immortal person

There seemed to be an ancient clock hanging above him.The clock was rusty and crumbling, and when a certain moment came it would smash him to pieces and blood.He suddenly and naturally understood that yes, he had always known it was there, he had just been avoiding it.For the ropes that held it were never in his hands, nor even in Lorenzo's.

—and now it has fallen.

His previous struggles now look like a joke.He once thought that his pain came from the choice between faith and love, but in fact there has never been any choice: the road to love was blocked from the very beginning-he could be an immoral person, and Loren Zuo never can.A duke needs a wife as naturally as a tree needs leaves.

Like the legend about Crete, the world turned into a labyrinth overnight. He was a slave imprisoned in it. He walked through the thorns and flames, but found that the end of the road turned out to be a wall. It turns out that this labyrinth has never had an exit; however, his origin has long since been reduced to dust, and now there is only the abyss behind him.It is not love that can stop and retreat; for once it has begun it will never cease, even to death.

Soon, the palace would welcome its mistress, and he looked around. The stone busts in the corners were staring at him with their blank eyes, almost pity.The afternoon temperature in September was still warm and the sun was shining brightly, but he felt the cold spread between his bones, almost freezing him into ice.Those images crept into his mind like poisonous snakes: a nobleman from Rome who, with the blessing of the gods, would join the duke in Lorenzo's bed...

He didn't dare to continue imagining.

Giovanni returns to his workshop like a floating ghost.Bertoldo was waiting for him indoors, rubbing his fingers on an unfinished sculpture of his face, and stood up when he saw him: "Great, you are finally back. I just..."

He realized that the young man in front of him looked wrong, and his voice gradually stopped.Bertoldo looked at him worriedly: "What's wrong with you? What happened?"

Giovanni sat in front of his sculpture as usual.He wondered blankly, why do you ask?

"I'm fine," he said.

He picked up the chisel on the side, ready to start repairing the mistake he made on the stone last night, Bertholdo stared at him closely.Giovanni raised his hand, and the knife suddenly fell from his hand without warning; he picked it up with a bow, and raised his wrist again, but his hands—these hands that had been able to work for days and nights without rest hand—as if it had suddenly lost all strength.The chisel fell out of his hand easily again and fell heavily on the ground.

Finally, Giovanni looked down at his hands: they were shaking violently.A drop of water ran down his cheek and hit the back of his hand.

The citizens of Florence learned the news three days later.Olive branches were hung on the lintel of the Medici Palace, and two pipes protruded from the palace gate, providing free wine to passers-by day and night; at noon every day, servants stood on the terrace facing the street on the second floor, looking down Pedestrians throw white bread and desserts.Guards lined up around Piazza San Marco, where dozens of workers were setting up scaffolding for a jousting tournament to celebrate the wedding next week.When night falls, fireworks will rise from the other side of the Arno River. After a sharp sound, six consecutive red fireworks symbolizing the coat of arms of the Medici family will flash over the city one by one.The wedding has not yet taken place, but the city has fallen into a carnival.People were looking forward to the Duke's wedding more than their own; they had waited too long for an event in the shadow of the political struggles and trade decline of the past year, and the Duke's wedding undoubtedly came at the right time.With the flow of people, gold coins poured into Florence one after another and entered the wallets of the citizens.Everyone has a smile on their face.

Florence is becoming more and more crowded, and tourists from France, Spain and Italy gather here, looking forward to witnessing a holy marriage.The relatives and friends of the Medici family also gathered from all over the country. There were so many people that the city was temporarily full of carriages embroidered with their respective family patterns.Lorenzo's mother, Mrs. Beatrice, who had been recuperating in a villa in the countryside for many years, also returned to the palace one afternoon. This was the first time Giovanni had seen her in several years.The duchess, who was so elegant and as passionate about art as her husband and son, summoned Giovanni to express her love for the statue of Hercules.

"After Donatello and Bertoldo, we are finally waiting for you again. This is Lorenzo's luck." She looked at him tenderly. "I hope you can stay here forever. We will all be very happy." happy."

Her kind eyes reminded Giovanni of his own mother.He thanks her, but realizes he can't make any promises for the future.

In mid-September, Catherine Orsini, the only daughter of the Orsini family and sister of the cardinal, came to Florence from Rome.The weather that day was surprisingly cold, but the bitter autumn wind could not stop the citizens gathered in front of the Medici Palace.They blocked the road and shouted Catherine's name.Giovanni, like everyone else, watched the scene from under the palace gate, and over the crowd he saw Lorenzo's bride, who had long, light-blond curls like thin butter.Her face was dotted with a few young freckles, revealing a sickly pallor.In the days that followed, she acquired the nickname "Miss Whitefish", which fit her appearance very well.People said she was 15, and she looked younger than that, like a little girl.

It was not an unfamiliar face, Giovanni had seen her in a portrait in one of the rooms.Now he knew that what he had seen were references from nobles eager to marry the duke, and she was clearly the winner.People's enthusiasm was intensified by the arrival of Catherine, the stage was set, but the other protagonist of the marriage was still absent - Lorenzo left for Milan after bidding farewell to Bishop Orsini, and has not yet returned .

The weather is getting colder day by day.People said the wedding was supposed to take place in early summer, which everyone knew was the best time to conceive.Lorenzo had procrastinated for too long, and now he could only catch up with the last auspicious day set by the astrologers this year.This makes the city fail to welcome the bride at its most beautiful side, after all, most of the flower trees in the "City of Flowers" have already bloomed.Persephone returns to Hades, and the earth withers.

"It's cold," said the man passing Giovanni shivering, "it's autumn after all."

When the envoys from the principalities arrived, Lorenzo finally returned to the city.He appeared in front of the Medici Palace and thanked the envoys himself.Gonchaga sent a handsome snow-white stallion, which will lead the people in the wedding ceremony in the future; the Sultan of the East presented some giraffes and white lions that people have never seen before. The people who were excited to see them were recorded by the painters in the city.

At the feast that night, Lorenzo did not see Giovanni.In the past, there would always be a place for Giovanni at the long table where the Medici dined, but now the large number of visiting envoys has filled his vacancies to the brim.Poliziano observed the Duke's expression, but in the end he didn't see anything strange about him.The duke's smile was so warm that no one would question its sincerity. He did not refuse anyone who toasted him, and drank glass after glass of strong wine like drinking water, but still maintained impeccable demeanor and etiquette.The banquet lasted until late at night, and Poliziano noticed that his eyes were getting foggy, and finally found a chance to take his glass.

"Enough," he whispered in the Duke's ear, "I'll take care of it."

Lorenzo nodded gratefully at him.

After saying goodbye to the crowd, he walked up the stairs alone. The candelabra in the corridor was full of firelight, reflected on the marble walls, flickering like ripples, and bright as day.But he still felt that his eyes were going black for a while.

In the darkness behind the bedroom door, he saw a figure standing straight, following the candlelight into the door, revealing a pale and handsome silhouette.

Giovanni watched him in silence.Lorenzo stood by the doorframe, as if in a dream.He blinked repeatedly, looking into gray eyes of fire and light.

"It's you." He said softly.