediately after mixing.
Button mushrooms grow best in spring and autumn, with autumn being the optimal season. By the time the button mushroom substrate finished fermenting, it would be early autumn—perfect timing. Oyster mushrooms, meanwhile, could be grown year-round, though they did especially well in warmer temperatures. And it just so happened to be summer—ideal conditions. Wei Wei's timing for mushroom cultivation, it seemed, couldn't have been better.
The spores were also easy to obtain. Previously, to produce mushroom MSG, Wei Wei had posted a notice asking locals to bring in edible mushrooms. That notice was still hanging on the castle bulletin board, and the peasants regularly delivered fresh white mushrooms and other edible fungi. All Wei Wei had to do was add one new instruction—have the gatherers bring in mushrooms along with the soil they were growing in. She would transplant these still-living specimens directly into the prepared substrate.
The news that the Countess was trying to cultivate mushrooms spread quickly throughout the castle. Though no one had ever heard of mushrooms being grown artificially, everyone had long since been amazed by her innovations. So rather than questioning whether it would work, people were eagerly discussing how soon they'd get to see mushrooms sprouting.
The first mushrooms to appear, naturally, would be oyster mushrooms. From inoculation to full mycelium growth took about 30–35 days. After that, pinning would occur within five days, and the first flush would be ready for harvest around day 45. Subsequent flushes would grow every 15–20 days, with production continuing for about four months before the substrate would need to be replaced.
Button mushrooms followed a similar cycle, but their timeline was pushed back by a month due to the fermentation period.
Of course, that was still in the future. Right now, the mushroom rooms had just been set up, filled only with piles of substrate that looked like soil. Though oyster mushroom spores had already been planted, there was no sign of growth yet.
Wei Wei quickly delegated responsibility for the mushroom rooms to a few slaves. Aside from some theoretical knowledge, she didn't have hands-on experience, so practical execution would depend on their experimentation.
As the appointed slaves anxiously followed her instructions, turning and inspecting the substrate daily, everyone else's attention was drawn to something else entirely.
After the corn harvest came the potatoes. Although they had planted only ten acres, the yield was jaw-dropping.
From ten acres, they harvested 190,000 pounds of potatoes—an average of 19,000 pounds per acre. That was three times the corn yield and more than nine times the wheat yield.
Having just recovered from the shock of the corn harvest, the townsfolk thought they had built some tolerance, but their jaws dropped all over again.
Those who hadn't seen it with their own eyes didn't believe it. "That's impossible," they said. "No crop could produce that much. Are you sure potatoes aren't just a type of vegetable or fruit?"
If someone told them a fruit or vegetable had such a yield, they might believe it. Many peasants had tomatoes in their gardens now, though not ripe yet, the abundant green clusters already showed their high yield.
But tomatoes were tomatoes. Even with high yields, they didn't fill the stomach. People didn't usually count such foods as staple crops, so they didn't compare them to wheat or barley.
Witnesses of the potato harvest quickly rebutted: "Of course they're not just vegetables! I saw them being dug up myself. After the harvest, the Countess even cooked some for us. They were delicious and incredibly filling. A few were enough to keep you from feeling hungry at all."
In truth, they were just plain boiled potatoes with a bit of salt—nothing special. But the soft, fluffy texture suited many older villagers with weak teeth, and the novelty of eating a new food added to their enthusiasm. In retelling the experience, people made potatoes sound like the best thing since bread.
And then, another rumor began to spread...
Previously, due to secrecy, a group of slaves had been sent to work at the villa and kept there for an extended period, with little to no contact with the outside world. This led many to assume they had been punished or even executed. But after both the corn and potato harvests were complete, Wei Wei finally remembered she still had a group of people effectively "in isolation." She gave the order to lift the secrecy restrictions, allowing the villa slaves occasional freedom of movement. Naturally, they now had chances to interact with others again.
Perhaps because they had been locked away so long, or because they no longer needed to keep secrets, these slaves were suddenly full of things to say. They shared everything they had seen and done at the villa in great detail—and everyone was eager to listen. The moment they mentioned strange new crops that no one else had seen, people realized what they had been doing during that time.
