Wei Wei gave Pope John a cat.
Well—technically, it wasn't exactly a gift; it was a case of the Pope charming one into his life.
It was a black-and-white kitten with copper eyes and a distinct pattern on its face—barely two months old, impossibly cute. One of two cats raised by Wei Wei had given birth to this litter.
Last year, a farmer caught and gifted Wei Wei two kittens, then just two months old. After surviving a winter, they had matured into fully grown cats. During spring's mating season, both had vanished from the castle to find partners. Wei Wei hadn't yet returned at the time, and the castle's servants were terrified—convinced they'd be punished for losing her cats. They searched high and low for days.
But the two black cats had been born feral and grew increasingly independent. Even when kept in the castle, they were elusive. Once outside, tracking them was nearly impossible.
Luckily, after their wild adventures, they came home.
Even more surprisingly, they brought their partners with them.
As feral-born cats, the black pair followed a strict monogamous behavior—unlike modern domesticated cats. Once a partner was chosen, they typically stayed together for life, and the males often helped raise the kittens.
However, the partners they brought back were full-on wild cats who feared humans and wouldn't go near populated areas. Even though they followed their mates home, they were extremely cautious. At first, no one in the castle even realized they were there. Only the maid assigned to care for the cats noticed the food was disappearing faster than usual—and that the original two cats still acted hungry.
Suspicious, she increased the food supply and secretly observed the area—eventually spotting the new additions.
She reported it to Butler Barton, who, rather than being alarmed, simply remarked,
"Madam likes cats. More of them might make her even happier."
By then, the wedding had already taken place. Though their mistress hadn't returned yet, everyone had started calling her Madam.
When Wei Wei returned, she was indeed delighted by the two new feline additions—one was a tricolor female and the other a creamy-white male. Their appearances were more charming than the original black pair and easily won over the maids, even though both were wary of humans. The girls couldn't help but leave little treats where the cats passed by.
The cats, cautious as they were, never touched the human food—but they loved the castle's rats and specially prepared cat meals.
Still, the efforts to befriend them gradually helped the cats feel more secure. They no longer hid all the time, and by the time Wei Wei came back, they'd fully claimed the castle as their turf.
Unfortunately, Wei Wei had been gone too long. Even her original black cats were a bit distant at first. It took quite a while to coax them back into familiarity.
Unsurprisingly, both female cats became pregnant that spring.
Pregnancy in cats brings noticeable changes—greater appetite, decreased activity, preference for quiet sunny spots, and stretched-out sleeping postures. Wei Wei noticed the signs early, and the growing bellies soon confirmed it.
In May, both gave birth successfully—each having hidden away in a "safe place."
Interestingly, the tricolor mother chose an unoccupied guest room, while the black cat gave birth right in Wei Wei's bedroom, in the birthing box she had specifically prepared. The black cat trusted her completely.
When Wei Wei saw them, the black cat had just delivered two kittens—one black-and-white, one creamy white. Though their facial markings weren't perfectly symmetrical, the patterns were adorable. The white patches near their noses looked like clover leaves. Even with their eyes still closed, they were heartbreakingly cute.
The tricolor cat, however, had a larger litter—five kittens in all, with every kind of fur pattern: solid black, white, black-and-white, and tricolor. But she was extremely protective, and Wei Wei had only managed to peek at the kittens from a distance.
With seven kittens now running around, the castle was no longer quiet. Meows echoed through the corridors, and by the time the kittens were a month old, their moms had begun to parade them through the halls, tails high. The sight of elegant mothers leading wobbly little fluffballs was pure comedy.
Thanks to Wei Wei's influence, even the previously indifferent servants grew fond of the cats—especially after they realized the rats had dwindled, kitchen supplies weren't being stolen, and belongings stayed intact.
But Wei Wei couldn't possibly keep all the cats herself. Mother cats typically wean their kittens around five months old. After that, the little ones would have to fend for themselves—unless homes could be found for them.
Fortunately, that wasn't difficult. Wei Wei allowed people to adopt cats in the castle or take them home, as long as they promised to care for them properly.
The first to express interest was Dolores. She was a bit scared of the black cats, but she loved the two multicolored kittens born from the black mother—especially the creamy white one, which was adorably clingy and affectionate. She often came to play with it.
Even the usually aloof black cat didn't mind. It seemed to understand Wei Wei's approval and allowed Dolores to interact with its kitten. The creamy kitten, nicknamed "Cream," was adopted already. Once it grew up, it would live with its designated "poop servant."
