Dangerous Aesthetics

The days passed leisurely, and soon after August, there was a bumper harvest in the vineyards, and the winemakers were busy.

In less than a month, he couldn't count on his fingers how many times he was raped by Olivan.According to Olivan, if you want to blame Bordeaux, the sky is too blue, the grass is too green, and the fragrance of grapes is too attractive.

But David has earned it.

In such an environment, Olivan drew a few very poetic sketches, which were knocked off by David to be used as wine labels.

In fact, David likes this kind of life very much. Although Olivan's occasional beast behavior troubles him very much, he has an illusion that there is only him and him left in this world, and it is so simple that there will be no more changes.

Until they got a call from Mr. Weinman, who was diagnosed with cancer.

Mr. Weinman was the first person to buy Ollivant's painting and was also a person who played a vital role in Davy's wine business.

After sending Diana back to New York and handing it over to Neo, the two of them came to Washington.

Mr. Wenman did not go to the hospital. He was diagnosed with advanced lung cancer, the cancer cells had spread, and the remaining time was only a few months. He wanted to spend it peacefully at home.

He rejected all relatives and friends who came to visit him, but only saw Olivier and David.

It was in Mr. Wenman's study room. He was in good spirits, but his face was a little pale, and he coughed twice occasionally.

"You will meet with me and explain what you think I can help you with." Olivan still spoke straightforwardly, without unnecessary greetings or concealment.

David touched Olivan, hoping that he would not speak so directly.

"It's okay..." Mr. Wenman smiled and shook his hand, "Then I'll just say it straight. Both of you should have heard the story of Goethe and Schiller."

"I heard that Goethe and Schiller had a very deep friendship. In terms of life circumstances, they were very different. Goethe was extremely rich and Schiller was poor." David remembered reading Their stories have also been lamented for them, "It is even said that Schiller inspired Goethe's exhausted creative enthusiasm and helped him write the first part of "Faust". But this friendship did not last too long. They both fell seriously ill at the same time. Goethe survived, but Schiller died. His body was placed in the basement of the church. 20 years later, it was Goethe who identified Schiller's skull among a pile of bones .”

"That's right." Mr. Weinman lowered his head, looking thoughtful, "In addition to identifying Schiller's head, Goethe also took away a section of rib that he thought belonged to Schiller, and kept wearing it on the By his side, he spent the last time of his life."

What?Goethe with Schiller's ribs?Why?David looked at Olivan in puzzlement. Even if they were really friends at first sight, and Goethe felt guilty for Schiller, there was no need to take Schiller's ribs away.

Oliwen clasped David's fingers, "Then what does this little rib have to do with you?"

"My wife Melissa passed away 12 years ago. His family may have served Goethe, or for some other reason, this small rib has been kept by their family until my wife married me. "Mr. Wenman's eyes seemed to reflect the beautiful past, "At that time, my business failed and I faced unbearable debts. My wife gave me this small rib and asked me to sell it. .”

"But how did you make sure that this rib was carried by Goethe?"

"Because there is Goethe's own handwriting on that rib. The first word is not clear, but the back is recognizable. It is the name of 'Schiller'. We compared it with the museum that has Goethe's manuscript. , confirmed that it was indeed Goethe's handwriting."

"I understand, because that is your wife's unrequited love for you, and you want to get it back in your lifetime." Olivan said, "It's just that with your current wealth, you can buy it back. It seems the question is who you sold it to."

"Yes, I sold it to your grandfather, Raymond Walren." Mr. Weinman took a long breath.

David could feel Oliwen's fingers trembling, and he suddenly remembered that Olivan once said that her mother came from a gangster family in England, and his maternal grandfather cut off all the art exhibitors in order to force him to return to the family. It is because of this that the professor sold Ekaterina's eggs, and then...

Olivan's fingers clenched tighter and tighter, and David could feel his hatred for his grandfather. This was the first time that David felt such strong emotions in his heart other than sadness and pain.