And when talk turned to the corn and potato yields, the villa slaves would always speak with a touch of pride, dismissively saying, "That's nothing—wait till you see the sweet potatoes. That's the real deal."
Though they wouldn't give an exact figure no matter how many times they were asked, their tone made it obvious—they believed sweet potatoes would yield even more than the already staggering potatoes.
Could that be possible?
Most people still hadn't seen potatoes firsthand and barely believed the numbers, let alone something even higher. They didn't buy it.
But those who worked on the estate—slaves and serfs alike—did believe it. Other than factory workers, most of the estate's laborers had far more freedom than before. As long as they finished their daily tasks, even slaves could go out and look around. During both the corn and potato harvests, plenty of curious onlookers had gone to see it all for themselves—and they'd witnessed the bounty with their own eyes.
So when they heard the villa slaves speak, they recalled how sweet potato vines had larger, thicker stems than potatoes. If sweet potatoes grew in clusters like potatoes did, their yield might truly surpass that of potatoes.
Some even joked, "If they really grow in clusters like potatoes, and they're bigger too, wouldn't that mean yields could be double?"
Double? That would mean 36,000–37,000 pounds per acre. The moment that number popped into people's heads, they immediately shook it away.
"No way. No way. More? Maybe. Double? Not... right?"
But curiosity is universal, and to satisfy it, people are often willing to go to great lengths.
They couldn't ask the villa slaves—those were still mostly kept working at the villa, which was off-limits to the general public and even had guards stationed around it. Plus, those slaves seemed to be intentionally keeping quiet, refusing to spill the details.
So they turned to the next best option.
Recently, the maids serving Wei Wei noticed that more and more people were approaching them for conversation—especially Penny, who was being asked about sweet potatoes constantly.
Penny complained, "They keep asking about sweet potatoes. Don't they have anything better to do?"
She may have learned to keep her mouth shut, gossip or not—when it came to the lady's affairs, she wouldn't let anything slip. And with her elevated position among the staff, she could simply ignore nosy questions, and no one could do anything about it.
Still, it was annoying to be asked the same thing over and over again.
But it made sense. She had been with Wei Wei the longest and was the most likely to know something. The only other person just as informed was Qin, who was now serving as an assistant housekeeper. Everyone knew she would soon be promoted to the official position. With her rising authority, no one dared to bother her. So naturally, everyone focused their efforts on the more approachable Penny.
Even Kama and a few other close maids had been interrogated, but they honestly knew nothing. Once that became clear, people stopped asking them and doubled down on pestering Penny.
Wei Wei was surprised to hear Penny's complaint. "Why are they suddenly so curious?"
The sweet potato harvest would be in August, just ten or twenty days away. Why were they so impatient? And more importantly, this had nothing to do with the servants. Why were they suddenly so desperate to find out?
Penny, having been pestered constantly, had already figured it out: "Apparently, it's because some of the villa slaves hinted at something, but didn't say exactly what. That made everyone more curious."
So it was a case of people deliberately teasing others and dangling the mystery. No wonder curiosity had reached a boiling point.
Wei Wei couldn't help but chuckle. Then she added mischievously, "In that case, let them wait a little longer. It'll be more fun when they see it with their own eyes."
Penny could tell what her lady was planning and smiled as well. "Yes, that'll be great. Are you going to watch, madam?" Her eyes sparkled with excitement.
"I think you're the one eager to join the fun." Wei Wei saw right through her. But she didn't object. "Alright, let's go together then. I want to see everyone's reactions too—it should be entertaining."
She couldn't help recalling the expressions on Felix's and Butler Barton's faces when they first learned the yields of these new crops. The stunned disbelief, as if they had just heard something from a fairytale, had been priceless.
Thinking of that now, she regretted missing the corn and potato harvests—clearly, she'd missed a lot of fun.
Yes, next time she'd bring Felix along too.
When she told Felix, the blond man laughed. "True, we missed two great shows."
Then he added, smiling, "Last time during the corn harvest, Barton told me the agricultural officers were complaining that they were so overworked their backs couldn't straighten. They asked if I could give them an extra day off. I told them: after the potato harvest."