As for the other kitten—the black-and-white one with the 八字脸 (nicknamed "Oreo")—several people had already expressed interest. But before a decision was made, Pope John unexpectedly swooped in and claimed it first.
After his injury, the Pope was forbidden from entering the lab, and Raymond's lab had been partially destroyed in the explosion anyway. Since his recovery would take a while, the lab hadn't been rebuilt yet. All undamaged items were moved elsewhere until the new research institute was ready.
With no experiments to do and not being bedbound, the Pope had little to occupy himself besides chatting with others. His favorite targets were Raymond and Wei Wei—but Raymond needed rest, and Wei Wei was constantly busy and hard to find. Left to his own devices, the Pope began roaming the castle.
That's when he noticed the cats.
Cats had a terrible reputation in medieval Europe—often associated with the devil, especially black ones. But at this point, they hadn't yet been branded outright evil. People just found them strange: aloof, unfriendly, and freaky at night with their glowing eyes.
But let's be honest—no one can resist kittens.
And Pope John was no exception.
Having joined the Church as a boy, he'd rarely seen cats. His only impressions came from grotesque medieval paintings—twisted, rat-like creatures licking their private parts, which human moralists deemed shameful.
He never imagined that real kittens—especially fluffy little ones—could be so adorable.
"Oh my God…"
He felt as if he'd been seduced by the devil himself.
He couldn't take his eyes off the kittens.
That afternoon, he followed the mother cats around like a stalker, watching as they led their babies to the special cat room Wei Wei had prepared. The more he watched, the deeper he fell into cat addiction.
This became a daily routine.
Soon, the Pope began offering food to the kittens.
Unlike adult cats, kittens had little fear. With their mothers nearby, they felt bold. The black-and-white kitten, now named Oreo, was a curious little tom. He quickly grew fond of the strange man who kept bringing dried fish snacks from the kitchen to bribe his mom.
The mother cat, seeing the tribute, began "selling her son for snacks", even bringing the kittens near the Pope's door on purpose.
Eventually, completely smitten, the Pope went to Wei Wei and asked to adopt Oreo.
This happened on the third day after Wei Wei had returned from the villa. She had been holed up in the study, drawing building plans and writing up banking notes. She had only stopped briefly to check on Raymond's injuries, completely missing the Pope's cat-stalking antics—but of course, the servants had filled her in.
So she wasn't surprised when he came to ask.
She had no objections—she had planned to find homes for all the kittens anyway. So long as they'd be well cared for, she was happy. And from what the servants had reported, Pope John's love for Oreo was genuine.
Wei Wei was pleased. Medieval society's distrust of cats—especially black ones—might slowly fade if even the Pope kept one as a pet. Maybe she could help erase the stigma altogether.
Cats were adorable. Calling them demons was just nonsense.
At best, they were adorable little devils.
So she readily agreed—and even paused her work to give the Pope a crash course in cat care.
She explained that when cats licked themselves, it wasn't "perverted," it was simply hygiene—the same way dogs did. Double standards made no sense.
Then came the essentials—how to feed, play, and care for the cat, what foods to avoid, and other vital details.
Since Oreo would eventually go back to Rome with the Pope, Wei Wei wouldn't be there to supervise, so she wrote everything down in a neat list. She even pitched a few cat toys, which had the Pope both overwhelmed and excited by the prospect of feline parenthood.
Wei Wei was skeptical that he'd do the work himself—more likely a servant would handle daily care. But she made sure the instructions were clear enough for anyone.
"Oh, and one more thing—don't feed him too much. Let him keep hunting mice. It's important."
Modern pet cats rarely hunted because they were always full. But Wei Wei didn't want her kittens to become lazy, pampered creatures.
Knowing that Pope John loved medicine, she warned him that rats could cause major epidemics—especially the plague.
She explained the historical connection between rats and the Black Death, describing symptoms and prevention methods from Chinese medical records. She emphasized that clean environments and keeping cats around could help protect human settlements.
The Pope's expression turned grave.
As a healer, he knew all too well the devastation of the plague. Entire villages had been burned to the ground or sealed off with no survivors.
He took out pen and paper to write everything down. These were life-saving insights.
"If this had happened in Europe," he said grimly, "none would survive."
Wei Wei nodded. "Cleanliness is essential. Keeping cats helps keep rats away. A clean environment means fewer illnesses."
Pope John agreed wholeheartedly. He'd witnessed Wei Wei's treatment methods firsthand, and her insistence on keeping wounds clean had drastically improved healing outcomes.