"You sold it to that robber?" Olivan snorted coldly, "Then if you want to get it back, you will have to pay more than a hundred times the price."

"That's right." Mr. Wenman supported his forehead, as if he was afraid that David and the others would see the tears flickering in his eyes, "He said, unless I use the painting "Time" by the late modern painter Van Uris Exchange, but..."

"But what?"

"But that "Time" was stolen when I donated it to the Times Museum of Art in New York last month."

"What—" David was stunned.

With the creator's death, the price of "Years" almost tripled, even higher than that of Oliwen's "Charm".

"Has the insurance company decided to settle the claim for you?"

"Not yet, the police are still looking for this painting, and even suspect that I stole it myself..." Mr. Wenman looked extremely distressed, "When the insurance claims are settled, I may already be lying in the cemetery."

"Okay, leave this to me." Olivan nodded.

After afternoon tea, in order not to hinder Mr. Wenman's rest, Olivan and David left his house together.

Sitting in the car, Oliwen looked very calm.

David's heart also couldn't bear a certain weight and fell.

He wondered if the real reason why Olivan agreed to help Mr. Wenman was because of his grandfather?He was still struggling with the death of that professor?

Yes, how could he let go?

If one day, I lost you... Maybe I would have collapsed long ago.

"What are you going to do?" David asked softly.

"First find out who dropped the painting."

"And then give that painting to your grandfather?"

"Do I look so generous?" Olivan raised the corners of his mouth, and the indifference in his smile caused David to struggle for a while.

He knew that no matter what he said, it was useless. What Olivan lost was the love he loved. There was a hole in his heart. Maybe he was used to the pain, but it didn't mean he didn't want to fill it.

"Then how do you plan to find that "Time"?"

"Not to find it, but to let it come to us." Oliwen tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, and suddenly parked the car on the side of the road, "Are you worried about me?"

David froze, he thought Olivier wouldn't notice his emotions.

"Yes."

The other party's fingers brushed his cheek, "I will not lose control, I will think clearly about every step I take."

They soon returned to New York, and Olivan locked himself in the studio again.

David noticed the low air pressure he was emitting, thinking that the other party would rather be alone, but who knew that he was just sitting by the bed to check the recent news, but Olivan sat beside him.

"Can you come to the studio and stay with me?" Olivan held David's hand, although it was a question, but there was no questioning tone, which meant that he could not refuse.

Well, well... Anyway, I am the only one in the world who can stand you.

David got up and accompanied Olivan to the studio.

First, he sketched out a sketch. His fingers were dexterous, leaving traces where he passed. David couldn't help asking: "If there is no original here, how can you copy it?"

Olivan turned his face to the side, and stretched out his arms to hug David, "I have been watching this painting from the sketch to the finished draft."

"What?" David was a little surprised, and then remembered that Van Ulis had once been Oliwen's mentor, so it was not surprising that Olivan saw his entire painting process.

"At that time, Yuris already knew that he was terminally ill, but he didn't feel pain, but just accepted everything that was coming. He told me that he had a very rich life, he had it, he lost it, and regretted it. However, these things will return to dust with the disappearance of his life. This is "Years"."

I don't know if it's an illusion, but David saw envy and expectation in Oliwen's eyes.

"What about you? Olivan... what kind of "Years" do you want?" David asked softly.

"I want you to be by my side." Olivan stuffed the paintbrush into David's fingers, then pulled him over, sat on his lap, and took him to trace Uris's review of life.

"Will the painting look different in the end?" David was a little worried.

Olivan rested his chin on David's shoulder, and smiled slightly: "Don't worry, I might be in trouble if I imitate Da Vinci, but if I imitate Uris, there will be no one more like me in this world."

Oliwen's fingers seemed to have magical powers, leading David to draw smooth lines, and every turn of the cycle revealed a subtle intention.

It took about half a month for Oliwen to copy the pair of "Years".