"And did you give them the day off?"
"Was about to." Felix leaned back in his chair, still grinning. "But I think once sweet potato harvest starts, they'll be complaining again."
Wei Wei laughed. "You're probably right. I think they will too."
They had over 500 acres of sweet potatoes. Even at normal yield levels, that meant more than 18 million pounds. But these sweet potatoes had been planted in fertile land, tended carefully with proper irrigation and fertilization. Wei Wei had seen the plants herself—their leaves and stems were thick and healthy. She estimated the yield might hit 20 million pounds.
That figure was equivalent to—or even greater than—the total wheat output of the entire Sardinson County this year, including the baronies and knights' lands. After all, not all land was used to grow wheat.
In other words, harvesting the sweet potatoes would be like doing another full wheat harvest—except this one was a bumper crop too.
Wei Wei covered her mouth with a chuckle. "I think they might cry this time."
Felix also laughed. "That can't be helped. They'll only get busier from now on—better get used to it early."
Seeing the mischief in his eyes, Wei Wei couldn't help feeling a little sorry for their staff. "You should assign more people to help them, or they really will get sick from exhaustion."
"Soon. We're preparing for the civil service exams again this year. Once that's done, we'll have more hands."
But since last year's exam had been in October, this year's would be held at the same time. Which meant: during the sweet potato harvest, there would still be no extra manpower.
Still, Felix wasn't the kind of noble who truly mistreated his people. So while he joked about it, he added, "If it gets overwhelming, I'll transfer some people in to help—from other departments, factories, or even the castle. There are plenty of literate folks. And we can always draft more slaves for labor. No way we'll let the officers collapse from overwork."
Wei Wei, meanwhile, thought of something else.
She asked, "Have many people come to you asking to buy corn and potatoes recently?"
Felix replied, "The nobles in the capital have all written to request some. A few merchants have asked about the corn, too. But very few asked about the potatoes."
That was because corn grew on tall stalks and could be seen by anyone visiting the castle. People remembered it. So when they heard about the yield, they were surprised but not skeptical. Potatoes, however, were low to the ground, grew in limited quantities, and had no visible fruit. Merchants didn't have a strong impression of them and, having not witnessed the harvest, remained doubtful. If the yield had been similar to corn, they might have believed it. But three times the yield? That sounded too outrageous to be true.
So, most cautious merchants were interested in corn. Only a few inquired about potatoes.
Felix added, "They want to see the potato yield, but since we didn't grow that many, I'm not planning to sell potatoes this year, so I didn't show them."
To preserve the seed stock, the harvested potatoes had been stored in sealed underground cellars, each with a narrow well-like opening. Retrieving the potatoes would be a hassle and risk damaging them. And if merchants wanted proof of the yield, they'd expect to see the full harvest—190,000 pounds' worth. Since they weren't selling potatoes this year, Felix had no reason to waste the effort just for show.
Wei Wei nodded. "Makes sense. Even with the high yield, we don't have enough to use as seed. This year isn't the time to sell them. What about the king's request? You'll give him some, right?"
"Of course. But I already wrote back to say we can't spare much in the way of potatoes. We can sell more of the other two crops. I've given them the prices—if they agree, they can come do the deal at the end of August."
By then, the sweet potatoes would be harvested, and all three crops could be shipped at once. No need for multiple trips.
They hadn't yet received a reply from the capital, but Felix doubted anyone would refuse. While the prices were high for commoners, for nobles they were quite cheap. Especially considering that most merchants charged nobles extra, there was an unspoken rule that aristocrats always paid more, even for the same goods.
Felix wasn't doing that. He set one flat price, affordable even for commoners. The nobles could hardly complain.
They might even praise him for his generosity. If they'd been the ones with exclusive rights to such high-yield crops, they'd have raised prices severalfold without blinking.
Wei Wei said, "In that case, why not invite them to come earlier—let them see the sweet potato harvest with their own eyes? You didn't give them much to begin with, and they might assume the good results are only due to extra care. They might doubt whether the same results can be achieved at scale. Better to show them."
Felix thought for a moment and agreed. "Then we might as well invite those interested merchants, too. Let them all come and see."