One of his guards had suffered a deep cut during training—under normal circumstances, the wound would fester. But using Wei Wei's medicine and following her procedures, the injury was healing cleanly with minimal scarring.
That alone had made the Pope a believer.
Now he was certain: cleanliness worked. And Sardinson Castle, where everyone looked so healthy and lively, was the proof.
He left with Wei Wei's notes and a promise that Oreo was now his. Of course, the kitten still needed to stay with its mother for a while, but that didn't stop the Pope from continuing his daily "cat worship."
A few days later, Penny returned from the villa.
She was a little sunburned but glowing with health and energy. The moment she arrived, she eagerly reported her good news.
Naturally, Felix—who was also very invested in the villa's yield—listened to Wei Wei.
"Eight acres of corn yielded 48,000 pounds, one acre of potatoes yielded 19,000 pounds, and the two-thirds acre of peanuts produced 3,000 pounds!" Penny's eyes sparkled as she rattled off the numbers. Then she frowned, "My Lord, Madam—the harvest is so big that we're out of storage space. Most of the corn is still drying in the fields."
Even though Felix had mentally prepared himself, hearing the actual figures made his heart pound.
Wei Wei was already calculating in her head whether the yields met her expectations.
Last year, the yield per acre had been more modest:
Corn produced about 300 pounds per acre (after shelling, only 255 pounds of kernels).
Potatoes had exceeded expectations with 1,500 pounds per acre.
Peanuts, however, were the lowest—yielding just 80 pounds from a partial planting, mainly because nearly 1,000 seeds weighed under two pounds—only enough to sow a tenth of an acre.
Logically, potatoes, requiring fewer seeds and being easy to plant, should have been grown the most this year.
But in practice, potatoes consumed the most seed stock.
Using Chinese standards as a reference:
Corn requires 5 pounds of seed per acre.
Peanuts (which yield ~800 pounds per acre) need at least 20 pounds.
Potatoes, though? 300 pounds per acre.
So even though last year's harvest had yielded 1,500 pounds of potatoes, it was just enough to plant a single acre this year.
This year's yields still fell within modern average ranges—about what Wei Wei had originally told Felix to expect. Technically, these crops were high-yield hybrid varieties from her system, and with proper care and fertilizers, should be hitting top-tier modern output levels. But lacking chemical fertilizers, their performance now relied entirely on careful labor.
The slaves had done an excellent job, tending the fields with near-obsessive precision and providing ample manpower. But once these crops were promoted among ordinary farmers, such intense attention would be impossible. A drop in productivity was inevitable.
Even so, their yields would still surpass wheat by a wide margin.
Wei Wei went over the numbers in her head and felt confident—next year, large-scale cultivation could begin.
Just the corn harvest alone could plant 1,500 acres next year. And that was without even counting the other crops.
She had initially planned to use this season's harvest to showcase the productivity of the new crops to the serfs—to get them excited about planting them. It would've been the perfect PR campaign ahead of next spring.
But the Pope and his entourage were still here in the castle.
Wei Wei was okay with the Pope—he was more of an eccentric scholar. But Bishop Roberto? She didn't trust him one bit. She wasn't about to tip her hand just yet, lest they get any ideas.
Felix was still focused on a practical problem: storage.
"It's not realistic to haul all that corn back to the castle, and even if we did, the current cellar won't hold it all. We'd better dig a much bigger one."
He hadn't forgotten the sweet potatoes—those were next, and they were even more productive.
Wei Wei agreed. It was better to build multiple storage cellars now. With so many high-yield crops, and the necessity to reserve seeds for next year, extra space was a must.
Last year, using vine cuttings, they had increased their stock of sweet potatoes from 1,000 to 4,000 plants. They'd planted an acre and harvested 6,000 pounds. This year, with no time to propagate further, they still used last year's crop to seed 10 acres.
At a conservative yield of 6,000 pounds per acre, they were looking at 60 tons of sweet potatoes. Even if they didn't eat or sell them, just storing that much would be a massive undertaking.
So yes, Felix's plan to dig more storage was completely necessary.
Penny also reminded her: "Madam, the corn is still drying. Once it's ready, we'll need you to check when we can begin shelling."
"I'll handle it," Wei Wei nodded.
After the report, Wei Wei told Penny to rest and turned to Felix.
"Next year, we can finally begin promoting high-yield crops like corn, sweet potatoes, and potatoes across the territory," she said. "We'll keep the Church in the dark for now—they'll be leaving soon. But what about the royal capital? What are your thoughts?"